Sunder

Mellow Soulmate AU (possibly).  Galadriel sails over the sea to the Undying Lands.  And Celeborn chooses to stay behind.  All Sindarin names used here.  Nenya and Vilya are two of the three elven Rings of Power (in case anyone was confused).  The third is Narya, and Gandalf wears it.  Also, it is canonical that Círdan is kin of Thingol, and Celeborn is the grandson (or possibly great-grandson) of Thingol's younger brother, so Círdan and Celeborn are related, though Tolkien never said exactly how.  Takes place in Mithlond very early in the beginning of the Fourth Age.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Silmarillion

Pairings: Celeborn x Galadriel

Characters: Celeborn, Galadriel, Círdan (mentions Elrond, Celebrían, Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, Aragorn, Sauron, the Valar and Arien)

Warning: canon-compliant AU, vaguely hints at war and such, but very vaguely, mentions some self-hatred issues as well as death issues, mostly just bittersweet fluff, though, kissing

Song: Tennessee

Words: 1,421
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sunder (verb): to break apart or in two; separate by or as if by violence or by intervening time or space; to become parted, disunited, or severed
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/sunder

"We will see one another again, my Celeborn."

Her voice, with its low and honeyed chords ringing purely, softly brushed over his mind as a fleeting, intimate caress.  One he was all too accustomed to.  One he relished for its closeness and tenderness.

One he was going to miss dearly.

They had known this day would come for a very long time.  Ever since the first rise of Sauron.  Ever since the moment she first placed Nenya upon her finger and felt its power bind to her own.  His Galadriel in all her ethereal beauty--her golden mane with its moonlit sheen and her deep blue eyes filled with wisdom and sorrow to last all the ages of the world--was a star burning out in the wake of destruction.  And she needed her home now more than ever.

He did not begrudge her need to return to the light of Valinor.  Though he had never been, he knew of its charm, beauty and power.  They were legendary, even amongst his supposed dark-elven kin, the many elves who had stayed behind and refused the call of the Valar in the days of old.  He suspected that its light was as her light, filling to overflowing with life and energy and heat, and that it might rekindle the fire slowly sizzling out within her spirit.

That, she desperately needed.  No longer could she wait.

He held her slender, soft hand close and intentionally kept his gaze from falling to the mithril circlet set upon her finger, the adamant stone within its delicate flowering network of silver now naught but a dead star.  Rather, he meshed their fingers tightly together in the last moments of companionable silence resting between them, pulling her close enough to breathe in all that she was.  Pressed his brow to hers and looked into her eyes, imprinting the vibrant hue of her irises upon his memory, softened and glistening in affection--a sweet vision for the lonely and longing nights to come.

"Not forever," he agreed, feeling heartsick.

Her fingers tightened comfortingly about his, thumb stroking the back of his knuckles. "You need not stay, melethron.  You can come with me."

Oh! but the temptation.  To stay by the side of this amazing woman who had, for unnamed reasons, chosen him above all others when she could have had any man she desired.  His feelings sung, his heart crying out with need.  He did not want to be sundered from her, breaking their well-forged bond through separation.  He wanted to go with her and see her home.  Meet her family and see his daughter.

But he couldn't.

It was not that he did not want to, for Celeborn would admit to desiring and coveting her above all else.  Their marriage may not have been the most traditional, and they may not have always gotten along as well as might two mates of the soul have done, but he hardly could love another more than he loved her.  Still, for all that he would miss her terribly...

Not yet was he ready to depart Middle-earth.  Images of his grandchildren burned his imagination.  Of Arwen being left alone with the passing of her husband to fade away in the gray of a word of Men.  Of Elladan and Elrohir growing apart, one taking his father's place and the other falling to his ever-growing self-hatred and scorn.  Of Elrohir choosing the race of Men and disappearing without a word into the night, lost for all of time to mortality.  Of no one ever knowing his fate, carrying only sad tidings of his beloved kin back to the golden shores that they might very well never touch.  Those possibilities sat heavy in the back of his mind.  Without their father, their mother or their grandparents, the three half-elven children would be completely alone in a world radically evolving and leaving them behind.  So alone.

After all, Elrond was sailing as well.  Because of Vilya, but also in truth to be reunited with his wife--with Celeborn's only child, his beloved daughter.  And he would not blame his son-in-law for that small selfishness knowing that the half-elf longed for the comfort of his mate, had suffered alone with the burden of Middle-earth resting upon his already grief-stricken shoulders for far too long.  Nevertheless, Celeborn could not allow his own thoughts to be so selfish.  Could not allow his personal feelings to take the forefront of his mind.

"I will stay."  He could not change his mind now.  Closure needed to be had.  Lothlórien still needed a ruler to keep its borders.  His people still needed a leader to guide them forth in this age of fading.  And Celeborn still needed to say goodbye to the mortal lands--the only home he had ever known--and to his small and shattered family.

"Very well."  Her voice was not resentful, but deeply understanding despite the inherent wistful sadness.  There followed a single fleeting kiss of farewell.  And then their hands parted.  Sundered gently, but somehow still so violently it felt like a punch to the gut.

Because she was truly leaving.  Turning away and gracefully stepping upwards onto the deck of a single gray ship, her white-veiled form angelic in the dying light of the sun sinking into the waves.  Those waves that would swallow her whole and forevermore, for they would never bear her back to this shore.

He barely noticed the others boarding.  Could not look away from where she stood, mere yards of empty space between them, watching him as steadfastly.  And yet it might as well have been the whole of the ocean resting in that emptiness.

A hand touched his shoulder.  His kinsman Círdan stood beside him, face stoic beneath his grayed beard.  He, too, would be staying behind for some time yet.

"Are you quite certain?"

Without looking away from her, he nodded.  Watched the ship parting the docks with numb fascination, because she had begun now to move, a single hand raised in parting.  Until there were yards of water between the smooth white vessel and the jagged curve of land in which was nestled Mithlond.  Until he could make out her form only as a vague shape.

Still, he could feel her at the edge of his mind, a comforting and familiar presence.  That beloved little feeling of never being alone that he had cherished for more than six thousand years.  Logically, as he watched the ship shrinking upon the rocking waves, a mere black mast rising as a shadow over Arien's golden brilliance as she slipped through the Door of Night, he knew that his Galadriel was no longer beside him.  Yet it felt as though he could reach out his fingers and touch her hand.

Always she had been there.  Always, he would feel her touch and turn to find her smiling so fairly into his eyes.  But when he grasped there was naught but empty air.  The warmth of her palm did not greet him.  And he dared not turn.  Dared not look away from that toy ship drifting farther and farther...

"When next we meet, my Celeborn."

"When next we meet, my Galadriel."  If his smile was shaky and his eyes watery, the Lord of Mithlond said nothing, but merely patted his shoulder and left him alone on the shore.  Watching and watching as the distance grew and grew, as the sun sank lower and lower beneath the horizon.

Watching until even his elven sight could not see the speck that had been their ship.  Until it had altogether disappeared.

Watching until Arien had vanished entirely, her shimmering glow rippling on the water's surface unto complete darkness, a dusk with the company only of the stars.  For this night there was no moon.  And the world had never seemed so much like home.  So much like the days of eternal night when there had been only the heavenly dome above.  When the trees were so tall and the mountains jagged teeth piercing the sky.

Still, at the corner of his mind he felt her.  Like fingers carding through his hair.  Like the brush of her hair against his cheek.  And the touch of her lips across his in a whisper of a kiss.

He stood on the shore and watched.  Until he felt her no more.
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It's funny, because just earlier this week someone asked me to write more Celeborn and Galadriel just after I had chosen this prompt with the sole intent of writing their parting scene.  I should write more of them, but just have never gotten around to it, I guess.  Maybe this will catalyze something?  Anyway, I had to write this because the movie ending drives me crazy.  It makes me want to strange Jackson (just a little bit).  Celeborn and Círdan do not leave Middle-earth with the ring-bearers.  It is specifically stated in the books themselves (can't remember if it's in one of the last chapters or one of the appendixes).  And I hate that they give Sam such a sad ending when, in reality, he sails in the end also.

Maybe he'll sail with Celeborn, assuming that he ever gets around to leaving.  I think he'll probably show up in my arc for Elladan and Elrohir, but I wouldn't want to keep him from Galadriel forever.  I actually really love them together!  I mean, I'll read slash and stuff with Celeborn in it *cough*, but at the end of the day he's with Galadriel.  (And, just to rant, I hate how he's portrayed in LotR, the books and the movies.  Seriously?  You made Galadriel a hot babe but Celeborn doesn't even look young, let alone overly handsome.  I mean, Elrond, as a half-elf, had an excuse for looking nearly middle-aged!)

Okay, ranting done.  I also chose this prompt because of the song I used for today.  Hans Zimmer has composed many absolutely gorgeous pieces, but this is one of my absolute favorites ever.  Tennessee is an amazing, emotional and breathtaking composition (and I've never even watched Pearl Harbor, so it's not the usual character-association feels).  I could never decide if it was happy or sad or hopeful or just somewhere in between all of those things, and it just ended up being perfect.  So listen if you haven't--with your eyes closed and your sound up.

One more thing: Celeborn by ~liga-marta on dA.  Dude, why didn't he look like this in the movies!