He missed the storms. The magnificence of lightnings, the heavy drops drenching the skin, the wind assaulting branches... and he missed the warm caverns of Menegroth where one could sit by the fire while the storms raged outside.
The Lord of Lórien would much have loved to be anywhere else but.
In Caras Galadhon, the rain was always mild – relatively – and the wind hardly rose above breeze, and there was warmth in the air, for the season. Yet, it was winter, and there was only so much that furs and wondrous textiles could do against damp and cold. No matter how many curtains and drapes were arranged around their bed, there was still draft.
And cold. Despite having a wife to keep him warm.
Who would reminiscence about the crossing of Helcaraxë loud and long, should the temperature of their bedroom ever become a subject of discussion.
Celeborn pulled the fur coverlets higher, wondering whether he should stop pretending he was asleep and retire to his study – oh, his blessed study, where the few bookshelves provided a perfect excuse for a place with four – alright, six – walls, a roof and a tiny stove, to keep the ancient manuscripts dry, and inevitably, warm.
As far as he was concerned, it was well worth the effort and extra fireproof insulation. After all, the place only barely caught fire, and only twice.
Twice.
Not like he was ever allowed to forget, and voicing his opinion that the damage caused by the Orc troops from Moria, thrice, was much worse... well, being Celeborn the Wise also meant knowing when not to speak.
As in, every morning.
The footsteps on the talan were light but unmistakable. A movement of the curtains, a slight scraping sound... He held his breath.
The invocation of Elbereth sounded from about half-way down, in a tone that couldn't have pleased the Star-Queen, though its sincerity was beyond doubt. Celeborn listened, but no exasperated echoes sounded from below – the guards had long learned not to stand anywhere near under the ladders at that time of the day, and watch from where the wind blew.
Oh, how he missed Menegroth's plumbing, and stairs that were not slippery every morning...
He was going to miss his wife dearly when the not-so-distant day came – but on that very day, he was also relocating to Imladris.
