Chapter Text
Elrond was in Valinor for a month before he asked Celebrian about his parents.
“I haven’t seen them,” she confessed. “All I know is that they live on Tol Eressa.”
For a long moment, Elrond was silent, then he pulled at his hair. “I had hoped - I had told myself - that they might offer you some sort of welcome. They are my parents, after all.”
“I’m certain they’ve been busy,” Celebrian said quickly. “Your father is a star, after all.”
Elrond shook his head, the ghost of a smile playing across his lips. “I suppose,” he said softly.
They found directions to Tol Eressa easily enough. It was marked on every map, but Finrod still offered to accompany them, to ensure they didn’t get lost. He took them most of the way there, then, at a glance from his niece, wished them well and rode for home.
To say it didn’t go well would be an understatement.
Of course, it seemed fine at first. They’d arrived at dawn when they were told Elwing was most likely to not be a bird, so it was an elven woman who greeted them at the door. The first thing Celebrian noticed, was that she had Arwen’s face.
Earendil was behind her, and for a moment Celebrian couldn’t even look at him for the brightness that emanated from the Silmaril on his brow. Elrond winced at the sight of it, and the first request he made of his parents was to look at his father and say, “Take that off, please.”
Earendil and Elwing’s home was warm and welcoming, even more so once the Silmaril was tucked out of sight. The windows opened to the sea, and Vingoliant was moored off a cliff, hanging in midair.
Having never seen a floating ship in person, Celebrian found it difficult not to stare.
“You’re so handsome,” Elwing told her son, a smile splitting her face. “You look just like I imagined you would.”
He offered her a weak smile in return but clung to Celebrian’s hand so hard he almost cut off the circulation.
“We would have come when we heard of your return,” Earendil began, “but-”
“But what?” Elrond looked between his parents, looking lost. “I’m your son. What else is there?”
Elwing gave him a pitting look. “He was with you, wasn’t he?”
“Who?” Elrond asked. “Mithrandir? The Ringbearer? Kanafinwe-”
“The Kinslayer.” At Elwing’s words, Elrond’s grip grew even tighter, and Celebrian began to wonder if they’d made a mistake.
“He was granted a pardon,” Elrond said, his voice cool. “Of course I brought him. Would you have had me leave him, to fade or die in Arda Marred?”
Judging by the look his parents shared, they might have preferred that.
Celebrian butted in, desperate to save the conversation. “I’ve always wondered,” she said quickly. “Could Vingoliant still sail on the water?”
Earendil seemed delighted by the question, his face lighting up. Perhaps he didn’t seem to harbor his wife’s hatred of the Feanorians, but it made sense he hadn’t been present at the attack. Or perhaps he just wanted to avoid a confrontation.
Either way, he grabbed at Celebrian’s offered distraction. “I’ve considered it, although, I can’t say I’ve tried-”
But Elrond cut in. “No,” he said, meeting his mother’s gaze. “I want you to tell me, what would you have had me do?”
“Leave him.”
“Elwing-” Earendil began.
But she pushed her husband away. “He is the reason our sons were lost to us!”
“I’m right here!” Elrond said.
“If he had not taken Sirion - had not tried to take my jewel, taken my children and raised them as heathens in the woods with that perorch - Elros would not have-” It was the wrong thing to say.
Celebrian had never thought of her husband as a violent man, but even she couldn’t blame him for striking at his mother.
For a long moment, everyone in the house was silent. Elwing’s hand rose to her cheek slowly, but Elrond didn’t wait for anyone to speak. He grabbed Celebrian’s hand and rushed from the house.
She took him to Nerdanel.
The artist opened her door, took one look at Celebrian’s worried expression and Elrond’s vacant face, and guessed, “You’ve met your parents?”
She let them inside, leading them into her kitchen where she had apparently already made herself tea, which she happily shared with them.
“I don’t know what you were expecting,” Nerdanel said, putting a cup of tea in front of him. “Cunts. The lot of them.”
“Nerdanel!” Celebrian hissed.
The artist shrugged. “I wrote to them when you arrived, girl. Implored them to visit you. Do you know what they said?”
Celebrian shook her head. “I didn’t even know you had written them.”
“They said they would be happy to visit you if I got myself out of the city first.”
“You had nothing to do with the kinslayings!”
“I suppose they blame me for birthing my sons.” She looked around and frowned. “Speaking of sons, where is mine?” She stomped off, shouting for Maglor.
Celebrian watched her go, then turned back to look at Elrond who was still staring into his tea. “She means well,” she said quickly. “She insults everyone.”
“She’s right,” he replied bitterly. “I want nothing to do with them, not if they wouldn’t offer my wife their kindness.”
“You cannot blame them for holding a grudge-”
“Yes, I can!” He looked up from his tea, meeting her gaze with conflicted eyes. “I can blame them. If I can grow to love Kanafinwe, they can learn to tolerate his mother at the very least!”
Celebrian sat beside her husband, reaching out to place her hand on his shoulder. For a long time, they sat in silence, enjoying one another’s company.
Then Maglor rushed into the room, his mother trailing behind him. “What happened?” he asked, his eyes darting between Elrond and Celebrian. He had clearly just come from the garden, and had leaves in his hair and was tracking mud across the floor. For once, his mother didn’t scold him for the mess.
“They tried to visit his parents,” Nerdanel explained. “It turns out, I was right.”
“Earendil doesn’t seem so bad-” Celebrian said quickly, squeezing Elrond’s shoulder.
“Did he stop her from being bad?” Nerdanel retorted. “Then he’s just as bad.” She shook her head, mumbling something that Celebrian couldn’t quite catch, but it seemed to insinuate that Elwing wore the pants in the relationship.
Maglor didn’t seem to know what to say. “They-” he began.
“Oh, don’t you defend them too,” Elrond moaned. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“They love you-”
“Yes,” Elrond said, staring into the fire. “You told us that. Every damn day. But they never came for us. Not even when I was here, in Valinor.” He sipped his tea. “If they loved us, it would be nice if they bothered to prove it.”
Maglor bit his lip. “What happened?” he asked finally.
When it was clear Elrond wasn’t going to answer, Celebrian did, saying, “Lady Elwing seems to hold you accountable for a great many things.”
“She wouldn’t be wrong.”
“She blamed you for Elros’ choice,” Celebrian said softly.
Maglor’s eyes widened, but before he could respond, Elrond snarled, “She called Maitimo a Perorch.”
Maglor stilled, and he leaned his hand on the door frame, as though afraid he was going to lose his balance. “We all know he isn’t-” Celebrian began.
“It’s what people used to call him,” Elrond said, his voice still brimming with anger. “It hurt him more than anything else - more than kinslayer, traitor, or oath-taker. Everyone knew he hated it, even his enemies.”
“He didn’t hate it,” Maglor said softly, tracing the woodgrain with his finger. “He feared it.” He looked as though he was a thousand miles - and a half dozen millennia - away from them.
Nerdanel had remained quiet through much of their arguing, but once Maglor had said that, she folded her arms over her chest. “Stay here,” she told them, and marched for the door.
“Where are you going?” Maglor asked, giving his mother a strange look.
“To find a pair of cunts.”
Celebrian watched her go, eyes wide. Elrond twisted in his chair. “Should we stop her?” he asked, although he didn’t actually look as though he wanted to.
“I’ve never seen her that angry,” Celebrian said, shaking her head. She wasn’t going to get between Nerdanel and whatever it was the woman planned.
“I have,” Maglor said, still frozen in the doorway. “Which is why I’m staying here.”