The Day Transcending Night - Chapter Fifteen

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Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: M
Characters: Celegorm, Daeron, Elured, Elurin, Maglor, Celebrimbor, Sauron
Warnings: Violence/Injuries
Summary: The Rings have been forged. The armies of Mordor are marching into Eriador. Eregion burns. Far away from it all, by the shores of the Sea, Celegorm remembers his name.
Note: This fic is a direct sequel to A Thousand Winds that Blow

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Sometime after Midwinter a change came over Elurín. He stopped speaking to Celegorm even as much as he had been before, and spent a lot of time out in the forest alone. “He’s not angry,” Daeron said when Celegorm asked him about it. “I’m not sure he ever really was—but he’s struggling with something else now and he won’t tell me what it is.”

“He won’t tell me either,” said Eluréd when Celegorm went to him next. 

“That’s not like him,” said Celegorm. 

“No, it’s not. But I’m not going to try to pry it out of him before he’s ready. That’ll just make it worse.”

“Should I try to pry it out?”

Eluréd shook his head. “No. I think maybe it’s just—everything that’s happening, and he’s overwhelmed.”

At least he hadn’t started avoiding Celebrimbor. Celegorm thought that that friendship in particular was helping both of them more than anything else. Celebrimbor and Eluréd got along very well too, but it was Elurín who was able to get him out of the house or to eat on days when he had no appetite, who could get him to smile most easily. Elurín also spoke to Maglor more or less normally. So whatever had gone wrong was something Celegorm had done—only he couldn’t think of what it was. He didn't think he had done anything new. 

“Did your twins ever do this?” he asked Maglor. They’d retreated to the bath house so Celegorm could finally cut off all the ragged ends of Maglor’s hair, which had been bothering him for weeks now mostly because they didn’t seem to bother Maglor, who had once been as vain of his hair as of his finest instruments. The air was steamy from the water they’d heated to wash it, and smelled faintly of roses from the soap. Maglor had always liked flowers. So had Caranthir—but Celegorm was trying very hard not to think about Caranthir just then. Or anyone else. 

“No,” said Maglor, “but they were still very young when they left us—adults by the measure of Men, but only barely—and we spent their adolescence on the move. I did already tell you they feared Maedhros, though.”

Celegorm paused after snipping another strand of hair. “You think it’s fear?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No. Elurín…he’s always been rather fearless.”

“No one is truly fearless, Tyelko. You know that.”

He did know that, and he did know that Elurín wasn’t fearless—but Elurín also was not one to run away. He would rather face whatever frightened him head on, to solve it one way or another. “But I don’t…did I say something—did I do something that he mistook for—”

“I really don’t think I’m the one you should be asking. I’m still an outsider here.”

“You are not—”

“Yes, I am—it’s not a complaint, it’s just a fact, and only time can change it. I just mean that I don’t know either Eluréd or Elurín as well as you do.”

Celegorm scowled as he went back to trimming Maglor’s hair, hating the idea that his own brother was an outsider in his life, and hating even more that it was true. It looked like the last time Maglor’s hair had been cut, it had just been hacked with a knife. Which was probably exactly what had happened. Just another reminder of what Maglor had been doing, alone, while he had been off having exciting adventures in the east.

Probably time was the only cure for Elurín’s fear, whatever its root, just as it was the only cure for Maglor’s integration into their lives, but they did not have time. Celegorm had already told Daeron that now that spring had come he intended to leave to see what he could see of the Gap. If the way was at all clear, they would take the risk and try to make their way north, to the woods south and east of the Misty Mountains where they hoped the Ents would give them safe passage, and then from there they could make their way to Lórinand up the Anduin. He had thought to ask Elurín to go with him as a kind of peace offering, a chance to get him alone so they could really talk, but now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe it would be better if he went alone. 

“Do not go alone,” Daeron said sharply when Celegorm ventured to mention it. “I don’t want you to go at all, but if you must please take someone. One of the songbirds, or maybe Maglor. Or I can go—”

“No,” Celegorm said. “One of us stays with the birdies. I just—if Elurín won’t—”

“Elurín needs time. I know we don’t have it, but I don’t know what else to do for him.”

“What do I do, though? I just—I hate this.” 

“I know. I don’t know what you should do either. When do you want to leave?”

“Tomorrow, maybe the day after. The sooner I go, the sooner I come back.”

In the end Maglor agreed to go with him. It made Celebrimbor anxious, but they were the two most likely to be ignored even if they were spotted, the least likely to be recognized, at least at a distance. Before they left, Celegorm went to find Elurín. He couldn’t stand not doing anything, especially for him. He found him around the hill, near the spring where it bubbled up out of the stones. Tiny blue flowers peeped out of the moss around it; niphredil bloomed in the grass, and Elurín sat among the blossoms with his knees drawn up to his chest, resting his chin on his arms as he watched the water. “Hey, songbird.”

“Am I needed for something?”

“No.” Celegorm sat beside him. Elurín remained very still. “I’ve been trying to give you space, birdie, but I need to say some things. Will you listen?” After a moment Elurín nodded. “First—I’m leaving soon. I’m going north to see what the Gap looks like, if it’s safe for all of us to leave.”

“I know,” Elurín said quietly. 

“Would you go with me, if I asked?”

For a moment Elurín seemed to hesitate. Then he shook his head. “Eluréd wouldn’t want me to go.”

“All right. Second—I love you. I love you so much, Elurín. I don’t know how to move forward now that…now that we all know what I did. But I need you to know that—I’m so, so sorry, and I know that’s not enough, and I wish more than anything that I could go back and undo all of it. I think maybe you and Eluréd need to decide what happens next for us, and whatever you want, I’ll do.”

“Even if I never want to see you again?” Elurín whispered.

That knife between his ribs twisted and sank a little deeper. “When this is all over,” Celegorm said, swallowing hard past the sudden tightness in his throat, “if you want me to leave, I’ll go, and you’ll never have to even think about me again.”

“I don’t know if that’s what I want,” Elurín said, but he still wouldn’t look up. Celegorm had known him since he was six years old—he knew what a lie looked like written across his face. He just wasn’t sure whether the truth was that it was or was not what Elurín wanted. “But what—what happens if someday you look at me and just see Dior?”

That was like another knife plunged into his chest, and this one was worse because it was familiar. “I won’t,” Celegorm said, after a few seconds in which he struggled to find his voice. Elurín did look at him then, disbelieving and a little withering. “I would never—” Mere promises wouldn’t be enough. He took another breath and asked, “You know the story of Míriel? My grandmother—who died?”

Elurín’s brow furrowed. “Yes, but what does that have to do with—”

“I look an awful lot like her—or at least, I did when I was younger. Sometimes my father would look at me and see only her, and he was not very good at hiding how he felt about it. Later, others would look at my brother Curufin and see only our father. Even if I had known Dior longer than just the span of a single battle, even if I still hated him the way I once thought I did, I would never, ever do that to you. If you can’t believe me right now…that’s all right. I understand.”

“But if you get angry—”

“There’s nothing you could ever possibly do that would make me angry enough to stop seeing you, Elurín.” Celegorm was not his father, and he was no longer who he had been in Beleriand, either. He would not let anger rule him again, no matter what happened. “I love you, songbird,” he said, and leaned over to kiss Elurín’s temple, rubbing a hand over his back for a moment. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Please be careful,” Elurín whispered.

“I will. I promise.”

Eluréd was waiting when Celegorm returned to the house. “Be careful,” he said as Celegorm embraced him. 

“I will. We’re just going to look, nothing more.” Celegorm reached for Celebrimbor next, who clung to him very tightly. “We’ll be back soon. It’s no more dangerous than anything I did during the War of Wrath.”

“Then I’ll make sure to have the bandages on hand when you return,” Eluréd said. 

“Very funny.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“Just don’t do anything reckless,” said Daeron when Celebrimbor finally released Celegorm. 

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” said Maglor as he kissed Celebrimbor’s temple. 

“I’m never reckless,” said Celegorm, which earned him four extremely unimpressed looks. “I’m not—”

“You nearly got us buried in a landslide less than six months after we met,” Daeron said. “On purpose.”

“You did what?” Maglor and Celebrimbor chorused. 

“That was a calculated risk,” Celegorm said. “And anyway it worked, didn’t it?”

“That’s not the point.”

“I really don’t know if I want to know this story or not,” said Celebrimbor. 

“It’s actually much worse than it sounds,” said Eluréd a little ruefully.

“We all got out of it in one piece, so it’s fine,” said Celegorm. “And now we’re leaving before we lose daylight. You can slander me some more when we get back.”

“It’s not slander if it’s true,” said Daeron. “Just be careful.”

“We will be.”

“I’ll be careful, anyway,” said Maglor. 

It took days of riding to go around the White Mountains, north and east to the Gap of Calenardhon. They crossed a river that flowed down out of the mountains to join to the Angren, and soon afterward came to the Angren itself, near where it curved away from its southward course to flow westward to the sea. “I do not think we need to go further,” Maglor said, watching debris float by down the river. Celegorm couldn’t tell what it was, only that it was blackened and burned. Ahead in the north the air was shrouded in smoke, and they could see movement. “We will not pass the Gap here.”

“No, not now,” Celegorm agreed. “I want to go a little farther, just to see better what’s there. If the way is open farther east, we might hug the mountains until we can find a way across.”

“I doubt it,” Maglor said, but he followed when Celegorm continued on. He was right. After some days they came to the northern foothills of the mountains, and from the shelter of one such hill, hidden by trees, they could see the Road, and the companies marching east and west. It almost seemed that no matter how far east they went they would not be able to escape notice. “We might have to go north by the coast after all,” Maglor murmured.

“He’ll be expecting that. We’ll wait a few more months, maybe another year,” said Celegorm. “We don’t know what’s happening in the north—Gil-galad might still drive him back.” But even as he spoke the words he didn’t know if he believed them. “Númenor might send aid.”

“I hope it’s enough,” Maglor said. He stared into the north, past the Gap, as though trying to pierce the miles and the fumes to see where Elrond was hidden. “I have not seen anything like this since the Dagor Bragollach, Tyelko. I don’t like it. And we don’t even know what these rings do.”

“Find and bind, it sounds like,” said Celegorm. 

“But what does that mean?”

“I suspect we’ll find out, whether we want to or not.” Celegorm sighed, and crouched down, feeling very tired. His head ached, as it hadn’t in several months. He missed Curufin, suddenly. He wouldn’t have known what to do any better than Celegorm or Maglor, but he would have had something acerbic to say—something to make them feel a little better about the helplessness of it all. And then he missed Amrod and Amras, who could have probably found a way better than any of them through the armies blocking their way, silent and unseen. And Caranthir with his endless practicality. And Maedhros—who would have wanted to just charge through without trying to hide, and who could have done it, sending all the orcs fleeing before him. Just as he had the last time Celegorm had seen him, neither one of them knowing it. 

He missed, desperately, being one of seven rather than one of two. 

“We should go,” Maglor said after a little while. “I do not think we’ll learn anything more of use.”

“Wish we knew where he was,” Celegorm said as he rose to his feet. 

“Marching toward Lindon, I imagine. Or seeking Elrond.” Maglor turned away, and they carefully made their way back to their horses at the bottom of the hill. Limral nuzzled Maglor’s hands, and Lhimmir nosed at Celegorm, seeking treats in his pockets. “I hope our presence doesn’t just—I don’t know. Cause more problems than it solves.”

“It’ll definitely cause problems,” said Celegorm, “but there’s nothing we can really do about it except prove that we’re there to help and not hinder. And—Daeron likes to try to downplay his own standing, and maybe he doesn’t even realize it himself, but the Sindar will listen to him.”

“He said that Celeborn was suspicious.”

“Of me, not of Daeron. I didn’t see them together much, admittedly, but it seemed to me that Celeborn saw Daeron as his equal. Stands to reason that Amdír and Oropher would feel similarly.”

“They will at least heed Eluréd and Elurín,” Maglor said, though he sounded doubtful.

“That too.” Celegorm hoped his own doubt didn't come through. It wasn’t that he didn’t think the twins would not be listened to—he just didn’t know what they would choose to say. “There’s also Tyelpë.”

“Yes, there’s Tyelpë. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to—I just hate all of this uncertainty.”

“I hate it too.”

Once they were on their way south, sure that they had not been seen and were not being followed, Maglor breathed a sigh, visibly relaxing. Then he said, “So—what was that business about a landslide?”

“The spring after…we met,” Celegorm said, keeping his gaze on the lands ahead, “we left the flet Daeron had been staying in, in Ossiriand, and headed north.”

“He mentioned that. He said he had intended to part with you at the Sarn Athrad, and that none of you would have survived if you had parted.”

“That’s all true. I didn’t want to part ways with them, though. But we didn’t even get to really argue about it because as soon as we crossed over the Ascar, orcs caught up to us. I was wounded in the fight and played dead so they left me alone; the twins had gotten up a tree out of their reach, but they took Daeron.”

“They did not try to kill him?”

“Remember I told you he had a price on his head out of Angband?”

“Ah.” Maglor glanced over at him. “You said you learned that the hard way. I suppose this is that tale?”

“Yes. I was injured, but not badly enough that it slowed me down much—though I was already slowed down, not really fully healed from Menegroth, and still getting used to not being able to see on my left side—and the orcs weren’t moving very quickly, so eventually the twins and I caught up to them. I took them up the mountainside, and found a big rock that they could dislodge with a stick, and trigger a landslide. My plan was to get Daeron away and then signal the twins, so the orcs would be buried and we’d be out of the way. And that is what happened, more or less.”

Maglor shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “And you say you aren’t reckless? Tyelko. That is the very definition of reckless.”

“Reckless implies I didn’t think it through,” Celegorm retorted. “And I did.”

“For how long?”

“At least five minutes,” he said, and was gratified to hear Maglor laugh. “I didn’t really have time to make any better plans, and there was only one of me and quite a lot of orcs. Plus some Men and—” 

“And…?”

“There was an Elf. Someone Daeron had known in Doriath.”

“Oh. He spoke of him I think. The one who gave him that scar on his neck.”

“Yes. He escaped the landslide, and then caught up to us again at the end of the War of Wrath.”

“And Daeron killed him.”

“No.” Celegorm shook his head. “Daeron broke the spells that held him bound to Morgoth’s will. Menelas wasn’t strong enough to survive it—but that’s not Daeron’s fault.”

“I never thought it was his fault,” Maglor said, “but I understand why he would think so. Will he be upset with you for telling me…?”

“No. It’s not really a secret—but don’t ask him more about it.”

“Of course I won’t.” 

“But—he was in very bad shape by the time I caught up to them. When the orcs took him, I mean. It was mostly just bruises, the orcs having their fun without going too far before they got him to Angband, but they were very bad bruises. Seeing Menelas hurt him more deeply, I think, and he was very afraid for a long time after that. But I think that was also when he started really trusting me.” It was also, Celegorm found himself remembering, the first time Daeron had lied. It had been after they’d reunited with the twins and Celegorm had sent them to fetch water or something that he’d asked Daeron if there was something he knew or guessed about him—some reason, he’d thought at the time, that Daeron had wanted so badly to send him away.

And Daeron, in pain, dirty and cold and terrified, had said no. Because he hadn’t wanted to be left alone.

Of course he’d lied. And of course he’d kept lying, the more they came to know each other—the more they liked each other, figuring out how to raise two young children and live together, not just survive. 

He’d already forgiven Daeron the lies, but until that moment the knowledge of it had sat uneasily on his heart, and doubt had lingered. He found the doubt evaporating now with this sudden understanding, like mist fading away under a rising sun. It felt like it took a weight with it—but that just made the tension with Elurín feel even heavier. 

What happens if someday you look at me and just see Dior?

If there was any way to meaningfully ease that fear, Celegorm couldn’t think of it. He just felt sick at the idea that he’d managed to pass on a worse version of his own youthful anxieties to Elurín without meaning to. 

The journey back south seemed to go more quickly than the one north. They arrived home late, but Celegorm saw lights on inside, upstairs and down, as they came out of the trees. Daeron joined them in the stable after just a few minutes. “What did you find?” he asked.

“The Gap is overrun,” said Maglor.

“Either we go east to Edhellond and north from there, or we wait,” said Celegorm. “I’m not sure going east will help.”

“That’s what I feared,” Daeron said. “And you met no trouble?”

“No. We didn’t get that close.” Celegorm finished brushing down Lhimmir and then went over to let Daeron embrace him. “Missed you,” he whispered.

“Eluréd has been having nightmares,” Daeron said. “I don’t think we should linger here much longer.”

“What is he dreaming of?” Maglor asked as he stepped out of Limral’s stall. 

“He says he doesn’t remember. I think Elurín might be dreaming as well, but he won’t say one way or the other. Celebrimbor is doing well—he’s been worried for you, but I think the changing weather has been helping to lift his spirits.”

Inside, they found Celebrimbor fiddling with something by the fire. It looked like he was braiding strips of leather into something, but Celegorm did not get a good look before he rose to his feet to greet them—and he looked and sounded so much like himself, not the frightened shadow he’d been for so long, that it was hard to breathe for a moment. “Is it bad?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Maglor, “but we’ll try again in a few months.”

Celegorm wanted little more than to take a hot bath and then to fall into bed, but first he went upstairs, knocking lightly before he stepped into the twins’ room. He found them sitting on Elurín’s bed, crowding into one another’s space. “Atya!” Eluréd straightened, expression brightening. “Everything’s all right?”

“We can’t head north now,” said Celegorm, “but you’ll be pleased to know I didn’t do anything even a little reckless.” He crossed the room and deliberately kissed them both as though everything was normal, and left his hand on Elurín’s shoulder as he added, “We might try again later this summer, but the Gap is even more overrun now than it was when we went north before.”

“He must be calling for reinforcements—perhaps all is not going as well for him as he expected it to,” said Elurín. 

“Perhaps. But none of them are looking south yet. We’re safe here a little longer.”