The following years dragged at my soul until I felt so entirely stretched that I thought I might snap at slightest provocation, though I kept tight rein on any emotions. It was all nervousness and waiting, though the intermittent activities were generally favorable and for the most part, I kept my mind occupied.

I hunted with Belegorn and found that he had developed a light-hearted manner, full of teasing and jests. To this I attributed Finrod's influence. Our relationship was quickly healed, for neither of us preferred to remain in despondency, and our love, between mother and son, was whole.

I visited Celebrían often and together we mourned for our families, and found solace in the shared sorrow. She taught me much of what she had learned of the nature and purpose of sadness, and I came to know that not all was aberrant, for it often led to greater happiness and an appreciation for the sweet.

My fondness for clothes caused me to seek out my mother within a few days of my arrival, and we came to know each other over fabric traders at the market. She had immaculate taste, and an easy relationship over our shared interests blossomed, and I found that I soon loved her fully. The market was a great sight in itself - with new colors, styles, materials, and trimmings that I could have never imagined, my wardrobe became stylish and joyful once more.

I saw my father rarely, though each time I tried a bit harder to treat him normally. Sometimes we would walk along the high towers of the city, looking to the East. We spoke of our respective exiles, of the evil that marred the world, and of the pleasures we found there. His accounts of his adventures, of which I had been aware of as only a part of the history of Arda, showed his innate talent for storytelling. With his gesture and inflections, I hooted at his portrayals of a particularly staid feast that he had been invited to by the dwarven king in Belegost, and I found myself growing fond of him. I pondered if I would find the courage to tell him so, but carried on in the delicate balance we had struck.

There were others I met too, namely Thranduil's parents, and we got along well enough. We were hardly kin enough to have a prodigious relationship, but we shared in love for him and so I grew less cowed of Oropher. His wife, Aravalien, was a delicate and dark-haired elf, and it was obvious that the two cared for each other deeply. I saw similarities between the temperament of Oropher as I had known him as king, and that of Thranduil's after my death. They were quite alike, hiding behind façades of stoic grumpiness in the absence of their queens. But now Oropher had grown carefree and perhaps wiser, and he bestowed an overdue blessing on our marriage.

Despite these progressions, I perhaps could have lived at the grove without any regrets or wanting for aught else. The bonding that held me to Thranduil and the stretched threads that molded our hearts together were eased by my watching him, and whenever I left, I felt his presence grow dimmer. It was nearly intolerable, but I carried on. I was not the only one that waited for the arrival of their spouse. Many others frequented the grove in their loneliness, and though we never spoke, I saw similar despair to my own in their faces. I pitied them, and I pitied myself. Even more so, as with the passing of years more elves began to arrive, by death or by ship, and most were reunited with their mates while still I lingered.

An increasing number of tapestries began to fill the Halls of Varië. I periodically made solitary treks to see what new art adorned the wall, though now it more often than not showed destruction and death. Between the weavings and the mirrors, I kept pace with the events in Arda.

I was proud that Legolas became such a hero, defying Thranduil to travel to Rivendell and to join the quest to destroy Sauron's Ring. The atmosphere in Valinor had been dark and tense during that time, and we all waited apprehensively during that winter, and cheered as one as we felt the great evil of Sauron's spirit depart from the world.

An itch in me began to grow that day, and I knew then that it could not be so much longer until my solitary sojourn was ended. Even more elves began to arrive, and I was pleased to see Galadriel and Celeborn along with Elrond. Of the latter I saw little, for Celebrían had been waiting longer than I and I did not intrude on their reunion. Galadriel, however, I met with frequently, and a new relationship of equals began to grow between us. Finrod, when he was in our company, was the unfortunate recipient of our shared jokes, but I did not think he minded it, for he was too pleased to have so much of his family near once more.

I waited even more anxiously, and watched, and so was present when Legolas arrived at the shores, in a boat that he had built, and with a dwarf!

After we had embraced, both of us laughing with joy and myself shedding tears unashamedly, I was introduced to his friend.

"Mother," Legolas said, gravely gesturing to the short, hairy figure beside him. "This is Gimli, son of Glόin, and to him I owe my life and my amity."

I bent down to see into the dwarf's eyes. I did not see guile as I had in his ancestors, but the reflection of a stout heart and loyalty to my son. I smiled at him.

"You are most welcome here," I said, taking his hand. "Though I imagine you are more interested in meeting with Lady Galadriel than with myself."

"For that courtesy, we are friends," Gimli said in a rough voice, and bowing, took his leave, trotting in the direction of the city where I know she waited. He seemed to know where he was going.

I turned my attention to my youngest son, my unspoken question burning as I clenched his arm in agitation. "He will come soon," Legolas told me, and together we departed the beach. "He pines for you, he cannot wait very much longer."

"Good," I said, with satisfaction. "For I cannot either."

But still I waited.

There came a night during high summer that I found no rest, for I felt my heart becoming whole. The strings between Thranduil and I were tightening, and when the sun broke across the horizon, I knew with a surety. He was coming.

I dressed hastily in a white dress and leather sandals, knowing that if anything, Thranduil would want to see me clad decently. I ran from my room, alone in the dawn, and did not stop until the sandy shores were under my feet. I looked across the sea, shielding my eyes from the sun. I could only see flat waters. A tower was near to me, and so I wasted no time climbing its stairs, displacing its visitors, and leaning dangerously far out across its ledge to see further.

There! Sails came into sight, finally, and soon I saw that Thranduil's insignia decorated the canvas. I laughed in my giddy happiness at his ostentation. I ran back down the stairs, this time the elves throwing themselves out of my way, and onto the beach. The ship was just pulling close to the shore, but I could wait no longer.

I ran into the waves, and to my full delight, Thranduil immediately peered over the side. "Could you not have waited a mere minute?" he asked, a cross frown drawing his brows together. "I am anchored and would have met you very shortly."

"Come down, you great fool," I said.

A smile broke across his face. "Nonsensical woman," I heard him mutter. But he obliged, jumping from the boat and joining me in the water, and with a whoop of joy, I ran into the arms of my lover.