Appendix A, Eriador, Arnor, and the heirs of Isildur
Elrond paced the room. He had done it so often that he knew the exact number of steps it took to get from one side to another. From the door he took five steps until he could see out of the window. He looked out, surveying the all that he could see. However there was no-one new out there, only the elves of Imladris going about their business. Turning his back he took another five steps, reaching the open doorway once more. He had once demonstrated this to Arwen when she had been a young elfling and it had taken her some time and practice to discover why she could not cross the distance using the same number of paces with her shorter legs.
Arwen seemed so calm, much more so than himself. She must have inherited that from her mother. She had been busy while they were waiting and Celebrían would return to find their house spotless and their gardens blooming. They were not usually Arwen's tasks but she detested doing nothing as much as he did.
Thinking of his wife, as he done much in the past few days, he inadvertently conjured up an image of her in his mind so vivid that when he turned towards the doorway he almost expected her to come through it unharmed. He was not only waiting for his wife however. It was likely that if she was hurt and Lórien was closer, Elladan and Elrohir would take her there.
The one thing he would not allow himself to think about was if Celebrían was dead. The thought of never seeing her again made him feel as if someone had taken hold of his heart and squeezed. He just did not know how to live without her anymore. When he slept it was the only thing he saw in his dreams. So he stopped sleeping. She was coming back, she had to.