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Flower petals.

Gilraen nodded to herself in conclusion of long speculation. From afar, she had espied colorful but unrecognizable debris scattered about the courtyard. At times of merrymaking, the Elves were wont to decorate with any manner of thing pleasant to see or smell. She was not aware of this particular occasion, and thought little more of it.

Glorfindel had dismounted at the bridge, where he and some Elves there engaged in conversation, while Gilraen went ahead to settle the horses. Now she rode upon and through the square made so festive to the stables beyond.

Some time later, she came back to the main house.

"Hail, Nimros, I have a sachet for you from Lothlórien. Shall I leave it here on the ladder?"

"Who is that? Oh, Gilraen, yes, thank you. What ladder?"

Up maybe the height of two men, the Elf balanced and reached precariously from a ledge to unbind a banner hanging on the wall. Indeed there was a ladder propped aside him; probably an after-thought of some Elf passing by, and Nimros had failed to notice their courtesy. She wanted to know how else he got up there as little as to watch him come down. "I shall just leave it here then."

Half-dreading a cry or racket to echo behind, she made her way to the rooms of Elladan and Elrohir, who were afield with her son this time of year. Letters for each had come recently from the Grey Havens, and the warden of the first outpost after the Ford had entrusted their final delivery to her.

In Elrohir's room, she shuffled through the envelopes, also finding and separating those for Elladan. She faced the bed, and would have seen it peripherally upon entering, but looked again without clear reason.

For an instant, it seemed that Elrohir must be lying there. Dark hair spread out on the pillow came foremost to her startled recognition. Then the body sat up, that of a lady beyond fair. Yet certain they had never met, Gilraen thought her familiar, as from a portrait or dream half-remembered.

She stepped back, abashed for her mistake and trespass, saying, "I beg your pardon!" at a loss to offer aught else, too shocked even to bow.

The lady swung bare feet to the floor, looking inquisitive but kindly upon her intruder. "Good day; but I regret to have startled you."

Just as she drew breath to politely deny that, Gilraen bumped into a chair, and had not realized she was retreating. "Forgive me, I thought this room to be empty. I would have knocked! But these letters," without really looking, she lay them upon the nearest flat surface, "come from the Grey Havens, for Elrond's sons."

"My brothers," said the lady, nodding. Her brief smile at mention of kin faded to austerity. She stood up. "Truly, you have ridden from Mithlond?"

"Your brothers--" At once Gilraen understood. The flowers tossed up and the banners rolled down in celebration of her homecoming: Arwen, daughter of Elrond and Lady of Rivendell, of whom Gilraen had learned long ago by accident, keeping the revelation to herself ever since. She drew forward as proper and curtsied. "Nay, lady, I am merely returned from visiting the Angle where dwell my kinsmen."

"Ah, then you are Gilraen." No longer curious, no less courteous, Arwen took up Gilraen's hand in greeting. "Well met! I inquired just yesterday as to your chair empty at mealtimes. My father explained things."

Gilraen could think of nothing else to say, assuming that 'things' entailed the situation with her, her son, and his identity concealed. As if anticipating the lapse, Arwen went on.

"Now I wonder if you would excuse me. I see the shadows have lengthened far since I lay me down in reminiscence, and I would not tarry here longer than my wont, lest father walk alone ere supper. Be well, Gilraen, surely we shall meet again soon."

Some time after the Lady had gone, Gilraen remembered where she stood, and carried on with the day's chore. Her final delivery, to Elrond, she left at the stoop of his door.

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