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Chapter Text

Celebrían’s teeth did not chatter, mostly because she stubbornly refused to let them. She was the master of her body, and she refused to waste energy on chattering teeth, shivering, or any such nonsense. Even if her body really seemed to want to do all those things…

Her mother had walked across the Ice with the host of Fingolfin, enduring worse cold than this for years in the dark. By comparison, a river that has not frozen over yet this winter was nothing.

At least, that’s what she’s been telling herself. Unfortunately, it wasn’t really working. It’s bloody cold, and at least the Noldor on the Ice had been dry. At this point, she’d welcome numbness if it meant she wouldn’t feel the cold anymore.

She didn’t have any choice but to keep going, plowing doggedly on despite the cold and discomfort. She had to reach her father with her maps or it had all been for nothing. If she went back to dry land, the orcs pursuing her would have a far easier time running her down. The beasts have been tracking her for days – they’d stumbled across her trail after she’d thought she had successfully picked her way through the maze of their encampments – and could follow scent even if they didn’t have wolves with them.

In retrospect, she should have crossed the Mountains of Mist much further north and tried to find her father’s hidden refuge from the north or northeast. The eastern side was still fairly safe.  But she’d thought it would be easier to find the valley her father described coming from the south. Live and learn. As long as she managed the ‘live’ part…

She’s been waist deep or better in the river for hours – it was nearly chest height on her now, and she was grateful it wasn’t deeper. She’s getting too tired to swim against the current.  But she didn’t dare stop or slow. She also didn’t dare look back too often. She had a horrible feeling the orc pack was gaining on her. If she didn’t find the hidden camp by this evening, she might not reach it at all.

She cursed internally – she didn’t dare make unnecessary noise. For all she knew, the beasts might have realized what she was doing and taken a more direct path overland to cut her off while she followed the meanders of the river.

If she died now, she would be remembered by most as a foolish child, and that would be almost as infuriating as the grim fact of failure itself.

She froze at the sound up ahead. It wasn’t loud, but it also wasn’t natural. Something was coming down the river.

Orcs couldn’t be on the river, could they? They didn’t swim or boat that she knew of, as much because rivers like the Bruinen don’t like them as anything else.

There was no cover to be found, not unless she wanted to risk stumbling into an ambush – she can’t tell how close the orcs might be. (There were experienced scouts who would know just by the sensation how close the beasts were, but Celebrían was not one of them.)

She braced herself as best she could, and checked the strap on her bag. Whatever happened, she couldn’t lose that, or this will all have been for nothing. Her notes might be ruined, but the maps and her equipment, stowed in the case Celebrimbor had helped her make years ago, were still safe – that case was water-tight. (She’d realized the bag was leaking too late for the notes.)

The boat that came into sight was somewhat longer than the height of the average elf, low to the water, and looked made to blend in with the river and its rocky banks.

“Lady Celebrían?” its pilot called hopefully.

She didn’t drop the mental discipline that meant even her own mother couldn’t find her, but she did cautiously stretch her mind toward him, just enough to ascertain that he was an elf.

Good enough. Given the choice of ‘unknown elf’ and ‘orcs’, she’d take her chances with the elf.

“Indeed,” she replied.

The current and his own efforts brought him to her quickly enough that she had only a few moments to wait.

“I am relieved to have found you, my lady. The river says there are many orcs not far behind. We must move quickly.”

“I was afraid of that,” she said. “Moving quickly sounds good.”

She passed her bag up to him.

Then she put her hands on one side of the boat to boost herself up and in – and was startled to find the top less solid than it looked. What she’d taken for the top was actually just a fabric cover pulled over the open part of the boat. The small craft tilted alarmingly.

Fortunately, the other elf reacted quickly, leaning as far as he could in the opposite direction. He managed to keep them upright if not terribly well balanced as she more fell than climbed in, the cover collapsing beneath her weight.

“I see you are not very familiar with boats,” he said drily as he did his best to turn the craft about while she sorted herself out.

Celebrían wasn’t about to admit he was right, and tamped down on the traitorous blush rising on her cheeks.

The pilot dumped her bag in her lap and tried to rearrange the cover of the boat, to reattach it with her beneath it. The cover, however, kept tangling around her, and her own efforts to help just seemed to make things worse.

“It’s no use covering me up when I’m still wearing sopping wet clothes,” she sighed. “Give me a minute.”

She kicked her bag as far forward as she could, which she was relieved to find was far enough that it wouldn’t be under her feet. She then toed off her boots, tipping the water that pooled in them over the side, before kicking them forward also.

When she started pulling off her clothes, the pilot spluttered a protest. She snickered at the realization that despite the appearance of his boat, he must be Noldorin. No Linda would be bothered by nudity.

“Shush,” she told him firmly. “It’s better for both of us if I’m not sitting here soaked. Or did you fancy being cold and wet as well?”

It was the work of a few moments to shuck off her sodden socks, leggings, coat, tunic, and underwear, which she slid down near her bag and boots. Only then did she lean back against the pilot. She wasn’t sure if it was despite or because of his protests that he gallantly handed over his own coat.

She pulled the still delightfully warm garment over her like a blanket, leaning back against him as he finally succeeded in getting the cover back over the top of the boat.

“Try not to interfere with the paddle,” he warned her. “We need to make haste, and we’re going against the current.”

She nodded, and did her best to keep still, curled under her improvised blanket. It was warmer and she was mostly dry now. As far as she was concerned, this was a vast improvement on just a few minutes ago.

The pilot hadn’t been exaggerating when he warned the current was against them, not if the muscles she could feel working against her back were anything to judge by. It was taking serious effort to get them going upstream with any speed.

She felt rather than heard or saw the ripple of power from him, and then things eased somewhat. Their pace abruptly quickened.

She’d never felt anything like it before.

“What did you do?” she demanded suspiciously.

 “Saved you, I believe,” came the rather snarky reply.

She elbowed him, and not gently.

“Ouch! That was uncalled for,” he grumbled. “If this isn’t to your liking, my lady, you’re more than welcome to go your own way as soon as we reach the boundaries of the valley. I would leave you here, but there are orcs about.”

“I somehow doubt whoever sent you out to look for me will be thrilled with you dumping me as soon as you can,” she sniffed.

Particularly not if it had been her father!

“No one sent me anywhere,” he shot back. “I came looking for you willingly, though I’m beginning to question why.”

“You still have a commanding officer, I’m sure,” she replied. “Whoever it is probably won’t be very happy with you.”

“I rather think my commanding officer would understand,” he muttered.

Celebrían doubted that – even if her father might sympathize with the boatman’s bruised ribs, he would still expect her to be brought to him at once. Gil-galad, whenever he heard of what occurred here, would ream anyone who didn’t behave properly with her. She’s pretty sure abandoning her by the side of the river doesn’t count at ‘behaving properly’.

“I need to get to my father without delay,” she said firmly. “The maps I bring may make the difference for those trapped in the valley.”

“We are not trapped,” the pilot said, sounding rather annoyed. “We are safe enough and can hold out for several years if need be. Furthermore, if these maps of yours are so vital, would it not have been wiser to travel with a guard, or at least to have told someone where you were going? There was quite an uproar when your mother discovered you missing.”

She did not elbow him again, but she was sorely tempted.

“Oh, yes, it would have been wise to convince anyone else to dare my mother’s wrath,” Celebrían snorted.

It was for that reason that she’d picked her own way across the mountains rather than ask their allies to allow her to pass through Khazad-dum. She wasn’t about to let Durin in for such trouble!

“Had I told anyone I was going, I would have been prevented. You clearly don’t know my mother.”

“I know she has more sense than you do,” came the absolutely maddening reply. “She forms her plans carefully – and they have never that I know involved running off into an area known to be occupied by the enemy alone and unarmed without telling anyone her intentions.”

Celebrían had no good comeback to that, and fell into a rather resentful silence.

It didn’t help her mood that she couldn’t avoid contact. She tried to sit up rather than lean back against him, but swiftly discovered two things. First, that made it more difficult for him to row – not that she much cared about him having to work harder if he was going to be so aggravating! But it also meant her back was now exposed to the brisk winter air, and that was unpleasant when she’d just been getting used to not being cold.

She sank back against him, pretending to ignore the not quite suppressed chuckle behind her.

Her rescuer had enough sense of self-preservation to let her temper subside before he tried to take up conversation again. She judged it nearly an hour before he spoke – an hour in which she definitely only leaned against him because he was warm.

“We are nearly to the borders of our territory now, my lady,” he told her courteously. “Once we pass the first guards, there is a spot we will put in at. You will be able to dress there. I’m sure you’ll be happier arriving clothed.”

Yes, she would be. It would be much more dignified and grown up. Except…

“I don’t have any dry clothes,” she pointed out.

She didn’t care how ridiculous arriving naked or wearing nothing but his coat would look, she was not putting those cold, sopping wet things back on.

“But surely…”

He trailed off, probably calculating that pointing out that packing spare clothes for a mission like hers was quite basic would put his ribs at risk again. (He calculated correctly, as it happened.)

“My bag leaks, and even if it didn’t, I got rid of the last of my spare clothes yesterday. I was trying to steer the orcs onto false trails.”

“Ah.”

She couldn’t tell from that if this made her less foolish and more competent in his estimation or not. Not that it should much matter – she doubted she’d see him again once she reached her father’s camp.

“I suppose, under the circumstances, you might borrow mine.”

Between his reluctant tone and the idea of someone who had been so scandalized by nudity stripping down so she would have clothes, she couldn’t help the giggle.

“So you’re going to arrive naked instead? I do hope someone with artistic talent will properly record the scene.”

“I have spare clothes,” he told her matter of factly. “It’s wise to have a set in a dry bag, in case the boat overturns.”

She couldn’t miss the as it nearly did he didn’t quite suppress.

She bit her tongue.

Dry clothes, she reminded herself. Dry clothes.

Before she could decide what she could possibly say that wouldn’t sound rude, she heard the chirp of a bird that she was sure wintered further south.

To her surprise, her companion answered in kind – and then she understood it must be a signal.

“The outermost guard posts are just ahead,” he explained. “We need only go a little farther on the river.”

He waved acknowledgement to the guards as they passed, and got grins in return. No doubt he could look forward to some form of recognition for a successful mission, particularly since he had either volunteered or taken the initiative from the sounds of it.

Perhaps a quarter mile beyond that was another bend in the river, and he steered the boat confidently to the bank.

“Lean up, please, if you would,” he instructed.

She was reluctant to brave the cold air again, but did as asked, and he scrambled out to pull the boat far enough onto the rocky shore that it wouldn’t be caught by the river before offering her a hand to get out.

To her surprise, he then pulled the boat well up the bank, even beyond the highest water mark she could see. This was more than she had expected. He didn’t really mean to leave her here, did he?

“We will be going the rest of the way on land,” he explained.

She was rather puzzled by the thought she caught about not wanting to hold back the river any longer, but decided not to ask.

He pulled a bag of his own from the boat that proved to contain a towel and set of dry clothes, which she accepted gratefully. He was somewhat taller than she was, so she’d need to roll both leggings and the sleeves of the tunic up a bit, but it would work.

To her amusement, he hastily busied himself removing her bag and wet things from the boat the second she removed the coat. He was even wringing her soaked clothing out to give himself something else to focus on. Who knew Noldorin prudishness could be so useful?

“It’s safe to look now,” she informed him once she was clothed, trying not to laugh.

She saw it was him trying to suppress a blush now – he must know how hilarious her father’s people found Noldorin ideas of ‘modesty’.

“I’m afraid there is nothing to be done about boots,” he told her after a glance at her feet. “I have no spare pair.”

She shrugged.

“I’ve walked barefoot before.”

“Good to know,” he replied. “But fortunately for your feet, we’ll be riding – it’s much faster than walking. The main camp is at the other end of the valley.”

She didn’t get beyond wondering just where he might be hiding a horse before one came trotting up.

“Only one horse?” she protested.

Just when she’d had hopes that she would arrive looking mostly like an adult!

“I’m afraid I don’t have many of those to spare, either,” was the slightly grim reply.

She did feel slightly bad about that – she hadn’t realized they had so few horses. Her father hadn’t mentioned that.

“Probably because it would have unduly worried your mother,” he companion said.

She blushed. She hadn’t meant that to be heard – she must be more tired than she knew if he could so easily pick up the thought.

He packed her things into his bag, then slung both bags over the back of the horse. Celebrían didn’t protest when he helped her up, even though she was a perfectly competent horsewoman.

The valley was impressive, but she could see why her father had preferred to cluster his forces at the far end – it would give them time to react should their enemies breach their defenses. (And perhaps they might escape up secret mountain paths.)

“We’re safer than you may think,” her companion murmured in her ear. “There’s more than just a few guards protecting the valley.”

“I’m not worried,” she said stoutly.

But privately, she was. As they drew closer, she could see that more elves than she had expected had been driven into the valley – and more Noldor than she had thought. She didn’t recognize the principal banner among their tents. Her father led the Lindar, of course. They had drawn into two more or less distinct groups if the tents were anything to judge by.

But it was to a tent on what appeared to be neutral ground that they proceeded – large, Noldorin in style, but bannerless.

Her companion dismounted and turned to assist her.

“My lord! You found her!”

The speaker was unknown to her, though by his accent and armor, he was one of the Noldor.

“My lord?” she demanded pointedly.

Just who was her rescuer?

He had no chance to reply before Gildor emerged from the tent.

“You can call off the search party, he’s back,” Gildor called over his shoulder. “Alive and in one piece, even.”

She didn’t think the glare on her cousin’s face was for her – unless it was. She couldn’t rule it out.

Either way, she noticed she wasn’t the only one doing her best to ignore it. ‘My lord’ had contrived not to notice by reaching for her bag after he had helped her down.

“Elrond Eärendilion,” her father roared from inside the tent.

Elrond?

She didn’t elbow this time – she planted her feet and punched, catching him on the upper arm.

“You didn’t tell me-” she hissed.

 “You didn’t ask,” Elrond replied with a smirk.

Chapter Text

Despite the glare it had drawn from the Noldorin officer, Celebrían would have gladly followed up on her first punch had her father not emerged from the tent. She was confident she could get away with smacking Gil-galad’s incredibly aggravating herald and right hand so long as Celeborn could pretend he hadn’t seen it. But not directly in front of him.

She had to settle for snatching her bag from Elrond and glaring at him, which wasn’t nearly as satisfying.

“I’m not sure which of you is worse,” Celeborn announced, crossing his arms.

At least she wasn’t the only one getting the scolding!

“You running off to get involved in this war without a word to anyone, leaving your mother as close to distraught as she’s been since Nargothrond-”

He levelled a stern look at his daughter, who had trouble picturing her mother distraught, least of all over her embarrassing miscalculation.

“Or you haring off alone on a misguided rescue mission beyond the borders without giving anyone a chance to talk sense into you. You are supposed to be old enough to know better!”

This time the look was directed at Elrond, who didn’t appear in the least bit troubled.

“I reached her relatively quickly and we’re both safely back. Events prove I was right to believe I could locate and retrieve her without a larger force,” Elrond replied mildly, inexplicably choosing not to mention how close the orcs had actually been. “I am not sure why you’re complaining. I am told her maps may be of vital importance.”

Irritated though she was at what sounded like Elrond entirely brushing off her father’s dressing down, Celebrían noted with some satisfaction that he was trying to unobtrusively rub his arm as he spoke. Served him right!

Celeborn still didn’t look pleased.

“As I know perfectly well that neither of you are likely to be bothered by anything I say on the subject, much less Gil-galad assuming he can be moved to say anything sensible, you will both answer to Galadriel.”

It took much for Celebrían not to protest the unfairness of her father’s solution – she knew perfectly well that in her mother’s eyes, there would be no acceptable excuse for her. But in Elrond’s case, ‘I saved your daughter’ would surely get him forgiven any rashness involved in short order!

On the bright side, her mother wasn’t actually here, nor was she likely to be anytime soon. What’s more, Celebrían was pretty sure Ammë wasn’t going to be in a hurry to try speaking to her over such a distance with Sauron on the loose, not to mention a horde of orcs so close by. Maybe she’d be less angry given time to calm down.

As long as she was indulging in wishful thinking, maybe Sauron would just drop dead choking on his own bile and save them all a lot of trouble…

At any rate, the optimistic view was that she had some time to come up with a good defense, or at least a somewhat sincere sounding apology.

“As you say, Uncle,” Elrond shrugged, as if having to answer to her mother was no particular trouble. “But I believe we have more pressing business at the moment. The maps, if you would, my lady?”

Celebrían glanced sideways at him, unsure if he was being serious or just trying to divert her father’s attention to safer topics.

But she found that Elrond hadn’t waited for an answer. He strode into the tent as if he expected everyone would follow. Which, she belatedly realized, he probably did – and with good reason. He wasn’t just some bold scout as she’d thought, but a commander in his own right. The banner she hadn’t recognized would be his.

Her father scowled at Elrond’s back but nodded for her to go on in, and she could see others falling in behind him and Gildor.

She didn’t recognize all who gathered inside, though she guessed that they must all be important in the hierarchy of the hidden valley.

“We’re calling it Imladris,” a voice to her left murmured.

Elrond was clearing space on the large table that occupied the center of the tent, and gestured peremptorily for an orderly to bring another chair.

He was literally giving her a seat at the table, though she wasn’t sure if it was on trust or merely out of respect for her parents.

They’re your maps, aren’t they? You’ll be the one talking about them. Unless, of course, you want your father in a worse mood than he already is…

She shot a startled glance at Elrond. Her parents often spoke to her like this, confident they wouldn’t be overheard, and Gildor occasionally did as well. But it was rare for anyone else to attempt it, let alone someone she’d only just met.

He raised an eyebrow, as if to ask how else he could say anything without drawing attention to the remark.

“By ‘we’, he means ‘he’,” Gildor told her cheerfully, claiming the chair to her right. “He’s counting on wearing down all objections, given that we’re likely to be here a while.”

“I don’t see why anyone should object,” Celebrían sniffed. “It’s a good name.”

 “Don’t encourage him!” Gildor protested. “He’s so taken with the place he’s talking about staying, or at least coming back once the war is over.”

Celebrían could see no reason Elrond shouldn’t do exactly that if that was what he wanted to do. It would have the happy side effect of keeping him well away from Lindon, which was where she suspected she’d end up.

Unfortunately, she did see several of the Noldor visibly wondering why such a young girl was included in this gathering. She started pulling maps from her case, handing them alternately to her father and Elrond so that the meeting could start before any of the doubters could work up a protest.

It was one thing for Gildor to antagonize them – not only was her ‘big brother’ old enough to have fought in the wars of Beleriand, he could be every inch a prince of the Noldor when the mood took him. It was another matter for her. As far as most of the Noldor were concerned, she was just her mother’s daughter, which to their minds meant she was coddled, spoiled, and too young to know anything.

She had never gotten to sit in on a council like this before – usually she handed her maps over to either her parents or Gil-galad and answered any questions and gave explanations in private. They spoke for her in council if it was necessary. But Elrond either didn’t know that or hadn’t thought it sensible.

That meant he had to start the meeting by shouting down the older elves who thought listening to a youngster who hadn’t even been begotten until four hundred-odd years into the peace was ridiculous. Though shouted wasn’t quite right.

Elrond did not actually shout. But he had a voice that could cut through arguments or shouting if he chose, and he didn’t hesitate to use it, insisting that Lady Celebrían would not only have her proper title – which was neither ‘Celeborn’s daughter’ or ‘baby Arafinwiel’, thank you very much – but also be accorded the respect due the Noldaran’s principal mapmaker.

Celebrían hadn’t realized until he said it that Elrond had any idea who she was or that most of the king’s maps for the past two yeni have been her work. Given that he spoke with the Noldaran’s voice in Gil-galad’s absence, the Noldor had little choice but to fall in line.

Once Elrond had laid down the law, even the more strident doubters had to let the matter drop, and the meeting finally got down to business. And to her surprise, her maps were not just one of several topics of discussion, they were the entire point of the meeting!

Each one was passed around to be read, considered and discussed. Questions were fired at her from all directions – how up to date was each chart? When had she added the figures for the strength of Lorinand and the Greenwood? Were the numbers directly from Amdir and Oropher, or relayed through intermediaries? What could she tell them of the situation in Khazad-dum? How had she estimated Sauron’s forces? When had their positions (or estimated positions) been marked? How likely was it that they would have changed since? What route had she taken down the mountains and to the valley? Had she been able to do any scouting on the way, or had she been focused on slipping through as quickly as possible?

She was used to just making the maps, not having to defend them as well. She’d only ever shown and explained them to Gil-galad, and he wasn’t nearly as skeptical an audience. But she did her best to answer, without showing her annoyance – even when the questions grew repetitive or some people wanted to argue a point that had already been discussed several times.

“My lords, these maps are all my own work and I will vouch for the accuracy of the distances and elevations. If you know anyone who can do better, you’re more than welcome to send for them. I’d be quite interested to speak with them. I’ve marked terrain as best I could. Numbers for any army are only as accurate as the information relayed to me by their commanders. If it is my own estimate, as with Sauron’s forces here and here, I have marked it as such and am happy to explain how I arrived at my numbers.”

She felt like they peppered her for hours, and was grateful that the orderlies slipped in several times to bring warm drinks and small snacks – tiny sandwiches and savory morsels sized just right to pop into one’s mouth between questions and chew quickly without looking undignified.

Elrond himself only asked a few questions – though she suspected that was because he realized the others would cover just about anything he might wish to know. (She might have underestimated Gil-galad’s herald once, but she wasn’t about to make a habit of it.) He seemed most curious about any details she could give on the terrain surrounding the valley, and any approaches they might have overlooked.

“I wish to work with you directly once you have had time to rest and recover from the journey,” he said thoughtfully when the questions from his lieutenants and her father’s finally wound down. “We’ve put together some rough maps of the valley itself, and what we know of its borders. But there are no cartographers among us, so I suspect you can better our efforts easily, even before adding any information you may collect yourself.”

“Did you want me to just redo your maps, or should I make a proper survey of the valley?” she asked.

“If you have whatever you require for your ‘proper survey’, that would be preferable,” Elrond replied. “I can’t say that I have any of the tools I understand mapmakers would need available for you.”

He paused.

“I’m also keen to know anything you can tell me of this region here. We were not in a situation that allowed us to scout the territory in much detail on our way in.”

He was pointing at the Bruinen just south of where its two arms met. Why he found that particular point so interesting Celebrían had no idea.

“Anything you can tell us will be valuable, no matter how trivial you may think it.”

Celebrian nodded, though she had the oddest conviction he didn’t actually want her full answer in front of his entire council.

“Unfortunately, as I have said, my lord, my notes were damaged. But I will do my best to reconstruct what I remember.”

She didn’t say out loud that what she remembered should be quite good – the exercise of writing it down meant anything in her notes was also in her memory.

Elrond’s look suggested he’d caught that thought – she was starting to suspect that dealing with him was much like dealing with her mother. Though her mother has never done whatever it was Elrond had on the river…

A slight smile played at the edge of his lips, but he gave no further sign of amusement – or annoyance – at what might not necessarily be a flattering comparison.

“There being no further questions,” Elrond said in a tone that made clear it was a statement, not an invitation to ask anything more, “the rest of you can be off. I daresay the lady feels she’s indulged your curiosity long enough when she only just arrived without so much as a pair of dry shoes.”

She was certain he’d done that on purpose, for it sent half of the gathered lords out the door quickly, and drew a chorus of concern from those who remained as to what she was lacking that they might perhaps be able provide.  

She was surprised to see the cranky Noldorin officer who’d looked at her so disapprovingly for hitting Elrond quietly taking notes on what she required – starting with warm socks.

“The lady will be quartered with Celeborn, I take it, my lord?” he asked.

Elrond glanced toward her father for confirmation before nodding.

“I’ll see what I can organize and have it brought to Celeborn’s tent. I believe we should be able to answer many of her most urgent needs.”

“Thank you, Pelendur,” Elrond said.

Celebrían noticed there was real warmth in his tone, much like her father’s when he spoke to his deputy Orodlin. She didn’t recognize his name, though, and wondered what his place was in the Noldorin hierarchy here in the valley.

This wasn’t the moment to ask, though, not when her father was waiting for her.

“I’ll see you at the usual time this evening, Elrond?” he asked expectantly.

“Of course,” Elrond nodded before turning back to Pelendur.

Celebrían tried not to show any disappointment at being effectively dismissed, or let her father or brother catch her sneaking a glance back.

Chapter Text

Celeborn kept an arm around her shoulders as he steered Celebrían in the direction of familiar looking tents that must be the headquarters of the Lindarin contingent in the valley.

“It may be rather crowded,” he told her ruefully. “Particularly as now you’ve arrived, I suspect Gildor will prefer to stay with us. Up until now he’s been happier pestering Elrond.”

“You mean he’s figured Elrond is at the center of any action, so staying near Elrond means he knows about everything going on,” Celebrían corrected.

“Exactly!”

Gildor popped up at her elbow, grinning.

“If you like, I can show her where your tent is,” he offered. “Or were you meaning to tell her off in private?”

Celebrían glared at him. There was no reason to give her father ideas!

“I was, but it will keep,” Celeborn said. “If you don’t mind, Gildor, I could put the time to better use. I will join the two of you for dinner.”

Gildor nodded, and Celeborn gave Celebrían a hug before striding off in a different direction.

She glared at her older brother.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded.

“Your father is a very busy man these days, and there’s nothing he wants to say to you that can’t wait another hour and a half,” Gildor replied. “Besides which, I’ll probably be harsher than he will about your thoughtlessness!”

That didn’t lighten her mood any as he guided her to a tent she recognized as her father’s – a little worse for the wear than the last time she’d seen it, but much less damaged than she’d expected to find it, given how badly she knew the retreat from Ost-in-Edhil had gone.

“Yes, it did go badly,” Gildor said sternly as he closed the tent behind them to keep what little warmth there was in.

The small stove in the center of the tent was unlit, and Celebrían hastened to amend that deficiency. It was winter! Why hadn’t they left it burning?

“The retreat was very nearly a disaster. It would have been one if Elrond hadn’t already been here in this valley and bold enough to go out after your father’s people,” Gildor continued. “They had orcs on their heels all the way to the border, much like yourself. But unlike you, they knew what they were doing!”

“I knew what I was doing!” Celebrían protested hotly. “Who else was going to get word to you of the full picture outside this Imladris?”

Gildor snorted.

“Again, don’t encourage him.”

“Elrond’s not around to hear. From what I’ve seen and heard, he’s every bit as busy as Ada.”

“Don’t try to change the subject!” Gildor retorted. “You were supposed to be safe and sound in Amroth’s forest, not risking life and limb coming over the mountains and picking your way here without guide or guard. It wasn’t only Ammë who was terrified for you. Your father was as well. And so was I.”

Celebrían sighed.

She had expected her parents to be made of sterner stuff – they had fought wars themselves, so they knew perfectly well that sometimes risks were necessary. But she did feel bad about worrying Gildor. He hadn’t gotten over losing Finduilas, the ‘sister’ he’d grown up with.

“And won’t anytime soon, if ever,” Gildor told her with a frown. “So I’d take it as a kindness if you would please refrain from dangling yourself as orc bait in future. You have no idea how lucky you are that Elrond decided to come get you before they could catch you. Uncle Celeborn wouldn’t have asked anyone to risk their skin on your behalf.”

That did shake her. She had accepted there would be danger for herself, but not that her boldness might draw others into danger.

“As you noted, war involves risk,” Gildor pointed out. “It also involves commanders having to make hard decisions. Having seen a bit more of war than you have, I can tell you that given the situation, it was pure folly to send anyone out for you as closely as you were being pursued. How do you think your father would have lived with it had you been killed, or worse, taken alive?”

Have you heard what they did to Celebrimbor?

Gildor couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud, and the pain and horror that echoed in his mental words were enough to shake her. Celebrían had a feeling what she’d heard from Ammë had been the edited version of what had happened to their cousin. But she wasn’t about to admit to that. She raised her chin defiantly.

“I’m not sorry,” she told him. “I did what I thought was best. From what I can tell, it seems to have worked out just fine. But I’ll try not to go running off again.”

“You won’t have the opportunity to try it anytime soon,” Gildor said sourly. “You’re stuck here for the duration of the siege now, same as the rest of us. Which brings me to the other matter you should hear from me rather than your father – we’re still in a fairly grim situation here. We have to hold out until the weather warms and we can start harvesting food from the valley. And it’s not just food that’s scarce - firewood is limited as we don’t want to strip the valley, and you’ve already been told that clothing and other necessaries are scarce as well. Our big luxury right now is warm baths. So don’t you dare complain about tight rations or missing all the usual comforts in front of your father or Elrond. You decided you wanted to join the war, welcome to life under siege.”

“I wouldn’t complain to Ada,” Celebrían protested indignantly. “Much less to Elrond!”

That would be the fastest way back to being treated like a child. It was irritating enough coming from her parents. But it would be mortifying from Elrond.  She’s been on winter expeditions before, she can make do the same as anyone else.

Gildor snickered.

“Your first thought on entering the tent was ‘it’s cold, why isn’t the fire lit’,” he pointed out.

“Yes, and of the two of us, I’m the one whose day started in a freezing river,” Celebrían shot back with some annoyance. “I’ve been cold enough that I think it’s not unreasonable to have a little fire, thank you. This is the kind of stove that can burn twigs or dried grass. It’s not going through cords of wood. We’re hardly going to deprive the valley for it.”

“Not for one tent, I agree, but look around outside, Bri – how many tents are in this valley?”

“Lots,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “But I expect you’ll find it easier to stretch food if people aren’t feeling the cold on top of it!”

She paused a moment, but to her surprise, her big brother didn’t seem inclined to reprove her for any further failings, real or imagined.

“How did anyone know where I was?” she asked suddenly, pulling on the detail that’s been nagging at her just at the edge of her brain. Her mother had doubtless guessed her intention, but even Ammë couldn’t have known her exact location, and trying to pinpoint her would have risked drawing the Enemy’s attention – something that would almost certainly have been fatal.

“Scouts spotted you yesterday evening,” Gildor replied.

“Scouts could go out, but a rescue party couldn’t?” she asked skeptically, hands on hips.

“Scouts needn’t be elves, little sister,” Gildor chuckled. “You were spotted by a hawk. They may not be eagles, but they aren’t fond of orcs – at least, not live orcs. A good many of them have been happy to help when we asked. No other elves have ventured outside the borders since Elrond brought Celeborn’s people to safety. So when a hawk told me about a silver-hair he’d seen running from the bad feet, it wasn’t too hard to work out who he meant. I told Elrond, who stupidly repeated the news to your father.”

“Elrond repeated the news? You weren’t going to tell Ada?” Celebrían demanded furiously.

“No, I wasn’t,” Gildor said softly. “Not when I knew he could do little but sit in here tormented by the knowledge he was condemning you to death if not worse without lifting a finger to help. He wouldn’t have felt it was right to ask anyone else to risk capture because you didn’t think before acting, and there’s no way Orodlin would allow him to do anything as foolish as going after you when there was no chance of success.  I wasn’t going to put him through that. It was bad enough to know it myself without sharing it with your father. But Elrond’s a bit of an idiot. First he told Celeborn, then he slipped out of the valley for one more rescue.”

He paused.

“You really owe do him an apology, you know. He saved your silly behind and your precious maps, probably the only one who could have. You thanked him by hitting him.”

Celebrían stomped her foot in sheer frustration.

“I didn’t know all that when I punched him, did I?” she demanded in exasperation. “But it’s not as if a bruise is the only thing I gave him. He’s got every last map and chart I had, and all the knowledge he could pick out about the terrain beyond where he found me besides. I didn’t hear him complaining!”

“Still not even,” Gildor said with an infuriating grin. “Besides, he wouldn’t complain. At least, not to you, and probably not to me either, seeing as you’re my kid sister.”

Celebrían was sorely tempted to smack her brother for the reminder that to too many elves around here, she was exactly that – a kid.

Gildor’s grin widened.

“You haven’t mentioned what he said or did that was so maddening that you couldn’t have used your words…”

Celebrían knew perfectly well her glare was not quite on the level of the baleful stare her mother’s that made even experienced warriors wilt, but it was getting better with practice. Unfortunately, Gildor was more or less immune to Ammë’s, which meant he was unimpressed by hers.

“And you’re not finding out,” she said frostily. “Was there anything else you wanted to tell me when Ada’s not around to hear?”

Gildor shook his head.

“No, that about covers it, I think,” he said with a smile. “Everything else I can say in front of Celeborn. Anyway, you know as well as I do that Ammë will have more than enough to say for both of them, not to mention plenty of time to consider how to say it most effectively.”

 “I don’t need the reminder,” Celebrían groaned. “It’s just as well there’s a siege on, otherwise she’d have me in her sight at all times from now until whenever we sail. She probably still will, once peace sets in.”

“Sounds about right,” Gildor agreed cheerfully. “Maybe you should have considered that that before you ran away.”

“I didn’t run away,” Celebrían sighed. “I’m a grown elleth. I don’t need my parents’ permission to come and go.”

“I wouldn’t recommend trying that defense with Ammë,” Gildor warned, pulling two folding chairs close enough to the stove for them to both sit in the circle of warmth.

Celebrían rolled her eyes.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to.”

“Good. So, tell me about all the parts you didn’t tell them…”

Celebrían tried not to sigh as she began the tale from the moment she’d made up her mind to find her father’s forces. It would be good to tell someone the full story – because she certainly wouldn’t be telling her parents – and she was pretty sure she could count on Gildor not to laugh at her.

She was only just getting to the part where Elrond and his boat showed up when her father joined them, tray in hand.

“Good, you’re both still here. I brought dinner.”

“Are we not to eat with the others?” Celebrían asked, startled.

“There is no dining hall,” Celeborn replied. “We’ve had other priorities. Most take their meals in their tents. So you’ll have to wait to prove to the rest of the camp that I haven’t confined you to quarters for the duration of the siege or the rest of your life.”

“Whichever is shorter?” Celebrían asked.

“Whichever is longer,” Celeborn corrected dryly. “Don't worry, I don’t expect the siege to succeed. Here, and mind you don’t spill – we’ve nothing to waste.”

He passed two small cups of stew, and small slices of hearty bread, keeping the smallest slice and scantiest cup for himself.

“Ada!” Celebrían protested.

“Uncle,” Gildor added reprovingly.

“Hush and eat, both of you. One of you hasn’t eaten properly for the past few days, and the other one somehow manages to find himself in the middle of anything interesting or dangerous going on around here. A lean dinner or two won’t bother me.”

Gildor shrugged and started eating, but Celebrían still didn’t feel right about it. She’d had enough to ease her hunger at the council earlier. And it wasn’t as if she’d been starving before that. She knew well enough how to live off the land, even when she was moving quickly.

“But…”

“Eat, please, Rían,” her father sighed. “Should Elrond’s ideas on how to supplement our supplies not work out, you’ll have more than enough tiny meals before ethuil to prove to me what a good soldier you can be. For now, indulge your worried father and eat as well as you can.”

She glanced at Gildor, but found her brother was already more than halfway through his meal.

Celeborn snorted.

“He knows better than to let it get cold,” he told her. “Also, he’s experienced enough to not waste time arguing when someone hands him food and says ‘eat’.”

Gildor nodded as he used the bread to make sure he hadn’t missed so much as a morsel of stew.

“Waste not, want not,” he intoned, sounding every bit as stuffy and sententious as the worst of the Noldorin lords in Mithlond.

Celebrían couldn’t help the laugh, but she bent to her stew without further delay. It didn’t take all that long to finish, and she made sure to imitate Gildor and use the crust of her bread to clean the bowl.

“Look, she’s learning already,” Gildor said cheerfully.

“Mind you don’t go encouraging her to do as you do, Inglorion,” Celeborn said. “I don’t care to have her getting into any more trouble than she already finds on her own.”

Celebrían sighed.

“Are you very upset with me, Ada?”

“I’m not upset with you, Rían,” he replied. “And I suppose I really shouldn’t have been surprised that you’d do such a thing. Your mother gave her father and mother more than a few sleepless nights. I daresay should you ever have a daughter, she’ll do the same for you.”

She smothered a smile, for her father’s resigned tone made it clear that he classed getting into trouble as some sort of Finwion trait.

“What, you never gave Thingol and Melian any trouble?” Gildor asked.

Celebrían held her breath.

She might have thought something similar, but she wouldn’t have said it. Her father had lost too much of the family of his youth for her to be comfortable poking him about them. But Gildor, who had lost much of his family as well, would sometimes tread where she didn’t dare.

“No, I’m sure my youthful escapades exasperated Thingol once or twice,” Celeborn said thoughtfully. “Though generally if I went into danger, it was with his knowledge and at his behest. But I suspect the experience of parenthood was a bit different for Aunt Melian. She had a very good idea of where we were and what we were up to nearly all the time.”

“Look on the bright side, Ada – you’ll have a very good idea of where I am and what I’m up to nearly all the time now.”

“Yes, ‘somewhere in the valley’ and ‘up to no good’,” Gildor added helpfully.

Chapter Text

Celebrían sank gratefully into the hot water. After the day she’d had, a relaxing bath was just the thing. Given how much they didn’t have here – she didn’t fool herself that she knew all of it yet, but she’d learned a good deal since arriving that afternoon – she was grateful she was able to have this little bit of comfort without having to haul the water for it herself. (Though she didn’t doubt she’d be taking her turn with that soon enough.)

She was unsurprised that setting up bathing pavilions had been high on the priority list of the inhabitants of the valley. Elves preferred to be clean when possible, and water was soothing besides. ‘Echoes of the Song’, as the saying went. When the weather turned warmer, she suspected a good many would be drawn to the river. But it was too cold now for most to find bathing in it comfortable even in the few calm spots that weren’t iced over.

She suspected it was only her father’s status that granted them the privilege of a pavilion to themselves. Well, more or less to themselves. She assumed her father shared it with other commanders. It was too much to expect that he had it entirely to himself, not with the way things stood in the valley.

Imladris, she reminded herself, that’s what we’re calling it. Imladris…

Something about the name triggered a thought that danced just out of reach of her conscious mind, but it eluded her attempts to grasp it. She suppressed a sigh of frustration. She might not have been the best student, but if there was one thing she’d learned from her mother, it was that one couldn’t force foresight.

“The day went better than I expected.”

She looked over to find her father smiling as he slung his towel on a peg and began to disrobe.

It was good to spend time with him again – and having already expressed his displeasure about her impetuous departure from Lorinand, and warned her she was on her own with Ammë, nothing more would be said about how she’d gotten there. At least, nothing like a scolding. She didn’t doubt there would be occasional comments in passing, particularly if she were foolish enough to complain about her circumstances.

“I was surprised Lord Elrond took me seriously,” she told him. “Most of the Noldorin lords don’t.”

Celeborn snorted as he settled into the bathing pool, probably as grateful for the hot water as she was.

“Elrond may have been raised by Noldor, but by the time he and Elros were in their care, the Feanorions had to discard many of the fool notions the golodhrim had about women being less capable than men. They didn’t have enough people left to waste any of them on such nonsense. If a person had the proper skills for a job, that’s who did it, man or woman. So that’s what Elrond saw and learned.”

“You’ve never mentioned that before,” she said in surprise. “Nor has Ammë.”

“Your mother wouldn’t have,” Celeborn shrugged. “I didn’t see any point in dredging up unpleasant memories and upsetting her for no good reason. Maedhros is dead, and Maglor hasn’t been seen since before your grandparents returned West. Any of their people who didn’t come to Balar with the twins died in the War. So there was little cause to mention it – particularly as I don’t recall you ever meeting Elrond before.”

Now it was Celebrían’s turn to be noncommittal.

“Maybe I did in Mithlond when I was little?” she offered uncertainly. “I was so young then I don’t remember most of it clearly.”

Actually, she had been told before that she wouldn’t have, and she was sure her cousin had known what he was talking about. But she was curious what her father might choose to say on the subject – though she made sure to keep that under wraps.

“No, you wouldn’t have met Elrond then,” Celeborn said with certainty – and a note of finality in his voice that told her that not only would he not elaborate, he wouldn’t welcome any further questions about it.

What Celebrimbor had told her back in Ost-in-Edhil was accurate, then. What a shame Uncle Oropher was in the Greenwood, now on the other side of a very inconvenient mountain range. She wanted to know more about Gil-galad’s herald. So far, he was a bundle of contradictions. And she doubted she’d get any straight answers out of Gildor.

“What do you think of him?” Celeborn asked. “Now that you two have spent some time together.”

She heard in the carefully bland question that someone – probably Gildor – had told him about the punch. On the bright side, she doubted even her brother would have mentioned she had almost tipped over the boat and then horrified Elrond by taking off her clothes, assuming he’d found out that part… She wasn’t sure if it was worse if he had, or if he hadn’t.

“He seems all right, I guess,” she said, her voice as neutral as her father’s had been.

Actually, she wasn’t entirely sure what she thought of him, aside from a notion that she’d like to get to know him better when she wasn’t soaking wet or wearing clothes she’d borrowed from him.

“I don’t understand how he can be so very Noldorin when he’s Cousin Elwing’s son. And shouldn’t he be King of the Lindar?” Celebrían asked.

She was curious why he would choose to play second fiddle to Gil-galad, no matter how Noldorin he might consider himself, when he could have led in his own name. (Nor, when she thought on it, was she entirely sure why he was second to Gil-galad even if he was counting himself one of the Noldor – did not the line of Nolofinwë take precedence over her grandfather’s line? Elrond was descended from Turgon. Gil-galad’s father was her first cousin, albeit a cousin who had died well before she’d been begotten.)

Her father sighed.

“Please don’t bring that up in Elrond’s hearing,” he said heavily. “As to his behavior… who can say if it’s how he was raised or simply his own nature? He was the quieter one, even when he was a boy.”

Celebrían understood that to mean ‘quieter than Elros’ and ‘before the Kinslaying’, and silently filed that tidbit away.

Before she could ask anything more, the thick drapes covering the entrance parted, and the subject of their conversation entered.

Elrond’s jaw dropped when he caught sight of her, and she realized with some amusement that he was blushing again. Had it been only the two of them, she would have teased him mercilessly. As it was, she settled for a not quite smothered smile.

“Apologies, my lady,” he began awkwardly. “I had not realized…”

She’d thought they were past such formality. But maybe this was who Elrond was when startled or nervous.

“I was wondering when you’d turn up,” Celeborn snorted. “I find it rather appalling that you would be late to bathe when you’re ridiculously punctual about everything else.”

“I was detained. In the healing tents. But- Celebrían- I…”

Elrond couldn’t seem to manage a full sentence. It probably didn’t help that he couldn’t seem to decide what to address first, Celebrían’s presence or the crack about his tardiness.

Her father regarded him in some amusement for a minute before he sighed.

“Elrond, I’ve told you many times our people don’t fuss about bathing separately as the Noldor do. Celebrían isn’t bothered in the least. Nor am I. And I’m fairly sure you’re the last ellon in the world who would attempt anything inappropriate. So stop making faces like a fish and hop in while there’s still time – and not in your clothes, either.”

Under her father’s expectant look, she could see Elrond all but wilt. It seemed it wasn’t just her nudity that worried him.

“I’ll close my eyes,” she offered.

Celebrían wasn’t sure what had prompted her to say it or even if she was entirely serious. But Elrond looked so absurdly grateful that she didn’t dare take it back, and screwed her eyes shut before her father could say anything about her encouraging such ridiculousness.

It took Elrond less time than she would have expected to disrobe. Either he didn’t entirely trust her not to peek, or he knew as well as she did what her father thought of the whole thing. He slid into the pool remarkably quickly.

“Thank you, my lady,” he murmured quietly.

She opened her eyes to find that Elrond had chosen to put himself on the far side of the pool, with Celeborn between him and her.  She was also surprised to note that despite his alacrity, Elrond had still managed to hang his clothes neatly before entering the water.

She didn’t usually with people she didn’t know well, but she risked a quick brush against his mind and found he was still deeply uncomfortable – he’d been taught as a child that this was inappropriate, and no matter that she might be at ease with it, he was not.

“You really can get used to this, Elrond,” her father said with another sigh. “If you give it a chance, you might grow to find it relaxing and even pleasant. Galadriel certainly did.”

“Ammë was-” Celebrían hastily adjusted what she’d been about to say, because she’d thought ‘such a prude’, but realized that would only leave poor Elrond feeling even more awkward. “-uptight about bathing? That’s hard to imagine.”

“There are a great many things about your mother’s attitude when she first arrived in Beleriand that might surprise you,” Celeborn replied indulgently. “It took her several years to become comfortable bathing with the rest of us, despite being Lindarin herself. You should have seen her face the first time she entered the bathing rooms in Menegroth and found it was not just Melian, Luthien, Merelin, and Nimloth, but also myself, Oropher, Daeron, and Thingol.”

He chuckled at the recollection.

Celebrían made a mental note to ask her mother about that the next chance she got!

“Do the Lindar in Aman not also bathe in mixed groups?” Elrond asked, his voice still not quite normal. (At least, it was not normal if how he had spoken to her on the river and in the meeting tent was anything to judge by. But he was less tense now that he was no longer the topic of conversation.)

“You would know more about them than I do, young one,” Celeborn replied ruefully. “Galadriel and I were in the East, coordinating with the dwarves and the Nandor. We saw precious little of the Lindar of Aman before the Amanyar fleet departed. It didn’t leave much time for learning about our sundered kin. I didn’t even get a chance to meet my law-father.”

Celebrían sighed wistfully. She knew practically nothing about her grandparents. Ammë seldom spoke of them – allegedly because she missed them so. Most of what little she knew came from Gildor.

“I don’t know about bathing, but I know they swim as we do,” Celebrían offered. “I don’t see why bathing would be any different.”

“And yet it must be, if it took Aunt Galadriel some time to accustom herself to it,” Elrond mused.

“Perhaps she was used to bathing with her close kin but not with those she didn’t know as well,” Celebrían suggested, hoping to find some compromise that would let Elrond feel more comfortable.

He’d behaved earlier as though everyone should give her the respect due a scout bringing intelligence, after all. And she knew better than to believe most of those older Noldorin officers would have listened to her otherwise, daughter of Galadriel or not. She was a nis, and too young to have seen the War of Wrath, little more than a child in their eyes. The least she could do in return was try to put Elrond at ease when he was supposed to be among kinfolk. (She still didn’t regret the punch or the elbow, though. Those he’d deserved.)

“At least you’ve managed to stop blushing,” Celeborn said approvingly.

“I’m already in the water,” Elrond shrugged. “So I’m mostly covered.”

Celebrían caught her father’s amusement. But apparently her merciful mood was contagious, for Celeborn said nothing more on the subject, asking instead what had detained Elrond to the point that he had missed the first quarter of their allotted hour.