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It was exactly a year since the war had hit.
A year had gone by since the world had started to feel like it was crumbling beneath her, dragging up the hope of peace she so desperately clung to and shattering it onto the ground. The day that had knocked her world just ever so slightly off kilter, so the hours flowed slightly faster into each other until the weeks bled together like a muddy soup of watercolours. Routines and chores filled the empty melody that rang out like a knell, calling out for the missing parts of her to return.
Elrond was at war, and had been for a year.
That thought bounced around in Celebrían’s mind like incessant flies picking at a forgotten meal on the warmer days; The heat suffocating all semblance of consciousness and reality. Her betrothed, her love, they had been separated from each other for an entire rotation around the god cursed sun. It wasn't a lot of time, it shouldn't have felt long compared to the mammoth expanse that was Celebrían’s lifetime. And yet looking back on the year felt as if gazing into the endless void itself, trying and failing to see the end of the horizon.
She shouldn't be feeling this way- not according to every unkind voice in her mind. After all, fighting in the war was a noble thing, an honor to serve. Celebrían was safe, tucked away in her little corner of the world, waiting out the melancholy days and counting down the seconds until the last blade was sheathed and the thundering of hooves called out in victory, signaling the safe return of her love.
But those were nothing more than faraway dreams, ghosts of the real world so desperately begging to join the living, their cries echoing into the night air to be carried as myths and hymns. And here they were, so desperately trying to claw away at Celebrían’s mind, grasping at any unoccupied part of her thoughts. This occurred so often it was all the elf could think about, particularly on the anniversary of Elrond’s departure. These fantasies were bogging her down, making the chores that once felt as easy as breathing feel heavy, slow - and they were not helping her take her mind off the issue.
It had gotten bad, by the time the sun rose to its peak in the sky, Celebrían had all but stopped her tasks entirely. She had been hanging robes outside to dry, her toes curling to feel the soft grass beneath her feet. A breeze was tickling her nape, incessantly trying to get her attention - like a small child pestering its mother. Years ago these little specs of nature would have comforted her, reminded her of the peace that surrounded her community. But now the war had ripped them apart, tearing a crack between them and throwing their lives out of balance. It had taken fathers and sons, brothers and friends, and sent them to fight and to die.
The reality of it curdled the lush nature. Once it had calmed the senses, like a balm to the mind with its bright colours and sweet smells, yet it seemed a touch duller nowadays. Even the raging waterfalls that coated rocks with their spray of mist seemed to be muted in this unfamiliar world that was once Celebrían’s home. It was all getting to be too much. Today was too much. It seemed unfair, the war was projected to span much farther into the future, and yet, Celebrían felt as if she could barely wait any longer.
She craved a sense of normalcy, to be held once more in the arms of someone she truly loved, to feel the safety that had not been felt since the first rumblings of Sauron had shaken the land. It was already a lot to have looming conflict pillage her sanctity of mind, but to then be unaware if someone who is so dear to you is safe, even the calmest of elves would have been shaken.
The spirals were never-ending. Constantly, Celebrían would find herself tripping into one, pausing mid-task to sink into another rabbit hole. With a sigh, she snapped back to the task at hand, blinking back the start of tears.
The elf stood up a little taller, determined now to get through the day with at least a little of her dignity still intact. She had to make herself lunch, before dusting along the expanses of her halls. Then she could treat herself to a long soak in a rose scented bath, before ending this cursed day early. After that, it was back to wishing her days away, until her heart returned once again.
Robes hung up, she slid back into the house, her silver hair slightly ruffled after standing in the breeze for a while longer than she should have. A mirror stood in the hall, reflecting her tall figure. At first glance it looked as if she was simply a normal person, nothing out of the ordinary. But she could catch the bags under her eyes, and the darkness where there was once a spark, the slightly disheveled nature of her clothes where they had snagged on some overgrown thorns in the garden; The little things that could be nitpicked by beauty obsessed elves, finding peace by disturbing others’. No doubt she would be frowned at if any of her high class acquaintances found her neglecting these details. It was a disappointing thought- just adding to the worry clouding her head.
Quickly fixing her hair, Celebrían glided away from the smooth glass, lost on where to go next. Chores felt like the least important thing on her mind by now- she needed to get away, to take a breather. But every place seemed to remind her of what she lost a year ago. The gardens where she used to lay and gaze at the stars- recounting folklore told to her as a child. The halls that they used to dance through in the middle of the night, music nowhere but in their minds. Maybe she should have just forgotten the day and skipped straight to bed.
The elf was once again spiralling badly, her eyes straying from the path ahead, and she went crashing into the figure standing there. A hurried apology was quickly cut off when it registered who was in her front room. A woman, who roamed these halls so often they were practically hers, not even needing to have a keeper let her in- she had owned a key for a long time. A human with flowy brown hair that stood out against the silver locks that adorned Celebrían’s head.
Varyandë.
The friend who knew her struggles best, who had felt all the loss and hurt right along with her.
One who had, despite her shorter lifespan, remained composed when Celebrían’s love had left for war, comforting her through the nights to follow where the cold of her empty bed had been too much to handle. Despite her husband facing the same evil, and the child she had to raise, she always remained there for the elf.
“Mae govannen, mellon!” she said, voice as steady as ever. It was astonishing how just a few words from her was enough to relieve most of the tension from Celebrían’s body.
“Friend, I’m so glad to see you,” she replied, using the common tongue and sinking into a hug.
The shorter woman did not seem confused at the unusually forward display of affection, knowing acutely what the day signified. Varyandë was feeling the loss of today as well. She didn't even need to look into her friends eyes to glimpse the tinge of hurt that sat behind them.
She pulled away a few seconds later, taking in the older woman’s appearance, trailing her eyes along the frazzled draping of her dress before meeting her gaze.
“Shall we walk?” It wasn't really a question, but the elf nodded in response anyway.
They wordlessly turned, starting to wander down halls that felt slightly less foreign when together. Silence lingered like mist in the air, only broken by the sound of their shoes against the polished floors. They both knew where they were going, having traveled this route to the conservatory so many times. It sat at just the right spot so the sun illuminated the luscious flowers and plants for most hours of the day.
Lately, it had dulled with the rest of the world, and the frequent meetings the women had held had dwindled. The beauty of the space was lost on their wandering minds, unable to fully live in the present when their pasts were the only place to find the men who once occupied their worlds.
As they entered the room, it seemed to be no different, the shining beams of light that reflected through the crystalline glass were nothing more than faint glows. Flowers seemed to droop just a little more than usual, their petals sadly smiling, clearly aware of the melancholy that followed the pair into the space. One of the maidens was already steeping tea for them, its smell drifting through the enclosed space. The aroma was calming, blurring the sharp edges of the thorns that glinted on the stems of the roses enclosing the space.
“It's looking nice”, An attempt at normal conversation, but anyone could see the lie behind that. Small weeds had started to grope at the boxes of flowers, and rot had started speckling the low leaves. Neither of the women were here to talk about plants though.
“How are you fairing?” It was a tentative question, Celebrían worried it was breaking this unspoken rule that held common courtesy above honesty.
But then her friend sighed, a sad noise, as if all the pain that she had been holding back was ebbing away with each new breath she took. The closeness that they held in their hearts had not faded despite the year of added responsibilities and emotions.
“As good as you it seems,” she replied, her bitter tone evident. “Want to sit?”
Varyandë was already shuffling towards the carved chair, sitting on its smooth surface, gazing out towards the distant waterfalls. Her eyes seemed glassy, running through all the things she wished to get off her shoulders. It hurt the elf, to know her human friend was bearing the same sorrow that plagued every inch of her life.
As Celebrían slid into the chair opposite, those faraway eyes turned to her, meeting her own icy blue stare. There had always been this level of understanding between the women, ever since the humans had arrived in Rivendell, scared and running to any place that seemed safe. Both their betrothed were important men, and when you are used to fading into the shadows it's easy to fade with one another. Late nights doing chores and tending to the small child that had come not long after the guests had only made the two grow closer.
In elven eyes, it hadn't been that long since the two formed this bond, which made it evermore special to Celebrían. Varyandë had spent years of her precious life dedicated to helping and healing her, not even expecting anything in return. But she had been there for her friend’s darkest days- neither of them had slept the night after the men had left for war, a separation made bearable only through each other’s company. They had stayed together through those tender first weeks as well, staying in each other's company through the days and well into tomorrow's dawns.
That comfort they found was felt now, whispering beneath the surface, faded like an old book. It warmed the elf, who figured it was her time to carry the half forgotten conversation.
“It feels as if an age has passed since we spoke last,” It was safe, nothing but a rehearsed conversation starter that only got an absent hum in return. “How is the little one?”
That got a sad little chuckle, “He seemed to feel the loss as much as I have been, barely slept more than a few minutes last night,” The next words were quiet, barely even audible, “I wonder if he’ll ever get to meet his father.”
It felt like glass had shattered, the way they both went quiet. The fear for the men far away, the terror they felt from not knowing their fates, the fact they both were thinking about the same horrible thing.
“It’s not healthy to think like that, it will drive you to the edge...” somehow the human’s eyes grew even more sympathetic with each word.
“It’s normal to feel grief, you don’t have to shut yourself away,” A common sentiment from her friend, still relatively new to elven culture, one that reminded her how different their upbringings really were. “That’s what will truly drive you to insanity- the fear of what they'll think of you”
At that point a sigh escaped the elf- she didn’t feel insane, just broken beyond repair, free falling towards being nothing but an empty husk, mindlessly repeating chores until its faraway death.
A hand on her pale arm pulled Celebrían out of her thoughts, and as the face in front of her started to smile, so did she, despite the confusion at the sudden expression of joy.
“I know what you need.” At that moment the short one reached into the woven bag she carried with her and brought out two cloth wrapped items. The confusion in the air quickly faded as she unwrapped the two bottles, filled with a translucent red liquid, one significantly darker than the other, which could only mean…
“Where on earth did you manage to get Dorwinion wine?!” The surprise in her voice was laced with amusement, her friend always managed the craziest feats, even if they were in the middle of a war.
“You know me- I have my ways,” That elicited a small chuckle from the elf, the sorrow of the day momentarily forgotten as both women giggled as if they were adolescents again, going against their parents wishes and sneaking out into the night. “So what do you say we get drunk and forget everything we were supposed to do?”
Celebrían was nodding before the sentence even finished.
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The stars had never looked this pretty. Maybe in a past life when humans were a thing of the future and the rings that held a grip on this land were far from existing, the stars had shown with this true beauty. They shone as if all the choirs of the world harmonized just for them.
Maybe it was the wine talking.
Celebrían couldn't remember the last time she had been this drunk. Her vision swirled like the waves on the coast, never stilling or calming. The hum of nighttime seemed to combine into a melody of chaos and peace, never fully settling into either. Nothing stayed still, besides her best friend.
Despite her disorientation, her best friend seemed like an anchor, a fixed point in reality, placed in the elf’s path to keep her grounded yet carefree. Always there for her, the lighthouse in the storm that was her brain for the past year.
She was as beautiful as well. Nothing like the elegant, almost methodical beauty of the elves- Varyandë was beautiful in the way you would describe a sunset, or the patterns formed in molten rock as it flowed and destroyed. She was an untamed, wild kind of beautiful- her hair seemed to dance, shuffling about in the wind. Her eyes held the wisdom of someone much older than the human was. They were the prettiest chestnut, striking in an unexpected way. Celebrían thought she had never seen a face so pretty attached to a creature so brilliant.
So fun to be around, her presence always sparked joy in all souls present. The times they were together always seemed more colorful in her memory, bursts of joy in her long life. The human knew what made her laugh, what comforted her, what distracted her when she needed it. She knew the little mannerisms that gave away the elf’s real feelings, despite her efforts to stop them.
And she knew her favorite spot to sit and think was up on this cliff, overlooking the spray of a waterfall and her homeland. The grass here was dotted with fallen leaves from the old tree that guarded the drop. When she had first shown Varyandë the spot, countless concerns had been voiced from the woman, comments that did not stop until a railing had been installed to protect from the rough drop into the shallow lake below. Celebrían was thankful now for this barrier, she couldn't quite tell how far away from the edge she was.
“What do we do if they lose, if they… ,what do I do for you?” There was an undertone in her voice, one different from before
“What we can to ensure the safety of all we love- why would you have to do anything for me?”
“No, after that,” the elf could hear more clearly the fear that painted those words, “After I go, after I … die, I worry if you will cope without Elrond or someone else you love to lean on.”
Celebrían wished she hadn't spent countless nights trying to pry her wretched thoughts away from this very subject. She couldn't think about a world where her husband didn't come home, one where she couldn't hear her best friend's mischievous little giggle, couldn't see the way freckles dusted the skin beneath her eyes after being kissed by the sun.
The elf felt her eyes welling up, emotions that she had tried not to feel rearing their ugly heads.
“I .. I don't know,” Her voice managed to be carried in the night air, despite the way they were whispered into the night. "I can't stand it, that every day since I met you has felt as precious as the stars in the sky, and I… I just wished that they didn't have to burn out. I feel as if you're a ghost in the morning even as you stand before me… I just can't think… I can't know.. I don't know.” The words just tumbled out of her, crawling from her throat and choking the elf with the raw truth.
The silence that followed this outburst was almost as awful as the words themselves. Everything seemed to still, even the breeze seemed stunned into silence.
Celebrían could feel Varyandë was staring, even with her eyes closed. An outburst from her wasn’t rare when drunk, but this night had been heavy with the pain of the day. It felt as if she was admitting defeat.
“My love…” The elf perked up at the nickname, usually reserved for Isildur only, “Do not despair over my corpse when I still stand before you.”
She was crying too, it hit Celebrían as she opened her eyes. The human’s pretty face was stained with rivulets of tears, glistening in the moonlight. Oh, how she wished to comfort them away, to freeze any more suffering and shatter it onto the rocks that lay way below them.
She was still beautiful, even with sorrow twisting her features. It was amazing how composed she seemed to stay no matter how much emotional release had happened throughout the day. The wine that was coursing through both the women’s systems faded all that pain away though, and at the end of the day it was just them.
“Yes, I promise to cherish you more than the air I breathe.” It felt so right, a truth that need not be whispered for the whole world to understand. “I’m not yet ready to mourn your beauty and your hospitality yet. Besides, where would I get any decent quality wine from?”
And just like that they had snapped back into the lighthearted atmosphere of before.
“You would certainly wallow more”, her tone was playful, a giggling fit starting between the women. “And this cliff would be a lot less safe!!” the giggling had turned into full laughter now as the women bantered back and forth.
“I’d just have to encase everything in steel so it didn't get hurt!”
“Because we don’t have enough secluded elves already!”
“Now that one stung a bit, friend, you know I'd do anything for you.”
“I know it.” The tone that she said it in was so sincere, it could have been a love confession; It might have been a love confession, from the way that she was fondly gazing towards her elven friend. Celebrían wondered what she saw, if she looked past the charm and beauty demanded by society, and found the beauty in the broken interior underneath that mask and saw something else, something sweet, free; something worth loving.
“Varyandë… ” The name felt heavy on her tongue, with just one word the two women seemed infinitely closer than before. They would always keep their love for each other, long after the mountains turned to plains and their bodies rotted away, no doubt buried beside each other, their betrothed beside them, the love between them all never separating them.
The shorter woman was already moving, eyes darting to and from the elf’s lips, silently asking for permission. No amount of wine would have changed the answer to that question.
The kiss was hesitant at first, a soft melody trying to find its footing. The women had pulled back for a moment after the first brush of their lips, shock and joy both gracing their features. Then Varyandë smiled, leaning back in to take over, turning the melody into a symphony of feelings, a crescendo of the tension that had been building ever since that day the humans had been ushered into the city and nursed back into some sense of safety.
From that point the kiss turned feverish, the wine giving them the confidence to finally take what both of them had been craving. One kiss turned into two, and two turned into many. Celebrían managed to get her limbs working again, moving a hand up to rest at the base of the other’s neck, the second resting lightly against her waist.
The desperation of the kiss never felt demanding, instead being sweet, a moment of comfort between them away from the impending war.
Eventually Varyandë pulled away, smiling softly at her love, her light. The smile was immediately returned, the woman behind it no longer feeling lost to the slide of time, not when she knew her anchor would be there to save her from drifting off until they both faced the end of the war.