The journey through the High Pass was uneventful but uncomfortable, she did not like mountain passes. The mountains she did not mind, but the passes through them made her feel vulnerable. There had been no sign of orcs for centuries, but the pass seemed a perfect place for an ambush. For the two days she spent traversing it, she spoke not a word, not even to Ariel. Every noise, every falling rock, every gust of wind startled her, and she was grateful when she came out the other side.
She allowed herself the luxury of a large campfire the night after she emerged. By the light of the fire she studied the maps she had made, and now realized what a task she had taken on to the find the wood elves.
There was no clear path to Thranduil's stronghold, she would have to rely on luck. This was not her forest, she did not know the paths and the byways that his people traveled. The food she had brought would not last long, but spring was deepening, and she had been taught by good teachers how to provide for herself.
It was the thought of how she would be received that made her nervous. She was a trespasser in a land where she did not belong, though she could claim kinship through her father. The elves of Lorinand did not welcome strangers and she understood the risk of asking to be granted access to Thranduil's kingdom. Her mother was Noldor, and she knew that there were ill feelings between the Silvan elves and the high elves over the losses they had suffered in the Great War.
She threw more wood on the fire. "I'm advertising to one and all that I'm here, but this is the first real fire I've had since I left Imladris. If the wood elves want to find me, they will, there's no one else who lives here. I wish they would find me, I want to sleep in a real bed and bathe and change clothes."
The next day she allowed herself the luxury of rising late. She gave Ariel the last of her oats and then proceeded to ride to the eaves of the Greenwood. The trees were tall and stately but had an air of menace even though they were beginning to leaf out.
She brought Ariel to a halt, then slid out of the saddle, and proceeded to remove the last of her food from her saddlebags. She put things into a pack she had brought, thinking, I need few clothes, just enough to get me by. And Ariel? I hate to let you go but you can find your way back to Imladris, and there are grass and shoots for you to eat, so you should not starve. It won't take long for you to return. I wish I could keep you with me, but there's no way I can.
She shed a few tears for the loss of her beloved horse. Those she cared for had betrayed her, all of them. Her last encounter with Glorfindel made her wonder if she had been no more than a pawn for an elven marriage. She was not interested in being a Noldor maiden married into one of the noble houses, even if she counted Glorfindel a dear friend. In fact, she was not interested in being married. She was returning to the Golden Woods and her life there—she would find a way.
Elrond and Celebrian had expected the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, and that was who had arrived, but not the daughter they'd envisioned. They did not expect an elf maid who practiced her archery every day and refused to behave as her station dictated. Well, that was too bad. She was who she was, and remained true to herself. Maybe life in the Greenwood would prove more palatable. All she knew was that she could remain in Imladris no longer.
She removed the saddle and bridle from Ariel's back, and carried them into the bushes, far from the path. She took the mare's finely sculpted head in her hands and said, "You have to go back to Imladris, and you mustn't let them know where I am. You'll find food more easily than I will, and you won't starve. Go back to your comfortable stall, and your stablemates. I hate to let you go, but where I am going, you can't follow. I'll be back someday, I promise, but it will be on my terms. May the blessings of Varda follow and protect you."
The mare looked at her, then turned and headed back down the path to Imladris. She watched her go and wiped the tears from her eyes, thinking, my last true friend.
The pass had led her to the entrance of the Forest Road, and she decided to take it. Her years in Lorinand had taught her that an elven wood was not to be wandered in. She knew little of Thranduil, but all the same, there could be a spell on the wood that confused travelers. If she were lucky, she might meet someone on the road, but she would rather be alone.
And alone she was. She did not know what she would find when she came out of the forest. The lair of the wood elves was a little north of the road, but she dared not wander in the woods alone. As the days passed she began to wonder if her presence was known. In Lorinand, it would be and scouts would be sent out to discover just who the intruders were.
She felt their presence first, then she began to hear the voices, voices speaking in an elven tongue. The language she recognized, but somehow the words could not be understood. But it was not the threatening voice in her innermost thoughts that she had come to dread. She wanted to try to call out them, to invite them to come to her, but she knew better. There was nothing she could do but to keep following the road and wait for them to come to her, which might be soon.
One day she did not get started until late in the morning. After she finished her breakfast, she scattered the remains of her fire and shouldered her pack. She had not heard the voices for a day or two, perhaps they had lost interest in, or maybe they were playing with her. It did not matter now, she knew what she had to do, and began to walk, knowing she was reaching the end of the road. She wondered what she would do if none of Thranduil's people approached her.
She began to hum to herself as she walked along. The song was one that Nimrodel had taught her, but for some reason, the words eluded her. She looked up at the trees and said in the Silvan tongue, "I am homesick for Lorinand. The spring is coming and soon the mallorn blossoms will be opening. These woods feel oppressive as if they were closing in on me. I should like to see sunlight again."
"That is not a very nice thing to say about someone's home, even if you are homesick."
Four elves stood in her path, holding their bows, though they had not put arrows to or drawn them. She breathed a sigh of relief, though quietly. She had been found, at last, and now she must present her case as best she could.
They were tall and golden-haired, dressed in green and brown. There was a familiarity about them, dress them in white and grey and they could easily belong in the golden woods. Was the one who had spoken to her their leader? Well, she would find out.
"Who are you, and what are you doing in the heart of the Greenwood, the realm of the Lord Thranduil? Come, speak, I am waiting." His voice was stern and unfriendly. It was the voice she would have used had she found him wandering under Lorinand's eaves.
"My name is Celebriel," she said slowly, deciding to reveal her name, but not her parentage. Maybe they already knew who she was. Red hair was not common among elves, but she knew she was not the only redhead amongst the Noldor. "My home is in the south, and I was visiting my sister in Imladris for a time. Now, I am on my way home, but I wished to visit the Greenwood, I believe I have kin here I have never met." That much was true at least.
The leader put his hand on her face and tilted it up. "You may have kin here," he said, "But you also have kindred amongst the Noldor if you were visiting Elrond's house. Who are you really, Celebriel?"
She drew a deep breath, "I am kin to Thranduil through my father Celeborn of Doriath. My mother is Galadriel, and my parents are residing in Lorinand for the time being. I was visiting my sister, Celebrian, wife to Elrond Half-Elven. I left Imladris and decided to journey here. Surely I present no threat—an army of one is not very effective." It was more than she had wanted to reveal, but the truth might serve her.
He dropped his hand and smiled at her. "Well, if you are telling me the truth, we are distant kindred. I am Legolas, son of Thranduil. News of you has reached us from Imladris—it seems you fled rather than simply leaving."
"And if I did, what of it? I am no longer considered a child, and the running of my life should be my own. I was unhappy in Imladris, I have come here to seek sanctuary with your father. If you try to force me to return, I will run away again." She locked eyes with Legolas to let him know she meant every word she said.
"Well, that will be up to my father. We will take you to him, and you may judge if our halls are as fair as your beloved Lorinand. If you promise to come quietly, and not attempt to run away, you may walk freely with us. If not, we will have to bind your hands and blindfold you.
"I will not try to run," she said with quiet dignity, "And if you must watch me I will not object. I have come to seek shelter with you, not to cause trouble."
"That is good because I don't want trouble from you. We will go now if you are ready. We won't be following the Forest Road, there are paths we know that follow a more direct route to my father's halls. Keep up with us, if you can."
"Oh, I can," she muttered under her breath, for reasons she did not understand she felt happy. Maybe it was speaking in the language she had grown up with, maybe it was the feeling that at last, she was amongst her own kind. In the long run, it did not matter.
As they went deeper into the Greenwood, the less apprehensive she felt. The trees no longer felt menacing and she began to appreciate their beauty. She wondered if Legolas thought it strange that she kept looking around her in wonder. This wood did not resemble the forest that surrounded Elrond's house any more than it resembled some trees that grew in Lorinand. This was the Greenwood, and it was just as it should be.
They marched until dusk, skipping the mid-day meal and drinking only out of a flask that contained a liquid not unlike the miruvor of Imladris. If Legolas was surprised that she had kept up with him and his comrades, he did not mention it. Some of the elves had killed rabbits and she helped them build a fire and cook them. This, along with some bread and wine, made up their evening meal.
They rested a few hours then continued their journey. "We are close to my home," he told her, "It is still a ways from here, but we should reach there after midnight. I am sorry that you let your horse go, but do not worry, she will return safely to her home."
She smiled at him, grateful for his words. The wood elves seemed to be warming to her, though they kept a careful distance. I will stay with them, she told herself, I will persuade Thranduil to let me remain with them until I decide to return to Lorinand. I won't go back to Imladris, I cannot be happy there. I wish to remain with these elves for they are my people, my kin.
It was just short of midnight when they halted. "Where are we, what are we doing here?" she asked, "What is this place?" for it seemed like nowhere at all but Legolas smiled.
"Watch," he commanded, and the earth suddenly opened up, revealing stone steps that led down to an entranceway. He took her arm and guided her down, and she saw two sentries guarding an entrance to a hallway of carven stone.
"I hear that the Galadhrim live in houses in the treetops, but here we live as the Eldar did of old, in halls carved underground. When we wish, we leave the gates open, but for safety's sake they are most often shut, as you saw."
"Is this the only entrance?" she asked, hoping to learn more.
"There are secret ways which a few of us know. We trade with the Lake Men and the town of Dale so we have exits from the cellars that open onto the river. Come now, Father is waiting for us."
He led her down hallways of intricately carved stone, set with amethyst, carnelian, opal, and other semi-precious gems. Light emanated from the gems, and instead of the hallways seeming gloomy, they were filled with a soft light. Celebriel looked around her, and gently touched one of the lights, expecting it to be hot, but found it was comfortably warm to the touch.
Her mother had told her of the elf cities of old, how some had been situated in caves, while others like Thranduil's city had been situated underground. None of them had escaped destruction from the armies of Morgoth, but the memories of what they must have been like lived on in the halls of Thranduil.
The elves they passed as they went on their way seemed familiar, too, tall, with golden hair and grey eyes. Were it not for the unfamiliarity of her situation she might have felt at home, for she heard them speaking in the familiar silvan tongue that she had missed so much while in Elrond's house. She no longer felt like one of the Noldor, but she knew she could feel utterly at home here if she were allowed.
At last, they arrived in a great hall, and seated on a wooden throne in front of a stone fireplace sat an elf who reminded her a little of her father. He was tall, with pale golden hair, and wore a circlet of mithril, wrought to resemble the spring flowers that soon would be waking from their long winter's sleep.
He stood to greet her, and she knew who it was, and knelt down on one knee before him. He took her hand and raised her up. "Welcome, Celebriel of Lorinand, daughter of Celeborn of Doriath, I am Thranduil."