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Celebrían had remained in Ost-in-Edhil when her mother first went over the Hithaeglir into the East, and when later her father, though reluctant in the extreme to pass through Khazad-dûm, had traveled to join her. She had her work in Ost-in-Edhil, her friends in Ost-in-Edhil, and Celebrimbor was as happy to keep her company as she had ever been. Her father might tarry east of the mountains, Celebrían knew; his distrust of the Kasari ran deep, and he might dwell among strangers for a long time just to avoid having to pass through the Kasari’s lands. But her mother had been interested more in making contact with the Nandorin settlement in Laurelindórenan than simply in visiting, and Celebrían knew she’d had no intent to stay there. So when the years began to mount with any sign of Galadriel returning through Khazad-dûm to Eregion, Celebrían felt her curiosity begin to grow.
“I can scarcely believe that your mother would forsake the city she helped build to live in a forest again,” Celebrimbor answered when Celebrían broached the subject to him, deep in the bowels of the house of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. “She’s too fond of the work of her hands.”
“You’re one to talk about that,” Celebrían replied, though she smiled slightly. The air in this particular workshop was noticeably stale, and Celebrimbor’s clothes were crumpled, his eyes red and ringed with shadow. Watch him, her father had warned her before he left. He doesn’t sleep as he ought to; he never has. If Celeborn were here, the next hour might be occupied with getting Celebrimbor out of the Mírdain house and wrangling him towards the nearest bed, perhaps with a detour to the nearest kitchen. But provided that Celebrimbor wasn’t literally falling over his own feet, Celebrían was less inclined to worry. He seemed sharp enough now, anyways.
Celebrimbor flashed a small smile up at her, his teeth almost startlingly white in the gloom. “I suppose so. But really, Celebrían; Galadriel left Lindon because she did not wish to live as anyone’s vassal.” There were other reasons, Celebrían had gotten the impression, but no one ever wanted to talk about them. “I really cannot believe that she would be content to return to being ruled over by another. Besides—“ he quirked an eyebrow, his smile turning rueful “—if Galadriel and Celeborn both go to live in Laurelindórenan, that would leave us in charge here. I don’t think she would be happy with that, either.”
Celebrían’s mouth twitched, though she could not find much in the way of humor. “Certainly not.”
-0-0-0-
A few more years passed without Galadriel’s return, though, nor any word from her. This did indeed leave Celebrían and Celebrimbor in charge of Ost-in-Edhil, and though Celebrían had not had much experience with governance that did not involve answering to someone higher than her, and Celebrimbor had spent much of his life outright avoiding positions of leadership, Celebrían thought they had done reasonably well. The citizenry was content, and the walls had not come crashing down. Trade with the outside world continued to enrich and enliven Ost-in-Edhil, and visitors from as far afield as Númenor came hoping to ply their trade in the Gwaith-i-Mírdain or some of the other guilds.
And… and as much as Celebrían would have at least liked a warning before her parents left, she found she didn’t really life without her parents occupying the same house, the same city as her. There was something very freeing about none of her decisions being second-guessed by her parents. Not to say that none of her decisions were ever second-guessed, but there was a difference, a noticeable difference, between when her parents did it, and when an advisor or a craftsman did it. It felt like a discussion between two adults, like a true debate, instead of the back-and-forth between a parent and their child that would inevitably with the child capitulating.
There was something else, too.
As the years drew by and Galadriel did not return, Celebrían noticed that people were less inclined to compare her to her mother. People were less likely to comment on how alike they looked, apart from their hair. They were less likely to say something like “How sharp you are, just like your mother” or “You speak Quenya almost as well as a Ñoldo born in Aman; your mother’s tutelage has served you well.”
It was a frustration Celebrían hadn’t even realized she felt, until it was removed from her life. But still, once it was gone from her, she felt much lighter, like a yoke had been taken from her shoulders.
-0-0-0-
Eventually, there came early one spring a letter for Celebrían from both of her parents, though it was written in her mother’s hand. Finding Laurelindórenan to be very much to their liking, they had decided to live there; Amdír was happy to accommodate them. Next there was an invitation for Celebrían to live with them there if she wished, or to at least visit them soon.
One would think that you two could return to Eregion to visit me here, Celebrían thought as she tucked the letter away in her desk, but a strain of curiosity started to tug at her mind again.
Her father, she could understand. Celeborn had told Celebrían so many tales of Doriath, had spoken of it with such wistful fondness, that he had likely leapt at the opportunity to live in a forest kingdom. All the reports of Laurelindórenan said that the forest was passing fair, and that there were many survivors of Doriath living under its eaves. All the more reason for Celeborn to wish to live there; Celebrían didn’t think her father had ever been entirely comfortable in Ost-in-Edhil, as profoundly Ñoldorin as it was.
But her mother… Her mother was a different matter. Galadriel had taken great joy in building up Ost-in-Edhil, and here she had been in her element, governing eagerly and energetically. Life in the Nenuial settlement, where the majority of the residents had looked askance on all things Ñoldorin, had frustrated her so. Celebrían couldn’t imagine why her mother would choose to give up what she had had in Ost-in-Edhil, and go back to a form of existence similar to the one by the waters of Nenuial.
Slowly, Celebrían began to clear her schedule. She attended all already-scheduled appointments and did not schedule any more. She gave notices of absence, warned her friends that she would be going away for a time. One did not depart like a thief fleeing justice, after all. She just had questions that desired answers.
-0-0-0-
The forest was indeed fair, though Celebrían did not think it noticeably fairer than any other forest she had ridden through. She came upon a small village of wooden houses, and inquired after her parents, trying not to feel too thoroughly out of place in her brocaded riding vest, surrounded by people who looked in naked curiosity at her bright silver hair. The locals spoke an amalgamation of Iathrim Sindarin and Nandorin that was difficult to decipher, but Celebrían was eventually able to get them to direct her towards the settlement where her parents would be waiting.
The path Celebrían followed took her deeper into the forest, where the trees were so dense that sunlight only shot through in strands as fine as spider silk, and the air was very still and strangely thick. Celebrían had the impression of many eyes following her; her skin prickled, and she reminded herself that there were supposed to be many Laiquendi survivors of drowned Ossiriand living in this forest as well. Rarely did they ever willingly make their presence known to strangers. Her horse did not seem disturbed, at least.
Eventually, Celebrían came upon the largest collection of houses she had yet seen in the forest, most of them constructed of stone, as opposed to the humbler wooden dwellings she had seen earlier. This must be it, Celebrían mused, as she crossed a bridge over a stream that served as the settlement’s western boundary. She dismounted and led her horse to a public stable, before continuing on foot.
This settlement, Celebrían guessed, was an old one, possibly predating Amdír’s arrival in Laurelindórenan. The sides of the houses were covered in ivy and moss so thick and soft that Celebrían wondered how it might have served as a cloak; it certainly looked strong enough to be woven into cloth. A Númenórean she had spoken with in Ost-in-Edhil had confided in her that many of her people believed that all the Eldar lived deep in the dense forests of Middle-Earth, lived ‘in tune with nature,’ though Celebrían was not entirely certain what that meant. She was at least glad that the Númenórean had gone to Ost-in-Edhil, instead of a community that would have just confirmed the stereotypes she’d been raised with.
She found her father first. Celeborn was sitting on the veranda of a house of middling size, reading a small book bound with leather painted blue. In the moments before he looked up and noticed her, Celebrían stilled, her eyes fixed upon him. Though she’d known of his discomfort, and gotten some sense of his greater ease here, the sight of him, clearly so much more comfortable here than he’d been in Ost-in-Edhil (when had he ever spent his leisure time out in public in Ost-in-Edhil?), it was… not entirely comfortable. Celebrían had helped build that city, too, and it had been as much home to her as the Nenuial settlement, her birthplace, had ever been. Silent reminders that it hadn’t entirely been home for her father weren’t welcome.
But these thoughts, grating as they might be, evaporated when Celeborn looked up to see her, and smiled widely. “Your mother thought you would come here,” he told her, as Celebrían stepped up into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his back. “I was starting to wonder if you wouldn’t just wait until autumn and spend the winter here instead.”
Celebrían blinked, her smile freezing, just a little. “Where is Mother? I wanted to speak with her.”
“North of here, I believe. She’s grown fond of walking the forest alone.”
It did not seem quite proper that, after coming all this way, Celebrían should go seeking her mother out instead of the other way around. It wasn’t quite inappropriate, but it didn’t feel entirely appropriate, either. Nonetheless, Celebrían started north, scanning the settlement and the trees beyond it for any sign of her mother. As she crossed over into forest, the air seemed to grow even more still than it had been earlier. A heady, nearly overpowering green smell rose in her nostrils.
Not long did Celebrían had to wander in search of Galadriel. Before long, a golden shine lanced her eyes, and she spied her mother’s bright hair, the golden all that was visible today, the silver muted, hidden. Unlike Celeborn, Galadriel realized immediately when she had fallen under scrutiny. She turned around and fixed her eyes on Celebrían’s face, seeming neither particularly surprised nor overwhelmed by her daughter’s arrival. She reached out a long hand and beckoned for Celebrían to step forwards.
She never did like going to someone if it was possible for them to come to her; that has not changed, at least. Being beckoned forwards, was such an indelible part of Celebrían’s life that she did it without thinking, though on this occasion she might have liked it a little better if she had been able to persuade herself not to, to see if her mother would eventually come to her instead. But by the time such a thought occurred to her, it was too late; she had already crossed half the distance between herself and her mother, and stopping short would not only have served nothing, but have made her seem childish as well.
As soon as Celebrían drew close to her mother, Galadriel broke the silence. That was another indelible part of Celebrían’s life, Galadriel speaking first, though this part she did not mind—it was easy to become overawed in Galadriel’s presence, and unsticking her mouth tended to work better if her mother spoke first. “How does the city fare?"
Easy. “Well.” Celebrían flicked her braid over one shoulder. “Construction of the bridges over the main streets have been completed. We’ve finally been able to properly establish trade relations with Eryn Galen, as well.”
At that, Galadriel’s eyes flickered slightly, a mixture of interest and frustration that was soon submerged by the stately calm she had perfected long before Celebrían was born. “Oh?” That trace of frustration surface in her voice, like the burned edges of a loaf of bread that had been left in the oven a little too long. “You have accomplished in a few years what I was unable to achieve in centuries. I did not think that Oropher and Duileth would ever be persuaded to open trade relations with a Ñoldorin land.”
Vividly did Celebrían recall the strained negotiations that had ended in failure, the bitter conversations that had accomplished nothing useful. Galadriel had had no luck with Eryn Galen, and Celebrían herself had wound up signing trade agreements in what felt like her own blood. But still, she found herself able to smile as she replied “Actually, I found them to be much more agreeable once I promised them a share of the ale we produced each year.”
Something unexpected happened: Galadriel stared. Celebrían tried to imagine the last time she had seen her mother stare, speechless, at someone, and failed. She supposed Celebrimbor’s feats of overworking himself might have garnered such a reaction, but she honestly couldn’t remember the last time. The times when Galadriel encountered something she had no ready reaction for were vanishingly rare.
But then, Galadriel laughed, laughed her high, musical laugh. Celebrían realized when her ears pricked at the sound that she had missed it; it was such a small thing that she would not have thought she would miss it, but she found now that she had. “I’d never thought to try that. I didn’t realize Oropher and Duileth would be so easily swayed if I had just plied them with alcohol.”
The laughter broke the stillness of the air, made it easier for Celebrían to speak, for her to ask, “Mother… I was surprised when you wrote to tell me that you would be living here. Laurelindórenan is a fair place, to be sure, but it hardly seems the sort of place where you would be happy. Why…”
Galadriel’s face grew pensive, mirth vanishing from her lips. “I cannot say for certain,” she murmured, looking about the dense trees with a frown. “I have only a feeling that I will be needed here, one day. This will be a place of great importance, and I will pour my spirit into it.”
Somehow, Celebrían doubted that this forest community, however lovely, would ever be as vital to Middle-Earth as Lindon or Eregion or even Eryn Galen, but she supposed its importance could grow in time. “I would have thought Ost-in-Edhil, and all of Eregion, would have been such a place,” Celebrían probed. “You poured so much energy into it.” Her mother’s foresight was strong, if not always precise, and her intuition even stronger. If Galadriel believed as much, then Celebrían doubted not that she would be needed here, some day. But to just abruptly move here from Ost-in-Edhil, to make her home here on impulse? The moment of foresight must have been a strong one—that, or it had been misinterpreted.
(Then again, Celebrían did herself get occasional flashes of insight. No visions, no prophetic dreams, but she seemed always to know ahead of time when breakfast would be served slightly overcooked, or when a distant clamor of explosions would echo from the house of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. If her mother’s insight had been strangely particular this time, Celebrían could sympathize.)
Galadriel shook her head. “No. That place is for you and Telperinquar now; I know that much.” She stared over Celebrían’s head as she added, “My role there is done. I may visit, of course, but my words will have no more weight in that place.”
Something about those words, be it the slightly bitter note in Galadriel’s voice, or their sheer weight, made the hairs on Celebrían’s neck stand on end.
“I have seen something else more clearly, though.” Galadriel fixed her piercing gaze on Celebrían anew. “I have seen that you will dwell here, though only for a time.”
Well, that was simple enough to respond to. “Not now,” Celebrían remarked, fighting the urge to stare west towards the Hithaeglir—and home. “For now, it’s my city, and I intend to make the most of it!”
She knew where she was rooted to, and it wasn’t here. Perhaps Galadriel was correct, and Celebrían would live here, for a time. But not yet. Not yet. And though she would never say it aloud, she found that she rather liked being out from under her mother's shadow.