I realize this is a somewhat short chapter, but I cannot seem to add anymore, more would make it a weighty chapter and dwelling to much on the beginning, there is a need to get the story moving, Enjoy...
The tall trees of Lorien had grown in the years he had been away, and now the Golden crowned mallorn were most present in nearly half the forest; the pathways were empty of the comings and goings that used to populate them, though above one could hear the sound of elvish voices rising in song. The company passed unhindered through the ways of the golden wood, unhindered though always watched; it was when they at last came to the very walls of Caras Galadhon that they were at last stopped. Three young guards descended from gray ropes, each bearing a remarkable resemblance to one another; the eldest it seemed spoke first,
"Who are you that travel through this, our land, and seek entrance to the City of the Galadhrim?"
"Is that what you call yourselves now, good kinsman? When last I was here, Nandor was the name your people preferred."
The elven guard looked imploringly at Celebrin, whose gray hood covered much of his visage, and spoke,
"I knew you to be of the elvenkind, tell me traveler, from what home do you come?"
It was at this time that Celebrin released his cowl and looked into the eyes of the guard, who at this time became flustered by the vision before him, for he was but a child when the elf before him had left the borders of the land, seemingly never again to return.
"I have come for council with the King Amroth, as well as the Lord and Lady, our business is our own…tell them an old friend has come."
And with that they passed through the gate of Caras Galadhon, and into the great city of trees where the Talans reached far into the canopy of the trees and built great halls upon the mallorn's thick and weighty branches. As they were being escorted up the steps of the mightiest of the trees Celebrin caught a glimpse of the hill that still remained covered with elanor and niphredel, where happy memories, as well as sorrowful were played out in the great stage of the world. There upon the mightiest of trees stood the hall of the King Amroth, and the travelers were amazed to see such a thing, for it glimmered as the light of the moon and its size was grand and its length and depth unimaginable in the minds of many. Celebrin last saw this hall as it was being built yet now that it was finished, it exceeded his memories and his expectations. For it was the size of a grand hall, a great hearth blazed and warmed the fall airs that entered through the open spaces, where branches kept their leisurely natural growth. And a grand table was set before them, laid with a feast unlike any had seen, even in the hall of Elrond; before them stood three elven lords- two rose to a grand height, unseen among the likes of the elves, one whose hair shined a golden light, in remembrance of the blessed realm across the sea, the other's hair was as the quality of the moon, silver and calm, yet ever more powerful in its patience and awe, a memorial of a land long forgotten beneath the sea. The third stood almost as tall as the others, though his posture was not less in power and majesty, he wore a silver and bronze crown upon his head, engraved with all the history of the Nandor, their three previous kings, Lenwe, Denethor, and Amdir, each were present upon a side of the crown, their crescents and regalia engraved for all posterity to remember. And upon the front of the crown stood his symbol, a tall golden tree beneath a flying silver swan- and he smiled upon seeing who had come to his hall and before any words were said he ran to the raven haired elf and embraced him as if thousands of years had passed since last they met. Yet as quickly as a breath the gentle king's face was worn with sympathy, and holding the forearms of his friend-brother in a sign of giving strength he said in a whisper,
"My sister sent word to us…of what happened, are you well?"
"As well as can be expected gwador, but now is not the time…"
"Of course, come sit there is much to be discussed."
Celebrin took his seat beside the king and the five travelers were greeted by the lords with gentle bows and kind words; in truth the Lord Celeborn seemed to view these beings with a certain skepticism, not seeming to trust them at first glance. Yet the Lady Galadriel spoke much with them of the land beyond the sea, in fact her enthusiasm was something to be astonished at, for long she remained quiet of her long desire to return home. The evening passed long into the late hours of the twilight and Celebrin become tired and excused himself from the presence of the lords; few seemed to notice his leaving save the king and the lord Celeborn, who shared a joined glance before the Lord Celeborn himself removed himself from the table and walked in the direction his former standard bearer took.
And there he found him balancing himself upon a silver bough of the great tree, looking out at the northern stars through a patch of open canopy; before the Silver-haired lord could speak a voice came from the figure before him,
"What fate lies now for me, my lord? What would you do, were you left behind and no purpose left for you?"
"Who even among the wise can say what they would do in such times? For these hours are changing, and the old world is passing away."
"Yet you can still answer such a question…If my lady were to leave beyond the coast of Ennor, would you go with her? Or remain?"
"These thoughts are not your own Elornion…"
"What thoughts my lord? I am only asking a simple question."
"A question none can answer, save by they who are thinking of leaving the life they know behind, whether by the western road, or by the path of sorrow…both of which seem perilous to me…and did once also to you."
"Well things have changed."
"Have you spoken with your…"
"The Lord Cirdan and I have not spoken in months, for reasons I wish not to relate…"
"These travelers are strange, they come here in the image of old men, yet their eyes bespeak them of an elder race, far older than our own."
"Yes they are so."
The Silver Lord looked upon the elf before him and wondered at how distant he looked, arms locked in a tight embrace over his own heart, as if guarding it from flying before his body could follow. He looked through the hole in the canopy and saw the seventh star of the Sickle of the Valar shining brightly, and suddenly a voice as if from the very depths of the ocean came from the elf beside him, singing a song both full of dread and in the tune of a funeral dirge.
"Many stars have fallen
Many stars will fall
Who is to say,
What fate lies ahead?
For the hammer strike
And the arrow's sting
Shall break the bonds of helm and mail
And friends long made will depart
And I remain lone in Ennor
Till silver ships take all souls
Beyond the sight of my eyes"
And before the ancient elf could say anything in reply the other turned and descended the tree as softly as the spring flows from the mountains side in the frozen winter.
And Lorien was beset by the chill of winter's coming, for it was in this year that it came early, and fall was naught but a slender memory in the blink of an eye; days passed unto weeks and these unto months until the gentle coming of spring that broke forth from the frozen earth. Yet all was not quiet in Lorien fair; for in the dead of the winter nights a scream could be heard throughout Caras Galadhon and in the quarters of the guests of the King a violent dream was being played. And the King himself would come from his lofty bed upon the limbs of the trees, and hold the dreamer in a tight and unrelenting embrace, until the terror had passed and all threat of self-murder was over. And he would remain at the bedside of his brother-friend, until the morning light would break a long and disturbed sleep. Yet he was not alone in these bedside vigils, for near him would sit a bent and elderly figure dressed in sea-green, and beside him another dressed in gray; from their mouths would come words that filled the room as incense made heavy the air with its soothing smoke. It was at this time, at the coming of spring, that three horses were made ready to journey toward the rising of the sun; one stood tall above the rest, his long snow-white hair rippling down his slender neck, he was old now, long years had passed since the hour of his birth, before the war that would change the world, yet like his kindred from across the sea his life was many times greater than the lifetimes of men- a horse bred for the elder kind, long lived, wild and powerful, yet soft and gentle and they are strong and hale. Celebrin stood beside his gentle steed stroking the gentle hairs that graced his pale moonlight skin; as he did so he sung a song he sang to all the four legged beasts he ever knew and raised- a song of gentility and a time long passed, where gentle fields rose in sloping hills and many a horse was free to ride the waves of the land. A gentle rustling came form behind and Celebrin turned to see a simply clad elven king before him; the two exchanged a glance of silent speech before the latter spoke,
"Why do you go, when all who love you reside here? Have we become to painful a place for you?"
"Do not think that way brother, I could never loathe the family that took me in when I made myself an outcast to the people of the sea…nor could I ever hate the hands that I served, so faithfully all these years…"
"Then why go?"
"Because I must…you are too young to know anything of what I speak, but when you love someone, as you love yourself. It pains you when that part leaves, so much so that two roads remain after, death…and fading. Both of which I will have none…therefore I must make a life to live after, and it cannot be here, where everything is a reminder of a former time."
"Just promise me you will return…please brother promise me this…"
"I promise, when I find myself at long last, I will return, before the passing of this age I will return…"
"You call that a promise?"
"No…that is why I give you this…"
And from his cloak Celebrin gave Amroth a box of intricately carved cedar wood lined with velvet of red, and within lay a brooch of silver and black alien stone in the form of a swan in flight. And he spoke again as the call to farewells was over,
"This is my last and final gift to you, for there is nothing in this world that I would keep for all is perilous to me. Like the slate of a scribe I am wiped clean by tears, and nothing retains the joy it once did, not even a gift as this. That is why I give it to you, a remainder of me when my name meant something other than sorrow…it is yours to give to whom you will or keep it forever more."
And so Celebrin at long last left the land of Lorien departing south at the western edge of the Anduin with the final words of the Gilded-crowned queen,
"Seek not the Gods of the East, for they are perilous, the sage at their feet holds fast your salvation."
And so three travelers, one in elvish gray, the others in the blue of the sea, passed south to the land of Gondor and in the dead of night crossed the great river at Osgiliath, and passed into the very borders of Mordor, where in silent watch the guards of the Numenoreans watched all within, yet their course lay not within the black land, but north of it until they came to the very borders of the Dagorlad, and from there their course turned east toward the sea of Run, and beyond where all maps ended.