Waking slowly, he found himself entangled in warm arms, the sweet smell of sex upon the fresh morning air. A smile crossed his lips and he blinked open his eyes. Blonde hair strewn across his shoulder brought him quickly to full consciousness and he reached up with a sigh to run his fingers through it, as though somehow that could make the colour change. He swallowed another sigh, banishing with practice the forming ache inside. At least, he considered, he hadn't dreamed last night. The relief that this dawn felt lighter than the last faltered at the seeming travesty his subconscious had perpetrated. How could I forget? He closed his eyes against the wrench of pain inside him. Never. The absence that usually filled him post-dream threatened to fill the space peaceful sleep had vacated. His hand stilled. But his wedding band glittered amidst the last of the honeyed tresses slipping through his fingers, and he quietly repeated his private promise to look forward instead of back. You owe her nothing more but you do owe her the *chance* to be your wife, he told himself sternly. She knows enough to expect no more; but she deserves no less. Celebrían stirred in her sleep. Elrond felt his smile return as her glazed eyes cleared into awareness and she smiled up at him.
"Is it daylight already?" Celebrían murmured, refusing to turn and look out of the window. She could feel the contrast between warm and cool playing along her spine as the early light waltzed with the morning breeze.
Elrond glanced over her shoulder and then nodded as he looked back. With a sigh, Celebrían nestled closer to him, relieved when he wrapped his arms around her.
"I have to get up," Elrond murmured into her ear. "Imladris doesn't manage herself."
"Mm," Celebrían agreed reluctantly, unwilling to leave the warm cocoon of limbs and sheets. The lassitude of afterglow still lingered; her body ached pleasantly, content to remain still.
Elrond didn't move. After a moment she tilted her head back to look at him. "You said something about getting up?"
"I did, didn't I?" Elrond said lazily.
She snuggled against him and, somewhat cautiously, moved one exploring hand down beneath the sheets. She was rewarded with a low murmur and the press of his body into her hand.
"Could we delay the out of bed rising a little longer?" she asked, glancing up at him through her lashes, caught at the crossroads between shyness at her boldness and a satisfaction at the reaction it elicited.
"Oh, I think you could persuade me," Elrond answered, claiming her lips in a kiss.
The morning, however, demanded their attention at a long last and, Celebrían realised as she hastened through her ablations and dressing, the tardiness of Imladris's lord and lady would be noted at the breakfast table. She scraped her hair back into a clasp, allowing the braids she had not taken out the previous night to hang in loops only slightly frayed around the edges and picked up her shawl as Elrond hurriedly tied off the end of one of his braids. He smoothed down his robes and drew a deep breath, his inerasable aura of calm dignity settling around him as easily as his cloak.
"You look as though you have been awake for hours, and studiously occupied," Celebrían observed, straightening her own gown and hoping she didn't look as flustered as she felt.
Elrond quirked an eyebrow at her. "Have I not?"
She covered her laugh with her hand and shook her head at him. "You are unshakeable, my lord," she observed. He smiled at the compliment, but there was a wry edge of self-doubt to it she had not expected to see. "Whereas I," she continued, "Look as though I have been hiding under a briar bush."
"You do not," Elrond assured her, though he tucked a strand of her hair back to tidy her a little. She closed her eyes and groaned, smiling as he touched her cheek lightly and laughed with her. She tilted her head and kissed him, the gentle meeting of lips so different from the clumsy need and then urgency that had marked its predecessors, recapturing for an instant the kiss accompanying their vows in its tentative promise. "Though I must inquire, lady," Elrond added with a smile as they drew back, "How it is that you are so aware of the effects of hiding under bushes?"
"Ah well," Celebrían linked her arm through his. "You see I was a dreadfully naughty child and quite unwilling to engage in my duties..."
He raised an eyebrow at her, intrigued, and together they made their way down to the breakfast table.
It was, as Celebrían had suspected, all but full. The table itself was arrayed with another feast, rows of toasted breads and honey, eggs, and grains, fruit drinks, and mare's milk. And all the guests that Imladris had welcomed to honour the wedding. Elrond glanced at her as they stepped through the doors and all heads turned their way. She lifted her chin and matched his enigmatic smile as they took their places at the head of the table. She was instantly aware of her father's scrutiny; anxious grey-blue eyes traversed her head to toe, measured Elrond, and then hurried to meet hers. Her smile flooded across her face and relief filled his eyes. When the lord and his new lady had left the assembly the previous night, a little after the lords and ladies had retired from the table to sit with the minstrels and sing quietly, Celeborn had met her eyes with only concern writ in his gaze. Once again, Celebrían had forced a white-lipped smile for his sake and taken no comfort for herself; she had looked instead to her mother. But Galadriel's eyes had been locked with Elrond's, and her expression held only sympathy. Now, Celebrían looked to her mother, and found her gaze again upon Elrond. Glancing surreptitiously at him, she noted his level stare; his expression was cool, forbidding sympathy or inquisition from the elder lady. If something silently passed between them, Celebrían could not discern it.
Feeling as though she were eavesdropping, she looked back to reassure her father and saw him frowning at Galadriel. She turned away, knowing better than to expect unnecessary attention from her mother, and wondered briefly why her father though she would be offered it. It was easier to greet the other members of Elrond's court, including chilly Erestor, and to ignore the unease determinedly lifting its head. To her relief Glorfindel chose that moment to make his late appearance. He strolled over to sit at his lord's right hand, laid one of his on Elrond's shoulder and said in an undertone designed to reach the ears only of those closest:
"You both look remarkably well, as fine as the morning itself - a good night, my lord?" He glanced up at her with a friendly wink, "My lady?"
Celebrían blushed to the roots of her hair, and Elrond's jaw flexed around a barely contained smile: half at Glorfindel's impudence, half at his own embarrassment. He caught her eye, though, before he spoke.
"I believe so," Elrond replied, his voice less certain than the smile that from a distance would affirm clearly both the question asked to those out of hearing range, and celebrate the answer.
She too hesitated, the previous night surfacing with the same shiver of recollected pleasure and uncertainty she had felt at the speaking of Eru's name.
"And a very good morning," she said at last, letting her smile at that untainted memory show.
Elrond chuckled, closing his lips around any further information. Glorfindel's hand lingered on his shoulder as the seneschal sat and his eyes did not leave Elrond's face. Very briefly Celebrían watched an expression quite unlike a smile try to touch Elrond's lips, and Glorfindel's fingers tighten consolingly before she looked away; the table was no place for ghosts of past relationships. She accepted the platter of honeyed bread passed to her and for the first time caught her mother's eye. Galadriel seemed to have been watching her for some moments, and she felt with a start the presence of her mother in her mind. Galadriel's calm expression did not betray all that she could discern from the surface and Celebrían sighed to herself, wishing, not for the first time, that she could know half of what her mother hid from her, and hide half of what Galadriel could know from her. But the smile that Galadriel gifted her with warmed her; the Lady of the Wood took great pride in her daughter. Smiling herself, Celebrían turned her attention to her plate.
The management of Imladris had changed somewhat over the last century, Glorfindel explained to Celebrían as they toured the valley itself on horseback later that day. Imladris had been formed in the year sixteen ninety-seven of the Second Age during the battle of Ereigon. During that Age it had functioned as a second stronghold for the kingdom of the Noldor in the West, Lindon being its primary stronghold and home to the high king Gil-galad. Elrond, still working as the herald of the high king, had devoted much of his time and energies to defence strategies. These had consisted solely of actual elven man power: the training of the soldiers that had remained there after the siege on Ereigon, research into the enemy being faced, and strategising and co-ordinating patrols to clear the surrounding lands and major travel routes of orcs. Each of the other kingdoms and Lindon itself had been doing the same. But Elrond's own interests and talents had provided the base for its changed purpose in this new Age. The library had expanded to cover almost an entire wing of the ground floor, and on one of the upper levels the healing collegiums were easily as large. Students of both arts had come in from other realms, including the former Greenwood; Elrond's reputation as a healer making him just barely acceptable to the late king Oropher, whose son now governed in his stead.
"My mother mentioned something about Oropher's dislike of Elrond," Celebrían admitted, screwing up her forehead as she tried to recall what exactly her mother had said. "I believe he made some reference to 'rainbow blood'."
Glorfindel glanced at her and shook his head, laughing. "No, not quite. I think that is a slightly more affectionate term than Oropher would use! But you are correct, the slights he levelled at Elrond did concern his mixed heritage." He snorted in disgust.
"I confess I do not understand the Sindarin preoccupation with bloodlines," Celebrían said, thinking briefly of the strange soft and rough friction of the sprinkling of hair upon Elrond's body and suppressing a quiver at the recollection.
Glorfindel scoffed again. "Insecurities about oneself are usually projected as disdain for the same in another," he replied acidly.
"Oropher, insecure?" Celebrían was startled. On the sole occasion she had encountered the Sindarin king she had found him charismatically arrogant; a gentleman, when he deigned to notice anyone who was not actually stood before him, however aware of his or her presence he might be.
Glorfindel grinned and tapped a forefinger against the side of his nose.
He continued then, breaking off only briefly to point out the rainbow falling through the waterfall as the sunlight caught it. Imladris had shifted over into its secondary capacity almost solely now. The kingdom of Lindon was no more and its people dispersed. Most who had not left at Thangorodrim had now turned away to the West; this second war one push too many when the sea called them. The remainder had scattered to the battered realms of Lorien and Imladris. Mirkwood had closed down to all outsiders, friends, allies and enemies alike as its king fought to restore his decimated kingdom. Few who had not lived there long chose to go to the Grey Havens, save to travel West; so close to the sea, Valinor beckoned. Imladris had taken in the vast majority of refugees, being equipped to deal with the consequences of the Last Alliance: the injuries both physical and psychological few had escaped to some degree. Those who entered found both healing and occupation within; those who could not be healed were guided to the Havens and the white ships. More of both kinds came in frequently even now.
"And so this is Imladris," Glorfindel concluded as they approached the house once more. "The last homely house east of the sea." He was quiet for a moment. After the pause, he ran his hand down the neck of his horse and said, "I expect Elrond will be looking for your support with the day to day functioning of this place." He sighed. "Valar knows, *I* would value another person in that capacity."
Celebrían glanced surreptitiously at him. "Why so?"
Glorfindel looked at her quickly and then smiled. "Because I am growing a little tired of having to organise the ladies of Imladris in tapestry making, dress-making, and cloth trading capacities when my ability to sew is limited to mending a tear and both they and I know it. It is not becoming to have to use terminology one hasn't got the faintest idea what it means and when one's audience knows it. Elrond, of course, knows perfectly well what all of it is; whether or not he can make it I have never enquired."
His voice, she thought, sounded a little too cheerful given the weariness that had been on his face just moments before; but the image of the self-assured Elda talking nonsense about dress-making made her laugh.
"Aside from that," Glorfindel said, "It would ease the pressure on all of us, which has been at an all time high since the turning of the Age."
Celebrían nodded. In her father's seven year absence she had worked with her mother to run the realm of Lorien for its king, Amdir, and his heir. Amroth had returned, alone, and taken his place upon his father's throne bearing the fillet of Lorien; yet the influence of her parents had heightened still further. Her father was the king's closest counsellor, and her mother valued almost as his equal, set a little apart by her foresight and her independent abilities.
"I can imagine," she said quietly.
Glorfindel sighed. "Can you really?" he mused, half to himself. Catching her curious look he tried to smile again, and then dismounted. "Come," he said, holding out a hand to graciously help her from the back of her grey mare. "If you are so prepared, Mistress of Imladris, it is time to do your duty – and mine if you would like to, I can't think of a better way than to spend the afternoon reclining by the Bruinen, perhaps listening to a minstrel's song..."
He caught sight of Elrond, standing at the top of the steps and broke off to smile at his lord. He winked at Celebrían as he took the forelock of her horse to guide the mare toward the stables. "But I suspect I shall be up to my eyeballs in scrolls and parchment – I just hope Thranduil hasn't written recently."
Celebrían laughed, and ran across the grass to greet Elrond.
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