#Elrond x Celebrían

[hailturinturambar]

ELROND & CELEBRÍAN as Orpheus and Eurydice

“My wife alone I seek; for her lov'd sake These terrors I support, this journey take, She luckless wandering, or by fate misled, Chanc'd on a lurking viper's crest to tread; The vengeful beast inflam'd with fury starts, And through her heel his deathful venom darts. Thus was she snatch'd untimely to her tomb; Her growing years cut short, and springing bloom. Long I my loss endeavour'd to sustain, And strongly strove, but strove, alas! in vain: At length I yielded, won by mighty love: Well known is that omnipotence above!”

Metamorphoses by Ovid

[runawaymun]

So we all are aware of the various pining possibilities re: “it was then that Elrond first saw Celebrían, and loved her, though he said nothing of it.” I usually like to take this the mutual “they’re stupidly competent at everything but each other” pining route, but can we also consider: Elrond falling fast & hard for Celebrían to the point that it’s not even a question that she’s his One True Love but also suppressing all outward signs to the point that no, one— absolutely no one— is aware that he’s in love with her.

So consider, someone suggesting like “hey, so-and-so is really cute and I think you two might get along, why don’t you two go out on a date?”

Elrond: “I can’t ask them out! I’m marrying Celebrían!”

Everyone, including (especially) Celebrían:

[partfae]

i think a lot about elrond after celebrían departed for valinor. elrond, kind as summer elrond, his two boys half-mad with grief, little arwen too small to understand why her mother couldn’t come back. did elrond take a break from his work? did he ever resent himself for not saving her spirit, even if he could heal her body? when an elf came to him for healing after celebrían left, did his hands shake? did he see her in every one of his patients? did he ever stop feeling the panic of knowing that he had not saved the one person he most longed to help, of knowing that he could not save everyone?

[anetherealpoetess]

it's vital for my mental health that the show introduces celebrían and we get to see this man fall in love with his wife

[overlord-of-fantasy]

Feral Maglor has been found

Celebrian, smiling at Maglor: What do you want for breakfast? Maglor, with oath-crazy eyes: I WISH TO DEVOUR THE UNBORN. Celebrian: *is shocked* Elrond, sighs: He wants eggs.

[phantomgirl89]

Are you a Haladriel? Do you know the Half-Maiar Celebrían theory? Discover this and much more in my fic, "My One and True Enemy", ideal for getting started with this wonderful ship ♥️

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60067612/chapters/153265270

[self-destructinganimal]

Love Will be Enough

He wakes to water. He rises from its depths, breaks its surface, swims to shore. 

He sits there for a long time, breathing in the morning air. It feels strange on his skin, like it's from another time he hasn’t lived in, air that presided over a past age, or one that has yet to come. 

An overwhelming feeling of sorrow passes over him and he looks from the shore to the rest of his surroundings. It’s overgrown, flora and fauna spilling forth unkept, wild flower and fern curling over old stone. This was once a great place, once - something familiar tugs on him. He can’t place it, it has changed so much, but he recognizes it as the work of his people. 

He hears a shout and rises, walks along the shoreline. He comes to an old crumbling dock. A sleek, and well built ship rests proudly on the shore nearby. It is not yet finished, it will be soon. On it twin children run to and fro, he sees them calling to one another as they raise a mast. He sees black hair and the unmistakable carriage of peredhil and 

He wakes to water. Slipping down his cheeks, a steady trail of tears. It has been so long since he has dreamed of his brother and himself, when they were children. 

In their bed, his love shifts her body against his. She opens sleepy eyes and they rest with fondness on his face. Their lovemaking had carried long into the night and the morning is now well on its way, light streaming through the window to land on their entangled bodies. She sees the tears on his cheek, raises a hand to them and gently wipes them away. 

“What are these for my love?” 

“I dreamed of my brother - I think. I did not see faces, but I dreamed I was with him, building a boat, and the world was strange and old and overgrown. We were leaving.” 

“A strange dream.” she says. Her fingers cup the line of his jaw, travel to his throat. She traces him like an artist, she commits him to her soul. She shares in his sadness and she asks: 

“A sleep dream, or one of foresight?”

For she is so bound to him now, body and soul that she feels that trace of otherworldliness clinging to him, smells it in his tears, and she knows before even he does. 

“Elros and I cannot again be children.” He says.

And then he looks at her and the sun illuminating her body, sees the slight swell in her abdomen, sees the tears coming to her own eyes. 

She nods at him. 

“I have waited, waited to tell you. But I thought I was growing more quickly than I should, and now I think, Melethel, that you have seen our children.” 

He is underwater again. He’s a twin, one part of a whole. He’s sitting on his mother’s knee - it’s such a faint memory. They play on the shores of Sirion and it is the happiest he has ever been. He cannot know what will come next. He’s stumbling through burning buildings, holding his brother's hand so tightly, he does not think anything or anyone could tear them apart. He’s holding Elros as they sob their bitterness out to a cold and merciless world. All through that time, through hate that grew into love, through the bitter choice thrust upon them, to the parting. 

He’s a half of a whole saying goodbye to his brother, burying him in the tombs of his great kingdom.

He thinks of the peredhil building the boat, if these are his sons, and if this is his foresight, than he is glad, for they are together in this dream. 

He kisses Celebrían’s tears from her cheeks, for now she is crying too, sharing in his memories and their joy. He places both hands around her face and pulls her to his body, as close as they can be without crawling under one another's skin. Their delight shudders from them, spills out over their bodies, creeps over the floor, dances with the sunbeams that have taken up residence in the room. 

Celebrian my love? Are you happy?

I have not known joy as this since first I knew I loved you and you loved me in return. 

The birds outside the window are singing and the sun is rising, and they lay entangled in each other's arms and in the joy they share. 

Celebrian leans forward, her nose against his. The light in her eyes is playful. 

“Melethron, did you not know I married you, because I wanted twins? They will be boys, twin boys, as you and your brother.” 

He smiles, rolls over her and takes her fully in his arms again. 

“I have always desired to see you a mother.” 

“And I have craved to see you as a father since first I loved you."

She pauses, her eyes on him, she has just been sharing in his memories, she is one half of a whole.

"Oh Elrond, do you think our children will be happy?”

He thinks of Elros and himself fleeing through shallow pools of blood and burning homes. He thinks of the fall of their mother, he thinks of the hands of their captors and the harp of Maglor, which had become something not evil after a time, and something beautiful. He thinks of the joys he has drank down deeply, and the sorrows, oh the sorrows. He thinks of beautiful Arda that he stays to protect, and the joy of this love that he shares with Celebrian that came upon him so unexpectedly - he thinks of all that warms him, all who cherished him, all that bathes his life in warm, golden light. 

“They will be loved.” He says. 

“Love will be enough.” She says, and as their lips meet again, it is so. 

Over and over again.

...

Late night thoughts on how Elrond would feel to know he would be having twin sons turned into this feverish little piece. Maybe this will grow into something larger, maybe not. Also, YOU KNOW WHY THEY ARE BUILDING THAT BOAT.

[archive-likes-arda]

fancast: Jodie Comer as Celebrían

[sillysistersusi]

Her Own Choice

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Summary: When Elrond sails to Valinor, he isn't sure how to tell Celebrían that Arwen isn't with him. So he avoids her. Luckily, Maglor is there to talk some sense into him.

"You should talk to her." Maglor said and even though Elrond was startled, he did not flinch. He had got used to having Maglor back by now. He had searched for him for years and had at last found him a week before he left for Valinor.

It hadn't taken long to persuade him to come along, but that was largely due to the fact that Elrond had left him no choice at all. Not after he had searched for his Atya for so long.

Elrond stared at the ceiling of his room, feeling incredibly young again.

They had only arrived in Valinor a few days ago, but instead of visiting relatives and friends like everyone else, Elrond had hidden himself away and hadn't seen the light for two days.

Because he was afraid. What should he tell Celebrían? After everything that had happened, she had certainly not expected Elrond to be incapable enough to not persuade Arwen to come to Valinor. He simply did not know how to make his wonderful wife, who had already been through so much, realise that she would never see her only daughter again.

But instead of giving a voice to all these feelings and explaining them to Maglor, he simply turned on his side, away from his father. For Elrond was sure that Maglor knew what he was feeling anyway. He was Maglor and he knew Elrond better than most.

He heard his Atya sigh. "Look, I know you blame yourself, but you did not do anything wrong." Maglor sat down beside him and began stroking his hair. "Arwen is happy and that is what really counts. Just like Estel being happy. If they need each other for their happiness and want to be mortal, then you cannot blame Arwen."

"I don't at all, Atya." Elrond said quietly. "Arwen has chosen mortality for more than just love. I have spoken to her at length and her reasons have made me very- " He swallowed hard and Maglor sucked in his breath sharply, for he knew what was to come. "Her reasons reminded me a lot of Elros."

"Finding out that one of my beautiful children is mortal was hard," Maglor admitted quietly, "but it was his choice, and my feelings would never stand in the way of his happiness. And from what you've told me about Celebrían, I do not think she feels any differently."

"Galadriel has probably already told her," Elrond said, rubbing his eyes. "But what- "

The problem was that Elrond did not know 'what'. He was afraid, yes, but especially-

Maglor realised it at the same moment, for he whispered, "You have not forgiven yourself."

Elrond pressed his lips together to stifle a sob but even then, no tears came. "If she is angry or disappointed- I - I do not know what I would do then, Atya."

Maglor's hand stopped briefly in his hair. "Yonya, if what you told me about her is true, then she won't blame you. Especially since it is not your fault."

Elrond turned slightly towards him and just looked at Maglor for a while, unable to believe that he was really there.

His thoughts briefly wandered to everything Celebrían and he had been through. Together.

"Maybe you're right. I - I go, in a few days - "

But Maglor shook his head. "I know you, Elrond. Do not put this off, or it will only make you more upset."

He wrapped an arm around Elrond and gently pulled him into a sitting position. "You can do this, Yonya. I know you can." Then he placed a hand on Elrond's chest, just above his heart. "And I'm sure deep inside you, you know you can, too."

~•~

Celebrían was even prettier than he remembered her. A memory was only ever half as good.

Her hair glittered in the sunlight as if it was made of precious jewels and her eyes were so full of love that Elrond wasn't sure if he hadn't just fallen in love with her all over again.

"Dearest Elrond," she said joyfully when she saw him, tears of joy welling up in her beautiful eyes.

He wanted to answer, so much, but a lump had formed in his throat. She would lose her joy if he told her that he hadn't managed to bring Arwen with him.

Or perhaps she already knew, and her joy at seeing him would be short-lived and would soon turn to disappointment.

Elrond felt his knees trembling and he looked around desperately for something to hold on to. But it was in vain, for they were in a meadow, far away from buildings or trees that could have served as support.

The last time he had felt so helpless was when Maglor and Maedhros had sent Elros and him away.

Without being able to prevent it, he sank to his knees before Celebrían had reached him. She stopped just right before him, arms outstretched, and it apparently took her a few seconds to realise what had happened.

She blurred before his eyes as he whispered softly, "I am so sorry." And finally all the tears that he had been holding back since he left Minas Tirith ran down his cheeks. His chest had always felt so tight, as if something had been trying to escape from it. He had lain awake at night because every fibre of his body seemed to worry.

He felt a hand under his chin, trying to get him to look up. He followed the movement and blinked away his tears as best he could.

Celebrían looked sad, but not in the way he had expected. "What are you apologising for?"

"Arwen." he said quietly, barely managing to hold her gaze as he said it.

Celebrían also sank to the ground and took his face in her hands. "It is not your fault. It is no one's fault that she made her own decision."

"But- " He sniffled and involuntarily pressed his face harder against her palms. "But I promised you I'd look after our children."

"But you did," she said softly, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. "Arwen chose her own happiness. You would only have hurt her if you had forced her to come with you. And I think you know that."

Yes, he knew it. He had always known it. From the moment the fellowship had set out from Rivendell, he had known it. Deep down, he had probably always known, but it still made him so sad. Of course he was happy that his daughter was happy. But being happy for her and actually feeling happy were just such different things. Being happy for her and knowing that he would never be happy with her again was so hard for him to understand at times that he preferred to bury himself in self-pity.

"I miss her, Elrond," Celebrían whispered. "But I am happy that she has found and chosen her own path."

Elrond nodded, unable to say anything because he was sure that if he opened his mouth, all that would come out would be a sob.

Celebrían leant forward a little so that Elrond's head was soon resting on her shoulder and she could wrap her arms tightly around him. "I do not blame you, because it is not your fault. You acted in Arwen's best interests and I do not see how that could be a mistake."

Elrond sobbed quietly and clung to Celebrían. "I love you so much," he whispered softly.

"Oh, I love you too, dearest." She kissed his hair. "I love you too."

[thrillofhope]

Courting the High King

Read on AO3

Summary: The High King has long remained unmarried, for many reasons, the chief of which is that he has been carrying on a secret relationship with his herald. In an attempt to silence the ceaseless petitions for him to marry, he agrees to court Celebrían, with the understanding that nothing need change. Loving Elrond herself, she respects their relationship. And maybe she's feeling a little impishly spiteful having found herself unwittingly enmeshed in her mother's political aims.

Rating: Mature

Ships: Gil-galad/Elrond; Elrond/Celebrían; Gil-galad/Elrond/Celebrían

Tags: Courtship; Secret Relationship; the high king loves his herald; mostly platonic Cel/Ereinion; chaperone Elrond; poet Elrond; Romance; Domestic Fluff

[scriberated]

10 Cents & A Prayer

Read on Ao3 Summary: Celebrían has loved Ereinion Gil-galad since she was ten years old. Now eighteen, and with war looming on the horizon, she's tired of waiting for him to notice and decides to take matters into her own hands. Rating: Explicit Warnings: Major Character Death Ships: Celebrían/Ereinion Gil-galad, Celebrían/Glorfindel (brief), Celebrían/Elrond Peredhel Tags: Modern Middle-earth, Modern Middle Earth, Celebrían/Glorfindel is brief, I write HEA's not Tragedies, Why Did I Write This?, This is a tragedy, Canonical Character Death, Bittersweet, Eventual Happy Ending, For Celebrían & Elrond Peredhel, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Car Sex, Possessive Behavior, Ever heard the song Travelin Soldier by the Chicks? this is loosely based on that

For @thrillofhope for her birthday - happy birthday!! (and i'm sorry this isn't complete... in my defense, it's going to be longer?)

[searchingforserendipity25]

celrond, 26? 😭🥺

Thanks so much for the ask @i-am-a-lonely-visitor! Here are some kisses on some scars <3

-

Celebrían found them very appealing, particularly when Elrond took the pestle in hand.

'Do not laugh,' she demanded, laughing herself, tapping him with her fan in that light, suggestive fashion that had been all the rage in the Eriador of her youth. 'It’s all in the grip, and how clear with intent your eyes go. Such beautiful hands you have, beloved.'  

Legs round and bare, she tilted on the edge of their rumpled bed, the better to watch him play apothecary for himself; and laughed, lower in her throat, when his ears warmed at the warmth of her admiration, and he proved very easy to distract from his tasks and trap back into bed.

Celebrían was generous of heart, and strange-minded at times. Elrond's hands were accounted good, life-saving, gracious and kind, and most days he did not disdain them at all; but they were not beautiful.

There were scars in them from old battles and skirmishes, accidental prickles when picking sea urchins from the sea pools of Sirion - nicks from weapons training and sparring, from long campaigns and hunting trips.

Tough calluses littered his palm, the likes of which no elven warrior or scribe, no lord or harpist showed; and in the cold the skin broke, red and angry, chafing at the winter, even as flowers bloomed through the frost when he walked his red and angry feet on it.  

The last time he had pressed his palm to his brother's, there had been fine lines already on Elros' hands.

Since then, none remained to share his insights with, no one who cared particularly for his advice on the brewing of Peredhel remedies. He brewed his own oils, in his stillroom in Lindon; in Imladris, he taught his children to work the copper cauldron and the ladle, the grinding stone and the glass vial.

Arwen liked dying best; Elladan enjoyed sparring with his mother, Elrohir played with poisons; and all of them carried little pots of balm in the pocket of their childish aprons, in case their fingers ached in the evenings after they played outside.

In high summer he sang to the bees in their homes, led them singing when it was time to swarm, and picked the honey himself, to offer with slick fingers for Celebrían - tithe and right, to be given over to the lady of the valley.

-

Elrond remembered his mother rubbing honey on his father's hands. Earendil's hands had seemed immense to him, broad and strong and rope-burned, made harsh by salt. He was so careful when he held Elros and Elrond - 

He remembered; he was nearly certain he remembered it. The past was never as unclouded in his heart as the future.

-

Celebrían followed his movements from the sick bed for many unspeaking days.

The light of her eyes, so dimmed, was wary with terror when she lay watching him grind athelas and lavender and honeycomb - the strength of his arms turned into a threat for her to be wary of. Any strength, of any kind - any instrument might be turned into a source of violence.

She did not scream, awake or asleep; the fear was a long and horrible spell, an enduring half-dream from which his gentlest touch could not rouse her, only return her to a different form of torment. There was no safety for her, even in Imladris; no potion or cantrip to heal body or soul, and no comfort to be had. 

In Valinor, Celebrían made her own ointments.

For the tending of scars; to massage her gnarled aches, perfume her wrists and neck, the dip of her spine. Her eyes were clear, keen and keener than they had been, steadier in their vigilance. Elrond embraced this version of his lady no less tightly; he curled into her height, and laughed as he wept when she swept him off her feet.

As a patient in Lórien, and a student amidst the gardens where every dreamer walked at least once in their life, Celebrían had learned much from the Lords and Ladies of the West, and more still from elves ancient and young alive.

In his absence, she had wrought against her war-fans anew, bound them with lace and poison, ridden with Oromë's Hunters, danced among Vána's revels, wept with Nienna and spoken with her own voice the glory and grief of those that loved Midde-Earth and had lost it.

The lady of the valley, a lover of sweetness, kept her door ever-open to her kin and her husband's without differentiation - kept it open for him, when at last Elrond was gladly swept into the shelter of her love and rested there for a time, nursing new wounds and sharing his grief, weary through and through as he was. They tended to each other in the evenings, bandages and oils laid out on the same desk; Elrond wept a little more, the first time Celebrían touched him, and there was not a shadow of fear in her eyes, only the cold memory of it in his heart.

-

They grasped hands and wound their arms, walking in the twilight through the high trellises like a courting pair. Celebrían's little finger was a small stump, her braces cold against his arm; Elrond's bones, grown frail and strangely hollow after so long carrying Vilya, were nestled in hers with care as they walked up the hill to the painted walls of her house.

In the spring after Arwen was wed and lost, Celebrían taught Elrond how to work the herbs of her garden and gather them to her precise requirements, and how to work the tight aches working in the garden or standing too long left her with, even in the Blessed Land.

 The stars were the same all throughout Arda, but brighter in these skies; and some creeping ivies with potent smells and sweetly cooling leaves blossomed only at night, their petals gleaming with the very same silver of Celebrían's tresses.

Her scar-ridged palms chafed against Elrond's lips. They tasted of lavender and starlight when he pressed a glancing touch of his mouth to them, of nectars whose names he knew not yet and was only starting to learn now.

'Lovely beyond all other sights,' he said, coy and sly, when his lady pressed them against his cheeks to tilt him for a greater kiss; and Celebrían laughed merrily at his plight, because his skin ran warm with blood under her grasp, and his knees no less liable to bend like reeds when she pulled him back into her arms.

[partfae]

when elrond finally sailed i like to think that he saw celebrían waiting for him on the shore and leapt from the boat, splashing through the waves until he could run to her, unable to bear even another moment apart.

[runawaymun]

😭 SORRY for falling off the map there briefly. I downloaded Rimworld and lost like 60 hours of my life already. But on the plus side I was craving a new video game so bad & it hit just the right spot for me. 

Anyway have some pocket!Celrond !! <3 I’ll be getting back to everyone soon & I promise I’m okay. love you all so much mwah  💋 💋

[gi-nathlam-hi]

@ellrond mentioned she’d love to see someone like Savannah Steyn (middle casting for Laena Velaryon in HOTD) for Celebrían and I have not known peace since. 

[phantomgirl89]

Hi friends! The day has come and here I bring you the last chapter of my Haladriel fic. The creation of this fic has been a challenge for me, but I have really enjoyed the experience of writing it and I will miss working on it. It has been very fulfilling. Thanks for all. Enjoy the ending and get your tissues ready 😢