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Author Topic: childhood nostalgia  (Read 3632 times)

Galadriel

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childhood nostalgia
« on: June 06, 2015, 12:45:00 AM »
    The whispers grew more and more difficult to ignore with every passing moment. Constant, niggling, never quelled, to prey upon the ears until it drove to madness, and nothing in the world, not even the specter of peace the whisper of the mallorn trees brought to one, could truly rid one's self of them. Always, always there, and one thing was certain -- the Lady of the Galadhrim certainly knew a thing or two about whispers.

do you think she's dead?

Her cheek twitched, just so.

don't be stupid, stupid. the lady would never die.

don't call me stupid, you stupid!


Well now, at least the whispers were encouraging. Even if they were doing a terrible job at being taken seriously, and only years upon years of practice kept Galadriel from the smirk threatening to creep up over her features. It never seemed to grow old, this game, even when it was disturbing a rare moment of rest for her, underneath the sun-drenched trees of an unseasonably warm afternoon. But she played the game, played for their sake, for while there were few others she could abide entertaining in such a manner for long...the Lady of Lorien could humour these little whisperers for just a little longer. Silly little things, flush with the naivety that made them forget the dangers of the world [how she missed such oblivion, so long ago lost to her], and yet bolder for it in a way adults were not.

And it wasn't like she couldn't move elsewhere, if worst came to worst. She needn't move at all. If they didn't go away eventually...well, Galadriel was enough used to whispers that if she was truly adamant about resting, she would achieve.

But then they poked her. Not once, but twice. Tugged at the hem of her robe. Flinched back, she sensed, when the breeze ruffled hair and silk.

Then poked her a third time. At this point, a pandemonium to put any of Rohan's Eored to shame erupted, and childish screams, both laughingly terrified and terrified in their laughter, sang through the ancient trees of the Golden Wood as the little culprits attempted to escape the whirlwind that was the Lady leaping to her feet and lunging for them with a growl. The littlest elfling [and so the bravest and likely the one who had poked her last, as seemed the way of the world] most unfortunately tripped as he attempted to turn and bolt, left for dead by his comrades as they fled through the trees and captured neatly by the metaphorical beast they'd been baiting. Which understandably elicited another squeal from the dark haired child, though it became one of hysterical laughter when fingers descended to tickle mercilessly. Though even that was brief, and in the end, the lad was but a nervously giggling mess where he hung from the arms of the Lady of the Wood, tolerating only with the token complaints of the youngling when his muddy back was brushed off and knowing with the intuition of the youngling that to protest the ministrations of one who had been, was, a mother was an exercise in foolery.

"Naughty little beasts," Galadriel murmured wryly, though her chuckle was without rancor as she set him back on his feet after the briefest of squeezes, one hand tucking her own hair behind her ear while the other gave a last light slap to the little one's now quite dirty clothes.[/li][/list]


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Celeborn

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childhood nostalgia
« Reply #1 on: June 06, 2015, 01:49:00 AM »
OOC: Italics are his thoughts he sent to her and Muinen = my heart

IC: He had been simply meaning to check on her but the sight of a few rascal Elflings hovering around his wife was just far too amusing, and Celeborn could sense his wife was also amused. So instead of coming closer or leaving completely, he stayed in the shadows, a smirk on his face, watching to see how the scene in front of him would unfold, though he was aware that she more than likely could sense he was there in the shadows.

He nearly snorted at hearing the comments about whether or not Galadriel was alive, rolling his eyes at the words of the young ones. Of course, he had to be impressed by how still she was laying, pointedly ignoring their presence, and likely his. Plus, it gave him the chance to simply enjoy watching her at peace, something that was unfortunately rare these days. A frown briefly settled about the corners of his mouth before he forced himself to relax, leaning nearby but still silent as he simply watched his wife.

He couldn't help the snort that came when the trio of children gave only somewhat fake terrified squeals as she surged forward and his thoughts brushed against hers. ”I never knew my wife could be so terrifying, muinen.” He stepped out of the shadows and chuckled at her tickling the young one that was left behind by his friends. The little one looked up at the Lord of Lothlorien with an almost scared look until Celeborn gave him a warm smile.

One that grew at her words about naughty little beasts. ”Ah, but you adore them nonetheless, meleth.” His hand went to ruffle the young one's hair and the other to cup his wife's cheek tenderly. ”Have a good rest, dearest?” His thoughts were filled with concern and love for her as he studied her as if to see how she was doing physically.

Galadriel

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childhood nostalgia
« Reply #2 on: June 06, 2015, 09:12:00 AM »
    She had not wholly realised him to be there, at first. Not through a lack of perception...more, that her mind had been open full to the sounds and senses of the forest, apparent siesta or no, and Celeborn was such a part of the Golden Wood that to sense him among all else within it came as naturally to her as breathing. The fact that she hadn't realised quite how near Celeborn was was not something Galadriel particularly felt like visiting the reality of, certainly when he was as close as he was now
[and she did not just allude to the physicality of his presence]. It implied far more than she would like about her current pattern of sleeplessness, a lack of rest just enough to dull her senses in the afternoon, of all things.

It implied things not overtly pleasant and yet more common to her lately, more or less.

'You do know, of course, that what you do would be considered *stalking* in other cultures. How terribly *unromantic*.'

Wry affection and a jibe without the edge it might have otherwise had being her response, never even in thousands of years quite reconciled to how particularly quiet Celeborn could often be. Yet even that being said, Galadriel's eyelashes fluttered over her cheeks at the fingers against the skin there, her mouth twitching slightly when she felt the dark-haired elfling press against her knees -- not taken fright as he had been initially when the Lord had appeared [no doubt a little afraid he might be in trouble for disturbing the Lady, let alone get her dirty as if she wasn't perfectly capable of that herself). No doubt somewhere between awe and disgust, she didn't doubt, and it was confirmed as such when the Lady glanced down at the dark eyes peering up at her from the folds of her robe.

"Go on," she murmured, breaking contact with Celeborn so that she could push the child along after the playmates she knew would be hiding in the shadows beyond -- drawn back by endless curiousity despite the fright they'd received. "Tell them you slew the dreaded beast, but you chose to take pity on her and let her keep her golden prize instead of taking it yourself."

That got a blink and a pitched chuckle, the little one even daring to make a gentle swipe at a hanging lock of aforementioned golden prize. Then another glance was given to Celeborn, a hasty little bow, and the little one was off once again, dashing into the woods. Galadriel, for her part, felt but a flicker of wistfulness as he went. But then it was just as quickly gone, and she straightened, patting her clothes down if only to spare meeting her husband's eye and acknowledging exactly what had been there in her not a moment before.

"I rested well. It is a nice change from the chairs in the petition hall. Not that I have any need to tell you this, oh my Woodland Elf." Her arms hooked through his companionably, squeezing the strong muscle hidden beneath the folds of grey sleeve before releasing the hold of both her arms for one.

"But tell me. What has brought you out here? And do not attempt to divert me with flattery. There is something on your mind."[/li][/list]


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Celeborn

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childhood nostalgia
« Reply #3 on: June 06, 2015, 07:29:00 PM »
It would seem that his presence had slightly startled his beloved Lady wife and that made him smirk, a smirk that grew at her wry thoughts about stalking. ”I was not 'stalking,' dear heart. I was seeing how you were doing and did not wish to disturb you and the little ones.” No, Celeborn did not stalk, or at least he didn't stalk Elves and such. The same could not be said of deer and other prey that he hunted. But that was very different from what his wife was accusing him of acting like, though he could tell that she was amused more than anything else.

His smirk softened when he saw her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks when he pressed his hand to her cheek, pleased that such a simple touch could make her react that way. He was so in tune with not only her emotions but her body language that he could see her lip twitch and he glanced down with her at the dark-haired child that was watching the two of them. He seemed less likely to run than before and his eyes were warm as she sent him off, though he was a bit disappointed when she pulled away from him to nudge the young one off.

He gave a soft chuckle at her words of the child should tell his friends, and he spoke softly to his wife as the boy ran off. ”I for one am glad that he is letting you keep your hair.” His own lips twitched as she patted her clothes to remove as much dirt as she could, as if what she looked like mattered to him. She could be covered head to toe in grime and she would still be the most beautiful person in the world to him. His gaze was warm as she turned her attention fully to him, explaining that her rest had gone well, nodding in agreement about her words regarding the chairs in their petition hall, though a silver eyebrow rose at her title for him, pleased but curious as to why she chose to use it.

Her arms grabbed his and she gave it a squeeze before keeping only one arm looped through his. He gave a full warm laugh at her comment about not flattering her, words amused as he spoke, ”But you enjoy it when I flatter you, my Lady of Light.” He pressed a soft but lingering kiss to her cheek before he sobered slightly, a soft smile still lurking on the corners of his mouth. ”There is much on my mind but foremost, and the reason for coming here, was to see how you were doing and if you needed anything from me, beloved.”

Galadriel

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childhood nostalgia
« Reply #4 on: June 07, 2015, 01:59:00 AM »
So literal, Galadriel thought to herself, the urge to roll her eyes barely suppressed even now despite years of experience with the Elf at her side. She'd wondered back then, in the twilit days of Doriath, whether it was a thing that came with the particular kind of intelligence singular types such as Celeborn possessed, and she wondered it now. It wasn't hard to prank him into reacting to something in a particular manner, only made all the easier when one knew where exactly to poke, and was aware of the reality that was in fact the Wise One in true demeanor.

For example, he had quite a temper.

For another, he was ridiculously adept at procrastinating when the fancy took him. For such a short-tempered elf. Or maybe that was why he was so adept at procrastinating. A short temper didn't mean enjoyment of what might come with it.  

"Celeborn."

It was a stern tone. Fortunately, he'd married once an elleth with more than her weight in boldness. And an utter inability to practice patience when it wasn't deemed needed. As was now, and blue eyes narrowed just so in warning at him even as Galadriel tugged gently at his arm to move him along with her, though she let go momentarily so that she could clamber deftly upon an old log, reaching both hands out for him to take so she could pull him up with her before continuing down the other side.

He already knows how I'm feeling.

"What is it?"


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Celeborn

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childhood nostalgia
« Reply #5 on: June 13, 2015, 02:24:00 AM »
He watched his wife, knowing quite well that she wanted to roll her eyes, and was amused by the fact that she didn't. He knew her in many ways better than he knew himself, and definitely better than anyone else. Their strong bond was most of the reason for that admittedly but another large part was their long marriage together, about six thousand years. And he was as besotted by her now as he was when he first saw her, and actually quite possibly even more so. Theirs was a love that grew stronger the longer they were married, for which he was glad. He knew that many Men's marriages were not that way and felt sadness and pity for them.

She spoke his name, in a stern tone, and he gave a questioning hum, his brow furrowing as he tried to think of what he could have said to displease her. The only thing he could think of was him flattering her but he didn't think that doing so would get her upset. He did smile slightly at her gently tugging him after her, though she did not need to since he would follow her to the ends of the earth if she wished it of him. His smile grew when she stopped to help him climb over a fallen tree stump, oddly touched even if he didn't really need any help. But he was like putty in her hands, malleable to her wishes. Not that he would blindly do what she wanted but it was remarkably easy for her to have her way with him.

There were times when what she said befuddled even him who knew her so well and her question had him confused. ”What is what, beloved?” He wasn't trying to be difficult with his not answering since he truly had no idea what she was referring to.

Galadriel

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« Reply #6 on: June 17, 2015, 02:34:00 AM »


It was a difficult mindset that she had never quite grown out of. Imbued in her both by virtue of sheer personality and by teachings, the notion that someone, when they came to you, always came with an ulterior motive. To just be there, and linger, with no notion of doing so other than to simply be; it had been foreign to her, and something that had both set her teeth on edge and made her curious [and perhaps a little envious] regarding the Elves of Sindarin origin. Patience had never been Galadriel's strongest virtue, not by the measure of Elves. If anything, it had been a trait learned forcibly rather than come naturally, and though it was long learned and she'd long grown wiser for it, it still took hold of her tongue occasionally and made her wary more so of what others wished of her.

And it was easy enough to refuse most, but only most. Not all. thetasteofCelebrimborstilllingered

It took all of her will-power not to take a dive into the deeper parts of her husband's mind, and wrest it out of him. Not so much because she suspected he was keeping things from her, but for the sake of some privacy, and little desire even piqued that little bit to start the kind of argument that arose with prodding at someone's motives [likely needlessly]. But it was with a cat's curiousity that she couldn't quite let go the idea that he'd come seeking her now for a reason, when she had chosen to take her rarely awarded solitude from all others and when there were plenty of hours in the evening mere hours from now to seek her out. Sigh.

He looked so bemused though [an expression that never failed to be entertaining on the countenance of the Lord of the Galadhrim] that she had to let it go, and so Galadriel bit the inside of her cheek and stifled a sigh, alighting from the ancient, mossy log with the grace of the same animal the jest of curiousity was gained from -- likely would have been switching her tail a little, too, like a miffed kitten, if she'd had one -- before awaiting Celeborn to follow, her toes curling into the soft earth that was neither quite dust nor damp dirt. Cool, though never as cold as Nenya on her finger [and Galadriel turned the ring over her finger in absent thought as she considered it thus].

"Never mind," she murmured softly, "Perhaps I simply didn't feel like carrying the conversation as I'm so often called upon to do among others, and so I was giving you an opening to speak of something. Anything."


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Celeborn

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« Reply #7 on: July 04, 2015, 06:05:00 PM »
Celeborn could sense that his wife wanted to pursue whatever it was that she was trying to find out from him, and he still had no idea what that might be, but for whatever reason she decided to let it go. She could have easily delved into his mind, something that he generally welcomed but he was also glad that she didn't often do so. Of course, except when he was purposefully blocking her completely, his surface thoughts and feelings were open to her sensing, and perhaps he let more of them out with her than he might otherwise, simply because he trusted her so much.

It was an odd thing for him to trust someone as completely as he did her. Oh, there were times that he doubted or questioned things she did or said but that was normal even for the closest couples, and they certainly were far closer than even many Elven couples were, mainly due to her heightened mental abilities that she had before the Ring. A Ring which he could now see her absently fiddle with, much like he would often do with the golden wedding band he wore on his right index finger. A Ring which he kept his displeasure with her taking it buried deeper in his mind than he kept most thoughts and feelings. Not because she didn't know of his continued feelings regarding it but because he felt that she didn't need to be reminded by those feelings.

He came off the fallen tree trunk and blinked, almost owlishly, at her words. ”Is there a need for us to talk? Can we not simply enjoy some time together without needing to speak?” His voice was soft yet a bit confused.

Galadriel

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« Reply #8 on: July 09, 2015, 09:37:00 AM »

"Because you're terribly boring when you're not talking."

Poor Celeborn. The Elf male was, for all that it seemed, in a mood where he was content to be quiet and serene, content and languid, even lax on this warm spring afternoon. It was all there, in something as simple as the soft tones of his voice. He was always low in pitch, something his mate had loved from the start before she'd even known she'd loved him, almost entirely because she enjoyed knowing that those quiet, slow tones were no indication whatsoever of the sheer acuity of his mind, and there were those that had tended to underestimate that. It had left her coughing into her napkin or her wine goblet more than once at some dinner table or other, with some comment or other of his that only the particularly knowing would realise, though she could only forgive for something that was as a part of his nature as breathing.

Unfortunately, Galadriel seemed to be in a mood completely the opposite in nature. Perhaps it was the springtime weather, perhaps it was the good spirits recovered to her after far too many a weary night recently repairing breaches in Nenya's protective girdle, or perhaps it was even the brief moments spent in playtime with the children...very likely the latter, for though she'd been the primary disciplinarian, she had also always been the first to join their treasured daughter in her games and adventures when official business was done for the moment. But whether it was one of these things or all of them, Galadriel was in high spirits, as brightly lit as the mallorn leaves they walked amongst in afternoon sunlight. It was impossible for her to entirely contain it no matter how she grew older, the fidgety ball of energy posing as a little girl scolded often and lovingly by her own mother, and so was the case now despite her best attempts to be serene.

That nap had likely not helped, either -- she was restless and playful and happily so, a young mare barely reined in and dancing to the jangle of the bit, eager to be released from such bonds and chafing at the need for good behaviour and stillness. Not truly malicious, but certainly irreverent, though like a playful and beloved equine did she make up for bad manners with good humour and affection, and Celeborn would find arms around his neck and the poor Lord himself risking the quite terrible chance of being thrown off balance as such, though it was done as lovingly as possible and with a gentle bump of her nose against his to take the sting from her comment.

And so...poor Celeborn indeed.


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Celeborn

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childhood nostalgia
« Reply #9 on: July 10, 2015, 02:57:00 PM »
OOC: Gi melin=I love you

IC: Celeborn shot his wife an extremely playful glare when she said that he was very boring when he wasn't talking, a smirk that showed he truly did not mind her words, even as wondered he about her mood. Not that he minded his wife being playful, and in fact rejoiced in since Eru knew that she needed it, what with all the talk of approaching darkness. She especially needed some lightness in her life, some joy to keep her mind from all the worries that she had, that they both had. So he was more than happy to let her tease him, even as he drawled in reply, ”I'm sure I can be rather...exciting if I put my mouth to more pleasurable pursuits than simply talking.” There was this undertone of desire in his words, even as his words were kept seemingly innocent with his tone.

He was so aware of her that her wrapping her arms around his neck only slightly caught him off-guard, though he recovered enough to wrap his arms around her waist and tug her closer to him. He gave her a soft, rather pleased smile at her nose bump, which he followed up with a soft kiss. ”Gi melin, Galadriel.” His voice was soft and spoken against her lips as he pulled away just enough to speak to her.

Galadriel

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« Reply #10 on: July 11, 2015, 12:47:00 AM »

"What, keeping it shut? That would be the height of true wisdom."

Not, of course, that she was complaining. Galadriel had many occasions to complain when it came to Celeborn chose to do with his mouth (oh Illuvatar forgive her juvenile heart, she couldn't even think of that one word now without her ears turning pink and her desperately stifling a chortle), mostly because it was generally the most inappropriate of times that he so chose to be a distraction with it. That, or she was being teased, but she didn't mind being teased. And when she did, she had absolutely no compunctions with punishing the soul who was bothering her so -- there was more than one elf out there who'd end up backwards into a body of water courtesy of Artanis and her impulsive strength.

Fortunately for the Lord of Lorien, the closest body of water was still some distance away [though now she had quite a hankering to visit said river], and it was difficult to even contemplate being bothered by anything really when being kissed so. An interesting thing, that -- many tended to discount the beauty of softness, of tenderness and gentleness, in the wake of grand, sweeping passion and yearning intensity, something Galadriel knew was no doubt in part because of the many fairytales that swept the land. Regardless of culture, they always had such a theme, and even she herself had believed in them once. Still did, after a fashion, but she did so now with the wisdom that came with actually being not only loved, but in what was, more or less, a partnership. One constantly a work in progress, whether it was a marriage of ten years or ten thousand years.

Really, there's more zeal to be found these days in bickering with one another, she thought wryly to herself, even as she sighed and nestled her cheek against Celeborn's collarbone, pushing gently so that he would sit against one of those precious, ancient mallorn trees, for if she was to simply keep company with him, then she would do it in comfort.

But it was that wisdom, perhaps, which made a soft kiss as heart-melting, as spine-tingling and knee-weakening, as something ravishing in itself. And for her, intense, passionate creature she was by her own nature, it was the most precious of things. As precious as an affirmation of love, though Galadriel smiled sweetly at that too, the words almost soporific in how, for just a moment, that restlessness in her quietened.

"It's difficult to resist them, you know," she said softly, watching her fingers tap a gentle pattern over his chest. "The children. It takes me back to my days with Celebrian."


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Celeborn

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« Reply #11 on: July 13, 2015, 01:05:00 PM »
Although his expression was playful in its expressions, her words about him being silent being the height of wisdom made him go from a playful glare to one of pretend indignation. He was however enjoying the expressions that his not so innocuous words about what he could do with his mouth that was not talking. His gaze on her became serious, though more through intensity than any other reason. He bent his head slightly so his mouth was nearly pressed against her ear. ”But you enjoy when my mouth is engaged in activities other than talking, beloved.” Even as his words belied the underlying passion that boiled underneath his skin towards her, they were still somehow kept loving. Since even in his passion for her, he was always was gentle and loving, even in his anger. He wasn't sure he could think of a single time when he had hurt her, except when he wanted his words to hurt her in their arguments.

But they weren't arguing and even with his intense words, he pulled away more from her lips, a true smile lurking on the corners of his mouth as she gently pushed against his chest, silently telling him to sit down, all while nestling herself against him. He willingly sat down against a nearby tree, briefly closing his eyes at the feeling of life in the tree behind him, before returning his gaze to his wife. She had smiled at his words of love. Even if she didn't repeat them back, he didn't mind. He knew that she loved him without a doubt and that he didn't need her words to tell him that. A silver brow rose at her words of not being able to resist them, thinking for a moment that she meant his kisses and even opened his mouth to say something about it.

Until she mentioned the children, bringing up their own child. He gave a smile that was both wistful and yet nearly heart-wrenchingly sad, memories of Celebrian flooding through him, from her birth to her first words and steps to her marrying and having children of her own, all the way to her capture and sailing. That last memory settled over him, settling as a haunted look in his eyes, even as he tried to keep his tone light. ”You miss her.” It wasn't a question nor was it an attack. It was full of understanding and yearning, not for her but rather for their daughter, for their family to be whole again. ”I do too” He had sobbed against her when he learned that she had been captured and then again when she had sailed, two of the few times he had cried.

Galadriel

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« Reply #12 on: July 18, 2015, 04:58:00 AM »

You miss her.

It wasn't a question or an attack, but nor was it something that necessarily required a verbal [or even a mental] answer. It was neither here nor there, really -- of course she missed her. The circumstances of Celebrian's departure from their world could have been entirely different, and Galadriel would still have missed her as terribly as she did. The aforementioned circumstances simply added poison to the wound, and aided it in it's inability to ever truly heal. Galadriel was many things, had been many things, and would likely be more still in her future [the Valar only knew when they'd be finished with her], but the most simple and yet intrinsic of these many things for her had been motherhood. Terrifying, wonderful ordeal that it had been, as many mistakes attached to the experience as successes, and neither the terror nor the wonder had faded as Celebrian had grown from terrifyingly blind, trusting babe in her arms to wondrous, spirited adult.

 Remembered, so distinctly, the incredulousness that had come with giving birth to her -- that this tiny, wet, mewling creature had been the result of all of that effort, that unbearable pain, the guilt of not witnessing instantly what all described as what was meant to be that instant, magical bond of mother and child, of being mildly unsettled by the feeling of a suckling newborn...and then in those hours hence, when she had first seen her baby smile, if involuntarily at her, and then...then she had understood. Life of your life, safe in your arms.

 It had never failed to leave her heart a puddle at her feet, even as it intrigued her -- she, a powerful, ambitious, magical being, a ruler feared and fearless, and yet to hear herself called Lady and all associated with it had had nothing on what it was to hear Mama from a child's lips. Two separate words, both with two syllables, and yet while one held everything she had ever striven for in itself, she would be sorely tempted, beyond a doubt, to throw it all in if she were offered the chance to hear the other again, just one last time. And that was as grievous in itself, those dark and wandering thoughts, as the contemplation of the constant, dull ache that was having her child torn from her arms, and so for long moments did Galadriel not trust herself to speak, instead turning her head into Celeborn's side and her slender fingers bunching into the material of his tunic at the chest, where they had been resting as deceptively light over where the heartbeat as he had been light in his words only moments before.

But it passed eventually, as it always did. The ache in her soul might not recede, but at least the pressure in her throat and the itch in her nose would spare her any further embarrassment, and Galadriel was able [albeit with a discreet sniff] to rest her head comfortably again, her fingers loosening their grip in tandem with the soft sigh that escaped her, though they fidgeted absently with the occasional twitch of the strong pectoral muscles underneath them. They even took to fiddling with errant strands of silver after a moment, not twirling so much as tugging gently, kitten-like [and yet without ulterior motive] at the ends.

Telperion's light. Celebrian hair, she thought with a wistful smile.

"Do you recall when I was teaching her to swim? It was utterly ridiculous, how she struggled for the many days that she did...and then that one day, I took her with me further from the bay and nearer the open ocean, and she just...suddenly clicked."

Of course, that may have had something to do with fear that her mother would leave her behind. But Galadriel infinitely preferred the other excuse she had ready-made; it had been the little girl's Noldorian blood saving her, and the ridiculousness beforehand was to be blamed entirely at the feet of whatever genetics had passed from her husband. All Noldorian-blooded knew how to swim, after all.


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Celeborn

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« Reply #13 on: July 18, 2015, 03:34:00 PM »
His observation/statement about their daughter and that his wife missed her was left unanswered, not that he thought it needed one. She also didn't reply to him saying that he too missed Celebrian, but again it didn't need an answer. The quiet allowed them to think, and he had a feeling that they were both thinking on their daughter.

For him, his thoughts went past all her childhood and straight to went they learned she had been captured until she sailed. He remembered the sorrow and anger that he had felt since they should have sent a bigger escort to bring her to them, that somehow he could have done more to keep her safe, for that was what a father did. And he recalled the joy at hearing she had been rescued, only for him to feel as if a knife had been stabbed into his gut and twisted when he first saw her, hurt and broken, her mental scars too vast for even Elrond to heal. It was with a heavy heart that he watched his daughter sail away to Valinor to gain healing only the Valar could provide.

He was brought back to the present by his wife pressing herself closer to him and he responded by wrapping his arms about her and laying his cheek against the top of her head. Her fingers bunched themselves into his tunic and she seemed rather distressed by her own thoughts, though he didn't speak of it, simply giving her silent support and he knew that if she wanted to speak to him about anything, she could, and would.

She finally spoke, asking him if he remembered her teaching Celebrian to swim, and he gave a brief hum of assent, letting her finish speaking before he spoke. ”I remember quite well those days.” He had let her be the one to teach their daughter how to swim since it was important to her that she was the one to do it. If he knew his wife's thoughts about his bloodline, he would have to remind her that one: she too was a Teleri, and two: that he was perfectly able to swim and had been doing so for as long as he could remember. He would spend quite a bit of time amongst the Sindar in Falas as a child, for his mother had been amongst those that followed Cirdan, and he learned how to sail from those that built boats, and in fact could build boats even now, as well as how to swim.

But as it was, all he could think of was how his wife looked in the shifts she wore, soaking wet and clinging to her every curve, and he gave his wife and almost mischievous smile, before he lowered his head to whisper hotly against her ear, ”I especially remember how you looked during those times.” And he couldn't help but bring up the image in his mind and send it to her, partly to see how she would react.

Galadriel

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childhood nostalgia
« Reply #14 on: July 23, 2015, 01:29:00 AM »

Smack.

That, for all and sundry to hear, was the sound of the Lady's hand smacking smartly into the chest of the Lord. She sat up quickly then, cheeks burning and all the more chagrined for that as a result, and her gaze burning as reproachfully upon him for being the cause of it. Blasted, blasted man, and blast herself for being as easily aroused [to embarrassment, curse him, to embarrassment, strictly to embarrassment] by such teasing when she herself was, in almost all things, the one who most proclaimed to be the member of the family, if not elven kind itself, most prone and able to teasing and flirtation. And she was, absolutely was this, and nobody would dare taunt her otherwise--

--except him. Of course.

She wouldn't have ended up marrying him otherwise.

Sigh.

It was part and parcel of their interaction as much as the deep and the sad and the meaningful, though...or perhaps as meaningful in it's own way. Had it's place, like every other feeling and memory drifting through the endless current that was their life together. And life, as much as their own lives together, was all about the opposites of each extreme having their counterpart. Feelings and memories included.

Still.

She loved him for it, not so secretly, but still.

Galadriel huffed, reaching over to tug at the tip of his ear before wrapping her arms around her knees, pouting and cheeks blown out in a most amusing child-like gesture of the sulks.

"We were here trying to have a deep and heartfelt moment, you amorous git, and you just had to kill it off. How do you feel?"


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