Well this story has drawn to a close, but Celebrin's tale has not yet finished. It just seemed fitting that the part of his tale called The Journey should end at Chapter 40.

I want to thank everyone for their reviews and I look forward to writing the next installment in Celebrin's tale.

Cirdan seldom travelled away from Mithlond, whether because of duty to his people or his own dislike of being far from the ocean he could not say, for what is a cirdan without a place to build ships. Even in Cuiviernen he liked to stay near the sea of Helcar and was most saddened by the Great Journey from his ancient birthplace, until he beheld the great ocean and fell in love with its music. When Celebrin was at Mithlond he did not need to journey far and wide to learn of things for his foster son would be ever willing to journey into the unknown lands of Eriador and gather for him the news of the outside world. Now with him gone that task was left to diplomats and heralds, who like him only walked the prescribed paths and did not venture or speak to other creatures unless they were the Men of the West or at times dwarves. He rode in a light caravan of 5 elves, two guides, two of his servants, guards more likely, and himself; he had wanted to go alone but Gildor forbade it. They left the gate of Mithlond at dawn of the 35th day of Rhiw, the moon was new and dark the night before. They crossed the lands of Arthedain without trouble for the king of that land was great friends of the Shipwright and they bore high the banner of Mithlond, for there was no danger in traveling the open roads. Yet when they came to the lands of Cardolan and Rhudaur they had to stop and meet with the Kings of those lands; it was not because there was great mistrust between elves and men in those days but because a shadow was beginning to emerge in the Northern wastes and orcs began to travel slowly southward in search of resources and captives. These lands Cirdan had no love for, for their people often abandoned the homes of the living to muse on heraldry and the bones of their fathers in their burial mounds. At last, however, at the rising of their third quarter moon, on the last day of Echuir, Cirdan the Shipwright of Mithlond arrived at the ford of Bruinen where he was greeted by a small yet joyous voice that rang out like a bell,

Welcome friends from Western Shore

Who come arrayed in silver we adore

To the lands of the river beneath the mount

Ancient lord of years beyond account

Come and dance with me my kin

Dance to bells of gold and tin

To jingling metals both loud and fair

To greet the chill of new spring's air

Come and dance with us our friends

Seek the place where your road now ends

Through briar and brush and forest wide

To see the lord and his lady at his side

Come and dance with us gentle king

Of whom the most ancient tale doth sing

And whose footsteps on this land once danced

When starry skies held the world entranced

Come and dance with me my ancient one

And sing of mysteries left long unsung.

The single voice crescendo-ed into a full chorus and tambourines and gentle flutes greeted him as he trotted through the elven path that led from the ford to the high archway that marked the lands of Imladris, the House and hearth of Elrond Peredhel. There beneath the archway was a grand retinue of noble elvish lords and ladies, arrayed in bright colors of spring and their servants held twinkling blue lamps, hanging low and high upon silver and bronze chains. In between them all stood an elf lord of dark raven hair, wearing a circlet of dark silver, within which was set brilliant ruby, sapphire and emerald gems. He opened his arms in fellowship and said out loud in the tongue of the Sindar,

"Welcome Cirdan of Mithlond fair, welcome to my home!"

At this Cirdan dismounted his horse and walked to the young elf lord; embracing him in his arms he smelled the deep hearty smell of the woods and the ice cold freshness of the rivers that ran with melted snow. That night a great feast was held in the House of Elrond and it was indeed a sight to behold, fresh venison was laid out, the first hunt of the new year, as were the new berries and the last of autumn's hearty roots and tubers. The chefs of Imladris prepared a splendid meal and the servants weaved in and out of tables pouring ice cold river water from silver pitchers. Cirdan sat between Elrond and Celebrian upon a dais and beside them sat Arwen Undomiel, who had grown into her full maidenhood, resplendent in the finery of her mother's kin. To Elrond's right sat the golden-haired lord of legend, Glorfindel, who smiled more than he ever had and often told jokes to the ancient Shipwright and the two laughed as though they were long friends. The twin sons of Elrond were not present as they were spending the last of winter with their grandparents at the shores of Edhellond. Around them sat the many lords and noble families of Imladris, their tables arrayed beneath banners that told of their heritage and the lords of elves from whom they were descended. Also at the table of Elrond Peredhel sat a company of Dwarves from Moria and men from Arthedain and the Southern Kingdom of Gondor, in brilliant green velvets and golden silks and tawny furs respectively. These latter guests recounted of the victory in the Southern lands and the heroic tales of Ciryaher Hyarmendacil their illustrious king; one even stood and re-enacted his own account of the fall of Umbar, before tripping on his long silken robe. Laughter surrounded the great dining hall and even the birds that nested in the arched ceiling chirped with delight. Much merriment so surrounded Cirdan that he often wondered why he never visited Imladris more often; then his eyes fell upon Celebrian, her silken silver hair cascading sown her slender shoulders. She was staring right at him and giving him a small almost painful smile; at that moment Arwen asked the man of Gondor a question that created a grave silence at Elrond's table.

"Did you meet any elves in the East?"

Celebrian turned to her daughter and wore a look of curiosity upon her brow, the lord of Gondor stammered at first,

"Ah, well…I did not personally go to the battles. My sister's son, Narmacil was there for many years and Varda bless him he has chosen to stay behind, regardless of how much it pains my poor sister to lose her youngest."

At this another Gondorian spoke, a slightly dark man whose hair fell in curls about his head; he was younger than his companion and his hands showed the slow signs of healing from battle scars though his face was spared any mark,

"I was in the East my lady… and though I never saw one of the elder kind there…I did hear rumors."

"Rumors?"

Celebrian's voice finally chimed in, now listening intently to what the young man had to say. Cirdan himself picked up his ears and he noticed that Elrond and Glorfindel too stoically listened, though giving no sign in their faces that anything of great substance was being said; the young man continued, now in a slight whisper,

"The people of the East say that in a range of mountains, far east of Rhun, lies an ancient and powerful race; the Harad call them Jindi and others call them the Kadzinai. They say they move in shadow and steal children from the villages to raise them as their own. They say these people do not age, nor do mortal weapons harm them. It is said they live for years beyond count and some of them steal the women of the east and force themselves upon them. These women sire great warriors and leaders who do not age as men do but live beyond many centuries…"

"This is not right conversation for my Lord Elrond's table, especially with his young daughter nearby…This is all probably some barbaric myth that is attributed to the simple fears of a simple people."

This was spoken by Erestor, Elrond's chief advisor, who had been nervously listening from his seat beside Glorfindel. He looked particularly perturbed and Arwen looked annoyed; rolling her eyes she said,

"Master Erestor still thinks me a young elfling and he forgets his own history…that in the lands of the East there still lives a race of the Quendi…the lost ones, the Avari."

"But surely my lady, you do not think your fellow kinsmen would be capable of…of such depravity as stealing children or…taking mortal women by force."

"The Eldar have done far worse to their own kin Master Erestor…but we do not talk often about the sins of the Feanorion, for fear of stirring up ancient resentment and ancient wounds. Are we to blame the Avari, who had never seen the blessed light of Aman, nor were taught by the noble Valar, for such acts when our own history is written in blood?"

Glorfindel spoke these words and gave Erestor such a look that meant he was not to interrupt them again; the advisor arched one of his eyebrows before falling silent. It was quiet for some time and people nervously ate their food; but it was only a few minutes when Arwen looked at the Southern man and asked him to continue his tale,

"Did the people of the East speak of this happening in recent memory?"

"Well, my lady…not as such. The Harad with whom I had greater dealings, did not speak of it but another nation, who lived far north of the Harad capital said that their great queen was descended from the Jindi. And she is a sight to behold, and she holds an…an unearthly power over men; they become silent when she bids them to and beguiles them with her eyes, to the point that they give her all she asks."

There was a tone of bitterness and awe in his voice, Arwen wished to ask him more but a bell was rung and the servants began to usher people into the Hall of Fire, where the night's entertainments were going to be held. The young Gondorian helped the nobleman to his right out of his seat and gave him his arm to support him. The Dwarves of Moria stayed for a bit to speak with Elrond and Arwen seemed to fight the desire to seek out the Gondorian man. Just then a nervous looking elf walked up to the head table and after giving a slight bow to Elrond and Celebrian he said,

"My lord and lady, forgive me for the intrusion but Master Mithrandir has just arrived with your sons…"

"Elrohir and Elladan are here as well?"

Celebrian said, almost startled by the news that her sons accompanied the old Istar.

"Yes my lady, shall I escort them to your private quarters and have dinner prepared for them?"

"Of course Menelalaith, and find somewhere in our home to house Mithrandir…perhaps Master Alphindil's old room, that is of course if Lord Glorfindel does not mind…I am sorry to ask my dear friend but the house is uncommonly full."

"It would be an honor to have Mithrandir share my quarters, my Lady."

Cirdan watched as they spoke together and he laughed a little inside his head; to mortals no doubt the elves seem slightly out of time and more concerned with the spirit than the body but to one as old as Cirdan they were still vibrant and very common place and mundane, or at least they could be. The sound of music entered his ears as the Hall of Fire came alive with the sound of minstrels and a light spring dance. His eyes then fell upon the young elf known as Arwen; she stood at the entrance to the Hall of Fire watching the merriment of the dancing yet her eyes darted here and there and her crossed arms were set firmly around her breast. He walked over to her and followed to where her eyes fell, upon the young Gondorian soldier who was doting upon the old man he came with.

"Does something trouble you about that young man my dear?"

He said in a slight whisper,

"No…Well, yes…this whole business of the East…it makes me wonder."

"If Celebrin is out there?"

"You think so too?"

"Well if he is not with you and he is not with your grandfather or your uncle, I am at a loss to think of where he went…He did not tell me where he was going."

Cirdan said this with a tinge of sadness in his voice as well as frustration, Celebrin's whereabouts after that fateful day, on which he left Mithlond had eluded him. His travels brought him first by ship to Edhellond where Galadriel and Celeborn ruled by the southern shores and then to Lorien where Amroth gave him the swan brooch of Alphindil saying he did not feel right keeping it. And then finally he went to Thranduil's realm before ending his journey in Imladris and still no word or rumor of Celebrin reached him. Arwen's voice broke his concentration,

"He did not tell anyone where he was going…Every time a traveler comes from the East or South my mother bids them stay and tries to learn any news, it is why there are so many visitors now."

"And she has found nothing?"

"Nothing worth mentioning; the closest we came to news about anything akin to an elf in the Eastern lands was that tale, which was told by yonder soldier. If only I could get him alone, to ask him more questions."

"I think that might not be advisable."

At this the young she-elf turned to face him a defiant look in her eye,

"I am no weakling maiden, I do not fear the advances of men…"

"I did not think that my lady, only that I suppose all you would get from him would be the superstitions that he has heard from the people of the East, whom he was trained to view as an enemy, nothing more. Moreover, if I know Celebrin he would not openly reveal himself to a man of the West, for fear that we might learn about his whereabouts and draw him back here by force or guile."

"Do you truly think that he hates us that much?"

Cirdan looked into Arwen's innocent gaze and a well of salty tears began to fill the corner of his eyes; his brow furrowed and for a moment he hesitated,

"He could never hate you young one…you were dear to him. But I think he has suffered wounds which will take a very long time to heal."

"How did he come to seek exile from his kin Hir Cirdan? He spoke often of something that happened between you and he but never said anymore in my presence other than it was something…terrible."

"Perhaps it was…though I did it…What I did, I did because I only wanted the best for him."

"What was it…?"

Cirdan opened his mouth when Celebrian touched his shoulder and said to her daughter in a whisper,

"Arwen, please go see to your brothers, they have just arrived and will need you to help them get ready…"

Arwen nodded her head and bid Cirdan farewell; Celebrian smiled as though nothing were the matter before taking Cirdan's arm and slowly walking him away from the Hall of Fire and onto the porch that looked out over the flowing Brunien. She spoke in a whisper that only they could hear,

"My sons are fierce hunters and talented in the ways of wandering but when it comes to proper attire for noble guests they are without wits…Please understand Cirdan, my daughter loved Celebrin as much as I, but I kept from her the reason behind his leaving because…Because she would have blamed you, and I know she respects you now and I would not have her blaming so noble a lord and so good a family friend."

"But it was my fault my lady…I…"

At this she squeezed his arm and looked deeply into his ancient eyes,

"You did what you thought best…what I suppose any one of us would have done with Alphindil's good health in mind. Celebrin…Celebrin never had a chance to mourn, he went from his parents' death to constructing a city to serving my father, to war and to caring for Alphindil and his injuries, without a moment of rest or a time to lash out at the world for the sorrow he has experienced. All this he kept bottled up and Alphindil leaving was what, in the end, broke him…I loved your foster-son my lord, as a brother and as a friend, but I know how selfish he can be when it comes to his grief…His self-imposed exile was his own doing, not yours…"

Cirdan wiped a tear from his eyes and simply nodded his head, still the guilt was felt in his heart and he longed to hear something definitive of what happened to his fosterling. Just then a bent figure appeared in his eyes, covered in shadow and leaning heavy upon a staff. Mithrandir walked into the light of the stars and moon giving a deep bow to Celebrian,

"My lady I must speak with you…Cirdan!? I did not expect to see you here!"

"And here I am old friend and I did not expect to see you!"

At this Cirdan embraced the old man; he made to walk away saying,

"I shall leave you to your business, perhaps we can catch up later on?"

Mithrandir coughed and said, haltingly,

"Nay my friend, perhaps it is best that you remain…My words are meant for you as well…though I admit I am not yet fully ready to say them."

Cirdan looked at Mithrandir in the eyes and knew somehow in the depths of his soul that the old Istar was tortured and burdened somehow; even his body showed it for the last time Cirdan saw him he stood tall and straight whereas now he seemed to carry a heavy burden. Mithrandir sat upon a richly carved wooden chair and seemed to stare at the floor for a brief moment. Cirdan and Celebrian looked at him with worry written upon their faces.

"I…I have just returned from the East. You no doubt know that I served upon Ciryaher Hyarmendacil's army as one of his generals and my travels have at long last brought me back here. I should have arrived sooner but the needs of my order and my mission took me to other places and it was when I arrived in Edhellond that I took up with your sons Celebrian, or rather that they joined me as I made my journey northward. I agreed to go and fight in the young king's war because Saruman bid me do so…he would not trust Radagast with such a charge and a part of me wished to find any news of my kinsmen, for good or ill."

"And?"

Celebrian said, anxiously,

"I found them…alive and well…they found refuge among the Eastern peoples and orchestrated a great council of nations to oppose Khamul, the dark shadow of the East. They aided the King of Gondor and led him to victory."

"This was not told to us by the men of Gondor."

"No, my lady they would not tell you this, the alliance which Hyarmendacil struck up does not sit well with many in Gondor and few in Eriador like it either, for it came at great cost to their purses and their pride."

Cirdan crossed his arms over his chest and said stoically,

"And Celebrin?"

Mithrandir paused for a moment and an inner fire burned in his eyes, as though the scenes of his memory were playing before him. Celebrian sat down upon a stone bench, crossing her arms over her breast grabbing her upper arms as though she wished to keep warm. A cold chill ran down her back and the little silver hairs that were on the nape of her neck stood on end.

"He was there too… When I saw him at the beginning of the war he seemed as one changed, he smiled often and had seemed to find his place at long last. He fought alongside the Eastern peoples as their war captain and long attempted to destroy Khamul's control over the East…He was very devoted to their hopeless cause…well not so hopeless it seems."

Celebrian let out a sigh of relief and joy,

"That is no small wonder…Celebrin always wished to side with the outmatched, he once said it felt as though he were living up to his father's memory."

Cirdan kept his eyes on the Istar, sensing he was holding something back, Mithrandir tried to avoid his gaze and Celebrian was about to ask more but Cirdan cut in his voice slightly broken,

"Was? You seem very careful to use the past tense Mithrandir…"

Celebrian stood and laughed a little as she placed a soft hand on his shoulder,

"I am sure it is not intentional Cirdan… He is only relating things that once happened, please, Mithrandir, tell us more. Is Celebrin returning now that the war is over? Is there any way we can send word to him, some letters perhaps? Now that there is peace there, surely we can find some way of visiting him? "

Celebrian came to sit beside the aged Istar, her questions becoming more frantic with his refusal to answer them. Mithrandir looked at Cirdan in the eyes, directly, the depth of their fire seemed to smolder between the two for a brief moment, Mithrandir's aged voice quivered for a bit and then said softly,

"I do not know how else to say it, or in what words I can ease the bitterness of the message I have come to bring. Do not look for his return Cirdan…He is lost to the elven kind, never again will his feet wander the paths of the West, nor his voice echo in the halls of the elves."

"No! It can't be!"

The cry came from behind them and when they turned they saw Arwen holding onto a column, hiding in the shadows, she left her place of hiding and came to Celebrian kneeling at her feet and strongly grabbing at her knees,

"You do not believe him do you mother? He lies!"

Celebrian firmly grabbed her daughter upon he shoulder and said, fighting through her own tears,

"Hush now! Is this how you speak to your father's guest? Mithrandir…he has never lied to us…"

Cirdan kept looking at Mithrandir, calmly he said,

"How?"

"There was a great battle several years ago for the city of Umbar, this you know…Celebrin was fighting to destroy the city of Khamul while Hyarmendacil fought for the shores of Umbar. It was a great battle and I joyful to hear that it ended in victory and Khamul left the lands of the East, to where I do not know… When I journeyed to the East to bear witness to the King's victory…I searched for Celebrin, to congratulate him on his victory…but alas, I could not find the elf, his star…his star had fallen in that battle, never to rise again."

Cirdan looked at Mithrandir and saw truth in his eyes, slowly he closed his eyes and remembered his fell dream, of the shadowed figure taken by the great crow, that ancient bringer of death. He slowly placed his quivering hands over his face and turned to look at the dark starlit skies. And for the first time in centuries Cirdan, the Ship-wright of Mithlond let out a fey cry of true unbridled grief. The ancient elf fell to his knees and the ladies of Imladris came to his side. Mithrandir did not stay that night in Elrond's house, nor did he venture there for a long time after; his travels took him many places and it would be many years before he would see Cirdan again.