He could tell she didn't know.
He could feel she didn't know, and somehow the thought that he could surprise her after so long made him feel young again. Simply being where he was, on the deck of the ship as it cut through waves and foam, made him feel young. He could sense the weight of the ages lifting from him with each passing second, and he found himself smiling.
He hadn't really smiled in uncounted years.
The harbor was in sight, and beyond it he could see the gathered crowds. Most were there for the Lady who stood beside him arrayed in white and gold (he could see faces he'd long since thought forgotten in time peering through the mess of people at the eastern sea), but a few perhaps stood there for him.
And what of her?
He glanced to Galadriel, his thought a probing question. She paused, closed her eyes, and shook her head. No. the message came back. She is busily preparing for the feast that shall mark my return, and there she plans to greet me. And no, she has no idea yet that you accompany me. She had thought you would wait until Estel was gone before sailing.
I could not wait that long. he thinks, and tries to hide his growing excitement. Galadriel smiles warmly.
"I shall make your excuses." she says. "Ereinion at least will understand."
"Ereinion?" he asks, the thought of seeing his cousin again after so long snapping him out of his reverie.
"He waits for you, with a horse to spare. I imagine he would not be unsurprised to find you eager to depart for Tirion."
"Tirion?" A second shock. He blinks. The Lady beside him merely laughs.
"Celebrían is my heir, Elrond. The youngest scion of the line of Arafinwë. And I daresay she'll answer to Tyelpetári if you call her by that name - from what I can gather, she's become quite the court favorite."
That did surprise him, the thought of delicate, shy, sweet (though for all her smiles she had a core of molten steel) Celebrían playing the political games of the Noldor. Much must have changed since our last parting.
Good.