To Alphindil this was a return home, to a place he had come to love with all his heart, yet as they left the woods and the mountains of the eastern land of Eriador, Celebrin was reminded of the song of the sea, a perilous song to him, that took the land he held most dear. The high stone workings of Mithlond, basking in the amber light of the sun, and the pale silver lamps that welcomed the coming of the moon from the east and the opal gem that shone as Earendil in the waning light of the sun that set brought awe to the mouths of all the company, even the Lord Celeborn who had last seen this land as nothing more than tents and scattered homes of exiles from a land lost beneath the waves. Yet none of the beauty of Mithlond could take their minds from the task they came to fulfill, thus they rode in haste to the hall of Cirdan.

There amid the rising stone and rock were two trees of cyprus that grew towards each other and became entwined, forming an archway of wood decorated with dark green leaves, and gray boughs from which hung two silver lamps that were already lit. The hall of stone cut from the cliffs wound its way into the natural aspects of the land, so that it seemed as if it had stood there all the long years of the earth, built for the housing of the Shipwright and his kin. The trees led to a path covered by a curved, ruby-colored roof held by arches of stone on either side. Each third arch leg bore a silver lamp that shone in sliver glass, and every seventh held a brazen lamp that shone as the setting sun. and when both lamps happened by chance to be on the same arch-leg the lamp there was a mingling of bronze and silver whose light was neither white nor red flame, but seemed as a mingling between. The path led down a sloping cliff of rock and scattered tree, yet on the immediate sides of the paths were carved gardens that were tiered in several step-like formations. Each garden had fruit trees and pavilions where at times others would sit and hear the music of the sea and flutes of the sailors at the harbor.

Such a place would have been a welcome retreat from the daily war beyond the coast, even so it seemed as if a perfect place to say farewell to Ennor, for those who sought peace in the Undying Lands built it before they journeyed the sundering seas, and its was wrought with their song of sorrow and joy. Yet the company dismounted at the arch of the two cyprus, and were led down the path to the hall of Cirdan at great haste. Celebrin and the other servants of the Lords guided the horses to the stables in silence, many in awe of the havens of Mithlond. Choosing not to follow the Lords, Alphindil took leave of his friend and went to find his own garrison, which had arrived days before them.

He knew not why now the sea began to push him away from this place he always felt to be his home. To him nothing had changed, nothing was built or destroyed, the people had not changed; seeing him as a returned hero they embraced him warmly. In other times he rejoiced in this, yet somehow another voice called him, in the midst of his heart he felt pure isolation. Surrounded by his own kin, he felt alone, and incomplete. Long he lived the life of a Noldo, surrounded by Teleri at every corner, Teleri who saw in him the exiled ruin of Gondolin, and the fierce pride of Feanor. Amid all the joy and celebration he ducked into a small dark corner and sat confused as to why the earth seemed too familiar by the sea.

Celebrin cared for the steeds of his Lords and friend, in silence he felt the spirit of Mithlond question why he was there, why after all this time he had returned with still little love for it as the woods. The spirit of Mithlond, he felt, was angered by his presence, for he felt no welcome here; in Imladris he was needed, though not entirely welcome. By the side of his Lord he was tolerated and respected by the earned respect of the Noldor who lived there, and loved by the few Sindar that had not left beyond the mountains. In Imladris he was healer of the wounded and servant to the Lord Celeborn. Yet here...here the Sindar who remembered him, remembered his flight from Mithlond, leaving them to take up his duty, to command his guards, to protect his father's people. Here in Mithlond, he was a knight of Cirdan who abandoned his father's people; a kin who abandoned his people when they needed him to care for them. Even the gaze of the stable-hands was filled with this contempt, though he bore the banner of Celeborn, though he wore the armor of the Sindar, it was not enough. Cirdan had said it would be so; in his haste to leave he disregarded the truth in his foster-father's words that now reached to him out of memory and time,

They will not take you back Uialion, you know this as well as I; the hearts of our people have always been hard- they had to be in the times we lived in. If you return a hero of great renown, they will not care, to them you are a coward and a slave to the Noldo.

Do you think I do not know this Peradar? My heart burns now to leave my father-kin, but the peril of my Lord supercedes that.

Is it the peril of your Lord you go to, or to the peril of you sworn brother?... The people will not see it as you do, they will think you are going to aid one who by all accounts to them is the same kin of they who destroyed your home...who killed your family. The people will see you as a deserter...nothing more, you cannot return and find welcome here.

Does that mean you will not welcome me back Peradar...

He wished the memory away, not wishing to hear his foster-father's reply he had cut the thoughtful silence with a rushed farewell and left that day, so many years ago. So long ago...He knew not the answer, like Liriel he thanklessly left him without a word, without even an embrace, not expecting to receive one in return.

All his life until now, he thought they raised him and cared for him out of obligation to his parents, Liriel out of his mother's death and Cirdan out of his father's. When Liriel left the shores of Mithlond, he said a short farewell, too stubborn and selfish to think that she went because he had grown and had no need of her any longer. Then he felt as if she left him because she could not bear to be with him any longer, Cirdan showed him this falsity, but by then it was too late. With Cirdan he was the one who had left, he abandoned his foster-father, and went to live among a people he was not sure would take him in. He deserved this welcome, if one could call it that; he had abandoned Mithlond, and it abandoned him, such was the path he chose.

Suffocated by this feeling he left the horses in the charge of the stable manager and went by the eastern path to the hall of Cirdan, where his Lord and Lady took council, and where the fate of all Eldar rested upon their shoulders and upon their word.

Words:

Peradar/Perada- Literally "half-father", meant to be an endearing term Celebrin used for Cirdan, who acted as father to him, yet was not a father. Foster-father

Elfique-Glad you are my most vocal fan at the least. The conversation between Galadriel and Celebrin I thought was a bit confusing especially since the personal pronoun she in that speech could be taken to refer to Galadriel rather than Liriel. I wanted to tie her lesson learned to the line "Even the smallest people, can change the course of history", I wonder if you noticed that...I tend to do things like that, just some other eccentricity of mine.

Side note-I realize I introduced another character, Liriel, sadly this might be te last mention of her until I write the sequal, tehehe.