There are a few pieces of untranslated Quenya in the text; translations are at the end.
Celeborn closed his eyes, hiding away the comforting gleam of the stars high above.
The touch in his mind, lighter than a breath, returned after only a brief moment, and he smiled softly as he reached out to it, welcoming his wife's presence as he always did.
I have missed you, my brave warrior. The words of Galadriel's whispery mental presence were accompanied by the merest echo of a fingertip brushing his brow. Celeborn smiled slightly at the feeling of both.
And I you, my radiant beauty. Celeborn returned, tipping his chin up, though of course he could not lean into her touch, merely an impression granted by their connection. I am pleased to be returning to your side. I have forgotten how to be away from you, it seems, after all these long years.
The melodic chime of Galadriel's laugh was almost a surprise. It seemed it had been to her, as well, as there was the faint sound of her hiccupping through it. She must be speaking to him aloud, then, perhaps ensconced in their bed and looking up at the same stars he had been, moments ago.
I cannot regret that weakness, melmë-nya. Galadriel said, almost hesitantly, her voice even once more.
Nor the cause. Celeborn agreed, soothing the worry he sensed before it bloomed truly. It has been almost an Age since I was needed to ride to battle, for which my heart can only be glad.
This will be your last. Galadriel said, her voice suddenly stronger in his mind, though still possessed of that indefinable whispery quality. I saw it would be so before you rode out. I . . . hoped you would return to me, but could see naught for certain beyond the end of your days at war. The admission in her words was pained, but not hesitant.
Celeborn swallowed, feeling a slight prickle at his eyes. Hush, melwamir-nya. I shall be at your side once more before moonrise on the morrow. All is well. Beyond everything, beyond the end, even unto the Halls of Mandos, I would still be at your side.
How he wished he was already there beside her, his lovely lady, and could take her in his arms, reassure her that she had done the right thing - the only thing she could have. To let him go, as he must, to bring down Dol Guldur and the threat it had become, not only to Thranduil's lands and people, but their own.
I will be at yours, melmë-nya. Galadriel murmured, the warm sense of a smile accompanying her once-more calm voice. We will show our people their triumph over the darkness that has festered in the heart of that dark place for so long.
Celeborn smiled. You will show them. he contradicted gently, his eyes opening to the starlight once again, ears alert for the sounds of his warriors, settled in the woods all around him. You will cast down the very gates unto the heart of that place, and they will rejoice in your brilliance.
All shall be well. Galadriel agreed. On the morrow, melmë-nya. Lissë olóri. . .
Celeborn sighed, the slight chill of the night air in his lungs soothing him, though it carried no scent of the malinorni of home. And to you, Galadriel, laurëa heri-nya.
Quenya translations:
Melmë-nya - My love
Melwamir-nya - My lovely one
Lissë olóri - Sweet dreams
Malinorni - Mellyrn
Laurëa heri-nya - My golden lady
In case it wasn't clear from context (which, hopefully) this slots into place after the War of the Ring ended, between when Celeborn led an attack on Dol Guldur and when Galadriel came to cleanse it and throw down its walls forever. (So, just before the founding of East Lorien there.)