"The Mirror of Erised is a mirror, which, according to Albus Dumbledore, shows the 'deepest and most desperate desire of one's heart.' The name "Erised" is "desire" spelled backwards, as if reflected in a mirror. The happiest person in the world would look in the mirror and see a reflection of exactly the way he or she is. Inscribed across the top of the frame is the following text: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Reversing the inscription and rearranging the spaces produces: I show not your face but your heart's desire."
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The mirror holds Celebrían within its frame, it's not only just his wife but the fact his wife is in Rivendell and in good spirits that has him enthralled with what he's seeing.
It had been over four-hundred years since he'd last seen her fair face, and though he knew he would eventually see it again...who knew just how many more years it would be until he actually could leave to rejoin her at her side.
Even so far away, an entire sea parting them, Celebrían is there with him. In heart and in love. There's never a day that passes that she doesn't long to stand beside him, to embrace him or run a hand through his hair. Or just to know that there are a few rooms between them.
And even with so much distance between them, Elrond may feel a familiar embrace. One that she started many times, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist.
The scene in the mirror shifts as the familiar embrace makes itself known. Celebrían stands behind him now, her arms resting easily around his waist. It feels so real that he can't help but move a hand to rest down to where the arm appears but upon feeling nothing but the fabric of his own tunic, he pulls his gaze from the mirror to look down and then briefly behind him.
Seeing nothing, Elrond's eyes close, expression going pained. Returning his gaze again to the mirror he's uncertain if he should idle here any longer, for as much as he might desire to see her...seeing her and yet knowing she cannot be here with him is far more painful than being unable to see her at all.
Her expression imitates his own, fair features sad and longing. Celebrían lightly reaches a hand up and tries to fix a piece of his hair but nothing changes. Oh, what she wouldn't do to be there with him right now.
Resting her chin on his shoulder, she watches him. Almost content enough to just see him.
I miss you.
There's no sound but the words would be clear for him.
His eyes close once again at the words, wondering at the origins of the device before him. What purpose other than to cause melancholy and have the viewer waste away pining for what they couldn't have could such a thing have?
Sighing softly after a moment he responds to those silent words, eyes opening to again gaze at the one who leaned against him in the mirror.
"Guren níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham.*"
Arwen does not see what holds him so, nor does she let her own gaze linger on the mirror. It makes her uncomfortable, and that it seems to have snared her father certainly doesn't inspire any comfort. "I do not like it." She said as much as a child might, her form coming to stand beside him, her brow drawn.
Elrond pulls his gaze from the glass with some effort at the sound of her voice, turning his gaze to his daughter. "It is...unnatural, yes."
He's still not entirely certain what to think of the mirror, but he doesn't think any good could come of such a thing. Why show someone what they desire when gaining those desires were likely close to, if not nigh impossible? It would only bring melancholy and pain to those with such desires. It felt akin to something that their Enemy might create to drive one mad. Mayhap that was, in fact, its purpose? A cunning weapon, if so.
Her eyes are steady on him, unwavering. "You've not moved from it. It pulls you." As it does everyone. Elf, man, hobbit - not one is safe from this magic. One hand delicately finding his arm, she pulled in turn, at his sleeve, as she'd done in her youth, pleading. "Do not look any longer."
Arwen's request forestalls his gaze from returning to the mirror's glass, and instead, his eyes fall to her fingers holding onto his sleeve, bringing back memories of happier times when their family was whole and the woman before him was but a small child.
He gives a small nod in answer to the first statements. He hadn't been able to pull himself away from the sight presented to him, at least not yet. Closing his eyes, a soft sigh escaped him. "I won't."
Although he gives his word, Arwen doesn't relax. Nor does she let go. "What did you see?" She sounds small, as though she felt she hadn't the right to ask. As though she might already have the answer. That look was one his daughter knew all too well, after all.
Elrond let his eyes remain closed for another moment longer if only to build the resolve to refrain from looking at the mirror before them again. He knew it was wrong to idle here before the thing, wishing for something he could never have.
When he opens his eyes to look at Arwen once again, he noted her discomfort and wondered silently if he should answer or no. He does answer, though his voice is soft as he does. "Imladris....and your mother residing within it."
*My heart will weep to the time when we will meet again
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Date: 2018-06-17 05:48 am (UTC)-------
The mirror holds Celebrían within its frame, it's not only just his wife but the fact his wife is in Rivendell and in good spirits that has him enthralled with what he's seeing.
It had been over four-hundred years since he'd last seen her fair face, and though he knew he would eventually see it again...who knew just how many more years it would be until he actually could leave to rejoin her at her side.
Even so far away, an entire sea parting them, Celebrían is there with him. In heart and in love. There's never a day that passes that she doesn't long to stand beside him, to embrace him or run a hand through his hair. Or just to know that there are a few rooms between them.
And even with so much distance between them, Elrond may feel a familiar embrace. One that she started many times, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist.
The scene in the mirror shifts as the familiar embrace makes itself known. Celebrían stands behind him now, her arms resting easily around his waist. It feels so real that he can't help but move a hand to rest down to where the arm appears but upon feeling nothing but the fabric of his own tunic, he pulls his gaze from the mirror to look down and then briefly behind him.
Seeing nothing, Elrond's eyes close, expression going pained. Returning his gaze again to the mirror he's uncertain if he should idle here any longer, for as much as he might desire to see her...seeing her and yet knowing she cannot be here with him is far more painful than being unable to see her at all.
Her expression imitates his own, fair features sad and longing. Celebrían lightly reaches a hand up and tries to fix a piece of his hair but nothing changes. Oh, what she wouldn't do to be there with him right now.
Resting her chin on his shoulder, she watches him. Almost content enough to just see him.
I miss you.
There's no sound but the words would be clear for him.
His eyes close once again at the words, wondering at the origins of the device before him. What purpose other than to cause melancholy and have the viewer waste away pining for what they couldn't have could such a thing have?
Sighing softly after a moment he responds to those silent words, eyes opening to again gaze at the one who leaned against him in the mirror.
"Guren níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham.*"
Arwen does not see what holds him so, nor does she let her own gaze linger on the mirror. It makes her uncomfortable, and that it seems to have snared her father certainly doesn't inspire any comfort. "I do not like it." She said as much as a child might, her form coming to stand beside him, her brow drawn.
Elrond pulls his gaze from the glass with some effort at the sound of her voice, turning his gaze to his daughter. "It is...unnatural, yes."
He's still not entirely certain what to think of the mirror, but he doesn't think any good could come of such a thing. Why show someone what they desire when gaining those desires were likely close to, if not nigh impossible? It would only bring melancholy and pain to those with such desires. It felt akin to something that their Enemy might create to drive one mad. Mayhap that was, in fact, its purpose? A cunning weapon, if so.
Her eyes are steady on him, unwavering. "You've not moved from it. It pulls you." As it does everyone. Elf, man, hobbit - not one is safe from this magic. One hand delicately finding his arm, she pulled in turn, at his sleeve, as she'd done in her youth, pleading. "Do not look any longer."
Arwen's request forestalls his gaze from returning to the mirror's glass, and instead, his eyes fall to her fingers holding onto his sleeve, bringing back memories of happier times when their family was whole and the woman before him was but a small child.
He gives a small nod in answer to the first statements. He hadn't been able to pull himself away from the sight presented to him, at least not yet. Closing his eyes, a soft sigh escaped him. "I won't."
Although he gives his word, Arwen doesn't relax. Nor does she let go. "What did you see?" She sounds small, as though she felt she hadn't the right to ask. As though she might already have the answer. That look was one his daughter knew all too well, after all.
Elrond let his eyes remain closed for another moment longer if only to build the resolve to refrain from looking at the mirror before them again. He knew it was wrong to idle here before the thing, wishing for something he could never have.
When he opens his eyes to look at Arwen once again, he noted her discomfort and wondered silently if he should answer or no. He does answer, though his voice is soft as he does. "Imladris....and your mother residing within it."
*My heart will weep to the time when we will meet again