White sails had been caught sight of, causing a flurry of activity. Joy, music, a festival was being prepared to welcome whoever it was that was returning home, home. To Tirion.

The excitement was not centered just around the docks. It spread to the court, drawing Arafinwë away, knowing all preparations were well on their way. To the best view of the ships, hoping he'd be able to see who all was returning home. Any home coming was welcomed with celebration, though healers were also always at hand. Who knew what had happened before departure?

No, no figures he recognized at this distance, even with the superb sight they had. Still, someone was coming home! A flash of a smile and he spun to stride down, walk between all the preparations and people, seeking to be among the first to welcome the travelers home.

A flash of silver finally was seen as the ship drew closer. Artanis?! His heart lept into his throat and he turned to call for Eärwen. A laugh met the questing gaze as she was already making her way to him. He drew her close, an arm wrapping around her waist and he gestured out at the ship.

"What do you see?"

"Do not!" But his wife was laughing at him, hope in her eyes and heart matching his. He had to wonder what she knew, but also knew she would not say. He didn't mind though, it meant there was something special, beyond what a ship sailing home meant on its own.

"Wait," she added finally, voice lilting just a little more than usual. He gave her an affectionate squeeze, accepting the wisdom of her words, and turned back to the sea.

Soon enough the ship pulled in and was lashed down as the pair walked closer, waiting at the edge. Only for a figure to be helped down from the ship. A figure with long pale hair, so very weak and battered in spirit.

Not Artanis. The sight was enough to silence all around, concern drawing Arafinwë and Eärwen close to take up and shelter the waif of an elf, even if she shied from them and their light. It made them take a step back, then guide the way away, skirting the crowds of onlookers. Trusting those who had brought this waif to them to bring her after them.

There was a deep wound in her heart. That much was so very obvious to the Noldor king. It would take time to heal, and skills he knew had to have been hard to find, if not impossible, where the ship had sailed from.

The flurry of activity returned, but altered. Hushed. Sensitive to the plight of one whom could only be the child of Artanis. Others were summoned, and the last of the physical wounds were finally healed. Leaving the mental, emotional pain and terror.

Much was learned. This was Celebrían. Daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn. Names heard before, though not often and not in depth. Beyond Galadriel being whom Artanis had become. He knew, but had yet to fully accept the name. He likely would continue in that vein until his daughter sailed home, or they met in the Halls. If they ever met again.

Time passed. Arafinwë found himself drawn to the fragile woman when his duties permitted. He'd sit just outside her balcony and sing songs he used to sing to Artanis and his sons. Sing, or talk at length. Or just be there. Waiting patiently for her to grow used to his light and respond. She was never fully alone, someone was always just out of sight, but always withing hearing range should she need anything. Anything at all.

But finally that patience paid off, and he knew without needing to turn that he was no longer alone on the balcony. He kept singing, eyes turned away over the water. Finally, finally a timid but beautiful voice joined in. His heart lept in joy, and he dared to glance at her as he led the silly little song along. Clearly his Artanis had taught her daughter much. This time she didn't stop when he looked at her. Didn't flinch away, though there was still a flinch.

He didn't react though, just kept singing quietly, warmth all she could see. She was getting better, and he knew that was why she'd come. Why she'd been pressed to come. Even in exile, his daughter showed her love just in how she'd sent her precious daughter to him. And precious she was.

The light in her was slowly daring to return, creep back to shine, though still tarnished. Dim. Shy and wary. But there, and a very good sign indeed.

The shared songs became more and more common, and soon enough he found he had a little shadow. Wherever he went, he could trust a silver light would follow him, just out of the corner of an eye. He never minded, and everyone who saw only smiled and went on as if Celebrían was not there, beyond gentle words to make sure she wanted for nothing.

Nothing but to be near the high king.

One day was a day of nothing but joy, though Arafinwë made sure that it was only evident in how he had no duties to steal him away for an afternoon, and he went to walk along the shore, feet bared to sands and water. Of course he knew she followed him even there. Perhaps especially there. For it was closer to the home she'd known all her life before coming to Tirion.

They came to a pile of rocks and he took a seat, spreading his cloak over it, then held out a hand for her. Waiting with nothing but patience and hope. Finally she came to him and took his hand, let him draw her down to sit on the rock beside him.

This time, she started the song. One he'd yet to hear, but had traces that were so familiar he could do nothing but join in once he'd caught the tune.

From then on, song was their language, and soon they could be found sitting around talking. Joined every so often by others. Celebrían learned everything that could be taught. Language. Literature. And relearned joy and light. How to laugh and play. Elflings could catch her hands and lead her away for an afternoon of play.

And she taught them of Middle-Earth. Of Galadriel and all Celebrían knew.