While I May

While I May

Posted: July 14, 2006
Title: While I May
Author: Athos
Type: FCGen
Characters: Celebrían/Elrond
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The characters and setting belong to Tolkien; the plot is mine.
Warnings: angst
Beta: Minuial Nuwing. Remaining mistakes are my fault.

Summary: Celebrían gives her husband strength when all he can do is not enough. Inspired by a Sara Teasdale poem; poetic license utilized to mesh it with the elves.

*****

While I May By Sara Teasdale

Wind and hail and veering rain,
Driven mist that veils the day,
Soul's distress and body's pain,
I would bear you while I may.
I would love you if I might,
For so soon my life will be
Buried in a lasting night,
Even pain denied to me.

* * *

Elrond clenched his jaw. Clenched it until the muscles shook with the strain, until they gave up their silent protest, and even the dull ache that spread from his teeth outward through the rest of his head faded away. The grey eyes, once filled with warmth and joy, once holding wisdom beyond even the long years of an elf, were at once dull and burning with a lackluster intensity. They were the eyes of one who was still struggling against inevitable, though hope was long since gone. Unmoving, unblinking, framed by deep-set lines and sunken, bruised skin beneath…eyes boring into the still body of his wife, his love, his heart.

Her body was as gaunt as his own, and though the robes and blankets concealed the horrific physical injuries that had devastated the once vibrant lady, they did not hide the irrefutable fact that she was withering away. Though her physical injuries had begun to knit themselves, and she had regained brief moments of lucidity and consciousness, her soul remained fractured from the gruesome deeds done to her, barely held together in her weakening body. The weakening body that Elrond, for all his skill and all his love, could neither coax nor command back to health.

He could do nothing. That was why he stared with the intensity of despair as he stood at his wife's bedside, angry and guilty that he could do nothing, enraged at the filth that had caused her injuries and overwhelmed with grief at the gradual realization that he would lose her.

The muted sunlight that filtered through the lace-curtained windows moved in its regular track on the floor as dawn turned to dusk, and still Elrond stood, jaw clenched, eyes unblinking, watching over the barely breathing shell beside him.

The only illumination in the room was from the half full moon when at last Elrond awoke from his desolate trance, roused by the cold touch of a wasted hand against his own. Elrond blinked, surprised at the hot tears that followed the movement, and looked down into his wife's tired, yet clear, gaze. He sat beside her on the bed and gently held her hand.

"Elrond…" the lady said, in a weak voice that tore at Elrond's heart, "you grieve. You punish yourself."

"I—" Elrond flinched against the surge of despair and pain that swelled in his chest, twisting his head away so that Celebrían would not see the tears running steadily down his pale face. "I cannot heal you. I cannot help you any more. I cannot save you. The most able healer in all of Arda and I can do nothing! Your husband, who swore to cherish and protect you, and I have failed!"

Celebrían gasped at her husband's anguished confession, and raised a thin hand to cup his cheek, spreading the tears that ran down it. "Oh, Elrond… Love, no…" she said, her pain mirroring his. "No, you have not failed. You have done all that you could, all that anyone could. I do not ask more of you."

"But if only—" Elrond's voice broke on a sob, and his shoulders shook. Celebrían leaned up, though the movement cost her, and pulled him down, cradling him against her chest.

"No, Elrond. What is done, is done, and all we can control is how we react to it. I am so sorry, love. I am sorry that this happened, but I am most sorry that you feel as you do." She tenderly stroked the thinning, graying hair at his temple. "I would take this pain from you, my love. I would bear your burden, while I may. I have come to terms with what must be done, I am at peace with that, because in Aman I will heal, and you will join me in time. But to leave you in your grief and despair… I would take that from you. Elrond, let go. Do not let your rage and guilt overcome the strength of our love, that which has gotten me this far."

Elrond looked up with red-rimmed eyes at this last statement, and Celebrían nodded, saying, "Yes. Were it not for you, for your love... Do not grieve that you are unable to heal me fully. Be proud and grateful that you were strong enough to ensure that there was something to heal at all."

Elrond managed a weak smile; he knew his wife was right. "But it hurts, it hurts so much… I don't know how I will bear it."

"You will bear it, Elrond. You are destined to remain, for you have duties yet to fulfill here. And you need not be alone, while I wait for you. Do not force yourself to carry your burdens alone."

"But—"

"Elrond, promise me."

Elrond blinked through his tears and met Celebrían's steady gaze, seeing her earnest entreaty. "I promise," he swore, moving up to kiss her. Though it was only the gentlest touch of lips to lips, they felt their bond reinforced through the contact, shared their love and sorrow, and Celebrían eased the despair within the peredhel, giving him solace. He slept for the first time in days, nestled against her breast, and she rested as well, a faint smile on her face.

They would meet and love again.

*****

THE END

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