Lord of the Rings: The Heir to Lorien

Mithrandir--crashed version

I have kept this version only for the votes. I really want to apologize for the mess that this chapter is.  I just don't know how to fix it. Others have told me they have the same problem, but Wattpad doesn't seem to care. And Wattpad did not let me fix it. Other writers have told me they had the same problem too.

The bell for thte mid-day meal rang. Celebriel dropped the cloak she held and realized she had not given herself time to change—an ironclad rule that Celebrian insisted upon. "No unsuitable clothing when you come to meals. You wear a decent gown, and your hair brushed and braided."

"Even mother did not impose that on me, sister," she said out loud as she folded the cloak and replaced it back in the coffer. "I will not go hungry just because you think I would disgrace your table." She knew a better place to seek a meal.

She had learned to seek refuge in kitchens long ago, enjoying the company of those who treated her as simply Celebriel, and not a princess of the Noldor. She wondered if the cooks would welcome her presence as they had in Lorinand.

Servers were coming and going, bearing the roasts, breads, and other dishes found at Elrond's table. The smell of roast venison was making her hungry and she longed for a tankard of wine.

"Look where the miscreant has sought refuge," one of the elves said as she entered the great kitchen with its ovens and fires, "Are you in disgrace and barred from Master Elrond's table?" He filled a plate and handed it to her. "We cannot have you going hungry. Ah, the steward returns with our rewards."

The elf in question held up two bottles, "I am assured that these come from the cellars of Thranduil, himself, worthy of Elrond's table, but no less worthy of ours, I think." His eyes fell upon Celebriel, then he stammered, "But..."

"But you're going to fill our cups now, are you not? I am curious to find out if Thranduil's wine is as good as that I drank in Lorien." She held up her cup, "If you please?"

Clearly relieved, he filled her glass first, then the cups of the various elves who wished to imbibe the stolen delicacy. As they drank and ate, their tongues, if hindered at all by Celebriel's presence, began to loosen. The latest gossip and comings and goings began to fill the room.

This was the best place, she knew, of discovering the goings on of the house and the surrounding area. Even in the kitchen, the elves knew of any talk of travelers who would be arriving in Imladris, where they came from, where they were going to. They also, curiously, knew of the affairs of the family, and the disgrace she would face for being absent from the meal, but she didn't care.

news of his arrival at Elrond's house. Was this the same Mithrandir who had appeared to her so mysteriously in the woods this morning? Just who was he, anyway? And what relation did he bear to her mother that he would inform her of her welfare? Was he someone Elrond was acquainted with?

...because he goes about clothed all in grey. I have heard that he was acquainted with the White Lady, so I am surprised you have not heard of him."

"I am surprised, but then again, I am not. I spent much of my time with Lorinand's elves and did not pay much heed to the matters of the Noldor. If my mother had thought that I should know of him, I am sure I would. Lorinand deliberately isolates itself from the outside world, it is much safer that way." And I am sure Mother's magic helps, but what will they do when that power has left?

"Well, you will meet Mithrandir soon, though when no one knows. For all of his power, he is a kindly soul. Any question you have he will endeavor to answer—unless he does not want to," he chuckled, "Now, for dessert, I have an apple tart and cheese, may I tempt you with that?" He reached for the bottle and refilled her cup.

She did not admit it to herself, but her vision had her intrigued. Something was driving her forwards, perhaps it was to seek a glimpse of the mysterious Mithrandir in the flesh. If she met anyone on the road, she would merely greet them and move on. Her arrival was well known, and it would do no good to try to hide who she was.

She confronted the Master of Horse with a dilemma. Ariel, her mare, had just made a long journey and needed her rest, was there a horse she could perhaps borrow? And to her surprise, there was. Perhaps Elrond had not anticipated her and saw no need to forbid her access to his stables, so a horse was found and presented to her. Not as well-bred as Ariel, but sturdy and well-gaited.

She rode without saddle or bridle, comfortable in her skills using feet and hands to manage her mount. The logical place to ride seemed to be in the direction of the bridge over the Bruinen (*Loudwater), and she let instinct guide her instead of trying to choose a path.

There were sentries on the bridge, but they let her pass. Maybe they weren't paying attention, or they mistook her for one of the younger elves—but what about her red hair? Would they report that they'd seen her and send someone after her?

She wandered further down the road, taking in the autumn colors, the sunbeams shooting through the trees that she had only vaguely noticed when she arrived here. Then she had felt closed in by the elves that had escorted her, but now she was feeling a heady sense of freedom. She had learned to enjoy solitude guarding Lorinand's fences, and now she was able to enjoy it fully, needing only herself and her horse for company.

Blessedly, she had seen no one on the road, but now her sensitive nostrils caught the scent of a burning fire. Her horse turned its head, inquisitively, and she told her, "I smell it too, it's someone's campfire. Who would be camping along Elrond's road when he is so close to entering Imladris?"

She led Arial into the woods, just far enough that she would be hidden from the road. "Stay here," she whispered in her ear, "Don't leave until I tell you," and began picking her way carefully through the thickets, walking soft-footed as only an elf might. Her hand was on the haft of her dagger, and the presence of her bow and arrows gave her comfort, though she did not in truth know if she suspected trouble.

The stranger had found a small clearing hidden within the woods. She could not see his face for his back was to her, but his long cloak was travel-stained, the grey it must once have been now almost a muddy brown. A merry little fire was crackling, just enough for some warmth and to cook the rabbit that was spitted over the coals. He seemed unaware of her, or if, by chance, he knew she was there, he said nothing. Was he waiting for her?

She stepped carefully into the clearing, not truly knowing if she wanted to disturb him. His back was still to her, so she said, carefully as not to offend him, "Old man, what are you doing in the Lord Elrond's woods."

He turned, and she recognized the man in her vision. "Ah, young Celebriel, I have been waiting for you, are you hungry?"

She smiled in spite of herself, then remembered her caution, "How do you know my name?" She removed her hand from her dagger, sensing that no threat was here.

"I know more about you than you may realize

"Stay with her awhile, Mithrandir, let her know she has a friend she can trust. Her options may be more numerous than she thinks, as long as she feels she is not forbidden to pursue the one she wants. I do not think that any path is closed to her if it is of her choosing."

"You may call me whatever you like, young Celebriel. Your experience is limited, but I think you will find Imladris a better fit for you than you think—if only for a while."

"If only for a short while," she said fiercely, "I am determined to return to where I belong, I do not belong here among the High Elves, and Elrond will find it hard to stop me if I decide to leave."