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High Princes of Tirion
by Nemis

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Disclaimer: I'm only going to do this once, hoping it will stand for the rest of the chapters…

It's not mine, not the characters, nor the settings, perhaps only a bit of the story-line, but that wouldn't, or couldn't, exist without the rest…

It all belongs to Master Tolkien…

A/N: Sequel to A Tale of Elrond and Celebrían. I could very well call this all Alternate Universe, but in a sense, since Mr. Tolkien never mentioned life on Aman after the end of the Third Age, we have a large amount of space to move in freely…

For the sake of making all this even more complicated, I've decided for my fic:

Celeborn and Galathil were both the sons of Galadhon, who was the son of Elmo (brother of Elwë and Olwë), Nimloth was Galathil's daughter and wedded Dior, together having a daughter, Elwing…

The prologue relies much on the information given in Morgoth's Ring, Athrabeth Finrod Ah Andreth, 'The Converse of Manwë and Eru.' Even though the text seems to indicate otherwise, I assume even the re-made bodies of those who are rehoused start out as children.

Mr. Tolkien seems to have had several ideas concerning Elvish reincarnation; the earlier one spoke of only rebirth, the later one also speaks of rehousing (meaning: the fëa being placed into a copy of the former body, almost like genetic engineering, I would imagine). I have used the later theory of rehousing, because it seems to make more sense, and is easier for me to incorporate into the story.

Questions, remarks, can all be put to me… if something doesn't make sense, feel free to mail me, and I'll gladly try and explain…

Mîrlinde and Elernil are mine! (I finally have characters too! :))

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Prologue    The House of Elrond

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The morning was cold and dark; it was only because the lanterns were lit, casting shadows against the lonely walls of the unfinished structure, that the two Elves knew where precisely their destination lay. The early morning humidity only increased the chill, and Ereinion rubbed his hands together in order to make his blood stream faster.

'It is my personal experience, that being rehoused is likely as confusing as being reborn… I was allowed to make a choice upon leaving Mandos' Halls, but to this day I am still uncertain as to how exactly I came to decide between the two.'

Elrond nodded, changing the direction of the conversation somewhat.

'But in essence, rebirth or rehousing, they are both much the same; one starts out as a child either way. Identical, except for the fact that Ilúvatar allowed the Valar to oversee the re-housing of fëar, while tending to rebirth himself.'

'So it is said...' An early bird flew over, twittering loudly in the silence, and they both smiled. Ereinion seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, but then quickly cleared his throat. 'But I bid you remember that rebirth places pressure on the parents as well, since they do not beget a child entirely of their own, but rather a mixture of that and another fëa... Even if the other is kin, tis confusing, methinks. Then again, the entire process is confusing, and we were likely not meant to understand. The converse between Manwë and Ilúvatar is more than enough, so it is deemed.'

Their pace was slower than it would have been on any other occasion, perhaps because neither wished to conclude the conversation before it had reached a satisfactory ending. On the other hand, walking faster might have warmed them more.

'Do you suppose Manwë requested this audience with Ilúvatar as to get His consent? Permission?' Elrond asked, burying his hands in his pockets, looking at the other, who shrugged.

'One can interpret it as such. Manwë is careful, it seems his nature.'

Taking one hand out of a pocket again, Elrond raised it as a smile played around his lips. Though of the two Elves neither seemed to fit the description "aged", doing justice to their Firstborn heritage, he seemed the older of the two, invisible scars in his complexion indicating the influence of time spent in Arda Marred. Yet both their eyes betrayed experience beyond the mere facade of years.

'I suppose it has something to do with the Valar's removal of the Firstborn from Middle-earth. It was where Eru had intended them, and the Valar went against His wishes then, apparently… Even if it was for a good cause, they did not ask for His council. Curious that Manwë does so now, but did not before… The decision seems equally important.'

Blowing warmth into his folded hands, Ereinion nodded.

'Hmm… Yes… I presume it is more of a test… Where you can consider the entire converse is about settling something, getting permission as you call it, it seems more of an indication that Eru trust the Valar. That their judgement is always his own, even though it may appear mysterious or unsound at times.'

'Is it not our nature to doubt our own abilities? And therefore also the nature of the Valar?' Elrond replied.

Laughing, Ereinion placed a hand on his shoulder.

'This could very well be… All I know with certainty is that I yearned for my corporeal form, that my fëa was naked, open, and could easily be read. Somewhere within was stored an imprint, a memory of my former body, and with that information the one I have now was created...'

As his friend turned silent, Elrond observed him quietly. Ereinion was physically older now then when they had first met, when he and Elros had been taken into the High King's care. It had been strange to see his friend turn into an identical version of the adult he had know long ago, to recognise familiar characteristics and habits, things that often, in his mind at least, seemed more connected with the past then the present.

He had recognised someone who had once been a father-figure, and it had left him with a sense of loss. Elrond had been confused in the beginning, uncertain whether he preferred the friend Ereinion to the High King Gil-galad.

That was before he had discovered there was indeed very little difference between the two. Still pondering that, he was surprised to hear himself break the silence.

'Is it true you are not aware of your past when younger?'

Elrond had wished to ask this question ever since they had met again, but it had never come in their many conversations, likely because Ereinion was still very much in the process of remembering, many bewildering thoughts interfering with his life here on Valinor. He doubted if this truly was the right moment.

But Ereinion smiled.

'You forget my father, and his father and my great-grandfather all went through the same... Especially my grandfather was careful to guide me through some very confusing years...'

Ereinion looked at Elrond, and yet there was a faraway glance in his eyes when he went on. 'At first, when one is only in his or her thirties, you experience those memories that are most pressing... Often death, and the stay in Mandos... Together with the normal changes the body goes through, it is disconcerting, embarrassing even...'

It had surprised Elrond initially that it had been Fingolfin Ereinion had grown so close to. Only later, through Celebrían, had he learned that Fingon himself had been too preoccupied with his own experiences to be much help to his son. He did want to help, Celebrían had said, but he just couldn't at the time.

Evidently, Ereinion did not wish to speak of it. Still, instead of seeking the other workers, they sat down near the first fire they encountered. All in all, there were, depending on the day, between thirty and fifty Elves working on the new wing of the house. It reminded Elrond of building Lindon and Imladris; settlements which had arisen out of almost nothing, and would long be spoken of, perhaps even after their material demise. But this was just a house…

They were an hour's journey by horse removed from the outer rim of the city of Tirion, and already the presence of both the once Lord of Imladris and that of Lindon had attracted many others. At present, the space the new wing would provide was not yet needed, but it was better to plan ahead, Elrond thought.

Ereinion's voice startled him, for Elrond had expected the conversation to have come to a standstill.

'I would wake in the night,' he whispered, 'once again experiencing that which was inflicted upon me in Mordor…' A shiver made the Elf hunch his shoulders, and Elrond could not be certain if it was the early morning cold or the memory that caused it.

'One does not understand these images at first, and fear they lie in the future, rather than in the past.' Ereinion's deep pleasant voice had turned somewhat detached. It seemed his way to distance himself from too vivid memories.

'My grandfather, having experienced all this himself, many years ago, and having seen some of his kin go through the same, was very observant of me, very supporting. He explained all, prepared me as much as possible for what was to come. I... The return of my memories of the time I spent in the Halls was perhaps worst... It is disturbing, so many years being forced upon the mind in such a short time... The memory of the separation between body and spirit is... truly dreadful, but it does not last long, it is only a mere shred of pain, compared to that which follows. Then again, the mind is by design closely linked to the body, and where the stay in Mandos can indeed in reality last many years, the spirit, depending on its punishment, might not experience that time as it would had it still been linked.'

Carefully surveying the face of his oldest friend, Elrond came very close to understanding. Ereinion seemed loathe speaking of it all, but on the other hand did not appear to want to stop now. Suddenly there was a smile, and a thankful gaze in the grey eyes.

'There were certain faces, faces I did not yet recognise, that gave me much support... Yours was one, and Celebrían's was too... Your friendship went beyond Mandos and I shall always be grateful for that...'

With a shake of the head Elrond rose, extending a hand towards Ereinion. He had never been told this, and somehow it made him feel... He wasn't certain. Glad?

'Do not thank me for friendship... If you had not taken me into your care, been a friend, and much more... From good comes good, I believe.'

The other nodded slowly, taking the outstretched hand.

'We shall speak of this more, but not at present... The sun is rising, and we are the last to commence in our efforts.'

Elrond smiled, and looked over to where the bare frame of the new wing stood waiting to be finished. He shook his head, lost in thought for a moment. Building settlements had always indicated a new start, something entirely new... How come this felt like old times, past times? It hardly seemed something new.

'Is it not strange that, once again, there shall be a House of Elrond?'

Ereinion grinned, and put his arm around Elrond's shoulders.

'Not strange at all, methinks. Perhaps Aman needs it, like Middle-earth needed it.'

With a sideway glance, Elrond looked at him.

'Is there truly no urge for you to settle down and start your own House? It is your right.'

The Scion of Kings gave a comforting shake of the head.

'My House long ago became your House... I am content for it to stay that way...'

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fëa (plural: fëar): the soul, the spirit that is summoned to Mandos

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Dum-de-dum-de-dum.

I'll just say prologues are meant to be weird.

Would I pushing it if I said chapter 1 is almost ready? And very long? And I'm not in a hurry to post it?

Unless I get... you know, persuaded otherwise... :D

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