It was fortunate that I chose that time to stay in the city – for it was only two weeks from midwinter that I received an alarming missive from Celebrían. I remained immobile in my grief for the remainder for the whole of that day, and Thranduil found me in such condition late that evening in our rooms.

"She's leaving," I told him when he entered and I perceived his unspoken inquiry. My voice was harsh from the time I had spent weeping. "Celebrían isn't healing. She has decided to sail west."

I couldn't tear my swollen eyes away from the flames, but I felt Thranduil's hands grasp my shoulders comfortingly. My hand automatically went to his and squeezed. "I had a feeling she would," he said.

"How?" I asked, feeling betrayed by his absence of confidence on my own cousin.

"Evil is not easily defeated. Your cousin has always been very fragile."

"Evil can be defeated! We succeeded against Sauron's hate."

"For now," Thranduil said, leaving my side to pour wine for the two of us. "I have no doubt that he will return, perhaps even more powerful and more abominable."

I accepted the wine sullenly. "Your pessimism does not soothe my spirit."

"Go to the havens. See her off. Allow yourself at least that."

"I don't want to leave you," I said, looking for the first time that night into my husband's eyes. He gazed back, not hiding his own sorrow.

"You will return – and you can be confident that I will never part from you. Time with Celebrían is precious."

I agreed, and left alone the next day at dawn, trying to ignore Thranduil's still form watching me as I rode away.

Imladris was dark when I arrived. There were no songs, no laughter, and indeed no conversations. I felt as if my ears would pop in the heavy silence. The inhabitants stared at me from inside their dwellings, as the clatter of my horse's hooves echoed strangely. I rode straight to Elrond's home and was relieved to discover that Celebrían had not yet left. I ran to Elrond's study, and found the twins and Arwen outside, looking solemn and inconsolable. I knelt down and offered the only comfort I could – all three entered my embrace willingly, though the twins were now entering adolescence and were no doubt uncomfortable with the affection.

Celebrían departed from the study soon after, dressed in travelling clothes. Her eyes were glazed over when she saw me, but I appreciated the smile she forced on my behalf.

"I am accompanying you to the havens," I said, releasing her children and standing.

"Thank you, Caradel," she said quietly. "I am grateful for your company at this time."

Since she was about to depart anyway, we did not delay any further. Elrond was not coming. I did not catch a glimpse of him, but Celebrían reported that he was too dejected to come. Several stony-faced guards were assigned to be the escort, so our company was not small. I had worried that in the wild dark creatures might come upon us, but it was soon apparent in our journey that we would be left alone.

I was hoping that the trip would be at least partially enjoyable, but Celebrían remained detached from her surroundings, and her anguish was contagious. There were no words spoken, and I tossed sleeplessly by the fire every night, alone in my thoughts and pain. I wept often, wishing I could stay strong for my cousin, but my feelings of betrayal and mourning were too much for me to bear.

How many more family members would I lose to the Undying Lands? Now that Celebrían was leaving, would Elrond set his affairs in order and follow with his children? Would Galadriel? Would all of the elves follow suit until none here were left? I certainly was not inclined to leave. I would have to face my father and mother, who so willingly abandoned me as a baby to this dark land. No, I was far too bitter to make that trek.

My thoughts shifted as we entered the Havens. I had never seen the sea before, of course, but it tugged at my spirit. We spent the night in the home of the shipmaker before the vessel was to sail, and I stayed awake the entire night, my eyes glued to the horizon and yearning for…for what? I did not understand this desire the sea had awakened in me, and it was not entirely welcome. The glassy surface held me in a trance and strange visions arose in my mind, and I found that for the first time, I felt small.

A soft knock sounded at the very first peek of the sun's light, and I was torn from my reverie. Celebrían entered, and I understood what she could not say.

The guards did not go with us to the docks. It was only my cousin and I, and we clasped hands tightly as the boat came into sight. I dreaded this moment of farewell.

Celebrían's eyes were fastened on the horizon, and I heard her say under her breath:

My genial spirits fail;
And what can these avail
To life the smother weight from off my breast?
It were a vain endeavor
Though I should gaze forever
On that green light that lingers in the west:
I may not hope from outward forms to win
The passion and the life, whose fountain are within.

She turned to me, a smile blooming across her features. "All will be well," she said.

I embraced her. "I will pray that we will soon be united once more."

She pulled from me, and I saw her smile turn sly. "I find that very unlikely indeed. Your sons are stirring," she said, and with that cryptic remark, climbed into the boat and disappeared below decks.

I refused the company of the Imladris guards on my return journey, instead opting to travel at a much faster pace and a more direct route to my home and my husband. I tried to banish certain thoughts from my mind – thoughts of the sea that had seduced me to easily, and the thought that I might never see my cousin again. She was correct in her final words to me, of course, and I wondered how I had not noticed before that I was carrying a child. Two children! I supposed I had been too preoccupied in my duties and the journey to the Havens to notice the little nudges and kicks that now kept my attention, alng with the company of the two new little spirits, but I would have that excuse no longer.

I entered the palace in a flurry, and was told by a passerby that Thranduil was meeting with the council. From the sounds that seeped through the wood as I pressed my ear against the door, the conference had just begun. I could have groaned in frustration. I was, of course, still part of his council and attended the meetings whenever I was in the city, but I did not want to sit at a table and play politics when I had more exciting things on my mind.

I pulled the door open quietly – it thankfully facing the king's seat, and Thranduil looked up and saw me immediately. He stood; quite rudely as another elf had been speaking.

"We will adjourn for one hour," he said, not removing me from his gaze, and he hurried to meet me. "Caradel," he murmured, catching me in his arms. "I missed you."

"Let us find a private place," I whispered in return, as curious members of the council pooled into the hall around us. We set off for our rooms, but the draw of the freshly blooming gardens caught me gaze, and I pulled him outside.

"How was your journey?" Thranduil inquired as we sat beneath a tree with white blossoms.

"Physically, not difficult. Emotionally, quite devastating," I did not want to dwell on the pain, so I did not hesitate to take his hand and place it on my belly.

"Wha – oh," Thranduil's eyes grew wide as he realized what I was insinuating, and I felt a nudge in response to the pressure from his hand. I could not help smiling.

"Twins," I said.

The king seemed frozen in place, and I worried briefly that he was not pleased. But his crushing and sudden embrace a moment later dismissed those thoughts from my mind. "I hope they are princesses!" he exclaimed.

I laughed and gently took his arms from around me – his body heat was nearly overwhelming in the warming spring air. "I would not take a wager on that one," I said. "Celebrían had males. Perhaps since I was also inclined to conceive twins, I am equally disposed to conceiving you a pair of princes."

"Bother princes," Thranduil said, but he still grinned at me and I perceived that he would love any child of ours.

"Well," I said, brushing pollen from my skirt. "I suppose now you will not be able to rid yourself of my presence for a very long time. I am not going back to the watch posts."

"You will not be allowed to," he kissed the tip of my nose. "I am not letting you from my side now."

I scooted into the embrace of his arm, leaning on the tree. I picked several blossoms and began to weave them together to keep my fingers occupied. "I do believe we will be celebrating their begetting on Midwinter's Day," I said.*

"Delightful," Thranduil replied, lovingly stroking my body with the tips of his fingers. "I tire of spring and summer begetting days."

"Then stop celebrating mine," I said crossly, tossing the flower wreath aside. "And yours, for that matter."

"Perhaps all others, but never yours. Your begetting is a day of thanksgiving for me."

"Romantic fool," I sighed, feeling the deep rumble of a chuckle in his chest, and I closed my eyes in bliss. "I hope we will always be this happy."

*A year passes between the begetting and birth of a child, so that the days of both are the same or very nearly so, and it is the day of begetting that is remembered year by year. (The History of Middle Earth vol 12. "Laws and Customs of the Eldar".)