Summary: A meeting has been called, certain lords summoned, and to be kept wholly secret. But Celeborn waits late in the night for his young, beautiful and entirely un-courted daughter to return from her walk with Elrond, but is quickly running out of patience. Meanwhile, Celeborn has been one of the summoned to attend this meeting in order to make a possibly fate-altering decision with the High King.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's world. I wish I did, but it all belongs to the Tolkien Estate. I also do not own the uploaded "book cover" for this particular story. It is owned by Alan Lee. If this is ill-suited for any purpose for anyone, I will gladly take it down; all you need to do is ask. But please inform me so before rudely going to delete my story without warning. Thank you.

A/N: As told in the summary, this story is a canonical gap-filler, and was also partially written as a belated gift for Tori of Lorien and Zammy. It is also a companion piece to another gap-filler of mine, titled "A Crucial Decision". But that multi-chaptered story is not one you need to read in order to comprehend this one, for "Three Rings for the Elven Kings" actually takes place before the other. As said, it is only a companion piece, not a continuation. I know the summary was a bit elusive, but what exact gap in Tolkien's tale that this story will be telling I will not speak of yet, for you will all too quickly find out, if you know not already. But I hope you find some enjoyment out of reading it and would appreciate any words you feel inclined to voice. Happy reading!

"[The Eldar] had few children, but these were very dear to them." ~ J.R.R. Tolkien, The History of Middle-earth: Morgoth's Ring

Chapter 1

Lindon, 1701 SA

A muscle briefly clenched in Celeborn's jaw, the only sign of his quickly diminishing patience. He pivoted on his heel and paced, with his slow, leisurely steps, to the edge of the hearth of the dimly lit room, uncaring if such an action was thought to be unbecoming. His arms were crossed, and though his breaths came steady and deep, they could hardly be accounted as calm. His booted heels were scarce to be heard on the carpeted floorboards, and his full attire he had yet to change from trapped the excess heat against his skin.

Celeborn turned about, his silver hair glistening as starlight under the soft glow emanating from the fireplace, and paced back towards the window. Where was she? His daughter had been bidden to return ere the watchmen on the wall were changed, and the Moon had ascended high in the sky some time ago. The window before him, elegant and of Elven intricacy in all of its making, was coated with a sheen layer of frost, its glass icy to touch. Winter's season had departed, leaving only cold nights as a reminder of its chill.

He reached the window and turned back, sparing a brief heartbeat to glance at his wife as he did. Galadriel, arrayed in her nightly attire, sat in a cushioned chair near the hearth, her golden hair loose from its braids and brushed till it gleamed. So intent was she on the task of working her needle with fluent fingers that she failed to take notice of his sharp regard, though it lasted but a moment. She had refused the suggestion to retire towards their bed, she had told him, for she would remain awake so long as their daughter had yet to return.

Celeborn directed a dark glare towards the receiving door. He wanted Celebrían to return to his family's designated quarters. He had not seen his daughter in seven years and had only recently been reunited with his silver-queen. The war was over, Celeborn reminded himself once more, digging nails into his palms in effort to remain alert. Though Eregion had been massacred and nigh on all of Eriador lain to waste, the war was over and she was safe. Both Galadriel and she were safe, and there was nothing more his heart could have sought after. Though seven years could be accounted as of little significance to an Elf, those seven years had been felt by Celeborn keenly, for Time had seemed to go without end, the long defeat and victory at a heavy price working to test his strength. But it was all over. Sauron and all his cruelty had been forced to retreat to his dark lands of Mordor, and the war had finally ended. His precious daughter was well and unharmed, for he had held her in his tight embrace when first he saw her again in Imladris two months ago.

He turned to pace to the window. He needed Celebrían to return to his family's designated quarters. The High King had requested his presence this night and Celeborn's agitated pacing was born as much as from the urge to be on his way as from his impatience to wait for Celebrían to return from her walk with Elrond. Though why Gil-galad had summoned him in the dead of the night, of all times, was beyond his understanding. But attend this meeting he would, so long as his daughter would return home! Why so long a time? That Elrond had better be equipped with an exceptional excuse for not working to escort his Celebrían home at a decent hour.

"Oh my dear, sweet, irritable husband. End your pacing!"

The half amused, half exasperated words from his wife drew Celeborn up short and he halted in a brief moment to regard her. He pierced Galadriel with a glare worthy of the greatest of Elf-lords, but kept his silence. She returned his gaze, and her hands had stilled, with needle, thread and cloth briefly forgotten. Nor did Galadriel speak any further words, for her attempt to jest with her husband had been in error and both knew so. Between the two, the air still swarmed with a tension unfounded, thick and sizzling hot as white flame. And the bitterness of the words they had recently exchanged these past weeks had not yet been forgotten, though the refusal to do so lay at the fault of the stubbornness found in both of them.

But then she let go a weary sigh, for she was tired, and lowered her gaze from his as she took up her needlework once more. "She will return soon, my love, for I shall not sleep ere she comes, as I offered. You need not be delayed by this wait to answer the High King."

But alas, her silver-tree merely turned and kept on with his pacing. His eyes, keen and penetrating enough to give even the greatest Elf thought for pause, clouded over in irritation and growing impatience. "She is with Elrond," he murmured, as though such explained everything.

A hint of a smile touched Galadriel's mouth, though she was sure to keep her eyes on her work. And she spoke with the voice of one who had held such a conversation many a time prior already. "She is."

Celeborn turned from the hearth. "For hours she has walked with him."

"She has."

"She has yet to return."

"She will."

"She is too young."

"She is not," Galadriel reasoned with no sting or admonishment in her words. "She came of age decades ago."

"So?"

She could not withhold the smile then, nor conceal the twinkle of merriment in her eyes. And, briefly setting aside the anger and frustration she currently felt with him, she lifted her eyes and regarded Celeborn in half amusement and half adoration as he sought to run a furrow in the floor he walked. "Celeborn," she stressed in exasperation, though she could not keep the grin from her face, "go to Gil-galad. You may question our daughter on her delay on the morrow. This is not worth keeping the High King waiting."

Celeborn sighed as he finally ended his repetitive meandering and went to lean on the wood frame of the window. And he looked out into the dark night as his eyes lost some of their bright intensity under whatever private thought occupied his mind. "Every day of all those years I feared for her," he murmured, his voice dwarfed with hints of the heart-pounding anxiety he had felt for his child's wellbeing that only a parent could feel. "Through our bond I knew she lived, but not until you came to Imladris did I stop fearing."

Galadriel's gaze sobered at that, and her eyes equally softened as she looked upon the Prince of Doriath. "For husband and father, our fear was just as great amid our travels, if not greater, for you fought on the front battlements of the war, just as we were fleeing from it. But now she is safe, as am I. You need not seek out her presence as reassurance any longer."

"But she is with Elrond."

Galadriel rolled her eyes as the tolerant smile returned. But ere further words could leave from her mouth, the sound of metal on metal broke the silence as the door opened to emit the very person they had been discussing. At the sound, Celeborn turned about and straightened, his arms crossed once more as he looked upon their daughter as she went to unwrap her shawl from her shoulders.

But Celeborn refused to give her any moment. "Where have you been?"

Celebrían looked up at the words, her eyes shining bright in question, ere standing tall and straight as one conceived by a noble lord and lady only would. Her silver hair fell about her shoulders, lightly tousled from the constant wind outside. And she sent an apologetic look towards her father.

"I apologize, Ada, for my being late," she spoke, her voice soft and undaunted by Celeborn's scrutiny. But in her eyes it was seen she meant the apology. "Lord Elrond sought to escort me home at a decent hour, but he was waylaid by some Númenórean healers seeking his expertise. I went with him, eager myself to learn, but such lasted longer than either of us anticipated."

A moment of silence passed as Celeborn merely looked at her, and no thought could be read upon his face, though a muscle again jumped along his chiseled jaw. Though what that meant, none could decipher. But he did not smile. "He would not walk you to the door?"

A flicker of uncertainty was seen briefly in Celebrían's eyes as she shook her head, for she knew not how to interpret her father's rather lack of amiability this night. "No," she spoke carefully. "He intended to, but an aide of the High King intercepted us and delivered to him a message from Gil-galad, one speaking to attend a meeting this night. He bid me a fair evening in the gardens and left, lest he be late."

Celeborn could feel Galadriel's meaningful gaze on him, but he would not look at her and instead forced back another wave of weariness. "Did the two of you have a pleasant walk?"

The brightness of the resultant smile was enough to light the room. "We did," Celebrían answered, glancing down at her clasped fingers, a smitten shyness lighting her eyes. "Lord Elrond is wonderful, and I was honored and grateful to spend this time with him."

"H'm. Did he kiss you?"

Celebrían gasped and looked at her father, wide-eyed, in something akin to horror, as her jaw dropped by a fraction. "Ada, no!" she nearly shouted.

"Hold hands?"

The shock grew. "Ada! Of course not! Stop this!"

"Good."

With that, Celeborn approached the door, sparing neither of them a glance, and briefly kissed Celebrían on her forehead ere departing the room in silence. And Celebrían simply turned to watch him go, too visibly aghast to question to where he went and simply gestured with an open hand towards the door that had been shut.

"Nana!" she demanded, her voice liberally coated in disbelief. "What…what-?"

Galadriel finally let loose the smile she could no longer contain and had to work to suppress the laughter she felt stir deep in her chest at the walking display of horror and embarrassment that her daughter now epitomized. And she shook her head, the smile growing, as she worked the needle through the fabric and back again. "Become used to it, my daughter," she solemnly advised, ill-disguised amusement in her voice. "He loves you beyond anything in this world, and your father will put every suitor through the fire ere granting them his permission to court you."

If anything, these words prompted Celebrían to be even more flustered, and she plopped down helplessly on the footstool. "But Elrond has given no hint of interest in courting me." And Galadriel chuckled at the despairing frustration in her voice. Celebrían sent a dark glower at her and sighed, despondent. "Besides, I thought it was that Father had no ill thought for Elrond, and that he was fond of him. Why has he such anger towards him now?"

Galadriel smiled at the dejection that could only be found in one so young that was smitten with love. No, Elrond had given no sign of interest in their daughter, she inwardly thought, but he needed not to. Upon Galadriel and Celebrían being reunited with husband and father, after all those torturous years, in the Hidden Valley two months ago, it had then been followed by the introduction to Celebrían of the High King and then of Lord Elrond. And during their short time spent in Imladris, both Celeborn and Galadriel had been capable of seeing the love Elrond held for their daughter, though he spoke naught of it. And even upon traveling to Lindon sometime later, both could still perceive that his love had not abated. But there was no reason to inform Celebrían of all this, Galadriel chose. Though no longer an Elf-child, Celebrían still delighted in the world about her as in the ways Elf-children would, and the burden of memory was still light upon her, unlike Elrond, who had seen much in his younger years. The lessons she had yet to learn would further enable her to appreciate Elrond for who he was, as many others already did. But no, Galadriel would speak nothing concerning this possibly budding relationship between Celebrían and Gil-galad's herald. She knew Celebrían was worried that her growing love for Elrond might not be returned, but…the journey of discovering it was one of the joys of finding one's life mate.

Instead, Galadriel spoke on the second half of Celebrían's few words, and she sighed as she put a few more stitches to align the soft fabrics. "No, my sweet. Your father bears no ill will for Elrond. And though he never speaks of it, I see in your father the love and pride he has for him. Your father bestowed Elrond with his blessing of love and aid of a kinsman, should he ever need it, when he came of age, and declared Elrond of his House." She raised an eyebrow at Celebrían's distraught figure. "Such a public avowal could never be professed falsely."

Celebrían threw up her hands in exasperation. "Then why was Ada so angry with us? He looked ready to tear Elrond limb from limb for keeping me away so late."

The chuckle that wished to emerge at such an exaggerated observation was quelled and the merriment in her eyes faded as Galadriel stilled her fingers and leaned forward. "Your father is not annoyed with you," she reassured, her own eyes keeping those of her daughter's captive. "He was impatient due to his having to be elsewhere, but he is not angry with you as you imply. Any ire of his is for me."

Several heartbeats of silence followed as Celebrían lowered her gaze. "Have you and Father ill thought towards each other still?" The question was voiced tentatively, as though she were afraid to ask it.

Not having expected the question, Galadriel merely sighed and leaned back, casting her gaze down at her needlework, though she went not to continue her stitching. "Worry not over it, love," she came to answer at her daughter's questioning gaze. "Your father and I have fought before and will undoubtedly do so again. Our bitter thoughts will pass, as they always do."

Celebrían appeared to relax a little at the words and she flashed a rueful smile. "I trust so," she murmured. "And I never once believed you and Father were immune to it, but I am unaccustomed to hearing you two argue."

Galadriel felt a sense of wariness overcome her. "Heard you any exact words?"

Celebrían shook her head. "No, only muffled shouts and the resentment that has since hung between you."

Galadriel's eyes softened as she uplifted her daughter's chin with gentle fingers. And she smiled. "It will pass, have no fear of that. I would not be hemming and stitching him this cloak if things were not amendable."

Celebrían glanced down at the newly woven Elven-cloth and gave a wry grimace. Celeborn's last one had been in frightening disrepair upon their arrival in Imladris after the war had ended, and it had brought upon Celebrían dark foreboding of just what her father must have been through, so much so that she worked to place no thought upon it. But she was glad to see her mother's hands weaving him one newly made.

"What is your quarrel over?" she ventured to ask.

Galadriel shook her head as she once more picked up her sewing, dismissing the question. "Be not bothered over it. It is over nothing you need concern yourself about."

She shrugged. "Very well, then. To where did Father just leave for?"

Galadriel glanced at the door and gave a half shrug in return. "Gil-galad requested his presence for a meeting shortly being held. I suspect Elrond was summoned to attend the same, though I have no inkling of what this meeting is for."

Celebrían raised a skeptical eyebrow. "This late into the night?"

Galadriel nodded. "There must have been no preplanning, for Celeborn received word of it just when he was readying himself for slumber."

Celebrían grimaced, a sense of vague worry clouding her eyes. "Will he treat Elrond well when he sees him, do you suppose?"

Galadriel's smile lit the room as she now felt the same exasperation with her child. Apparently, both father and daughter alike were unable to keep their thoughts away from the High King's herald. It was really all too entertaining. "Stay your needless fretting, child, lest you drive me from this room."

"Well," Celebrían continued, as though rationalizing her thought, "there is no reason for him to be short of temper with Elrond. As I spoke, he has never given any sign of interest in me. And he has shown nothing but courtesy."

"Celebrían…."

She sighed, running her hand in agitation through her silver hair. "I would only that I could understand Elrond's heart more, to know of what his thoughts are towards me."

"The understanding of another being's heart comes with time. And Elrond is not one to reveal such personal thoughts openly," Galadriel spoke. "Be patient. You are very young still, and have only known Elrond for a couple of months. Even after friendship grew between your father and me, he waited decades ere deciding to court me. And then, after that, he would not permit our marriage until after seven years of courtship. Be patient. As an Elf, you have the benefit of Time and Elrond will remain."

Celebrían sighed again, gnawing on her lower lip. "I know I am young, and I feel not great a lady enough as to be a match for Elrond. But what if he were to find someone else to love? What if –"

Galadriel halted her words with an upraised hand and looked to her daughter with grave eyes. "If you feel you must rush a relationship because you fear he will not wait for you, then he is not the Elf for you. And dismiss not that you may find someone else to love yourself." Though Galadriel personally doubted that, for as she saw the love in Elrond's heart, so she saw the same reflected in Celebrían's. "Have patience."

Celebrían looked long in silence at her mother ere nodding and bowing her head. But when she looked up again, a twinkle of mischief was in her eye. "Truly, had you to wait seven years to marry Father? Such seems unlike him."

Galadriel gave a fond smile at the dredging up of old memories, of good memories. "Yes, it does seem unlike him. And in that deliberately slow courtship, I was the one that was driven to madness from my impatience." Her slight smile grew at Celebrían's chuckle. "But those days were good, and made even more so by how long they lasted, and I would take back not one of them. Now, make for your bed, my daughter, for we must rise early to bid our farewell to the Númenóreans."

Celebrían nodded and stood to head for her room, but not before directing one more question towards her. "Believe you truly that Father will keep his peace?"

"Celebrían," Galadriel sighed, looking up into her daughter's uncertain gaze. And she could help not but to smile again. "This is one of the 'joys of fatherhood', as your father deems it. Trust me when I speak that you would do well to worry if it would be any Elf other than Elrond. Now go to sleep."

O = O = O

Celeborn strode down several darkened hallways as he made his way towards Gil-galad's study. The occasional guard stood at his post, his gaze cast dutifully forward. And the few torches in their brackets were being exchanged for fresh ones to last the night. Otherwise, the halls were empty of people and bore the silence that fell nocturnally over Lindon.

It was of little interest to Celeborn, however. His thoughts were solely occupied on his destination, of what council so imperative had been requested this late at night. The silver-haired Elf wracked his mind and memory for any circumstances that would demand such urgency, for he had received Gil-galad's request for attendance long after the laws of etiquette allowed it. All vital decisions had been already made before traveling to Lindon from the Hidden Valley, including the decision to abandon the empty lands of Eregion in favor for Imladris. And indeed, the walls of the newly found vassal of Lindon were being thrown up as the craft of an Elven city took place under the careful eye and regulation of Erestor, who had remained behind during Elrond's absence. Celeborn could now think of nothing that would call Gil-galad's immediate attention.

And even more baffling, Celeborn thought as he rounded another corner, was that Gil-galad had specifically told him in his message to be sure that Galadriel did not accompany him to this late meeting. Galadriel's forbiddance had been the one thing he had not spoken of to his wife, for her displeasure was not something he had the patience to deal with this night. But Gil-galad's reasoning over this was something that remained greatly prominent in his line of questions, and one he looked forward to discovering.

But whatever it was, it could not be good, Celeborn surmised as he stepped before the double doors of the High King's study, resolutely disregarding the guards on either side. For if Gil-galad had such good information to share, he would not have gone to such lengths to see that this meeting remained unheard of. Undoubtedly, if what his daughter spoke was true, Elrond must have been summoned to the same. Celeborn inwardly gave a wry grin. Suffice it to say that he looked forward to speaking with Elrond this night.

But he took a deep breath and readied himself for whatever words Gil-galad might deliver ere reaching out and opening the door.

To be continued….

Celeborn: the equivalent of "silver-tree", translation to be found in The Silmarillion's Index of Names.
Celebrían: the equivalent of "silver-queen", translation to also be found in The Silmarillion's Index of Names. There is no date given for her birth, but I elected it to be approximately a century or so before the fall of Eregion. This presumption is based on nothing more than read theories.
Ada/Nana: If you don't know what these mean in this Universe, you've got issues. :)

A/N: Thank you for electing to read this story of mine. If there is anything you did not understand (either than what you were not meant to), please feel free to ask. In the next chapter, we find out just what gap-filler this is supposed to be (though it's not too hard to deduce), Celeborn has some private thoughts about Elrond, Celeborn learns why Galadriel was barred from this meeting, and Gil-galad proves to be one tired King. Thanks again for reading this chapter and I would appreciate it from the bottom of my heart if you would review. I welcome all words, so please do!