As always please Read and Review. This was originally one very long chapter but I cut it in half and I hope it works well.

The sun began its slow ascent in the East; the golden and the rosy beams that preceded it arched across the sky in gentle flowing rivers of light. The stars began to fade away except for the brightest of them; in the West it was called Eärendil but among the peoples of the East it was called In-hanna or Yzhdala. For those brief moments of glorious mixing of the lights Celebrin felt as peace with the world; the cool desert night was giving way to a quickly warming morning and in the distance he could smell the slight scent of moisture. He felt a tear flow down his cheek and slowly wiped it away with his fingertips; he stood upon the newly built wall of Khavul and the battlement that marked the Eastern entrance. He turned and looked at the slowly growing city, the sandstone bricks that were cut from the mountains reflected the rising sun with a gentle change from deep purple to brilliant scarlet to auburn gold. The buildings were laid out in a square grid, reflecting Numenorean planning but the architectures were a mixture of the domed villas of the Hamadjon, the palisade-style apartments of the Utashtegu and the large temple like structures of the Harad, with their sloping walls and pyramidal roofs. The great city center housed an open air market and in the midst of it was round arena like pit, where the Council of the Seven Nations would gather under a bright richly embroidered red canopy. The elf sighed as he beheld the vision before him; once more a city arose under his watch and this one he felt more proud of than the others he had helped build in the past. He looked at the harmony of the city, now that the wars had ceased and it had been many long years since the end of the war; Gondorian traders came through the Western gate, bringing fine silks, steel and the coin of Gondor.

Ciryaher Hyarmendacil would be returning today; after the birth of his son he rode westward taking the good news to his people that their long awaited heir was born. Celebrin knew that the news would not be welcome in some places of the Southern Kingdom; he sensed it and heard it from the mouths of many of the Lords of Gondor and among some soldiers who did not see or hear him as he walked the streets of Khavul. Curunir, now called Saruman, had gone with him leaving the elf to care for his grandson while his daughter recovered from her harsh and taxing delivery. The child was quick to grow and in a few short weeks he sat up and in two months he began to crawl and laugh; a great joy filled the elf's heart as the child bounced on his knee or twirled the dark strands of his granfather's hair in his tiny fingers. The elf thought of these things as he walked the streets of Khavul, returning to Anatse's villa that stood in the Utashtegu quarter of the city, right beside the market. It had been a little over a year since the King of Gondor had been in Khavul, the needs of his grown kingdom needing more and more of his attention…somehow, the elf thought, he must convince the man to stay a bit longer with his wife and child, perhaps even to convince Anatse to go with Ciryaher to Gondor. He knew she would not, her mother's stubbornness to serve her people was strong; but he knew if they were not together it would all too easy for the Lords of Gondor to tear them apart. Divorce was an entirely rare thing among the elves, in fact it was never done unless great sorrow or malady took one spouse; yet among mortals it seemed common place, even in the past years many young Gondorian men divorced their Eastern wives and returned to Gondor to seek wives of their own kin. Those that stayed were often considered sundered from their own people, Narmacil was one of these, he even took the name Hiphomanes, a Hamadjon name.

When he arrived at the villa a loud cry of joy entered his ears,

"Darbha! Grandfather!"

The young child of Anatse ran with his stumbling legs through the garden courtyard and leapt into the elf's awaiting hands. Though only one year old the child hand learned to walk and speak a few words quickly, a trait the elf thought seemed to be passed down from his own lineage. Anatse was picking pomegranates from a tree in the courtyard when she saw her father and welcomed him with a warm smile; she had never seen him happier than when he held the boy in his hands.

"Cedladl is never so far from you…this morning he tried to see where you went; he looked all over the house…I think he even wanted to go into the city and find you."

The elf sighed and sat the child in the shade of the pomegranate tree and gave him a tiny treat made of honey and sweet grains which he had procured from the market. Worry streaked across his face and he said sorrowfully,

"Anatse…"

The young woman looked at her father and saw the furrowed brow he used when he needed to say something serious,

"Yes abha? What worries you? Ciryaher is returning today…there is peace now."

She set down the basket she held the fruits in and knelt beside him, already tears began to flow from his eyes,

"It is not that. When Cedladl was born, I almost watched you die."

"But I did not abha, because of your skill as a healer…"

The elf held up his hand to hold his daughter from speaking,

"Nevertheless, I came to realize that for all the ways in which you remind me of myself…and for all the ways that young Cedladl seems to grow like one of my kind I cannot help but think, but know that you are indeed of your mother's kind…you are mortal."

"We do not know that for sure."

The elf looked at his daughter's face and already saw the deep set lines of middle age, the lines at the corners of her eyes the thinness of her fingers and they held his own hands, their once youthful softness now turned hardened and rough. She still seemed so young but in his eyes she was older, far older than she would look if she were of the elf kind. Long lived she would be, he had no doubt about that, but mortal nonetheless.

"I know it…I do not find sorrow in this; after watching your mother die I know the path that awaits you, and that will await him…"

He said motioning to the babe in front of them,

"Do not even say such things!"

He grabbed hold of his daughter's hands and held them to his heart; with determination he spoke the last few words slowly and measuredly,

"Death is a natural thing for the mortal kind and you should never be frightened of it. I wanted to say this and that you must find some way of keeping Ciryaher here…the child deserves to have his father with him, at least for the first years of his life, to learn from him."

"Cedladl has you abha, you can teach him all you know…as you taught me."

"I cannot…"

"What do you mean?"

"I began my journey many years ago because someone dear left me…I left to find some way of living beyond the grief and despair my former life gave to me, and for a brief moment in time I did find it, in your mother, in you. But that time is coming to an end, your mother is gone to a place where I cannot follow; and…whether I chose it or not you will follow her as well."

He tightened his hold upon her hands as he sensed her desire to get up and walk away from him, tears began to stream down her cheeks as she looked at him, not wanting to hear the words that he said, but dutifully listening to them,

"I love you Anatse…you are my own true heart walking about in the world and for that I am glad; but now…with no war to fight, no land to defend, no enemy to hold back, that same grief returns to me and now it has turned to fear…fear that I might one day bear witness to your…to his…and I cannot."

The elf's voice began to crack and he loosened his grip upon her hands, instead of walking away the woman took her shawl and wiped his tears from his eyes. He breathed slowly and resumed,

"I do not have the strength for it Anatse, I nearly broke when your mother died…Now that I fear your death too…I fear that I will become this lonely shade at your side, always watching and fearing for your life, strangling your desire to live as you wish to live. I must do what all parents must and let you live your life; to live, to love, and…to die. You are strong Anatse, stronger than you know, and I have no doubt you will lead your people to be a great nation, to make this land a paradise after the hell it once was. I say this because you must do it without me."

"Abha…"

"I am selfish Anatse…I am so sorry that I am so selfish…I would have loved to have seen you both grow in wisdom and love."

She took him in her arms and he wept into the warmth of her neck; that day Ciryaher returned to his wife's home and took his son in his arms, calling him Uialasse and giving the boy a small toy soldier made by the tin-smiths in Osgiliath. That night their little family ate dinner and Celebrin seemed untroubled, filled with joy and spoke with Ciryaher of the affairs of state. Together Celebrin and Anatse spoke with him about Cedladl and eventually he proposed that he would leave Gondor under the care of his most trusted advisor and he would rule from Khavul by way of messenger. Comforted that his grandson had his father at least for a few more years, he walked with Anatse to the North gate which led to the Orocarni. It was midnight and they walked silently through the city streets, saying nothing, not really needing to; Celebrin led a young black colt laden with small provisions of food and water. When they reached the gate Anatse was reluctant to let go of his hand,

"Why must you leave tonight? Stay, for a few days at least…"

"Anatse…do not hold on to me. I am only going to the mountains, to find some peace and solace…perhaps even to heal the old wounds I have tried to heal since I came to the East from my homelands. If ever you need me, go to the lands of the Utashtegu, the place where you spent your childhood, where your mother has been laid to rest. There is a small stream, do you remember it?"

She nodded reluctantly and whispered, "The stream that leads to the lands of the Kadjinai."

"Follow the stream and turn West, there is a great gorge that cuts across the mountains, between the lands of your mother's people and the lands of the mists. There are many caves there, in one of these I shall make my home."

"But what of the fell demons that live there?"

"They have never harmed me as I walked that gorge alone, seeking any sight of them during those brief days of peace before the main part of the war began…I do not think they will seek me out and I do not fear them. Besides this the gorge does not seem to be their land, it is south of the stream that marks the borders of their land, or so the elders say."

"You are an elder too are you not?"

The woman smiled and the elf returned the smile, which quickly faded,

"I suppose I was…You are a blessing to me Anatse…I shall ever hold you in my heart, my daughter."

"And I you, my father."

With one last embrace, the elf led the horse through the North gate, not looking back from fear that he would be tempted to stay. The woman, Anatse watched as the man she knew as her father walked the long lonely road to the north, to the refuge lands of her people, until he disappeared in the horizon. She sighed as the hooting of a night owl entered her ears, the nocturnal creature flew from its perch above the gate and into the desert wilderness where it made its daytime home. Then she ordered the gate be shut before returning home to her husband and her son.

Celebrin walked on the darkly lit road for some time before turning back, trying to put as much distance between him and the city as possible for fear that if her were discern where his daughter's house stood he would be too tempted to turn back. By the time he stopped to rest he look out upon the river valley where Khavul lay, the city was a brilliant amber speck in the midst of the gray lands, its light catching upon the blue flowing waters of the river, Khavul. On the road he now stood he was at the very edge of the Talath Anorui, the fire plain that had been so long the great protector of the Utashtegu and their allies. He had once hated the great expanse of desert but had over the years grown to love it as one loves the battlement walls of a besieged city. Now the desert would separate him from the world of men, of which he, for so brief a time, was a part. There at the beginning of the desert Anatse and the council had built a well for travelers, now that they had days of peace and there were many caravans and travelers who wished to journey again into the net of the red mountains. The Orocarni would soon return to their original intent as a place of hiding and refuge but also as a place of spiritual reverence, for they were, in the minds of the Utashtegu, still the dwelling place of the Kadjinai. Celebrin chuckled at the thought of him returning there and no doubt the tales that would be told about his disappearance, and indeed they were made in the years that passed. These tales spoke often of the spirit who gave aid to the children of mortals and freed them from bondage only to disappear and return to his own kind in the netherworld. Sometimes the stories had the promise that he would return, and others said that he cease to be as living person and instead now lived in the hearts and minds of all the Utashtegu. They called him then by different names and the tales became separated and told differently by different peoples, yet the only ones who knew the truth did not wish to write it down, for they judged it best that the people had such a myth, such a figure in their legends. Anatse and Ciryaher had many years of peace and happiness in the days to come but even this was to change, as all happiness seems to do. Their tale is one that is filled with joys and many great sorrows yet it is told in another place and not recounted here in full. Needless to say the elf, Celebrin filled his water skin at the well and continued on his journey; it took him the better part of 5 days to cross the Talath Anorui, for he took a long and leisurely stride, observing and truly seeing the great fire plain, which he never had the luxury to do. By the time the moon reached its fullness Celebrin had reached the old strongholds of the Utashtegu, but he did not stop there and like a shadow returned to his home to get supplies. His journey then took him to that ancient gorge, where he, Tal-ano and Cidhrali spent the night in the cave, escaping the fell creatures of the Orocarni.

He found a deep cave in the gorge's walls, above a small desert spring, the opening of which was covered by deep luscious foliage and brush and faced eastward. He built a stable at the foot of the canyon wall and there made a place to store grain and to keep the black steed he brought with him. The place where he lived was no more than a day's journey from the nearest Utashtegu village and was roughly three days from the road, though he could reach it within a day and a half if need pressed him. His mind would ever fall on his daughter and her child, and at times he would greatly desire to visit her, but his will stopped him. Instead he carved terraces into the rock face and there grew a garden, from which he gathered his food. Since the tyranny of Khamul had ended and the river Khavul released from its bondage, the rains began to return to the mountains and the gorge soon became an oasis in the desert land, yet no mortals would venture there for it was the dreaded land of the Kadjinai and it was taboo to venture there. Yet every so often a brave youth or warrior would make the journey there and he or she would come upon an enigmatic hermit who gave them succor and led them back home. From these sparse wanderers Celebrin learned a little of the outside world and grew more content in his decision that leaving the world of men to be ruled by men was best, for he heard of the Queen of the East and how she ushered in an era of peace and prosperity for her people and those of other lands. He began then to think of other things, to begin to learn to live with his memories and his sorrows; they would at times cause him to rail at the heavens and to find himself waking from terrifying dreams, but these would pass and he would busy himself with mundane things. A few times his mind would wander to the West and his thoughts would turn to the loved ones he left behind there; yet never once did he think on returning West, for the pain of his memories there were too hard and fear would stop him. And so his journey to the East had come to an end and he had found that which he longed for, peace and solace from so long a life of sorrow and parting.