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The Teacher	By : pip Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 14764 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter Forty-nine
III 2515
In the dark, Elrond lay awake, staring at his sleeping partner. Not for the first time, he wondered how he had been convinced into this. After all, if Galion was minded to intervene, he would have done so already without urging. Not that he resented visiting with Thranduil and Legolas – he didn't. He just hadn't meant to. Elrond was reminded forcibly of the first time he'd visited Oropher after the War in Eregion when Galadriel had simply been so expectant that he'd journeyed over the river before he was even aware of doing it.
~~~~~
After Celebrían had sailed, Elrond, the twins, and Arwen spent extended periods in Lothlórien, which Elrond insisted on terming as visits even though many months might pass there before they made the journey back to their home. Imladris. He had founded it, and though he'd lived there for many centuries before Celebrían and he were joined, without her it seemed too empty. In time that would change. In time it would regain some of its former aspect, and Elrond would need to be present there for what was to come, yet just now it was much too painful.
Before she left, he'd told her there was a purpose for him in Middle Earth that he must fulfil, and it was still true. What that purpose was, he couldn't say, but there were times he earnestly wished he could just ignore it and follow her across the sea.
Elrond spent long hours walking through the mallorn trees. The woods here were not as wild as Eryn Galen, and that seemed to suit the strange mood that had taken hold of him. Quiet, contemplative, pensive... and lonely. He'd been avoiding both Thranduil and Legolas. Not obviously, for he had no wish to hurt them, but something in him was stilled, some kind of love for life, and Elrond did not believe he needed their games. Instead, he walked in the Golden Wood alone, where he had once walked and run with her.
It was the height of summer, and he wondered if one of the reasons he strolled here was to be cured of the becalmed nature of his own fëa, to learn to partake again, for he must. The sun was warm on his skin where it reached from the canopy above, the buzzing of the bees was a soothing lullaby. Here and there in the forgiving shade of the trees, wild flowers grew, and everywhere it was green... and alive. To his dismay not a bit of it touched his heart. The world had not altered at all – only he had.
It was during one of these long walks that he saw her. A flash of robes whispering around the side of one of the giant trees. Elrond's heart pounded and he followed, curious and disturbed in equal measure. The figure stayed just out of sight, as though she were running from him, hidden behind the giant tree trunks and groups of shrubs, while Elrond had brambles pull at the hem of his robes as if they were holding him back. The wood didn't change; the sun still shone as brightly, and the scents and sounds of nature continued unabated. Now and then he would catch sight of a tress of silver hair. He was reminded forcibly of Legolas' confession to him long ago; something he had said about seeking his mother until she did indeed haunt him, and Elrond wondered if he was falling prey to the same eerie malady. Was this merely bits of light and broken shadow? Celebrían was not lost, yet she was beyond his reach, and when she had been with him, he'd been unable to heal her.
As he chased, his footsteps quickening, he became convinced he would find her here in the place where she had grown up, though he knew it was impossible. Then at last he caught up with the elusive figure, in a cool glade, and he realised he'd merely been following Celeborn. Of course it was him. Now that he saw his mistake, he realised he'd been ignoring the marked height of his quarry, which also accounted for his speed. Elrond's heart slowed and he shook his head at his own foolish fancy.
Celeborn had stopped, and was kneeling away from him, in the centre of the glade where a shaft of sunlight shone upon his hair, crowning him as a King. He was busy with something Elrond could not yet see. The trees here were less uniform than the others, some younger and some so ancient that you could not see to the tops of them. Others still had fallen, since even trees may tire and die eventually.
“Elrond,” Celeborn said without turning around, and his voice was as fair and serene as ever. It seemed suited to the birdsong that filtered down from the branches. “I am pleased that you are here.”
“Celeborn,” Elrond acknowledged in greeting, stepping a little closer. “I was out walking when I saw you,” he began, but did not elaborate. What would he even say? Then he became fascinated. “What are you doing?”
Reaching the Elf Lord, Elrond could see that Celeborn was planting a sapling tree, and taking a great deal of care about it. Celeborn smiled but did not look up, only continued pressing the earth around the base of the new tree.
“I maintain this particular part of the wood myself,” he said. “I chose the task a very long time ago. Each tree here represents someone I love who has fallen or else taken a ship to the Undying Lands.”
There were many trees. Though he knew Celeborn had a large and generous heart, this was a visual representation of it, and it was breathtaking. The Lord of Lórien had always been private, less demonstrative even than Elrond himself, yet he made up for it here. Elrond reconsidered some of those trees which had fallen, of which there were many. Perhaps those dated back to the War of the Last Alliance, when so many were lost, and he wondered poignantly if there was a tree here for Oropher. Many more must have been planted prior to that, and Elrond suddenly understood Celeborn had kept a tally from the war in Eregion, when he and Galadriel had resided at Imladris for a time, before coming to this place to settle.
“This one is for Celebrían,” Celeborn continued. “May it grow tall and strong. We shall meet again, iell nín,” he said, in the manner of making a solemn promise. “We shall all meet again. In good time.”
With that he stood up, towering in the centre of the glade as he turned to regard Elrond, his grey eyes shining. Then he tilted his head a little. “Ah!” he said, as though pleasantly surprised, as if something had at that very moment just occurred to him.
“I did not mean to intrude,” Elrond said, sombre, dipping his head in respect. “I just followed you.” He pointed back the way they had come vaguely, feeling lost. With a small start, Elrond realised he was lost – completely. “I didn't realise...”
Celeborn smiled. “Well, after all, perhaps you were curious,” he teased. “Shall we walk back?”
Arm in arm, they strolled between the trees in silence, though Elrond was aware of being the recipient of Celeborn's attention. He didn't return the gaze, and instead tried to commit to memory the exact path they were taking, so that he could come back at some later time and visit the tree planted for Celebrían.
“It is not forever,” Celeborn said, perceptive. The warmth of his arm felt pleasant, and Elrond did not want to let it go.
“No. Of course not,” Elrond replied, watching his own feet fall onto the rich, verdant green of moss and grass that covered the ground, yet as he tried to envisage meeting with Celebrían on the shore, he could not. The purpose he sensed teased him, ever evading his foresight. Nothing was clear, and worse still, he had a strong feeling that things were not yet settled in their favour, the events must be in motion already, and who knew what action would help or hinder? Elrond sighed. What he knew beyond doubt was that the Barad-dûr was still missing, and the significance of that meant that time stretched out before him like a prison sentence. He knew he would have to endure here without Celebrían for a very long time, and the knowledge did not lift his spirits.
“If Galadriel sailed, would you tarry here?” he asked, tired of imagining the future and his own part in it. He glanced around him, untouched by their lush surroundings, unstirred by the scent of the ferns and wild flowers. Only Celeborn seemed to hold a fascination for him, and Elrond wondered if he were actually leaning closer, or if that was just his imagination. Once, when they talked, Celeborn had seemed to embody twilight. Now it was clear, he was the personification of these summer woods.
“Perhaps I might,” Celeborn said, musing deeply. “If the need was great enough.”
Elrond felt fraudulent then, because Celeborn was showing a sense of responsibility that it seemed he himself was seeking to shirk, and that was not like him.
“I would like to make a suggestion,” Celeborn said, stopping short to regard him. Elrond could not help that he responded to it. Whatever it was Celeborn wanted, the answer would be yes. “Shortly I will journey to Eryn Galen and Thranduil. There, I must make another appeal.”
Celeborn spoke in a pleasant lilting tone, but the words did not really sink in. Elrond was enthralled by his beauty all over again, and struggled against it to clear his mind. “You should come with me,” Celeborn urged. “It will be a nice surprise.”
“For whom?” Elrond queried absently. He wondered if Celeborn would ever plant a tree for him. This, always on the path before him. As he looked up, Celeborn's eyes were softened in amusement at his question, and yet Elrond knew if he were in the elf Lord's embrace, he could forget the grief that pulled at his fëa. For a short while, everything would be all right.
“You have come far since that night I spoke with you outside Thranduil's palace so long ago,” Celeborn remarked after a moment of silence, as if falling into step with Elrond's thoughts. In these private moments, it seemed that evening was not far from Celeborn's mind either. “Do you remember?”
“You showed me something I had not guessed at,” Elrond said honestly, and remembered how that knowledge had helped him to aid Thranduil. His heart suddenly overflowed with warmth, and he smiled. “Thank you.”
Celeborn laughed, and Elrond became more entranced, more entangled. In him, Elrond felt an echo of Celebrían – how could he not? – and it soothed something in him that still hurt. “If you are thanking me, then you forget the lesson.” The laughter quieted, and Celeborn's voice became warm with meaning. “I have thought upon it since, and of us.” He reached out a hand and held his palm against the side of Elrond's face. It felt warm, forgiving, and more real than anything in the world. It was all he wanted.
“Time,” Elrond said, as if pleading, aware that he was responding inappropriately, unwilling to yield to it. Did Celeborn weave this spell on purpose, or was it only granted by circumstance? Elrond could not tell.
“Yes,” Celeborn agreed, amiable as ever. “It is simultaneously short and still is endless. You have no mind yet to satisfy my curiosity,” he said, and then dropped his hand. It seemed to Elrond as if Celeborn had let him go, had let the moment between them pass, and despite his consuming sadness he could not help feeling regret.
“I should stay, for our childrens' sake,” Elrond said, feeling desolate once more. He called them children, but they were not. He feared he might be making an excuse, but the thought of Thranduil attempting to rescue him with punishment created a weariness in him that seemed to sink into his very bones. Elrond had no appetite for it.
“No harm will come to them here.”
Unbidden, he had a sudden fear for Arwen that must be prescient, particularly of Arwen being here in Lórien, and yet there was hope. He felt something of that emotion pass between himself and Celeborn. The elf Lord frowned, and inclined his head slightly.
“Some things are meant to be, however we might wish to change them,” Celeborn said cryptically.
“But what are they?” Elrond asked, needing to know. The impression had passed, but it left behind it an incongruous sense of victory mixed with dark unease.
“Who can tell?”
Another echo, another sense of something repeated over time like ripples in a pool. As the centuries and millennia slowly passed, those echoes became more and more frequent. The words made him think of Galadriel's mirror. If he looked into it, he would know the answers to all of his questions. And yet, Elrond was aware he would know far, far too much. That looking into the mirror would harm him, would curse him, not bless him with knowledge.
“Such is the lesson of the mirror,” Celeborn said quietly, having followed the line of Elrond's thoughts.
Now he found himself thinking of Oropher, staring into the silver water. Yes, he took from it what he needed to know about the Nazgûl, but he had also seen his own demise. Something which had tormented him for so many centuries afterwards. Elrond had an extremely disquieting thought, and not for the first time. If Oropher had not seen his own death in the mirror, would he still have charged early? Did the mirror make his fate by showing it to him? Elrond shivered, and at the same time he felt that age-old grief. It never truly left, just as he knew he would never truly recover from Celebrían's departure. One day...
“They are not lost,” Celeborn said, breaking in to his thought. “It is not forever.” Perhaps not, Elrond surmised grimly, but if Sauron gained dominion over Middle Earth, then he would assail Valinor eventually. What then? There would be no haven for any of them.
“What help is there for us?”
It wasn't really a question, but a kind of statement. Whatever was to come, they had too few playing pieces on the board, and Celeborn knew that as well as he did. As he stared up into Celeborn's eyes, there was a quickening, and Elrond heard the name in his mind. As soon as he did, he agreed.
Galion.
“Accompany me,” Celeborn commanded. “Help me to secure his involvement.”
“Yes,” Elrond said. “I will.”
~~~~~
So that is how Elrond came to be where he was now; staring at Celeborn's fair form as he slumbered in their tent. Celeborn did not travel alone; he brought guards, and so there was no need for either of them to participate in the watch. There was no need for them to share sleeping space either but Elrond had wanted it. Elrond watched the subtle rise and fall of Celeborn's chest, and at last, during these deep hours of the night, he felt minded to indulge someone's curiosity. But Celeborn was fast asleep.
With a sigh, he wondered how much of the night had passed, and how much sleep he might be able to get before first light. He'd discovered that it was easy to lose track of the time when contemplating Celeborn. Whatever enchantment he held was still there while he slept. Elrond suddenly frowned. Somehow, it had escaped Elrond's attention before, but amazingly, Thranduil was quite right: Celeborn was infuriating!

To be continued...
Author's Note: Sorry about the long wait for this.
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The Teacher