FIC: Eryn Lasgalen, Celeborn, Thranduil, PG
Title: Eryn Lasgalen
Author: Alex
Type: General
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I profit from the use of these characters.
Beta: Larian Elensar
Characters: Celeborn, Thranduil
Archive: OEAM, Alex’s Storybook, Ao3
Author’s Note: 2014 My Slashy Valentine. See other notes at the end.
Spoilers: Yes
Summary: Celeborn and Thranduil have a rocky friendship.
~~~
The war was done and Sauron vanquished yet again. The time of the elves was nearly done as well. Celeborn knew his wife would leave Middle Earth soon to return home, a journey she’d never believed she would make after she had refused the pardon of the Valar so many, many years before.
This was the day he had dreaded for more years than he could remember. He would take her to the Grey Havens to sail with the last of the Ringbearers: Frodo, Elrond, Mithrandir, and little Bilbo Baggins. Even Círdan himself would sail into the West this time.
He walked to the ship with her, helped her board. He kissed her cheek and looked into her eyes.
“I will come when I can. I - I am not sure what to do without you,” he murmured into her ear.
“I will wait for you and watch every day for your boat.”
Hot tears ran down his face as the tall majestic ship sailed out of sight. The only other time he’d felt this way was when his daughter had departed for the West because her wounds were too deep and too horrible to heal in Arda.
But he would stay. He had chosen this place so many years before…
*
Celeborn had lived with his kinsman, Thingol, for many years in the hidden city of Menegroth.
Menegroth was a safe haven with the Belt of Melian protecting it. It was built wholly in caves underground but it was glorious, filled with white marble and precious stones. All who dwelt with King Thingol considered themselves blessed. They did not participate often in the strife of the outside world and the city provided a safe place for many to dwell.
Thus it was that Oropher had come to live in Menegroth with his family. As the outside world became more treacherous, he felt that his family would be safer in the sheltered city than anywhere else in Beleriand.
Celeborn had known Thranduil then since they had lived in the glittering cave city of Doriath under the rule of Thingol and the protection of Melian. Those days had been carefree for all of them. They’d hunted in the forests and feasted in the great hall, enjoying every day as if no day had existed before that one.
Perhaps Menegroth’s doom was already written in the stars.
*
Or perhaps it was written by the Noldor.
The Noldor came with Fëanor as he defied the Valar and his father and stormed into Arda in search of the jewels he’d made from the light of the two trees, the beautiful and cursed Silmarils. His sons brought with them the Oath they swore to him, which led to death and destruction everywhere he and his sons went.
Since Oropher had come to Menegroth with his family in the years before the Noldor came, Celeborn and Thranduil, being near in age, had become friends. They spent much time to together in the land of Thingol. Where one saw Celeborn, Thranduil was sure to be close, as they were nearly inseparable.
One day, that changed as well.
*
The Noldor had ridden into the kingdom of Thingol as if they were returning royalty. Celeborn and Thranduil watched as they rode into the city on their fine steeds. They were the kinsmen of the king, his niece’s children. Artanis and Finrod they were named and she was as fair as Arda itself. Celeborn had been smitten with her on first sight.
“Is she not beautiful?” He had asked Thranduil.
“For a Noldo, perhaps,” his friend had answered almost sullenly though Celeborn was so preoccupied watching her that he hardly noticed.
Thranduil had noticed the beautiful Noldor woman as she looked more Sindarin than Noldor with her hair of bright lights.
“I shall greet them as soon as they have presented themselves to Thingol. Her hair looks like a garland of gold and silver wound about her head,” Celeborn said as he hurried to Thingol’s throne room to await the visitors.
It was only when he got there that Celeborn realized that his friend had not come with him. He thought little about it at the time, being preoccupied with thoughts of the beautiful Noldor woman who’d ridden into Doriath only moments ago.
The moment he met her would be imprinted on his mind and heart for as long he lived. She came into the throne room and she and Finrod were presented to Thingol and Melian. There were a few questions and the siblings received a warm welcome from the king and his Maia queen.
Artanis turned and he stepped up to greet her.
“My lady, you are as beautiful as the two trees themselves with your hair weaving a golden and silver garland about you.”
She smiled and bowed her head slightly. “I am Artanis, daughter of Finarfin.”
“I am Celeborn, kinsman of Thingol.”
She gave him her hand to kiss and he knew when he touched her cool hand that he wanted to hold that hand for the rest of time.
The two were inseparable in the coming months. Celeborn noticed his friend’s absence but had not sought out Thranduil, thinking only of Artanis and his growing love for her. Sometimes he felt as entranced as Thingol must have been by Melian.
Elves marry with little ceremony and after several years, Celeborn and Galadriel, as she came to be known, married and lived among the nobles of the house of Thingol.
*
One evening late in the fall, the male elves were sitting around in the great hall, drinking fine ale and talking of hunts and battles when Celeborn moved to sit at the same table as Thranduil, who eyed him coolly but then he nodded to the chair near his that Celeborn should sit.
“I have seen little of you these last few years, my friend,” Celeborn said but Thranduil held up his hand.
“That is no fault of mine. You are the one who has embraced these Noldor and their ways.”
Celeborn was a bit surprised at Thranduil’s apparent anger. “Not all the Noldor. Just Galadriel.”
Thranduil slammed his tankard hard on the table. All turned to stare for a moment, but seeing nothing to do, turned back to their own conversations. “Not the Noldor? You take up with the she-elf, even giving her a new name then marrying her and when you are not with her, you are out hunting with her brother. If that is not embracing the Noldor, then I don’t know what is.”
“What is wrong with the Noldor?”
“They are not like us, Celeborn. They feel a need to rule us, to force their ways on us. We do not need them. We are no less children of the One because we do not live in Valinor. We are still among the firstborn and most beloved of Eru.”
Celeborn had no idea that his friend felt this way. He felt as if he should defend the Noldor but his common sense told him that he’d be wasting his breath. It was obvious that Thranduil had strong opinions about them and Celeborn feared that nothing he could say or do would change them either.
So he said nothing.
*
The friends seldom saw one another over the next few years as Celeborn and Galadriel left the realm after Thingol himself was killed by the dwarves. Galadriel had ever despised her cousin Fëanor and she considered his Silmarils as cursed as the Oath his sons made. Thingol’s death did nothing to change her mind so she persuaded Celeborn to leave. She wanted to find a home of her own to rule.
Oropher and his son had stayed in Doriath until the sons of Fëanor came and killed Dior and his wife, kidnapping their small sons and leaving them to die in the forest. Oropher’s wife and Thranduil’s mother had been killed in the massacre, forever sealing their opinions of the Noldor and Celeborn too, as far as Thranduil was concerned.
*
Evil is hard to kill and did not die with the sons of Fëanor. It lived still in Arda, hiding and growing in dark places until at last, Sauron made his move to take Arda as his own. There would be no help from the Valar this time, as there had been with Morgoth.
Gil-galad was King of the Noldor. He, along with Círdan, Galadriel, Elrond and Elendil, marched on Sauron. Celeborn went to the Greenwood to talk to Oropher about joining them.
At first, he was not welcomed warmly.
Oropher sat on his throne with his arms crossed when Celeborn was announced to him.
“What do you want?” He barked to his son’s former friend.
“I have come representing the Kings of both men and elves to ask your aid in our war against Sauron. We will march on Mordor and lay siege to Barad-dûr.”
“What has this to do with us? Have you helped us when we fought off the evil encroachments to our forest home? Have you buried our dead when our hunters and fishers were killed by parties of Orcs?”
“You have not asked for our aid, My Lord,” Celeborn answered, refusing to be shamed by the king.
“Would you have come if we had?” Thranduil asked from the back of the hall as he came into the room.
“I do not know about the others, but I would have.”
Thranduil made a rude sound and moved to stand beside his father’s throne.
“Why should we aid you in this war?” Thranduil asked.
“Because we believe we can defeat Sauron with enough power. We have vast armies of men and elves marching to Mordor. The dwarves will join us as well. The armies come as we speak across the Misty Mountains.”
Thranduil said nothing, seeming to be in thought. “Let me talk with my father. A servant will show you to your room and will bring you refreshment,” he finally said, having remembered that they had once been friends.
Celeborn was invited to the great hall to dine with Oropher and Thranduil and a host of elves from the Greenwood that evening. He sat at Oropher’s left hand as Thranduil sat at his right.
“So tell me, Celeborn, why should we come out of our safe caves to fight your foe?” Oropher asked him.
“I have ridden through the forest to come here, Majesty. You are no safer here than any of us are in our own cities and towns. You and Amdir live closer to Sauron than anyone else. You stand a better chance of being attacked first.”
“I am not sure we can defeat him. The ring of power is strong, stronger than any weapon I know of. Are you confident that he can be defeated?”
Celeborn shook his head. “That we cannot know until we try, can we? I do know that if we do nothing, we will either be slaves or dead soon. He will not allow us to live as we have here in Arda.”
Oropher nodded and took a drink from his wineglass. “In that you are right. He will not suffer any of us to remain.” He turned to Thranduil. “And you, my son? What do you think?”
“I think we should let the Noldor fight and die against Sauron but just because I think that does not make it the best choice. Sauron, if left unchecked, will come for us all eventually. With us being so close, I do agree that he will come for us first.”
“We will join but you can tell the Noldor king that I am general of my own army and will not take orders from him,” Oropher said as he poured himself another glass of wine.
Celeborn nodded. He knew this would not set well with the armies of Gil-galad and Elendil but at least he had procured Oropher’s army to join in with them against their common enemy. He only hoped they all lived to see the end of Sauron.
Later in the day, as Celeborn made ready to depart, Thranduil came to his rooms.
“How are things with you these days, my friend?” Thranduil asked as he poured them both a glass of amber colored brandy from his father’s private stock.
Celeborn took the glass and sat down. He saluted Thranduil and drank. “We are well. We have a child. Celebrìan is her name and she is beautiful. When she reaches her majority, she will bond with Elrond the Half-elven. I am not so pleased about this but her mother says it is a good match and Elrond does care for her.”
“I have not married yet. My father has chosen one of the Sindarin women for me to marry but I prefer a Silvan woman instead. She is quite accomplished as both a healer and a warrior and she is lovely and good as well. I do not want to go against my father but I will this time.”
Perhaps love had made his friend more understanding. Maybe that was the reason for this visit.
“It is important to marry for love,” he said.
“Perhaps but I have the kingdom to think of. So many of Father’s subjects are Silvan that I believe a match with one of them would be good politics as well as what I really want.”
“I wish you much happiness, my friend.” They embraced and Celeborn retired, leaving the first thing the next morning to let the others know that King Oropher’s armies would be joining them.
*
The War of the Last Alliance was a long siege on the fortress of Barad-Dûr. There were camps built all around Sauron’s stronghold. The evil of the fortress had leaked into the surrounding plain and killed most of the vegetation and poisoned the creeks and branches. What had once been green and growing was now a dusty, dead wasteland.
The surroundings did not make tempers even among the leaders.
Oropher argued almost daily with Gil-galad about something. Anything. He was not about to be treated as a subject by a Noldor king so anything Gil-galad suggested was a bone of contention between the two until they stopped communicating at all.
This proved to be disastrous for Oropher and the elves of Mirkwood when Oropher led his armies on the attack too early. The king and the majority of his company died at the hands of the Orc armies of Sauron.
Thranduil survived his father.
*
“You convinced him to go to war!” Thranduil’s face was red and his shouts could be heard far beyond the throne room in Mirkwood.
Thranduil now reigned in his father’s stead. He was beloved of his people and he worked hard to keep them safe. And he had no dealings with the outside world.
“I came to ask his aid. I did not make him go. I couldn’t make him do anything any more than you could,” Celeborn shouted back.
“You were once one of us. Now all you are is the toady to that Noldor woman you married. Get out and never come back here!”
Celeborn turned on his heel and marched to the double doors. He turned back to Thranduil. “There may come a day when you regret those words.”
Thranduil waved him away.
Celeborn left.
*
Celeborn and Galadriel, in time, became just as reclusive as Thranduil was. They seldom left their home in Lothlórien to venture out into the wider world and the Marchwardens made sure that none entered unwanted into their land.
Time marched along and the world began to darken yet again. Rumors began to fly that something stirred in the dark ruins at the old fortress in Mordor. Thranduil knew this to be true as his forest shrunk smaller and smaller as dark and evil creatures began to thrive in the forests around his city. The Marchwardens began to catch more Orcs trying to sneak into Caras Galadhon. Gondor and Rohan saw more attacks on their people from both Orcs and men as well.
Councils were held though neither Celeborn nor Galadriel attended. Neither did Thranduil. Thranduil was drawn out of his seclusion by a company of dwarves and the dragon under the hill when he joined reluctantly in an alliance to fight the Orcs that marched on the Lonely Mountain.
Thranduil never could have seen what was to come when he sent Legolas to Elrond’s council in Imladris a few years later to report that Gollum had managed to escape his dungeon. His son did not return home, throwing his lot in with Elrond’s fellowship on their quest.
His son never returned home to stay after that, not even when Sauron was destroyed and the One Ring unmade in the fires of Mount Doom. He remained near the man, Aragorn, and Gimli, the son of one of the dwarves who’d he’d imprisoned so many years before.
*
The War of the Ring was over at last and the time of elves was drawing to a close when Celeborn rode out of Lórien and into the woods that had been known in their best days as Greenwood the Great. The woods were quiet though they were going green again after so many years, unlike Lothlórien, which was withering away without the protection of Galadriel’s Ring.
He had wondered about his old friend through the many years since last they’d met. He’d raised a fine son in Legolas. Celeborn smiled at the thought of the gentle warrior. Perhaps if all warriors were such good souls, there would be little need for them at all.
He gathered a few twigs and small branches to build a fire for the evenings were a bit cool. He did not hunt as he’d brought some food and wine in his pack. He was drinking a bit of the wine when he heard the snort of a horse not too far from his camp.
He sat as still as possible, waiting.
A thunderous white horse appeared out of the woods with Thranduil on its back.
“Trespassing in my woods, I see,” Thranduil said sternly.
“I am. I fear you and I may be the only elves left with the exception of your son.”
Thranduil dismounted and let the horse go free.
“That could be true. Did you think it would be this way? That we would still be here at the end of the time of the elves?”
Celeborn rose and greeted his old friend with an embrace. “There is nowhere else I’ve ever wanted to be.”
“When I saw you sitting there, I thought I might run you through or trample you. But I remembered the companion of my youth, my best friend in Doriath.”
“I came home after she sailed but it’s not the same without her here.”
“Our world is withering away, I fear.”
“Come. Sit. Drink some wine with me. We will talk of the days when the darkness was unknown and far away, when time stretching out forever in front of us offered endless possibilities.” He stopped and looked at Thranduil. “Thranduil, I am old. In this world of men, I have become obsolete.”
Thranduil smiled at him. “Don’t be so maudlin. It doesn’t suit you. Pour me some wine and I’ll yell at you a bit. You’ll feel better.”
“Why will you yell at me?”
“Because you chose the Noldor over your own people. Because my father died in your silly war. Because I missed you all these years, you old fool!”
Thranduil grabbed the bottle just as Celeborn was getting ready to pour and drank from it then handed it back. Celeborn grinned and took a swallow as well.
“If it makes you feel better, sometimes I felt like an outsider in their world, in Galadriel’s world. She was certainly the center that we all revolved around. Most times I was glad to bask in her glory though. She was a good leader and a good person.”
“Do you even know which woman I married? Do you remember when we talked of that?”
“You married the Sindarin woman that your father chose.”
“How did you know that?”
“You were always dutiful. You may not have agreed with Oropher all the time, but you were his obedient son. Besides, Legolas is all Sindarin elf. You have a wonderful son, by the way.”
“You were the opposite. You did as you pleased, marrying Galadriel and traveling all over with her.”
“I did not end up far from you,” Celeborn reminded him.
“True. I guess we did not end up so far apart in the end, did we? What shall we do now that we are here?”
“I think we should divide Mirkwood up, give it a new name.”
“To what end?”
“For us, for what is left.”
“Then it shall never again be Mirkwood. That was an ugly name for what was once a beautiful forest. I pray that it will be again.”
“How about Eryn Lasgalen?” Celeborn was thinking aloud.
Thranduil smiled. “Wood of greenleaves… I like it. It reminds me of my son, Legolas Greenleaf he was called at birth.”
“Did you lose a lot of elves?” Celeborn asked, knowing Thranduil would understand he meant in the War of the Ring, in the Battle Under the Trees that had occurred at the same time the battle of Pelennor Fields. His army from Lothlórien had lost many though they’d won the battle as Thranduil’s army had.
“Too many but the victory of both of our forces saved the wood and now it can grow green and beautiful once again.”
“Will they remember us?” Celeborn asked.
“Men? Not for long. They will think in years to come that we are but the characters in children’s tales, something to read to make wee ones drift into slumber.”
“Perhaps that is as it should be. They are and will always be more carefree than us. They have the gift of short lives, lives even sweeter for their brevity. They will never know the burden of immortality, the sorrow of seeing all they love pass.”
Thranduil drank long from the bottle and embraced Celeborn. “Dear friend, I think we should leave this place. We should go to the West, where there is singing and dancing and those we love wait for us.”
“So shall we go now then?”
“Alas, not yet. My son, your grandchildren, they still abide here. They may need us. Valinor will be there when we are done with this realm.”
So they sat by the dying embers of Celeborn’s fire, two silver heads close together as the moon rose and fell and the sun heralded another day. Two of the old ones, two of the first ones, two old friends…
~END~
Notes:
I began this story three times before Celeborn would talk to me. It is more a tale of friendship than romance, a tale of the old world passing into the West. I used the skeletal framework of Oropher and Thranduil in canon to build their history and the version of Celeborn and Galadriel canon that best worked in this context as well.
These characters are beloved by me, so much so that many times they seem to be very real. I hope that you enjoyed them as much as I have.
Alex
Author: Alex
Type: General
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I profit from the use of these characters.
Beta: Larian Elensar
Characters: Celeborn, Thranduil
Archive: OEAM, Alex’s Storybook, Ao3
Author’s Note: 2014 My Slashy Valentine. See other notes at the end.
Spoilers: Yes
Summary: Celeborn and Thranduil have a rocky friendship.
~~~
The war was done and Sauron vanquished yet again. The time of the elves was nearly done as well. Celeborn knew his wife would leave Middle Earth soon to return home, a journey she’d never believed she would make after she had refused the pardon of the Valar so many, many years before.
This was the day he had dreaded for more years than he could remember. He would take her to the Grey Havens to sail with the last of the Ringbearers: Frodo, Elrond, Mithrandir, and little Bilbo Baggins. Even Círdan himself would sail into the West this time.
He walked to the ship with her, helped her board. He kissed her cheek and looked into her eyes.
“I will come when I can. I - I am not sure what to do without you,” he murmured into her ear.
“I will wait for you and watch every day for your boat.”
Hot tears ran down his face as the tall majestic ship sailed out of sight. The only other time he’d felt this way was when his daughter had departed for the West because her wounds were too deep and too horrible to heal in Arda.
But he would stay. He had chosen this place so many years before…
*
Celeborn had lived with his kinsman, Thingol, for many years in the hidden city of Menegroth.
Menegroth was a safe haven with the Belt of Melian protecting it. It was built wholly in caves underground but it was glorious, filled with white marble and precious stones. All who dwelt with King Thingol considered themselves blessed. They did not participate often in the strife of the outside world and the city provided a safe place for many to dwell.
Thus it was that Oropher had come to live in Menegroth with his family. As the outside world became more treacherous, he felt that his family would be safer in the sheltered city than anywhere else in Beleriand.
Celeborn had known Thranduil then since they had lived in the glittering cave city of Doriath under the rule of Thingol and the protection of Melian. Those days had been carefree for all of them. They’d hunted in the forests and feasted in the great hall, enjoying every day as if no day had existed before that one.
Perhaps Menegroth’s doom was already written in the stars.
*
Or perhaps it was written by the Noldor.
The Noldor came with Fëanor as he defied the Valar and his father and stormed into Arda in search of the jewels he’d made from the light of the two trees, the beautiful and cursed Silmarils. His sons brought with them the Oath they swore to him, which led to death and destruction everywhere he and his sons went.
Since Oropher had come to Menegroth with his family in the years before the Noldor came, Celeborn and Thranduil, being near in age, had become friends. They spent much time to together in the land of Thingol. Where one saw Celeborn, Thranduil was sure to be close, as they were nearly inseparable.
One day, that changed as well.
*
The Noldor had ridden into the kingdom of Thingol as if they were returning royalty. Celeborn and Thranduil watched as they rode into the city on their fine steeds. They were the kinsmen of the king, his niece’s children. Artanis and Finrod they were named and she was as fair as Arda itself. Celeborn had been smitten with her on first sight.
“Is she not beautiful?” He had asked Thranduil.
“For a Noldo, perhaps,” his friend had answered almost sullenly though Celeborn was so preoccupied watching her that he hardly noticed.
Thranduil had noticed the beautiful Noldor woman as she looked more Sindarin than Noldor with her hair of bright lights.
“I shall greet them as soon as they have presented themselves to Thingol. Her hair looks like a garland of gold and silver wound about her head,” Celeborn said as he hurried to Thingol’s throne room to await the visitors.
It was only when he got there that Celeborn realized that his friend had not come with him. He thought little about it at the time, being preoccupied with thoughts of the beautiful Noldor woman who’d ridden into Doriath only moments ago.
The moment he met her would be imprinted on his mind and heart for as long he lived. She came into the throne room and she and Finrod were presented to Thingol and Melian. There were a few questions and the siblings received a warm welcome from the king and his Maia queen.
Artanis turned and he stepped up to greet her.
“My lady, you are as beautiful as the two trees themselves with your hair weaving a golden and silver garland about you.”
She smiled and bowed her head slightly. “I am Artanis, daughter of Finarfin.”
“I am Celeborn, kinsman of Thingol.”
She gave him her hand to kiss and he knew when he touched her cool hand that he wanted to hold that hand for the rest of time.
The two were inseparable in the coming months. Celeborn noticed his friend’s absence but had not sought out Thranduil, thinking only of Artanis and his growing love for her. Sometimes he felt as entranced as Thingol must have been by Melian.
Elves marry with little ceremony and after several years, Celeborn and Galadriel, as she came to be known, married and lived among the nobles of the house of Thingol.
*
One evening late in the fall, the male elves were sitting around in the great hall, drinking fine ale and talking of hunts and battles when Celeborn moved to sit at the same table as Thranduil, who eyed him coolly but then he nodded to the chair near his that Celeborn should sit.
“I have seen little of you these last few years, my friend,” Celeborn said but Thranduil held up his hand.
“That is no fault of mine. You are the one who has embraced these Noldor and their ways.”
Celeborn was a bit surprised at Thranduil’s apparent anger. “Not all the Noldor. Just Galadriel.”
Thranduil slammed his tankard hard on the table. All turned to stare for a moment, but seeing nothing to do, turned back to their own conversations. “Not the Noldor? You take up with the she-elf, even giving her a new name then marrying her and when you are not with her, you are out hunting with her brother. If that is not embracing the Noldor, then I don’t know what is.”
“What is wrong with the Noldor?”
“They are not like us, Celeborn. They feel a need to rule us, to force their ways on us. We do not need them. We are no less children of the One because we do not live in Valinor. We are still among the firstborn and most beloved of Eru.”
Celeborn had no idea that his friend felt this way. He felt as if he should defend the Noldor but his common sense told him that he’d be wasting his breath. It was obvious that Thranduil had strong opinions about them and Celeborn feared that nothing he could say or do would change them either.
So he said nothing.
*
The friends seldom saw one another over the next few years as Celeborn and Galadriel left the realm after Thingol himself was killed by the dwarves. Galadriel had ever despised her cousin Fëanor and she considered his Silmarils as cursed as the Oath his sons made. Thingol’s death did nothing to change her mind so she persuaded Celeborn to leave. She wanted to find a home of her own to rule.
Oropher and his son had stayed in Doriath until the sons of Fëanor came and killed Dior and his wife, kidnapping their small sons and leaving them to die in the forest. Oropher’s wife and Thranduil’s mother had been killed in the massacre, forever sealing their opinions of the Noldor and Celeborn too, as far as Thranduil was concerned.
*
Evil is hard to kill and did not die with the sons of Fëanor. It lived still in Arda, hiding and growing in dark places until at last, Sauron made his move to take Arda as his own. There would be no help from the Valar this time, as there had been with Morgoth.
Gil-galad was King of the Noldor. He, along with Círdan, Galadriel, Elrond and Elendil, marched on Sauron. Celeborn went to the Greenwood to talk to Oropher about joining them.
At first, he was not welcomed warmly.
Oropher sat on his throne with his arms crossed when Celeborn was announced to him.
“What do you want?” He barked to his son’s former friend.
“I have come representing the Kings of both men and elves to ask your aid in our war against Sauron. We will march on Mordor and lay siege to Barad-dûr.”
“What has this to do with us? Have you helped us when we fought off the evil encroachments to our forest home? Have you buried our dead when our hunters and fishers were killed by parties of Orcs?”
“You have not asked for our aid, My Lord,” Celeborn answered, refusing to be shamed by the king.
“Would you have come if we had?” Thranduil asked from the back of the hall as he came into the room.
“I do not know about the others, but I would have.”
Thranduil made a rude sound and moved to stand beside his father’s throne.
“Why should we aid you in this war?” Thranduil asked.
“Because we believe we can defeat Sauron with enough power. We have vast armies of men and elves marching to Mordor. The dwarves will join us as well. The armies come as we speak across the Misty Mountains.”
Thranduil said nothing, seeming to be in thought. “Let me talk with my father. A servant will show you to your room and will bring you refreshment,” he finally said, having remembered that they had once been friends.
Celeborn was invited to the great hall to dine with Oropher and Thranduil and a host of elves from the Greenwood that evening. He sat at Oropher’s left hand as Thranduil sat at his right.
“So tell me, Celeborn, why should we come out of our safe caves to fight your foe?” Oropher asked him.
“I have ridden through the forest to come here, Majesty. You are no safer here than any of us are in our own cities and towns. You and Amdir live closer to Sauron than anyone else. You stand a better chance of being attacked first.”
“I am not sure we can defeat him. The ring of power is strong, stronger than any weapon I know of. Are you confident that he can be defeated?”
Celeborn shook his head. “That we cannot know until we try, can we? I do know that if we do nothing, we will either be slaves or dead soon. He will not allow us to live as we have here in Arda.”
Oropher nodded and took a drink from his wineglass. “In that you are right. He will not suffer any of us to remain.” He turned to Thranduil. “And you, my son? What do you think?”
“I think we should let the Noldor fight and die against Sauron but just because I think that does not make it the best choice. Sauron, if left unchecked, will come for us all eventually. With us being so close, I do agree that he will come for us first.”
“We will join but you can tell the Noldor king that I am general of my own army and will not take orders from him,” Oropher said as he poured himself another glass of wine.
Celeborn nodded. He knew this would not set well with the armies of Gil-galad and Elendil but at least he had procured Oropher’s army to join in with them against their common enemy. He only hoped they all lived to see the end of Sauron.
Later in the day, as Celeborn made ready to depart, Thranduil came to his rooms.
“How are things with you these days, my friend?” Thranduil asked as he poured them both a glass of amber colored brandy from his father’s private stock.
Celeborn took the glass and sat down. He saluted Thranduil and drank. “We are well. We have a child. Celebrìan is her name and she is beautiful. When she reaches her majority, she will bond with Elrond the Half-elven. I am not so pleased about this but her mother says it is a good match and Elrond does care for her.”
“I have not married yet. My father has chosen one of the Sindarin women for me to marry but I prefer a Silvan woman instead. She is quite accomplished as both a healer and a warrior and she is lovely and good as well. I do not want to go against my father but I will this time.”
Perhaps love had made his friend more understanding. Maybe that was the reason for this visit.
“It is important to marry for love,” he said.
“Perhaps but I have the kingdom to think of. So many of Father’s subjects are Silvan that I believe a match with one of them would be good politics as well as what I really want.”
“I wish you much happiness, my friend.” They embraced and Celeborn retired, leaving the first thing the next morning to let the others know that King Oropher’s armies would be joining them.
*
The War of the Last Alliance was a long siege on the fortress of Barad-Dûr. There were camps built all around Sauron’s stronghold. The evil of the fortress had leaked into the surrounding plain and killed most of the vegetation and poisoned the creeks and branches. What had once been green and growing was now a dusty, dead wasteland.
The surroundings did not make tempers even among the leaders.
Oropher argued almost daily with Gil-galad about something. Anything. He was not about to be treated as a subject by a Noldor king so anything Gil-galad suggested was a bone of contention between the two until they stopped communicating at all.
This proved to be disastrous for Oropher and the elves of Mirkwood when Oropher led his armies on the attack too early. The king and the majority of his company died at the hands of the Orc armies of Sauron.
Thranduil survived his father.
*
“You convinced him to go to war!” Thranduil’s face was red and his shouts could be heard far beyond the throne room in Mirkwood.
Thranduil now reigned in his father’s stead. He was beloved of his people and he worked hard to keep them safe. And he had no dealings with the outside world.
“I came to ask his aid. I did not make him go. I couldn’t make him do anything any more than you could,” Celeborn shouted back.
“You were once one of us. Now all you are is the toady to that Noldor woman you married. Get out and never come back here!”
Celeborn turned on his heel and marched to the double doors. He turned back to Thranduil. “There may come a day when you regret those words.”
Thranduil waved him away.
Celeborn left.
*
Celeborn and Galadriel, in time, became just as reclusive as Thranduil was. They seldom left their home in Lothlórien to venture out into the wider world and the Marchwardens made sure that none entered unwanted into their land.
Time marched along and the world began to darken yet again. Rumors began to fly that something stirred in the dark ruins at the old fortress in Mordor. Thranduil knew this to be true as his forest shrunk smaller and smaller as dark and evil creatures began to thrive in the forests around his city. The Marchwardens began to catch more Orcs trying to sneak into Caras Galadhon. Gondor and Rohan saw more attacks on their people from both Orcs and men as well.
Councils were held though neither Celeborn nor Galadriel attended. Neither did Thranduil. Thranduil was drawn out of his seclusion by a company of dwarves and the dragon under the hill when he joined reluctantly in an alliance to fight the Orcs that marched on the Lonely Mountain.
Thranduil never could have seen what was to come when he sent Legolas to Elrond’s council in Imladris a few years later to report that Gollum had managed to escape his dungeon. His son did not return home, throwing his lot in with Elrond’s fellowship on their quest.
His son never returned home to stay after that, not even when Sauron was destroyed and the One Ring unmade in the fires of Mount Doom. He remained near the man, Aragorn, and Gimli, the son of one of the dwarves who’d he’d imprisoned so many years before.
*
The War of the Ring was over at last and the time of elves was drawing to a close when Celeborn rode out of Lórien and into the woods that had been known in their best days as Greenwood the Great. The woods were quiet though they were going green again after so many years, unlike Lothlórien, which was withering away without the protection of Galadriel’s Ring.
He had wondered about his old friend through the many years since last they’d met. He’d raised a fine son in Legolas. Celeborn smiled at the thought of the gentle warrior. Perhaps if all warriors were such good souls, there would be little need for them at all.
He gathered a few twigs and small branches to build a fire for the evenings were a bit cool. He did not hunt as he’d brought some food and wine in his pack. He was drinking a bit of the wine when he heard the snort of a horse not too far from his camp.
He sat as still as possible, waiting.
A thunderous white horse appeared out of the woods with Thranduil on its back.
“Trespassing in my woods, I see,” Thranduil said sternly.
“I am. I fear you and I may be the only elves left with the exception of your son.”
Thranduil dismounted and let the horse go free.
“That could be true. Did you think it would be this way? That we would still be here at the end of the time of the elves?”
Celeborn rose and greeted his old friend with an embrace. “There is nowhere else I’ve ever wanted to be.”
“When I saw you sitting there, I thought I might run you through or trample you. But I remembered the companion of my youth, my best friend in Doriath.”
“I came home after she sailed but it’s not the same without her here.”
“Our world is withering away, I fear.”
“Come. Sit. Drink some wine with me. We will talk of the days when the darkness was unknown and far away, when time stretching out forever in front of us offered endless possibilities.” He stopped and looked at Thranduil. “Thranduil, I am old. In this world of men, I have become obsolete.”
Thranduil smiled at him. “Don’t be so maudlin. It doesn’t suit you. Pour me some wine and I’ll yell at you a bit. You’ll feel better.”
“Why will you yell at me?”
“Because you chose the Noldor over your own people. Because my father died in your silly war. Because I missed you all these years, you old fool!”
Thranduil grabbed the bottle just as Celeborn was getting ready to pour and drank from it then handed it back. Celeborn grinned and took a swallow as well.
“If it makes you feel better, sometimes I felt like an outsider in their world, in Galadriel’s world. She was certainly the center that we all revolved around. Most times I was glad to bask in her glory though. She was a good leader and a good person.”
“Do you even know which woman I married? Do you remember when we talked of that?”
“You married the Sindarin woman that your father chose.”
“How did you know that?”
“You were always dutiful. You may not have agreed with Oropher all the time, but you were his obedient son. Besides, Legolas is all Sindarin elf. You have a wonderful son, by the way.”
“You were the opposite. You did as you pleased, marrying Galadriel and traveling all over with her.”
“I did not end up far from you,” Celeborn reminded him.
“True. I guess we did not end up so far apart in the end, did we? What shall we do now that we are here?”
“I think we should divide Mirkwood up, give it a new name.”
“To what end?”
“For us, for what is left.”
“Then it shall never again be Mirkwood. That was an ugly name for what was once a beautiful forest. I pray that it will be again.”
“How about Eryn Lasgalen?” Celeborn was thinking aloud.
Thranduil smiled. “Wood of greenleaves… I like it. It reminds me of my son, Legolas Greenleaf he was called at birth.”
“Did you lose a lot of elves?” Celeborn asked, knowing Thranduil would understand he meant in the War of the Ring, in the Battle Under the Trees that had occurred at the same time the battle of Pelennor Fields. His army from Lothlórien had lost many though they’d won the battle as Thranduil’s army had.
“Too many but the victory of both of our forces saved the wood and now it can grow green and beautiful once again.”
“Will they remember us?” Celeborn asked.
“Men? Not for long. They will think in years to come that we are but the characters in children’s tales, something to read to make wee ones drift into slumber.”
“Perhaps that is as it should be. They are and will always be more carefree than us. They have the gift of short lives, lives even sweeter for their brevity. They will never know the burden of immortality, the sorrow of seeing all they love pass.”
Thranduil drank long from the bottle and embraced Celeborn. “Dear friend, I think we should leave this place. We should go to the West, where there is singing and dancing and those we love wait for us.”
“So shall we go now then?”
“Alas, not yet. My son, your grandchildren, they still abide here. They may need us. Valinor will be there when we are done with this realm.”
So they sat by the dying embers of Celeborn’s fire, two silver heads close together as the moon rose and fell and the sun heralded another day. Two of the old ones, two of the first ones, two old friends…
~END~
Notes:
I began this story three times before Celeborn would talk to me. It is more a tale of friendship than romance, a tale of the old world passing into the West. I used the skeletal framework of Oropher and Thranduil in canon to build their history and the version of Celeborn and Galadriel canon that best worked in this context as well.
These characters are beloved by me, so much so that many times they seem to be very real. I hope that you enjoyed them as much as I have.
Alex