Elrond yawned and stretched his limbs, carefully testing and assessing his strength. While he was loathed to admit it, his heart was failing. If the art of healing was not significantly more advanced in the west, he would succumb to an old injury from the Last Alliance that had been aggravated by the toils of these last years.
"Allow me to help you, My Lord." Cirulian's voice was unusually gentle as he approached. His guard knew the truth, although he would keep his Lord's secret. Disoriented by the morning nap, Elrond was grateful for the aid as he rose from the low cot and crossed to the table.
"What have I missed?" Elrond tried to sound enthused but felt genuinely numb. Mithrandir had taught him how to raise a shield around his mind to protect him from the overwhelming songs of the Maiar. It was exhausting work. So weary, all he wished to do was to lay back down and sleep forever.
"We will not be docking at Tol Eressëa." Cirulian enjoyed being succinct. Elrond raised his brow and waited for his guard to divulge more. "We have been boarded. Our ship is now under the command of Prince Falmatar, son of Olwë. We will be arriving at the Swan Haven in a short time." A knock sounded as Silsilalda opened the door. She carried a healing draught.
"I heard you were waking." The healer came up beside them and handed Elrond the draught. "Gwidian and Erestor are preparing your dress robes. They will be in shortly." Silsilalda waited for Elrond to comment or protest, but the Peredhel sipped slowly at the broth. She frowned, unhappy at the extent of his decline she had observed since his interactions with the Maiar.
"Dear Eru, please let Celebrían be whole and happy." He prayed even as the image of his beloved smiling floated before his eyes. "I would give everything up for her to be healed and happy. "At the edge of his thoughts, the black breath lingered. "She would be happier without you." He brushed the ill thought away, knowing he loved her deeply. How could one not but love her? She had loved him too. If that were no longer the case, then he would step aside, for her happiness should come first.
"But these years have taken their toll. Neither of us are the same. Too broken. How could she still love me?" Doubt crept into his soul, spurred on by the darkness of the black breath. His head faltered at the images of his beloved Celebrían hurt. "You could not heal her. You never deserved her."
"Elrond, Elrond." Someone was calling him insistently. "Mellon-nin, please come back to us." He was looking into the dark, worried eyes of Erestor. He gave a weary smile, and Erestor smiled back gently. "We are almost there. Just an hour to go." Erestor waited for Elrond to acknowledge his words. Belatedly, Elrond noticed that Silsilalda and Cirulian had left. "May I help you get ready?"
"Yes, thank you." Elrond managed to respond. Erestor nodded to someone close by.
"You will want to see the beautiful harbor!" Gwidian slowly started to braid Elrond's hair, intermittently slipping in the intricate dark beads. "Such ships! The carvings of the swan heads are exquisite." Gwidian stifled a sigh of frustration at yet another dropped bead. Erestor comforted his wife before he bent to retrieve the beads. It had been a long and trying journey for all of them. No one knew what to expect. Easy conversation masked the fear and worry of Elrond's friends. Once she had finished, Erestor helped Elrond with his tunic and brought Elrond's soft leather shoes. He helped Elrond rise, then draped a fine warm cloak, made in the traditional silver and blues of Imladris, around his shoulders.
"Is it that cold?" Elrond asked.
"It is brisk." Erestor confirmed.
Xxxxxxxx On deck xxxxxxxxxX
Falmatar summoned the healer. He hoped to receive an honest report on the health of the ring bearers before Galadriel returned. They were to be met by an illustrious contingent upon their arrival at the swan harbor. Many had gone to change into more presentable attire.
"Prince Falmatar, I am Silsilalda, a healer from Imladris." The Elleth politely curtsied.
"A leader of the famed school of healing there, as I hear it." Falmater praised. "We received your letters and Lord Elrond's description of the Perian's illnesses. I am no healer, but I have already seen Lady Galadriel and the Perian and know they require care." The Prince guided the healer to the corner. His guards were poised to turn away any who might approach.
"It has not been an easy journey." Silsilalda sighed.
"Our healers sent for Master Tarwatirno of Tirion and Idhrendes from Lorien. They are each specialist in the areas you requested and await our arrival. Are there any changes to your instructions for our four patients?"
"Why are you privy to this information?" Silsilalda dissembled. "It is a privilege between healer and patient. My patients are all very private people."
"You sent the messages to Master Tarwatirno because you knew and trusted him. He saw fit to inform Aran Arafinwë of his daughter's condition. It was only right to make haste considering the others' health. I am told that arrangements have been made for surgery. When word came from the Valar requesting that you sail here instead to Tol Eressëa, Arafinwë, and Queen Earwen traveled here with due haste."
"The strength required for the ring bearers to fight this enemy for more than an age has taken its toll emotionally and physically. Battles on the journey here have not helped." Silsilalda paused, deciding it was better to discuss this with the healers directly. At the Prince's frown, she added cryptically, "It would be wise to avoid unnecessary surprises, especially for those whose hearts have been pushed to the limits. Good day, my Prince." She curtsied and left an astonished Falmatar staring after her.
"Protocols are different in the East. She has dealt with other Kings and rulers." The words were soft, but they still conveyed the speaker's power.
"Galadriel," Falmatar smiled wryly, thinking about the elf who had the audacity to gift Artanis Nerwen a new name. His niece had changed into more formal clothing that was more appropriate for the meetings and reunions that were about to take place. "I look forward to meeting your Celeborn. I am sure he will come as we now hold those dear to his heart."
"From your lips to Elbereth's ears." Galadriel returned even as she took solace in the remains of their deep marital bond. The straight path had not cleaved it. Surely, that was a testament to the goodwill of the Valar.
Gwidian led the hobbits to the seats next to Galadriel and Falmatar. Frodo and Bilbo were warmly attired, for the autumn winds were cold. The ordinarily outspoken Avari was stunned silent by the knowledge that King Olwë's son had personally come to accompany their ship into the Harbor.
"My eyes are not what they used to be, Frodo." Bilbo was chatting amiably. "How long before I can see the buildings in the distance?"
"I think it will be just a half-hour more, Lord Bilbo Baggins of the Perian." Falmatar held his hand over his heart. "It is an honor to meet the brave warriors who helped cleanse Middle Earth of the darkness of Sauron. I am Falmatar, son of Olwë."
"Master Bilbo Baggin's at your service." The hobbit nodded but did not bow. Frodo greeted the Prince next. But they were interrupted by the approach of Mithrandir.
"Gandalf, come and see." Frodo called excitedly.
"I sailed from this port many years ago." Mithrandir turned. "It is good to see you, Falmatar. No more trouble with your new hroar?"
"It is not exactly new," Falmatar said wryly. "I was reborn years before you sailed."
"Time is all relative." Mithrandir moved to sit beside the hobbits and whispered conspiratorially. "These old eyes can not yet see the harbor either."
"Many are awaiting our arrival," Falmatar assured them. "You will be presented to my Adar King and King Arafinwë, who perhaps is known to you in Sindarin as Finarfin."
"You do not speak Sindarin?" Bilbo had mastered the language and had an excellent working knowledge of Quenyan, but his nephew was only comfortable in Sindarin.
"Be at ease." Falmatar soothed. "You may not understand the lyrics to the songs of welcome, for Telerin is more closely related to Quenyan than Sindarin. Indeed, we refer to ourselves as the Lindar or the singers, although others call us the Teleri. We are sea-going people and are fluent in many languages. Many from the house of Arafinwë will welcome you as well. They can speak Sindarin and often travel to Tol Earessa."
"Celebrían, have you seen her? Is she well?" Galadriel's voice was steady, and although one could read it in her eyes, there was no sign of the turmoil she was feeling.
"I have seen much of your daughter." He grasped Galadriel's hands soothingly. "Celebrían is well. I do not know how she was on the shores of Middle Earth. She is much quieter in nature than you. She prefers the quiet coves of our home in Alqualondë over Tirion, although your parents often visit to spend time with her. She also spends much time with her uncle Galathil and his family." Two gasps were audible. They turned to see Elrond standing with Cirulian. The Peredhel was dressed in the blues and silvers of Imladris and noticeably trembling.
"Lord Elrond Eärendilion, it is a pleasure and honor to meet you finally." Falmatar and Galadriel rose and walked toward the pale figure. The Lord of Imladris was easily recognizable from his wife's descriptions, although even Falmatar could see that he, too, was in great need of healing. At Elrond's speechlessness, Galadriel left all protocol behind and turned to embrace her son-in-law, whose eyes were glassy and with unshed tears.
"She is well," Galadriel repeated, her voice gruff with emotion. Those words were all it took to unleash tears from both of them. Falmatar extended a hand but instead of shaking Elrond's hand, he pulled the Peredhel into an embrace and whispered.
"She will be waiting for you at the quay and will be standing next to her uncle." The crown Prince took a moment to assess the damage that Middle Earth had wroth upon this youngest of Princes.
"Thank you," was all Elrond could manage. Falmatar stepped back and continued the introductions more audibly as he led Elrond and Galadriel to their seats. Then as they entered the harbor, Falmatar told them stories of its construction and pointed out the sites, naming each spire and tower in turn. The towers of Alqualondë were impressive, topped with mother of pearl, which reflected rainbows in the setting sun. It was a gigantic natural harbor. Swanships with golden beaks and eyes of black and gold filled the harbor, and many held elves that waved curiously to their vessel. Falmatar at times called out in greeting.
As they drew closer, it became clear that the glinting colors of the square were due to the predominantly gold and silver hair of elves, who were packed together watching, eagerly awaiting their approach. Falmatar carefully gauged the elves who stood by Elrond. One of the Teleri, Cirulian, was guarding the Peredhel while Erestor's goal seemed to keep Elrond talking. Falmatar smiled wryly, for his people were the Lindar, and thought of their cousins in the east who lived under Cirdan's care as the 'Teleri'. It would be interesting to see how different they had become over the ages. The Minstrel from Imladris, Lindir, was singing a joyful work that the others favored. The ship glided towards the rounded white towers of the shell palace.
"Why does the sand glitter so?" Frodo asked.
"You and your uncle might enjoy looking at the jewels and shells that decorate our beaches." Falmatar smiled. "But first, you all must formally greet King Olwë and be given leave to enter our lands. It is only right that you also greet King Arafinwë and others who have traveled here to welcome you." Other questions from the curious hobbits were forestalled by the preparations for docking. Falmatar turned to shout directions to his crew.
"One checks the mast head-flys to note the direction of the wind while another tells of the current." Elrond paused. "I am not sure of the last comment."
"The dialect is ancient." Galadriel paused. "Even your time with Cirdan might not have taught you that one." They watched as the Lindar lowered the sails, then split up to stand on each side of the boat to tend the spring lines. Bilbo asked Lindir about the beautiful singing.
"They are ancient Teleri melodies. We will have to seek a translation another time." Lindir smiled.
"He is readying the anchor," Frodo observed. All were astonished at how quickly the boat was guided into the slip. Once the lines were secured and the anchor lowered, Teleri, from the shore, maneuvered a plank securely over the side of their boat for them to disembark.
"Welcome to Alqualondë!" Many cheered as Prince Falmatar signaled his niece and Elrond forward. Cirulian and Falmatar's guards followed close behind.
"May I present to you Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien." A great cheer rose. "Also known as Artanis, daughter of Aran Arafinwë and granddaughter of Aran Olwë. Here is also Lord Elrond Eärendilion, leader of Imladris, healer, and lore master." He escorted Galadriel on his left and Elrond on his right as they walked up the dock to where the Kings stood. They had not gotten far before silver hair flashed before them.
Xxxxxxxx
"They are here!" Someone cried out.
"Patience Celebrían." Her Uncle chastised and momentarily held her back before laughing once Falmatar finished his introduction. "Go to him." Celebrían was out of his grasp in an instant. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tall blond Lord, seemingly restrain himself, as if his first impulse was to run towards them. But at that moment, the silver eyes of her beloved lit with recognition and amazement.
"Elrond!" She cried. Then he was in her arms. His fingers ghosted her back as if he was afraid to hurt her, making her tighten her grip. He was much thinner than she remembered. Thinner even than when they first met. His fingers were far too cold, and she belatedly fingered the thick formal cloak he wore.
"Bree, Bree," His voice wavered. She felt his tears mingle with her own. This reunion was not enough. She longed to feel the connection between their minds and souls, but the barrier did not yield.
"Give them a moment." She heard her Naneth tell Falmatar. "Let us greet the Kings first."
"Melleth-nin, why do you hide? Please open your mind to me. "She called soundlessly, sending love and strength through the weak but slowly growing bond they shared.
"I dare not." He whispered. His lips anointed her forehead with a kiss. That he replied aloud was an ill sign. She pulled his head down and kissed him passionately. If some nearby gasped at her audacity, for the Teleri were more conservative in public, she paid them no heed.
"Galadriel, my granddaughter, daughter of my dearest Eärwen." Olwë stretched his hand to raise Galadriel from her deep curtsy. "When you left, I had not heard of your brave deeds during Alqualondë's darkest hours. You intervened on behalf of our people at great anguish and risk. May all doors of Alqualondë be ever opened to you and to your husband Celeborn, when he joins you in these lands." At this the Teleri gave another great cheer.
"What is he saying?" Frodo asked. Elrond turned to the hobbits, who were escorted by Mithrandir.
"He is speaking Telerin and welcomes his granddaughter home." Mithrandir translated. Elrond nodded in agreement and stepped towards them with Celebrían at his side. Their hands were yet entwined.
"This is my beloved wife, Celebrían. Celebrían, these are the courageous hobbits who achieved the impossible. May I present Master Bilbo Baggins and Master Frodo Baggins." The hobbits greeted Celebrían quickly because Prince Falmatar signaled them forward. Celebrían curtsied while Elrond bowed before Olwë and his Queen Cévëalë. Arafinwë, Eärwen and Galadriel stood just to Olwë's right.
"Welcome Lord Elrond Peredhel, son of Lord Eärendil and Lady Elwing, descendent of our brother Elwë. You have shown great wisdom and achieved renown through your deeds. We welcome you to Alqualondë. May our doors be ever open to you as they are to our beloved great-granddaughter Celebrían." The crowd cheered as Elrond spoke the traditional words of greeting. Then Olwë stepped forward and clasped the Peredhel's hand, guiding him to Arafinwë, who had momentarily released his hold on his daughter. Elrond did not recognize many of the golden-haired elves that stood around Galadriel. Elrond was about to bow, but Arafinwë gripped his arm and drew him closer.
"It has been too long since we last met, Elrond, son of Eärendil." Arafinwë tilted Elrond's chin upward, and his powerful blue eyes assessed the Peredhel. "You have left things very late." He looked beyond Elrond to where Cirulian and Silsilalda hovered protectively.
"Duties detained me, Aran Arafinwë. I could not in good conscience depart sooner." Elrond replied. It was easy to see where Galadriel had inherited her power, although his daughter had fine-tuned her abilities under the guidance of Melian and through years of struggle and turmoil overseas.
"You must place your own needs first for a change," Arafinwë said thoughtfully before easing the tension with a brilliant smile and turning to his right. "It is time to meet my wife, Eärwen."
"Elrond, it is good to meet you. I have heard so much about you." Queen Eärwen offered her hand. As he kissed it, she smiled and whispered. "I am glad that you make my Granddaughter so happy. You also have Grandparents vying to see you. Perhaps they can escort you to the carriage." A tall, muscular man and a beautiful Elleth stepped ahead of Galadriel to greet Elrond.
"This is Idril, your grandmother." Queen Eärwen smiled as Idril Celebrindal embraced her grandson for the first time. To say Elrond was stunned was indeed an understatement. Eärwen could not see much resemblance between the brilliant blond-haired Elleth and her ebony-haired grandson, except perhaps something about the eyes. She could not see much of golden Tuor in him either. It took only minutes before concern flashed in his grandparents' eyes. They sensed what Arafinwë had and were duly concerned about their grandson's health.
"Why are there so many Maiar here?" Elrond mumbled as he rubbed at his chest. Celebrían steadied him from one side as Tuor offered his support from the other.
"There are Maiar here?" Aran Olwë turned from the hobbits and Mithrandir in surprise. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, there are many here. Uinen and Ossë are hidden offshore. I recognize the songs of a few of the others – Eonwe and Melian. But there are many voices." Elrond trailed off. Idril motioned to the footman.
"They are curious to see you, son of Elwing." Mithrandir smiled, but Olwë did not. Tuor disregarded their discussion and focused on directing his grandson to the carriage. The surrounding crowd cheered and sang.
"We have an agreement that they should be visible to us when they come into our city." Olwë scrutinized Mithrandir, as he wondered how much of the past age the Maia was aware of? "It has been long since the Istari sailed forth."
"I do not think they mean any harm." Mithrandir soothed. Olwë and Arafinwë exchanged an inscrutable look. Then Arafinwë signaled to Master Tarwatirno, who climbed aboard the carriage with Elrond and Celebrían. Silsilalda followed the other healers to a waiting carriage.
"Elrond, let me be your strength. Please open your mind to me. I fear for you." Celebrían pulled his head down to her shoulder. Now that they were in the closed carriage, he did not resist but closed his eyes as the world spun. For the first time in five hundred years, Elrond sought to open his thoughts to his beloved.
"We will not have you give up after coming so far, my grandson." Idril sensed what was passing between her grandson and his wife.
"The healers here will help, but it will take time," Tuor said as he moved over to make room for Master Tarwatirno. The Master healer sat opposite Elrond and began to assess his patient as the carriage moved forward. Due to the crowds, it would take some time, perhaps twenty minutes or more, to arrive at the palace.
Xxxxxxxx
"Are you planning on joining us?" Olwë asked wryly before getting into the carriage. Cévëalë had recommended that the hobbits accompany them on the short ride to the palace. This simple act would raise the unusual visitors in their people's esteem. Mithrandir was startled from his revere by Olwë's words.
"I was warning my kin to grant us some space," Mithrandir spoke slowly as if he was still engaged in another conversation. "I think the Valar will summon me shortly." He noted as he climbed into the carriage.
"Soon is an understatement. They notified me that they would use the tower to meet with the ring bearers."
"I will see if they will speak with me first." Mithrandir turned his gaze at the hobbits. Bilbo had closed his eyes in exhaustion and Frodo was staring out the window, nearly overwhelmed by the myriad of elves straining to see them. "Is it different that these are elves instead of the men of Gondor?" Mithrandir wondered. "Or is it perhaps the scope and beauty of this city, which has known peace for two ages?" With Bilbo sleeping, Olwë and Cévëalë described the sites to Frodo as the carriage crossed the short distance to the palace. Indeed, the coaches arrived together at the palace, where attendants were waiting to help them dismount.
"My King, Eonwe brings word that the Valar will meet the ring bearers in your tower." Olwë's Seneschal informed them. The King of Alqualondë turned to survey the travelers.
"No, our travelers are weary, injured, and ill," Celebrian spoke up. "They need to see the healers, not to be embroiled in stressful talks." Elrond leaned on his wife. She could feel he was at the end of his strength.
"The Valar requested their presence," Cévëalë repeated, although her voice was wary. The climb to the top of the tower might not be possible for some of those present.
"Are the Valar going to heal them?" Celebrian held Elrond's arm, and Tuor and Idril stood close by. Cirulian had just exited the final carriage and was amazed at Elrond's grandfather. Celebrian realized belatedly that the warrior had likely met Tuor before the couple sailed from Sirion.
"The Valar have vowed to not intervene directly in our affairs since the drowning of Numenor," Olwë reported.
"It is why the Istari sent to Middle Earth were shorn of much of their powers." Mithrandir enlightened them. "May I suggest, Aran Olwë, that the two of us go?"
"I will accompany you," Galadriel said wearily. Elrond was looking up at the tall tower as if assessing the height.
"Come, we will take refreshments and rest first." Olwë decided. "I will send word of our status and intentions. The Valar have surely smiled upon you and blessed you with safe passage. They will know that you require rest."