Xxxxxxxx Talan in the Mallorn Grove, Lórien xxxxxxxxX
"She sleeps yet? It is nearly time to meet Lord Irmo." Arafinwë just stepped into the sitting room, where he was surprised to find his daughter asleep with her golden head resting on Eärwen's shoulder. Her eyes were closed in exhaustion.
"He did not indicate where we should go." Eärwen responded. "Perhaps Findaráto will come and tell us when he returns with Amarië."
"Perhaps," Arafinwë slowly sat down next to his daughter. He reached out with his senses to probe her spirit. Then he sighed and bent to rub his head with his hands.
"Healing will take long. Her spirit will never be the same." He lamented.
"Nay, she has changed in many ways as she carried on courageously to shield many from harm." The voice that spoke to them was gentle but firm. Arafinwë made to rise, but Irmo motioned for him to remain seated. Both he and Eärwen bowed their heads in obescience. Their daughter woke as if her spirit sensed the Vala's presence.
"Be welcome, daughter of Arafinwë." The Vala paused, expecting Galadriel to bristle with ire at being thus named, for she had sought fame in the outer lands. But Galadriel rose as Irmo extended his hand and curtsied low.
"Thank you, my Lord Irmo, for receiving me." As Irmo reached out his hand to draw Galadriel to her feet, the Talan about them disappeared, and a deep fog enfolded them.
"Do you wish to submit to judgment?" Irmo's voice was calm. Eärwen and Arafinwë rose to their feet in shock. They were somehow separated from their daughter, who focused solely on the Vala. "Ages ago, you disregarded Namo's proclamation of Doom and crossed Helcaraxë seeking your own fortune. What do you now return for?"
"Without judgment, there can be no healing." Galadriel's voice was solid and firm. "Ages ago, I was constrained by the Noldorian customs that limited and prevented Ellith from seeking knowledge and contributing equally. I have done things I regret, but also,"
"Accomplished much of which to be proud of." Irmo finished her sentence and smiled encouragingly. The mists cleared revealing fourteen thrones set in a ring around a central blue and green globe – Máhanaxar.
"Will you step into the ring?" Irmo asked.
"Yes," Galadriel whispered and bowed low to the seated figures. Eärwen grasped her husband's hand as they watched their daughter disappear into the ring. A Maia approached Galadriel, and she handed Eönwë the sparkling white ring Nenya. The Maia brought the ring to Manwë. Then Galadriel was immersed in bright white light.
"What is happening?" Eärwen whispered.
"The Máhanaxar exists out of time," Arafinwë whispered. "At least, that is what I interpret from Findaráto's experience there – or from what he remembered." They watched silently as Namo and Vairë stood from their thrones and walked to the center. Galadriel faltered twice through the long ordeal, sinking to her knees with a pained expression. The Lord of Mandos pulled her up both times and embraced her. Then suddenly, all went dark. When the light appeared, Eärwen and Arafinwë were again seated on the sofa in their Talan, with Galadriel asleep between them. A knock on the door of their Talan startled them.
"May I enter?" Melian called. They stared flabbergasted at her. The tall Maia carried a tray with a pitcher and three glasses. She set it on the table and walked over to them, bending to kiss her former pupil's forehead. "Awaken, Galadriel, you have done well." The royal family rose and crossed to the table. If anything, Galadriel seemed less solid and more ethereal, glowing with the light generally associated with the reborn. But perhaps this was an after-effect of her time with the Valar.
"Drink," Melian ordered. "A restorative will do you all good."
Xxxxxxxx Bungalow in Lórien xxxxxxxxX
Frodo buttoned up the tunic that had been provided, marveling at its perfect proportions and rich fabric. Then, he donned the smart waistcoat and surveyed his appearance in the mirror. Although he was still pale and thin, a new light shone around his features. "I am on the mend." He reminded himself. His daily affirmation resonated deeper since the healers' pronouncement. 'Reseeding' was a strange way to refer to the regrowth of a finger. It was a concept he had never dared to imagine. Yet, the healers here assured him that the process could be done in several months for a mortal versus weeks for elves - at least for something as small as a finger. They said the technique had been developed over millennia as refugees arrived from the east.
"Frodo, are you coming?" Bilbo called.
"Yes, Uncle, I will be ready soon," Frodo replied as he walked to the mirror. The ghostly pain that originated in his missing digit would soon be a thing of the past. He finally dared to consider the possibility that there would be healing here for his spirit, too. Unfortunately, much of the night was filled with unsettling dreams and memories of the fellowship's trials in the winter wilderness. He shivered. The long march to Caradhras had forged the fellowship into friends, although ever had the whispers of the ring sown suspicion among them. The memories had so tormented him that he nearly screamed and woke Bilbo when Estë appeared before him. The Valië was cloaked in grey raiment, but her smile lit up his being. He had not told anyone of his encounter with the Irmo's Queen. Under the veil of night, she guided him through her garden and drove away the memories that crowded his mind.
"Rest little one." Estë voice was hypnotic.
"You can repair my hand?" His voice trembled with hope.
"Many things can be encouraged to regrow. Why not a small finger?" Her smile and gentle kiss were his last memories before sleep took him. That memory made him smile as he finished combing his hair. The face in the mirror that looked back at him was still wane and far too thin but looked more normal, lit by a genuine smile.
"Are you coming, lad?" Bilbo called again from their sitting room. "We have a visitor." Frodo hurried out into the room and rejoiced at the sight of the wizard who they had not seen in many weeks.
"Gandalf!" He practically ran over so amazed he was to see him. "We were wondering what happened to you. Where have you been?"
"I am well, Frodo." Gandalf, or Olórin, as he was known in the West, wore white robes around a body that still looked much as it did in Middle Earth, although his face seemed much younger and showed brightly.
"When my Lord summons me, I must go." The wizard said slowly as he scrutinized the hobbits with a discerning eye. "Did you enjoy your stay with the Lindar?"
"King Olwë and his family were very kind to us," Frodo said, and Bilbo heartily agreed.
"Unfortunately, Frodo was not well enough to attend many of their feasts."
"But the sea air seemed to agree with Uncle Bilbo." Frodo hastily interrupted Bilbo in an attempt to draw attention away. "And he seemed to grow younger with each day." Frodo secretly thought. Although Bilbo looked as aged as before, his mental acuity had returned to what Frodo remembered at the auspicious hundred and eleventh birthday party.
"Indeed, Frodo, it is a gift to Bilbo to live out the remainder of his years with this blessing." Gandalf's voice seemed to ring inside his head. When Frodo looked up at the wizard, Gandalf did not indicate that he had made any comments.
"What is the Yule festival like here?" Frodo inquired.
"Night is Estë's domain. Tonight, you will meet the Valië, who even the Valar seek out when they need rest and healing." Gandalf began.
"We will meet one of the Valar tonight?" Bilbo was intrigued. Neither he nor Gandalf knew Frodo's prior meeting with Lady Estë.
"Indeed, likely at the very least, Lord Irmo and Lady Estë will be here. But often Lord Oromë and, at times, Lady Vána tarry in the gardens here. You will meet many other Maiar as well over your time here." Gandalf walked to the door of their comfortable bungalow. The elves stayed high up in the canopy, but the grand Talans were unsuitable for an elderly hobbit. "Come, it is nearly time for dinner."
Xxxxxxxxxxxx Gardens of Olwë's Palace, Alqualondë xxxxxxxxxxxX
Only someone who knew him a long time would recognize the tension in his stance. He gripped her hand more tightly than normal. She smiled soothingly at him and spoke mind-to-mind.
"Beloved slow breathes. You are not alone. Let me help you." She twisted in his arms until they stood face-to-face, eyes locked, reaching out through their bond. The barrier, which separated them, thinned. How she wished it would disappear entirely! He sensed the eyes of many on them, sensed some of their thoughts. The cacophony was deafening. "Focus on my song, beloved." The world around them fell away as he drew on her offered strength. Silver eyes cleared as he regained his equilibrium. She leaned in to kiss him sweetly, then, as was proper, backed away.
"You will tell me when it is too much," she said firmly as she tightened the clasp on his warm cloak. Arien was partway through her descent on this clear, perfect Solstice day. The evening would be chilly.
"You are next." Their guard Colchelon discretely whispered. Elrond offered her his arm as custom dictated. She gave him a dazzling smile as she grasped it. The Herald announced their name, followed by enthusiastic greetings from the crowds below as they walked out to the raised patio where the Lindaran, his family, and honored guests were gathered. Olwë and Cévëalë greeted them as the crowd cheered and strained to glimpse the newly returned prince. Elrond was relieved to take his place beside his Adar. The golden-haired Mariner put his arm around his son's shoulders, pointedly taking the side that would shield his son from the crowd.
"How do you fair?" Eärendil whispered.
"I am well Adar." Elrond returned, though he trembled slightly as he looked at the crowd. The Lindaran and his guests were raised only slightly from the large crowd extending over miles along the beach. They would go down to walk among the crowd soon. Eärendil would represent his family in the annual greeting. But Falmatar decided to keep Idril, Tuor, Celebrian, and Elrond on the patio, where they could be discretely guarded.
"Does it look familiar?" Celebrian leaned forward to point down the beach. Indeed, Elrond was surprised to see a familiar pattern of circles readied with kindling for the Yule flame and squares marked for dancing. Each square had a small ensemble of musicians who were preparing to play. Apparently, the celebrations here closely resembled Yule fests among Cirdan's people, which had been a cherished ritual in his youth. It was not long until the musicians began to play. Each group picked up the melody two stances after their neighbors. Thus, as more joined the song, it turned into a round. The crowd enthusiastically joined in the joyous sailor's tune. Those closest to the Lindaran finished first and turned west as their neighbors continued. Indeed, the effect was an echo that continued down the beach. All roared enthusiastically as the tune finally died away. For the next hour, song after song marked the sun's setting, until Arien's rays faded into darkness. Then a lament began, sweetly and poignantly recalling the light and hoping for its return as all sat in darkness. Eärendil rose and walked with Olwë and Falmatar to down towards the water to receive the sacred light from Ossë. The Maia rose from a bright white foaming sea.
"That I have not seen before," Elrond whispered.
"Sometimes, it is Uinen who brings the light. I have even heard tales of Lord Ulmo arriving and pointing his trident, which shot flames and light to ignite the first bonfire." Celebrian smiled.
"That is a true story, at least." Idril came over carrying warm blankets.
"You saw it?" Celebrian asked as she helped Elrond drape the blanket over his legs.
"Not I, but you can ask Falmatar or your Naneth for confirmation. They both witnessed Lord Ulmo come."
"Watch this part." Tuor directed. Indeed, the effect was spectacular as Falmatar and Eärendil each lit a torch from Ossë's fire. A song of renewal began as they brought the sacred light to the first bonfire. Ossë gave a lone keening call, and the wind rushed from the first fire, embers carrying in strange bubble-like candles, which sequentially lit the prepared circles of kindling that dotted the beach as far as they could see. Elves rejoiced and raised their voices in thanks and praise of Ilúvatar. Mant then began to dance in circles around each of the bonfires. The firelight glimmered in their gold and silver hair and flashed in the many pearls and jewels the elves wore. The effect was mesmerizing for those watching.
"You wish to dance." Elrond turned to his wife, who was smiling nostalgically.
"Not here, not this night. I would have you save your strength for other activities." Celebrian's eyes glimmered suggestively. "We have abundant time to return here and dance among the revelers in the coming years. Do you remember what difficulty we had keeping track of Elrohir during his first Yule at Cirdan's?" Elrond laughed at the memory, for Elladan was usually the bolder of their sons. Yet during their first visit to the Havens, Elladan was intimidated by the sheer number of elves at the Yule festival and stayed close to his parents. In contrast, Elrohir decided such numbers afforded him anonymity, which only emboldened his curiosity. Needless to say the young elf disappeared into the crowd, much to his parents' chagrin. Their reminiscing was interrupted as Colchelon came forward.
"My Lady, you have visitors. Shall I let them approach?" The guard waited for their response. Celebrian nodded and was on her feet when she saw who approached. She helped Elrond to his feet, then gathered and passed the blankets to Cirulian. She and Elrond turned to meet their friends.
"Elrond!" Erestor was amazed to see his friend contented and holding Celebrian's hand, though the Peredhel looked distinctly uncomfortable in the crowd. The rumors that were circulating about the returned Prince were beyond belief. Cirulian and no less than four palace guards stood around the couple. At a signal from Celebrian, the guards let them approach. Elrond looked a bit chilled and perhaps thinner but seemed well. Erestor smiled at the thought that so many considered Elrond a young prince. Gwidian and Erestor approached them with another couple close at their heels.
"Gwidian! Erestor!" Celebrian let go of Elrond's hand long enough to embrace them both. "May your days grow ever longer."
"Tis better than what our children used to say," Gwidian interjected, and the four of them laughed at the memory. The couple behind them did not comprehend the private joke. Elrond's eyes widened as he recognized Erestor's Naneth.
"Lady Niphredriel, it is a joy to see you!" Elrond stepped forward to greet her. For her part, Niphredriel lovingly returned the embrace.
"Lord Elrond," Niphredriel smiled brightly, "we hear you left sailing until the choice was nearly taken away."
"It could not be helped." Elrond's voice was suddenly quiet. "My duty in Imladris was not yet finished.
"The deeds of the famed Lord of Imladris reached even here."
"Just Elrond. Other titles I might have carried in Endor no longer apply here."
"I think you are mistaken. Here, you carry the title of Ernil." She smiled at his discomfort. Niphredriel turned to introduce her companion. "May I present my husband." Elrond's eyes widen as he put his hand over his heart in the traditional greeting.
"Lord Canfaron, it is my pleasure to finally meet you. I thank you for all you sacrificed for my family." Elrond bowed to Erestor's Adar, who was outwardly shocked by the gesture. "I have been blessed to count Erestor as a dear friend these many years and have benefitted from his keen intellect and service as a top councilor in Imladris."
Tuor and Idril watched the meeting, for they both knew Canfaron and his wife well. They were also monitoring their grandson for signs he was tired. Tuor recognized when the cold breeze caused Elrond to shiver.
"It would be a good time to bring them indoors." He whispered to Idril.
"Olwë planned to talk to Elrond in private soon too." Idril informed them. Erestor noticed their scrutiny and, looking back at Elrond more carefully, leaned over to say something to Gwidian. Idril was amused to find her concerns so easily communicated. In short order, Erestor and his family exchanged goodbyes and well-wishes with Celebrian and Elrond. As they left, Tuor walked over and suggested they all go inside for a few minutes.
"Your presence is requested in the Shell room." Idril announced.
"My presence?" Elrond was surprised. Idril nodded affirmatively and led the couple up through the garden, which was enchantingly illuminated with well-placed torches. They climbed the steps up to the deck, which on warm days was fully opened into the Shell room. This night, the long doors were closed. Indeed, once they stepped inside, Idril was pleased to see her Grandson enjoy the welcome warmth. She whispered to Celebrian to follow her as the Lindaran stepped forward to see Elrond.
"How are you, Penneth?" Olwë put his arm around Elrond. The two were left alone in the quiet corner of the room as if it were previously orchestrated.
"Thankful that no one was hurt by whatever came for …us." Elrond's slip was telling. Olwë looked at him sympathetically.
"You are admired and well-loved. I believe your people are hoping you might choose to establish a New Imladris in time." A weary but astonished look greeted Olwë's words. "Do not fear no one expects such a thing in the next ten years. Many need time to heal."
"Surely, they would prefer to live under Gil-Galad or one of the many more illustrious leaders I followed."
"If you believe that, you far underestimate your own worth." Olwë's voice rang in disbelief. Yet, if he read the Peredhel's spirit correctly, this humility was real. "Have you enjoyed the Yule festivities thus far?"
"Very much so. It brings such fond memories of Yule among Cirdan's people."
"So, my brother still keeps the traditions after all. I feared that he grew apart from us since he chose to stay in Middle Earth so long."
"I believe that he stays because it is what the Valar ask of him." Elrond divulged quietly. "His spirit is weary, too. I hope it will not be long before he sails."
"I look forward to the day when I can welcome and care for my brother," Olwë said softly. He realized that Elrond also hoped to welcome his sons someday, should they follow the call west.
"Penneth, I return this to your keeping." Olwë opened his hand to reveal Vilya's glinting sapphire. "It would be wrong for me to keep it." Surprise showed in Elrond's eyes, but tellingly, the elf made no move to collect it. Olwë could easily read his thoughts. "It was a great burden for many years."
"Yes," Elrond whispered.
"But no longer." Olwë deposited the ring in Elrond's hand. "Yet, the effects of shouldering this burden will always be with you. It has altered parts of your fëa." Elrond nodded but did not speak. "And perhaps the injuries inflicted in Middle Earth have shifted the balance of your being and made the strains of the Maiar songs that you carry within you grow stronger to sustain your life."
"Perhaps this is true." Olwë realized that Elrond had closed his eyes to hide his 'shame.' The Lindaran could not conceal his own shock. How could the young elf be ashamed of his heritage?
"Penneth," he began as he gently enfolded Elrond in an embrace. "There is no need for such feelings. What we are is not determined by the blood that flows in our veins, but by the love that fills our hearts."
Xxxxxxxx Lórien xxxxxxxxX
"Olórin escorting Master Bilbo Baggins and Master Frodo Baggins." The herald announced. Frodo was surprised to see most of the places around the table were already filled.
"Be welcome, Master Baggins." Frodo turned at the familiar rich alto and bowed low.
"Lady Estë, it is an honor to see you again." Frodo then bowed to her spouse. "My Lord Irmo." Olórin escorted the hobbits to their seats. They were relieved to see two empty seats at the table. At least they had not held up the dinner. Frodo looked at Gandalf to inquire who the latecomers were.
"Melian has gone to escort Elwing." Gandalf informed them. Indeed, it was only minutes later when the Maia appeared; however, she was alone.
"She is not in her Talan, my Lady." Melian placed her hand over her heart as she addressed the Valië. "Nor has anyone seen Elwing since yesterday down by the lake." All around the table, they were suddenly silent as they watched the two Valar and the Maiar, who were obviously communicating privately beyond their hearing. It was Lord Irmo who spoke softly.
"Elwing is no longer in Lórien, although I know not when she left. She was visiting with the egrets on the lake." As if on queue, a great white egret gracefully appeared overhead and landed elegantly at Irmo's feet.
"Greetings Alaco," The Valar's voice echoed oddly as if he were speaking another language but was yet understood by those present.
"Ke Ke Ker," the egret Alaco spoke, though none of the elves or hobbits understood his speech.
"It is not your fault, though you should have brought Elwing's message as she asked." Irmo's voice was calm. The Lady Estë spoke lovingly in the bird's tongue. Then Alaco spread his wings and took to the sky again.
Xxxxxxxxx Olwë's Palace, Alqualondë xxxxxxxxxxxX
"It is not enough, Meleth." Her eyes flashed suddenly. "I will not settle for just part of you. Neither can you truly heal if you can not open yourself fully." Emotions swirled in his eyes at her declaration. She saw love and longing in his gaze and a little fear.
"I do not want to hurt you. There is yet darkness, rips, and damage in my soul. You felt how my spirit frayed and the songs unbound. That which is of the Maiar may harm." She cut off his words with a kiss and then whispered vehemently.
"I love all that is you. I want all of you, El-nin." She could sense his apprehension.
"I could not bear to hurt you." She sensed his underlying self-recrimination and flagellation. What guilt had he carried these many years?
"I desire you." She assured him. "And all that is between us."
"I do not wish… to hurt you with my base desires or with my memories of dark times."
"You will not beloved. I am strong. I have healed. Let me be your strength. There is no shame in accepting help, especially from your beloved." How could she convince him? She ached for him. "I did not understand why you have held back. Please, I wish to share all this and all the memories of your hardships these years we have spent apart."
"Nay, so much has passed, but not all of it is good. Some memories might remind you of things it is best not to dwell upon." His eyes closed as if in pain.
"Beloved, dark things happened to me. But you helped me and shared those memories. You do not think ill of me for those things beyond my control." She whispered. Silver eyes flew open in alarm.
"Nay, beloved, it is not that. I do love you and wish I could take away every hurt you suffered." His eyes pleaded for her understanding, but the separation between them perplexed her. She slowly lowered her lips to his, leaving a gentle kiss there. He spoke aloud, and his rich tenor sent tremors through her.
"My Celebrian, I do love you." He ran his hand through her hair as she slipped the clasps of his tunic open and pushed it from his chest. The scar was red but healing well. She bent to kiss his neck and put her hand over his heart. The beat was strong and reassuring.
He pivoted and made to roll them over and put her underneath him. Incoherent fear bubbled in her stomach suddenly, even though she had thought those memories long conquered. He froze as soon as he sensed it.
"My Celebrian, there is naught to fear," he said softly as he rolled onto his back once again. Gentle, calloused hands stroked her cheek, coaxing her eyes to meet his concerned gaze. There is no need to rush, my love. I was also held captive." Though unnamed, the fear was understood.
"There is no rush, dear heart. We are not unscathed, but neither are we so hurt that we cannot enjoy what lies ahead. We are blessed with time in abundance, with time to heal." The depth of love in his gaze took her breath away. The intensity of her own desire moved her lips of their own accord as she found herself stealing kiss after kiss as he gently toyed with her hair, absently fingering her ear in a way that drove all other thoughts and fears away. "You set the pace. There is no need to go any further today." His words slowly formed sentences in between their kisses. Desire seized her, and she rolled on top of him. His fingers moved quickly to caress her neck and lower still until they gently pressed her breasts and teased at her nipples through her silken nightshirt. A soft sigh escaped her as fear drifted further away while desire, love and peace alternated in ripples across the surface of her thoughts. There, in the quiet light of the dawn, they gave themselves to each other, each not demanding more than the other could give. Both shared of themselves in ways they had not for many yen. Their two spirits blended, merging and connecting as their bond grew and nourished both souls. In the space where two fëar become one, she sought to bind the splinters from his damaged fëa together. After their ardent kisses climaxed, one spirit slowly divided into two, slipping back into their respective hröar and a peaceful and contented slumber.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxx The hours before the dawn xxxxxxxxxxxxX
The wind brushed through his hair as it lifted him upwards. Yet this was not the Vingilot. He looked down at his arm, but instead, he saw he had wings of the whitest feathers. Feathers like he had seen many years before. He looked around and was surprised to find he was far from alone. He was in the back third of a group of birds. Without looking behind him, he knew they all flew in a V- formation—a sense of foreboding washed over him.
"Danger!" He cried to warn the others. Something bent on their destruction approached at great speed. He did not question how he knew, only that he did. The others squawked in disbelief at first. He repeated the warning and then asked.
"Where can we hide?"
"Is it a hawk?" The leader asked.
"Bigger, more like Manwe's great eagles, but it hunts us."
"Head down." The leader ordered. "Towards the trees. Find a brush or a hedge." Just then, a great shriek sounded. He did not turn, though he knew it was a huge, black raptor, much larger than any he had ever seen. Having fought dragons in the sky, he knew this was smaller. Yet, there he was, safely aboard the Vingilot, not out here vulnerable. He dived furiously, searching for shelter as one of his compatriots screamed in pain and feathers burst forth. Pain lanced along his back as sharp talons scratched deep. He screamed and swerved, diving now uncontrolled. Blackness folded across his eyes.
"Adar!" Someone was calling for his Adar. Strange to think he was also an Adar, though his sons were far from here. "Adar, Eärendil, my Adar, awaken." The voice was powerful and insistent. He felt warm flow into his arm – an arm, not a wing. Then he blinked and was caught by powerful silver eyes, which seemed to look into his soul. They were Elwing's eyes but held not her shyness or uncertainty around him. These were healer's eyes that held him captive.
"Breath slowly, Adar." Eärendil complied, and the dream sank away into the mists. The silver eyes held him for a long moment as if to give him time to ground himself. Then, suddenly, they released him. "Here, Adar, drink this." A small cup was thrust into his hand. He sipped the tea, which was only lukewarm. Candles lit the room. It was sometime in the night.
"Will it be dawn soon?" His voice was rough, as if he had been screaming.
"At least two more hours." Eärendil saw a flash of red on his son's neck as Elrond stood, fastened the buttons on his tunic, and drew the robe more securely around his body. Someone was stirring the embers in the hearth. Eärendil looked over to see Celebrian. His daughter-in-law, too, looked a bit disheveled, as if she had hastily dressed. Eärendil blushed at the realization as he sat up in bed.
"I am sorry," he muttered. I did not mean to disturb you." Elrond pulled the chair closer to the bed and reached out to clasp his father's hand.
"Nonsense, there is nothing to be ashamed of," Elrond said kindly. "Do you want to tell us about your dream? It took me some time to wake you up from it. I sense it was something very unusual." Eärendil shuddered at the images that rose of white egrets streaked with blood and under attack. He turned to focus on something else, looking beyond Elrond to the door to his room. He blanched when he saw his parents standing at the threshold. Both seemed deeply concerned.
"Ion-nin, what did you see?" Idril walked slowly towards him. Tuor followed. Elrond squeezed his hand again. Warmth followed that made him look down at where their hands joined.
"Is Elwing well?" Idril asked.
"I left her in Lórien. Why should she not be well?" Eärendil whispered hoarsely.
"Can you sense her through your bond?" Elrond asked softly. Eärendil looked at his son in confusion. "You can not sense her through your bond?"
"Can you really sense Celebrian?" Skepticism filled his voice.
"Yes, there is a bond between us," Elrond explained slowly. "If you concentrate, can you follow the thread that connects us? Can you sense the bond between father and son?" Eärendil's eyes held bewilderment and suspicion. Elrond's calm voice held no judgment; it merely directed him to concentrate on our relationship. Eärendil watched incredulously when Elrond closed his eyes. Warmth tingled in his fingers. He felt drawn to a thin golden thread, so tentative and fragile when he followed it, he could sense Elrond very weakly. Astonishment widened Eärendil's blue eyes. The silver eyes that held his were patient and caring. Elrond held his Adar's hand in support as Celebrian stepped up behind him.
"Usually, it is something similar, though much stronger, between husbands and wives." Idril's voice was puzzled. When you concentrate, what do you sense?" Eärendil focused on Elwing, but the powerful image of Silmaril loomed in his mind, and for a moment, he was overwhelmed by desire. Nausea rose in him.
"You are nothing without it." The familiar lust for Fëanor's beguiling jewel rose in his heart, paired with a queasiness that rocked his stomach. The Silmaril was a jealous mistress. For millennia, it lay between him and his wife. Somehow, Eärendil thought it must have caused a similar estrangement between Fëanor and Nerdanel. Yet, for long moments, he was caught up in the memory of the Silmaril's power. If truthful, he would acknowledge that the Silmaril enabled all his endeavors. It had allowed him to light the skies and opened the way West for them. He shivered suddenly, feeling empty.
"Ion-nin, you are loved. Do not open your heart to such thoughts." Eärendil was surprised to find that Idril had replaced Elrond by his side. His Naneth squeezed his hands tightly, and her voice barely trembled as she tried to hide the dismay at the revelation that her son's marriage was not as she had thought. "You and Elwing were bound to your duties. But now, you have time in abundance to forge these bonds."