Title: A Visit From A Dead Relative
Fandom: The Silmarillion
Rating: Teen
Length: 1184
Content notes: Ghostly visitor and family drama
Author notes: I've gone back and forth on what fandom to put this in - it's a strange fic, that in spite of clearly existing somewhere in Middle-earth, does not fit easily into either the timeline of The Silmarillion or The Lord of the Rings. I finally settled on The Silmarillion, because the story makes little sense without knowledge of it.
Summary: Celebrían had not expected that her mother's attempts to delay her marriage to Elrond would lead to one of their mutual dead relatives appearing in her bedroom for a discussion.



“Hello, cousin.”

Celebrían was startled from sleep at this, sitting up before recognizing the person in her room from a drawing in her father’s study - “Nimloth!”

“That would be me, yes,” Nimloth was obviously amused at this.

Celebrían squeaked as she sat up in bed, "You're dead!"

Nimloth waved her hand - which Celebrían noted was slightly see through - and said, "Well, yes. Just pass it off as some side effect of that ring of your mother's, or some other new technology that she has doubtless brought in. After all, I'm pretty sure trees are supposed to lose their leaves once a year, but that doesn't appear to happen here. A dead queen from the First Age who also happens to be your cousin fits right in."

Celebrían did not feel comforted by this. She continued to stare until Nimloth - or whatever this was pretending to be Nimloth - until Nimloth obviously grew tired of staring back.

“As amusing as you are to watch, that’s not actually why I’m here,” she said, now perched in a chair. “Tell me, why are you still here in Lothlorien and not in Rivendell with my grandson?”

Celebrían had forgotten that technically, Elrond was her father’s great-great-nephew, in addition to being related to her mother. Nimloth was still waiting for an answer though, eyebrow arched and staring down at her. “Well, Amil is insistent that we wait the proper amount of time before marriage, as well as insuring that Elrond is properly able to take care of me.”

“In other words, your mother is concerned about possible Fëanorion influences on your husband,” Nimloth said. Celebrían could see why Thranduil had once mentioned that Nimloth had been just as bright as Celeborn was. Though Thranduil’s actual words had been that it was a good thing Nimloth had been as intelligent as Celeborn and Galathil were, because Dior had been too dumb to find his way out of a room with a map.

Celebrían wished she could deny that this was probably a part of it, but things had been frosty between Elrond and Galadriel ever since he had mentioned that he wished he could have met more than one of Maglor’s brothers and Fëanor himself. “Well, yes.”

“And the fact that your mother is a hypocrite, because she takes Noldorin rings and other pretty trinkets and uses them for her own aims, of course plays no part,” Nimloth frowned.

“You don’t seem fond of my mother,” Celebrían snapped. “Why should I listen to you?”

“Oh, so you do have a backbone,” Nimloth smiled. “I’m perfectly fine with your mother, except when she upsets my grandson. He deserves better than he has. He’s not going to have you living in some horse stable, though his home does lack the timeless feature of this place. Noldorin technology in place, at its finest.”

“It is lovely here!” Celebrían said.

“Very well, though that is not the main thing I’m here to discuss with you. If you intend to marry my grandson, you should make that clear to your parents - both of them - soon. If not, I shall be making another venture from the Halls soon to Thranduil’s realm. I’m sure there is someone there that would be quite pleased at a chance to go seduce and marry a descendant of Thingol himself, regardless of him being raised by Maglor,” Nimloth smirked.

Celebrían sputtered for a bit, before finally resorting to throwing a pillow at Nimloth. Nimloth, unfazed by this, simply faded away, leaving Celebrían scrambling to find paper to write a letter to Elrond.

~
“Good evening, Uncle. Or rather, I suppose it’s almost morning,” Nimloth reappeared in a study a little bit away.

“Hello, Nimloth. I suppose there’s a reason you’re here and not in the Halls?” Celeborn smiled at his niece.

“Well, you did always say that we should take the Valar’s rules as more of suggestions than absolutes,” Nimloth smirked. “I’ll blame it on your wife’s ring and Noldorin technology if I get in trouble. Say that I was unable to resist following it.”

Celeborn laughed before he could stop himself. “Please try not to get my wife in any more trouble with the Valar.”

Nimloth shrugged, before frowning for a moment, “Try not to let your wife cause troubles for my grandson.”

Celeborn shuddered at that, “Very well. Can you stop referring to Elrond as your grandson? It reminds me of how old I am.”

“At least you’re old and not dead,” Nimloth said.

“Who are you spending time with in the Halls? Caranthir? You have developed quite a mouth since your death,” Celeborn teased his niece.

“Oh please, Uncle. You were a bad influence when I was growing up in Doriath, and you know it,” Nimloth smiled at the joking mood Celeborn was in. “Though if you must know, Fingon and I have been talking.”

“Fingon? He’s better than some elves you could be talking to. At least he’s not too full of the idea of Noldorin superiority,” Celeborn said.

“But those are the fun ones to talk to. Especially when they then get angry and try to chase me around the Halls,” Nimloth smiled at the thought.

Celeborn stared, before shaking his head. “Do try not to cause too much chaos, for a change. I would think just keeping control of Elu and your husband would be enough of a challenge.”

“Melian somehow got visitation rights with Elu every few weeks, and Dior is still proving to me that he’s not a complete and utter idiot,” Nimloth grumbled.

“You shouldn’t be too hard on the boy - you knew how young he was when you married him,” Celeborn pointed out.

“And you knew how much younger Galadriel was than you. Besides, you chased Dior around with a candlestick once,” Nimloth argued.

“And as the closest thing he had to an Uncle there, I had that right. Please try to keep my age a secret, or Aegnor and Angrod might follow you out of the Halls and try to throw me out of my talan,” Celeborn said,
looking somewhat amused at the idea of Aegnor and Angrod showing up.

“Fine,” Nimloth rolled her eyes. “I should probably get back to the Halls.”

“Yes, you should, though I enjoyed the visit. I suppose I need to come up with an excuse as to why my daughter now blames her mother’s ring and mirror for visits from dead relatives?” Celeborn said.

“Perhaps,” Nimloth leaned closer, and Celeborn felt the ghost of a hug. “Farewell, Uncle. This is likely the only time I’ll escape the Halls.”

Celeborn smiled up at her, “Farewell, Nimloth. Tell the rest of the family that I love and miss all of you.”

She nodded before disappearing. Celeborn almost wished that Galadriel’s ring was capable of bringing the dead back for visits, though he knew that was Sauron’s specialty. He allowed himself one last brief moment, before standing to go see his wife. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see who the next visitor would be if Celebrían was not permitted to marry Elrond soon.