The pillared room in Rivendell rang with pealing laughter. The five elven-
maids sat about the walls, some on chairs, some on the bed; they all wore
smiles upon their faces, except one.
"And you, Cerise?" asked a tall, blonde girl. "Which warrior has caught your fancy?"
"None, Nimuriel," answered the petite maid with hair as red as the setting sun outside, looking placid.
"Come!" said Nimuriel in disbelief. "Are you sure? There are so many- Flamerin, Shoreles, Legolas..." Giggling broke out again as the speaker smiled mischievously. They all knew that her heart was set on the last, a statuesque, gentle elf-warrior with a deceptively quick arrow.
"I'm sure," Cerise replied, becoming tight-lipped. She hated this game, in which the other girls would try to extract information from her and then tease her about it.
Thankfully, Nimuriel's attentions turned to Crilurion, an infuriatingly superficial girl who changed her desire day to day. "So, who is it in this hour, Crilurion?"
She blushed. "Well... although Celebel is strong, and kind, and handsome, he is away in the East... I believe that Legolas is worthy of my attentions as well." Crilurion smiled haughtily at Nimuriel, who smirked at her. "Yes, although I find it hard to believe that such an elf as he would ever consider a shallow doll- such as you, my friend -as a consort..."
Crilurion's smile hardened. "And you are not, my fellow maid?"
Cerise had had enough. She stood and pointed a finger at the squabbling girls. "If you even bothered to use those starry eyes of yours, you would notice that Legolas is returning tomorrow- with a Lady-elf from Lothlorien." Cerise loaded the last few words with meaning and then swept from the room.
~*~
As she fled down the ivory-wrought halls, Cerise thought back upon the object of their conversation. She had lied, of course; since late childhood her heart had been his. And that was exactly the problem... the majority of elves would consider her to still be in late childhood, at a mere thirty Earth-years of age. Elvenkind was immortal, and she would doubtlessly live for hundreds, even thousands of years to come. In the eyes of many, she was an inexperienced, clumsy child-elf, still learning the ways of the world.
Cerise snorted. As if Legolas would ever even look at her a second time!
~*~
That evening, after she had eaten and retired to her quarters near the top of one of the city's winding towers, Cerise stood before her silver mirror and unbound her hair. Of the two things she had ever liked about herself- her hair and her hands, with their graceful length- this was the one that enjoyed the most compliment: it was waist-length and vermillion, shot through with gold and contrasting starkly against her pale skin. Others also said that her eyes were lovely as well: a deep and heady green, they shadowed her other features with their size. Cerise had always hated them, though, for their uniqueness. She had seen other elven-maidens with red hair (yes, they were rare, but she had sighted them all the same), but never with green eyes. And to add insult to this, she had not inherited height from her father (Erasan the Silent of Mirkwood; he'd been killed in battle when she was still a child, and she'd been sent to live here in Rivendell) and was the shortest of all her companions. Cerise always felt outcast from the group of elves her age in Rivendell, who were all tall, light or very dark-haired girls with blue and grey eyes.
Feeling rather depressed now, Cerise lowered herself into the steaming bath that had been prepared for her, her hair splaying out where it touched the surface of the water.
~*~
Late into the night, Cerise was woken by a loud noise on the pathway outside of her tower, which doubled as a stable for guest horses. After attempting to return to sleep and finding it impossible with the steps and voices, she wrapped her nightdress around her and went out to the bridge. "Who is there?" she called to the shadowy figures moving about. As she came closer, Cerise recognized one of the elves' blond hair and engraved bow. "Legolas Greenleaf?" she guessed in a quieter voice.
Legolas turned at the sound of an elven-maid's voice, asking who was there. He'd forgotten that the tower housed sleeping-quarters. As she walked into the light of his lantern, he saw the Lady Ceriselen Starflame, her bright hair loose about her shoulders. She said his name, but it was more of a question than a statement.
"Yes, my Lady," he said, smiling benevolently at her. "It has been a long time."
Cerise felt her breath catch in her throat, but managed to answer him. "Yes, it has," she said as she moved closer to him.
"Why are you here?" he asked. She flushed as she remembered why she'd come out here in the first place. "I- I'm sorry, my Lord, but the- the noise..." Cerise gestured at the horses, who had now been tethered to the columns.
"I apologize," Legolas said humbly. "We did not expect to arrive so late at night."
"Oh, it's- it's all right," she stuttered.
"I'm glad," he replied, then turned to the pale moon shining in the black sky. "It is late, but perhaps you would enjoy some of our woodland nectar. It will help you sleep."
Cerise protested, although she longed to taste the ambrosia of her childhood, and turned to go. "It's all right, I'm fine."
Legolas took hold of her arm, and pulled her back. "Please."
She smiled at him, and it was a smile of pure idolization. "Yes, then."
After Legolas had retrieved the capped horn from his horse's saddlebags, he handed it to Cerise and suggested that they walk the loop that the city was built in, returning to her tower. She agreed rather dazedly. I must be dreaming, Cerise thought. The most desired soldier in the entire elven army is offering to take me for a walk at night...
As they went down a hill that merged into a path that wove over a small, rocky brook, Legolas made small talk. "So, how are the other maidens?" She knew he meant Nimuriel, who had made an incredible fool of herself in front of him during his last visit at one of the Summer Festivals.
"They're fine," Cerise answered. "Nimuriel and Crilurion are madly in love with you."
Legolas looked amused. "Are they really?" he asked. "Do they know of the Lady Simulien who has accompanied me?"
"Oh, they do now... I interrupted while they were mooning."
She felt his arm tense against hers. "So you knew as well?"
Cerise flushed again. "Well, er- I didn't really mean to overhear, but the Lord Elrond was speaking right outside my door, and-"
Legolas stopped walking and turned her to face him, placing a long finger against her lips. "I'm not angry, Lady Starflame," he assured the girl, bending over her easily.
You know everything that I'm afraid of
You do everything I wish I did
Everybody wants you
Everybody loves you
Cerise merely stared up at him, feeling her entire body go cold with shock at the touch of his hand on her face. After a tension-filled moment, she broke away and continued walking. In a high-pitched voice, she asked, "How are things in Mirkwood?"
He quickly caught up with her. "They're fine. My father is the king now."
"I know." It was almost a whisper.
Legolas heard, but didn't acknowledge it. "And that makes me the prince, so naturally he wants me to find a companion as soon as possible. Lady Simulien is his suggestion."
By now they were climbing the slope back up into the towers again. "Do you agree with your father? About Lady Simulien, I mean?"
Legolas looked sideways at Cerise, who stared stubbornly forward. "Yes and no," he answered. "She would be an ally with the woods of Lothlorien, and yet I would feel more comfortable with someone of my own kind."
Cerise almost visibly flinched at this reference to her. Her father- Erasan- had been one of Theoden's closest friends and confidants. "Someone like Nimuriel? She grew up in Mirkwood as well."
"No."
Legolas had no need to say anything more; the single word, laden heavily with hidden meaning, was enough.
Cerise ran ahead, not stopping until she was in her tower, in her room, leaving Legolas far behind her.
~*~
When she woke that morning, Cerise spent a very unusually long time in front of her mirror, caking on the makeup that her friends wore to make themselves look even more beautiful. She brushed her hair with one hundred strokes on each side, making sure it shimmered (she was sure it would be dazzling in the sunlight) and braided her long, face-framing pieces back into a crown. She wrapped the braids around her head three times and pinned them at the front with a jewel that had been a gift from Elrond (he'd told her it matched her eyes). Cerise even wore one of her best day-gowns, a pale gold one with a gathered bodice.
As she entered the dining hall, the chatter fell silent as every pair of eyes turned upon her. No one could remember having seen the Lady look so beautiful before; the light of her hair reflected in the carefully placed ceiling (an open dome walled with mirrors) outshone even that of the aura of Elrond. Cerise saw Nimuriel, Crilurion, Teminele, and Medeasel gaping at her from one end of the table, and as she sat Cerise could feel Legolas' eyes upon her, boring into her from behind.
Elrond stood, holding up a hand. "Today we are honored with two revered visitors," he said, smiling benevolently at a point somewhere beyond Cerise. "Let us welcome the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf, and his companion the Lady Simulien of Lothlorien!"
Cerise turned slowly to see them stand. Legolas was smiling, but she could see from the shadows under his eyes that he had not slept. And beside him was a tall Elven-woman, her ink-like hair flowing to the center of her back. *Of course, that's Simulien,* thought Cerise, suddenly not feeling pretty at all. *She's exactly the way an elven Lady should be, with her blue eyes and her height and her age. She's probably as old as Legolas, if not older.*
"...and we thank you, Lord Elrond, for your hospitality," Legolas was saying.
Elrond gestured for them to sit, and the meal was served.
Sometime after Cerise had finished eating, Teminele tapped her on the shoulder and handed her a piece of parchment. "Legolas said this was for you," she informed her giddily, trying to keep a straight face.
Cerise didn't even bother to thank her, but stood and went quietly from the room. No one noticed.
Later, when she had found a place of solitude- by one of Rivendell's ancient fountains set deep in the woods- Cerise pulled out the parchment. She could rip it up and set it adrift in the fountain, letting the ink bleed away until it was unreadable, or she could read it herself.
Inhaling shakily, she unfolded the paper, recognizing the slanting script that she had seen on so many notes and letters to her father when she was a child.
My Lady Ceriselen,
I did not intend to harm or frighten you last night, and I hope that I have not caused irrevocable damage to our friendship. Unfortunately, though, I am afraid you have retained my horn of Mirkwood ambrosia. If it is possible, could we meet on the main bridge over the River this afternoon so you might have an opportunity to return it to me? I highly doubt that, although your anticipatory skills are great, you have brought it with you to breakfast.
~ Legolas
Cerise sighed through her nose. He hadn't even signed his last name, as if that was any proper way to end a letter to a Lady!
Legolas...
And how stupid had she been to not even give him back his nectar? It was probably still in her room, collecting dust on the floor. What could someone who had never known her that well know of her anticipatory skills? *Nothing about me is great,* she thought as she let the parchment drop into the water of the fountain, and rested her head on its marble side.
Legolas had been waiting at the bridge for over an hour, and the sun was now beginning to drop below the horizon. *Where is she?* he thought, and although he had never been known to get angry at something not evil, he felt tension rising in his chest.
A young elf-maiden, whose pale hair went only to her shoulders, passed him. "Nimuriel," he cried, stopping her. She turned to him, looking very expectant. "Yes?"
"Have you seen Cerise? She was supposed to meet me here some time ago."
Nimuriel looked exasperated. "I think she went into the woods after breakfast."
*Oh, wonderful. The woods... unprotected... and now it's getting dark...* Legolas thanked her briefly and dashed off to the path that wove into the trees.
He found her sleeping against one of the old fountains, showing no sign of waking anytime soon. Bending down, Legolas lifted her into his arms, her silken red hair flowing over his hands. She was surprisingly lightweight; moaning softly in protest of being moved, Cerise rested her head against his shoulder and involuntarily wrapped her arms around his neck.
It was not until he arrived back at the main bridge that he realized how strange he must look, carrying a young elf-maiden- not even a fourth his age- in his arms at twilight. And unfortunately, the last person he wanted to see while he was in this position stepped out of the shadows of the bridge: Elrond.
"Legolas Greenleaf," he said, gazing amusedly at the younger elf. "May I ask why you are carrying the Lady Starflame?"
"She was asleep by one of the old fountains in the forest," Legolas answered. "With what is gathering in the East now, I thought it dangerous for her to be alone and unprotected."
Elrond raised an eyebrow. "How can you be so sure she is unprotected?" he asked, delving into the pocket of the cloak Cerise wore and swiftly producing an incredibly sharp elven-knife, studded with bright golden jewels at the hilt.
"My lord, what use would even such a wondrous knife as this be to her, were she asleep?"
Elrond half-smiled. "True, my good prince," he allowed. "Yet I would still ask you: why not wake her and then let her walk on her own?"
"I did not want to," Legolas admitted ruefully. "She seemed content as she was."
~*~
A/N: Okay, I know this chapter is sort of short, but I wanted to get this idea out! It's just meaningless fluff, so don't feel like you have to review, but if you wish to be kind and giving go ahead! Also, the lyrics in the middle (there will be more in the upcoming chapters, don't worry) are from Mandy Moore's song 'Crush.'
--also, Cerise's name doesn't actually mean 'Starflame' in Elvish. In fact, I wrote this story before I could semi-write and speak it, so most of the names will be total gibberish when translated. Elen, though, which is on the end of Ceriselen, means 'star.'
Disclaimer: All the characters except Legolas and Elrond are mine (Cerise, Nimuriel, Teminele, Crilurion, and Medeasel), and the former belong to the late J.R.R. Tolkien (author of the series this is a fic of) and all the various companies that were involved in the making of the movie.
"And you, Cerise?" asked a tall, blonde girl. "Which warrior has caught your fancy?"
"None, Nimuriel," answered the petite maid with hair as red as the setting sun outside, looking placid.
"Come!" said Nimuriel in disbelief. "Are you sure? There are so many- Flamerin, Shoreles, Legolas..." Giggling broke out again as the speaker smiled mischievously. They all knew that her heart was set on the last, a statuesque, gentle elf-warrior with a deceptively quick arrow.
"I'm sure," Cerise replied, becoming tight-lipped. She hated this game, in which the other girls would try to extract information from her and then tease her about it.
Thankfully, Nimuriel's attentions turned to Crilurion, an infuriatingly superficial girl who changed her desire day to day. "So, who is it in this hour, Crilurion?"
She blushed. "Well... although Celebel is strong, and kind, and handsome, he is away in the East... I believe that Legolas is worthy of my attentions as well." Crilurion smiled haughtily at Nimuriel, who smirked at her. "Yes, although I find it hard to believe that such an elf as he would ever consider a shallow doll- such as you, my friend -as a consort..."
Crilurion's smile hardened. "And you are not, my fellow maid?"
Cerise had had enough. She stood and pointed a finger at the squabbling girls. "If you even bothered to use those starry eyes of yours, you would notice that Legolas is returning tomorrow- with a Lady-elf from Lothlorien." Cerise loaded the last few words with meaning and then swept from the room.
~*~
As she fled down the ivory-wrought halls, Cerise thought back upon the object of their conversation. She had lied, of course; since late childhood her heart had been his. And that was exactly the problem... the majority of elves would consider her to still be in late childhood, at a mere thirty Earth-years of age. Elvenkind was immortal, and she would doubtlessly live for hundreds, even thousands of years to come. In the eyes of many, she was an inexperienced, clumsy child-elf, still learning the ways of the world.
Cerise snorted. As if Legolas would ever even look at her a second time!
~*~
That evening, after she had eaten and retired to her quarters near the top of one of the city's winding towers, Cerise stood before her silver mirror and unbound her hair. Of the two things she had ever liked about herself- her hair and her hands, with their graceful length- this was the one that enjoyed the most compliment: it was waist-length and vermillion, shot through with gold and contrasting starkly against her pale skin. Others also said that her eyes were lovely as well: a deep and heady green, they shadowed her other features with their size. Cerise had always hated them, though, for their uniqueness. She had seen other elven-maidens with red hair (yes, they were rare, but she had sighted them all the same), but never with green eyes. And to add insult to this, she had not inherited height from her father (Erasan the Silent of Mirkwood; he'd been killed in battle when she was still a child, and she'd been sent to live here in Rivendell) and was the shortest of all her companions. Cerise always felt outcast from the group of elves her age in Rivendell, who were all tall, light or very dark-haired girls with blue and grey eyes.
Feeling rather depressed now, Cerise lowered herself into the steaming bath that had been prepared for her, her hair splaying out where it touched the surface of the water.
~*~
Late into the night, Cerise was woken by a loud noise on the pathway outside of her tower, which doubled as a stable for guest horses. After attempting to return to sleep and finding it impossible with the steps and voices, she wrapped her nightdress around her and went out to the bridge. "Who is there?" she called to the shadowy figures moving about. As she came closer, Cerise recognized one of the elves' blond hair and engraved bow. "Legolas Greenleaf?" she guessed in a quieter voice.
Legolas turned at the sound of an elven-maid's voice, asking who was there. He'd forgotten that the tower housed sleeping-quarters. As she walked into the light of his lantern, he saw the Lady Ceriselen Starflame, her bright hair loose about her shoulders. She said his name, but it was more of a question than a statement.
"Yes, my Lady," he said, smiling benevolently at her. "It has been a long time."
Cerise felt her breath catch in her throat, but managed to answer him. "Yes, it has," she said as she moved closer to him.
"Why are you here?" he asked. She flushed as she remembered why she'd come out here in the first place. "I- I'm sorry, my Lord, but the- the noise..." Cerise gestured at the horses, who had now been tethered to the columns.
"I apologize," Legolas said humbly. "We did not expect to arrive so late at night."
"Oh, it's- it's all right," she stuttered.
"I'm glad," he replied, then turned to the pale moon shining in the black sky. "It is late, but perhaps you would enjoy some of our woodland nectar. It will help you sleep."
Cerise protested, although she longed to taste the ambrosia of her childhood, and turned to go. "It's all right, I'm fine."
Legolas took hold of her arm, and pulled her back. "Please."
She smiled at him, and it was a smile of pure idolization. "Yes, then."
After Legolas had retrieved the capped horn from his horse's saddlebags, he handed it to Cerise and suggested that they walk the loop that the city was built in, returning to her tower. She agreed rather dazedly. I must be dreaming, Cerise thought. The most desired soldier in the entire elven army is offering to take me for a walk at night...
As they went down a hill that merged into a path that wove over a small, rocky brook, Legolas made small talk. "So, how are the other maidens?" She knew he meant Nimuriel, who had made an incredible fool of herself in front of him during his last visit at one of the Summer Festivals.
"They're fine," Cerise answered. "Nimuriel and Crilurion are madly in love with you."
Legolas looked amused. "Are they really?" he asked. "Do they know of the Lady Simulien who has accompanied me?"
"Oh, they do now... I interrupted while they were mooning."
She felt his arm tense against hers. "So you knew as well?"
Cerise flushed again. "Well, er- I didn't really mean to overhear, but the Lord Elrond was speaking right outside my door, and-"
Legolas stopped walking and turned her to face him, placing a long finger against her lips. "I'm not angry, Lady Starflame," he assured the girl, bending over her easily.
You know everything that I'm afraid of
You do everything I wish I did
Everybody wants you
Everybody loves you
Cerise merely stared up at him, feeling her entire body go cold with shock at the touch of his hand on her face. After a tension-filled moment, she broke away and continued walking. In a high-pitched voice, she asked, "How are things in Mirkwood?"
He quickly caught up with her. "They're fine. My father is the king now."
"I know." It was almost a whisper.
Legolas heard, but didn't acknowledge it. "And that makes me the prince, so naturally he wants me to find a companion as soon as possible. Lady Simulien is his suggestion."
By now they were climbing the slope back up into the towers again. "Do you agree with your father? About Lady Simulien, I mean?"
Legolas looked sideways at Cerise, who stared stubbornly forward. "Yes and no," he answered. "She would be an ally with the woods of Lothlorien, and yet I would feel more comfortable with someone of my own kind."
Cerise almost visibly flinched at this reference to her. Her father- Erasan- had been one of Theoden's closest friends and confidants. "Someone like Nimuriel? She grew up in Mirkwood as well."
"No."
Legolas had no need to say anything more; the single word, laden heavily with hidden meaning, was enough.
Cerise ran ahead, not stopping until she was in her tower, in her room, leaving Legolas far behind her.
~*~
When she woke that morning, Cerise spent a very unusually long time in front of her mirror, caking on the makeup that her friends wore to make themselves look even more beautiful. She brushed her hair with one hundred strokes on each side, making sure it shimmered (she was sure it would be dazzling in the sunlight) and braided her long, face-framing pieces back into a crown. She wrapped the braids around her head three times and pinned them at the front with a jewel that had been a gift from Elrond (he'd told her it matched her eyes). Cerise even wore one of her best day-gowns, a pale gold one with a gathered bodice.
As she entered the dining hall, the chatter fell silent as every pair of eyes turned upon her. No one could remember having seen the Lady look so beautiful before; the light of her hair reflected in the carefully placed ceiling (an open dome walled with mirrors) outshone even that of the aura of Elrond. Cerise saw Nimuriel, Crilurion, Teminele, and Medeasel gaping at her from one end of the table, and as she sat Cerise could feel Legolas' eyes upon her, boring into her from behind.
Elrond stood, holding up a hand. "Today we are honored with two revered visitors," he said, smiling benevolently at a point somewhere beyond Cerise. "Let us welcome the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf, and his companion the Lady Simulien of Lothlorien!"
Cerise turned slowly to see them stand. Legolas was smiling, but she could see from the shadows under his eyes that he had not slept. And beside him was a tall Elven-woman, her ink-like hair flowing to the center of her back. *Of course, that's Simulien,* thought Cerise, suddenly not feeling pretty at all. *She's exactly the way an elven Lady should be, with her blue eyes and her height and her age. She's probably as old as Legolas, if not older.*
"...and we thank you, Lord Elrond, for your hospitality," Legolas was saying.
Elrond gestured for them to sit, and the meal was served.
Sometime after Cerise had finished eating, Teminele tapped her on the shoulder and handed her a piece of parchment. "Legolas said this was for you," she informed her giddily, trying to keep a straight face.
Cerise didn't even bother to thank her, but stood and went quietly from the room. No one noticed.
Later, when she had found a place of solitude- by one of Rivendell's ancient fountains set deep in the woods- Cerise pulled out the parchment. She could rip it up and set it adrift in the fountain, letting the ink bleed away until it was unreadable, or she could read it herself.
Inhaling shakily, she unfolded the paper, recognizing the slanting script that she had seen on so many notes and letters to her father when she was a child.
My Lady Ceriselen,
I did not intend to harm or frighten you last night, and I hope that I have not caused irrevocable damage to our friendship. Unfortunately, though, I am afraid you have retained my horn of Mirkwood ambrosia. If it is possible, could we meet on the main bridge over the River this afternoon so you might have an opportunity to return it to me? I highly doubt that, although your anticipatory skills are great, you have brought it with you to breakfast.
~ Legolas
Cerise sighed through her nose. He hadn't even signed his last name, as if that was any proper way to end a letter to a Lady!
Legolas...
And how stupid had she been to not even give him back his nectar? It was probably still in her room, collecting dust on the floor. What could someone who had never known her that well know of her anticipatory skills? *Nothing about me is great,* she thought as she let the parchment drop into the water of the fountain, and rested her head on its marble side.
Legolas had been waiting at the bridge for over an hour, and the sun was now beginning to drop below the horizon. *Where is she?* he thought, and although he had never been known to get angry at something not evil, he felt tension rising in his chest.
A young elf-maiden, whose pale hair went only to her shoulders, passed him. "Nimuriel," he cried, stopping her. She turned to him, looking very expectant. "Yes?"
"Have you seen Cerise? She was supposed to meet me here some time ago."
Nimuriel looked exasperated. "I think she went into the woods after breakfast."
*Oh, wonderful. The woods... unprotected... and now it's getting dark...* Legolas thanked her briefly and dashed off to the path that wove into the trees.
He found her sleeping against one of the old fountains, showing no sign of waking anytime soon. Bending down, Legolas lifted her into his arms, her silken red hair flowing over his hands. She was surprisingly lightweight; moaning softly in protest of being moved, Cerise rested her head against his shoulder and involuntarily wrapped her arms around his neck.
It was not until he arrived back at the main bridge that he realized how strange he must look, carrying a young elf-maiden- not even a fourth his age- in his arms at twilight. And unfortunately, the last person he wanted to see while he was in this position stepped out of the shadows of the bridge: Elrond.
"Legolas Greenleaf," he said, gazing amusedly at the younger elf. "May I ask why you are carrying the Lady Starflame?"
"She was asleep by one of the old fountains in the forest," Legolas answered. "With what is gathering in the East now, I thought it dangerous for her to be alone and unprotected."
Elrond raised an eyebrow. "How can you be so sure she is unprotected?" he asked, delving into the pocket of the cloak Cerise wore and swiftly producing an incredibly sharp elven-knife, studded with bright golden jewels at the hilt.
"My lord, what use would even such a wondrous knife as this be to her, were she asleep?"
Elrond half-smiled. "True, my good prince," he allowed. "Yet I would still ask you: why not wake her and then let her walk on her own?"
"I did not want to," Legolas admitted ruefully. "She seemed content as she was."
~*~
A/N: Okay, I know this chapter is sort of short, but I wanted to get this idea out! It's just meaningless fluff, so don't feel like you have to review, but if you wish to be kind and giving go ahead! Also, the lyrics in the middle (there will be more in the upcoming chapters, don't worry) are from Mandy Moore's song 'Crush.'
--also, Cerise's name doesn't actually mean 'Starflame' in Elvish. In fact, I wrote this story before I could semi-write and speak it, so most of the names will be total gibberish when translated. Elen, though, which is on the end of Ceriselen, means 'star.'
Disclaimer: All the characters except Legolas and Elrond are mine (Cerise, Nimuriel, Teminele, Crilurion, and Medeasel), and the former belong to the late J.R.R. Tolkien (author of the series this is a fic of) and all the various companies that were involved in the making of the movie.