tanaquiljall | Entries tagged with celeborn

I've had several requests for a continuation of my Celeborn and Galadriel sequence. And I've had this song bouncing around my head all day (arghhhh!). So....

Day 306

as part of the Celevron a Mallen series.

Beyond The Sea

He does not yearn to see the crystal stairs of Tirion, gleaming with diamond-dust, nor hear the sweet music of Valmar’s bells, nor see its never-fading lawns of green where Nessa dances.

That far country has never been his. His realm is of starlight and shadowed woods.

And yet he learned to love the morning.

His heart bleeds for the brilliance of golden tresses that once snared the light of the Trees. For the melody of a voice deepened by grief and lightened by love. For his wife’s ever-enduring beauty.

One day his grandsons will sail, and he with them.

I've been hassled for some Celeborn-and-Galadriel smut by several people recently. (*sigh* I so did not come into fandom to write smut, and sometimes I think I write nothing but....) So, here it is. It follows on from yesterday's Father of the Bride - and incorporates a key Elven fetish.... *g*

Day 157

Parenting

Galadriel drew her fingers through Celeborn's hair, separating the twisted strands of his loosened braids. She spread them across the broad sweep of his shoulders and the the taut muscles of his stomach. Their silver mixed with the unbound gold of her own tresses, sliding over her bared skin as she leaned forward.

Yet her usual wiles did not provoke the accustomed response. He was... distracted.

Elrond will make a fine husband, love....

Aye. In Imladris!

Galadriel slid her palms on downwards. If you crave a daughter at hand to cherish... should we then make a little sister for Celebrían?

Another Celeborn and Galadriel drabble. How did Celeborn react to the announcement that Elrond and Celebrían were betrothed?

Day 156

as part of the Celevron a Mallen series.

Father of the Bride

Celeborn always thought Thingol's anger sparked by the mortal's presumption.

Now, pondering another dark-haired suitor who, by virtue of blood, bore more than a passing likeness to the first, Celeborn wondered if any immortal would have met with Thingol's approval – or could meet with his.

Galadriel's arms snaked around his waist from behind. She rested her head on his shoulder. "Be happy for them. She eases his restless Noldorin spirit. As you do mine."

Celeborn, smiling ruefully, turned and gathered his wife tightly against him. "Aye. And he kindles the slumbering passion of her Sindarin heart. As you do mine."

Denise asked for a follow up to A Makeless Making showing Celeborn as a new father. Holding Celebrían for the first time? At a joyous point, anyway.....

Day 151

as part of the Celevron a Mallen series.

Letting Go

Celeborn tried hard not to clutch his daughter's shoulders too tightly as he crouched behind her. A leaf drifted down from above, on past the branch on which they stood to the green lawn many feet below.

Celebrían wriggled impatiently under his grip, and stretched out her chubby arms. With a deep breath, Celeborn let go. She tottered unsteadily forward, and he followed behind, his hands still hovering protectively either side of her.

Celebrían reached the safety of her mother's arms, and Galadriel swept her up.

"'Gain, mama!"

Celeborn, revelling in his daughter's delight, joined his relieved laughter to hers.

Drabble-rouser-in-chief

elena_tiriel seemed to think there was a need for another drabble with Celeborn and Galadriel. So here it is:

Day 137

as part of the Celevron a Mallen series.

Family Feeling

Celeborn bowed low to the golden-haired maid. Fairer than Lúthien or Melian or even one of the Valier she seemed.

Speaking, he feared his tongue would cleave to the roof of his mouth. "Forgive me, lady, that I have not greeted a kinswoman ere this."

"Kinswoman?" Her voice was sweeter than the music of the falls of Esgalduin to his ears – yet held a touch of disappointment that grieved his heart.

"My grandsire was brother to yours, I think," he stuttered.

Her expression lightened. "Then we are indeed kin – from afar. I trust we will become better acquainted with time."

Both Denise and (more recently)

elena_tiriel have badgered me for a follow up to Radiance: You do realize that this just begs for a continuation again? The first time they actually speak to one another? When does Galadriel realize she's in love?

Day 134

as part of the Celevron a Mallen series.

Tree of Knowledge

Artanis wandered through the shadowed groves of the Hidden Realm. Though Melian's power was great, even she could not make the stars blaze with Arien's fervour: Artanis found mostly blooms known only in the deepest woods in Valinor: snowdrops, violets, bluebells.

Committing their graceful forms to memory, she already saw in her mind's eye the tapestry she would weave to make permanent their transient beauty.

A tall elf-lord approached, his hair silver like sprays of hawthorn blossom.

With fire suddenly coursing through her veins, Artanis knew she must learn to find pleasure not in crafted treasures but the ever-changing woods.

Note: Though Middle-earth lay for the most part in the Sleep of Yavanna, in Beleriand under the power of Melian there was life and joy, and the bright stars shone as silver fires; and there in the forest of Neldoreth [...] the white flowers of niphredil came forth [...] as stars from the earth.

The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Ch 10, Of the Sindar

tianaluthien asked for the first meeting of Celeborn and Galadriel.

Day 114

as part of the Celevron a Mallen series.

Radiance

Sunlight filtered slowly down amongst the shadowed boles, sieved green and sepia. The new lights – even the errant moon – still troubled Celeborn, familiar only with soft starbeams breaking into the long groves. Yet the halls of Menegroth were no refuge: filled now with distant kinsmen whose bright anger burned like noon.

Moving between pools of deep shadow, he caught a flash of brighter gold in the distance. The gold moved closer: a maid's tresses that had snared the sun.

With a quick shiver that might have been fear – or might not – Celeborn knew he must learn to love the day.

A drabble about Legolas and Gimli in Lothlorien.

Day 97

A Different Perspective

Lord Celeborn seems now to regret the presence of the dwarf. His words bring my argument with Gimli by Silverlode vividly to my mind.

But Lady Galadriel speaks kindly to him. True, her Noldor blood runs strongly in her veins, while I am Sindar. Still, she has lived three ages, and seen the Day before days.

And Gimli’s thanks – from one who has little skill with words or grace in action – surprise and move me.

I glance across at him. I remember how Moria oppressed my spirit. I cannot help but wonder how he will fare in this Elven land.

rakshathedemon asked for Celeborn/Eowyn interaction.

Day 41

Daughter of Kings

Celeborn, returning Éomer's courteous greeting as the new King welcomed Arwen's wedding party to Edoras, was strongly reminded of his forefather, Eorl, seen in Galadriel's Mirror five hundred years past.

Moving on to the White Lady, he remembered an older time. Grey eyes that had known grief and hardship. A figure tall and strong, crowned with golden hair. In her gaze, courage no less than her menfolk's.

Celeborn had not thought of Nienor, daughter of Húrin, Mourning, daughter of Morwen, in six thousand years. Now, bowing before this joyous maiden, his heart wished Éowyn lasting happiness with her raven-haired lord.

(Guess who's been reading her copy of The Children of Húrin. And remembering that Celeborn was probably hanging around in Doriath at that time. And, of course, Éowyn's name translates literally as horse-joy....)

Day 10

makamu asked for a drabble about Celeborn's reaction to Galadriel's temptation by the Ring.

Fighting the long defeat

Here, dwelling in the high airs, in lofty trees whose roots are thrust deep into the earth, cradled between rivers, I thought the fiery spirit of her kin quieted. I saw her strength become the slow endurance of wind and water and rock, not the quick violence of leaping flame.

But the blaze was only damped: like a moor-fire that runs underground through smouldering peat merely to break out again.

Yet wind, rain, bare rock may all extinguish fire. As she walks towards me, I see the devouring brightness that has consumed her all our lives is quenched at last.