Thank you to daw the minstrel for beta reading this chapter

Chapter 14: The Wedding

They rode in an open carriage up through the seven levels of the city. As they emerged from the tunnel into the twilight, Elrond heard a barely discernable cry from Arwen and turning, he saw the reason: a small white tree, already covered in blossoms, in the Court of the Fountain.

Aragorn raised Arwen’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “Joy filled me when I saw it. I knew then that what I had waited for all the years of my manhood was about to come to fulfillment.”

The stars dimmed as Arwen smiled, so great was the joy pouring from her.

The carriage halted, and a black and silver clad guard placed a step at the threshold then stood back and bowed as Aragorn stepped forth. Aragorn took Arwen’s hand as she descended, and never had she appeared more regal or elegant to Elrond’s eyes. He followed her from the carriage, taking in the white tower gleaming in the moonlight, the lush grass, and the fragrance of the blossoms on the white tree. An honor guard lined the path, and Elrond was struck momentarily by the youth of one of them. He studied the young man, wondering how he had come to be in the guard, for surely Gondor had not recruited children for such a position.

Celeborn and Galadriel alighted from their carriage with Elladan and Elrohir, and it pulled out of the way as more carriages approached. Those who had ridden up and left their horses on the sixth level were emerging from the tunnel. The air was buzzing with the reunions of friends and the excitement of being in the beautiful city and the events soon to take place.

Elrond’s eyes sought for and quickly found the members of the Company. He heard Gimli’s booming voice, and followed the sound to the gruff dwarf as he bowed before Galadriel, who greeted him warmly. Next to him stood Legolas, and Elrond smiled when he saw the elf smile fondly at the dwarf. So what Galadriel had told him was true – they had indeed become friends. Walking up behind the elf and dwarf were three smaller figures, and Elrond suddenly knew who the youth among the guard was. Though he had heard they were all well, seeing them with his own eyes brought relief to his heart. Mithrandir, Aragorn and Boromir all had reason to travel near Mordor; these ones had not. Though each was a willing volunteer, their fates had rested heavy upon him.

Frodo saw him at the same time. A smile crossed his face as Elrond walked across the stone court to meet him. As they came near, Elrond inclined his head to the hobbit; enough of a bow, he deemed, for Frodo to know the honor with which he held him, but not enough to draw attention he knew the hobbit would not want.

“Frodo Baggins,” he greeted him, looking him over carefully. “You look well.”

Frodo smiled. “I am well, disappointed only that Bilbo did not come.”

Elrond rested a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder as he led him away from the crowds to a quiet seat beyond the White Tree. “He wished to come, but I am afraid the long journey was beyond him. He looks forward to seeing you, and of course wishes me to remind you to keep good notes for his book.”

Frodo laughed, then looked around at the gathering and shook his head. “He would have enjoyed this.”

“Is that your young cousin I see standing in the guard of the Citadel?” asked Elrond, directing Frodo’s gaze to where he could see the young guard now laughing at ease with the others.

“Indeed it is. He has grown taller than any hobbit I know, as has Merry,” replied Frodo. “Ent-draughts are to blame, I understand. I am afraid I still have much to learn of the whole affair of the war before I can tell Bilbo. I have been taking notes.”

Elrond lifted the hobbit’s mutilated hand gently between his own, his healer’s fingers exploring and soothing at the same time. Frodo tensed only for a moment, then relaxed and allowed the examination, such as it was. His eye, though, had fallen upon the ring on Elrond’s hand.

“Could you see It?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Elrond nodded. “It was seeking us all the time.” He turned slightly to meet Frodo’s gaze, though he did not let go of the hobbit’s hand. “We were fortunate to be able to remove ourselves from It, to draw back and shut that door.”

Frodo looked away, pondering his words, and Elrond felt a sudden gratitude that despite the loss of Vilya’s power, his healing and insight had existed before he wielded it, and still existed now. He soothed the hurt that existed deep within Frodo, and took his first glimpse of Frodo’s spirit. He found it in much the same condition as his own. Outwardly Frodo appeared well, for he did not yet realize the extent of the damage done to the core of his being. Elrond had no doubt that disquiet and discontent would grow.

“Does any power remain in it?” asked Frodo, interrupting Elrond’s thoughts.

Elrond turned his hand to look upon the sapphire. “If any does, I cannot tell. The loss was so great that I no longer have a point of reference.”

Frodo’s eyes widened as his understanding grew, and Elrond smiled. He laid Frodo’s hand back upon his knee and then looked up at those walking to them.

“Peregrin Took. I would say you will go home dressed much finer than any sack I could have found for you,” said Elrond.

Pippin grinned as he strutted for a moment in his finery, but then his face grew more serious. “Several times I wished you had tied me in a sack and sent me home, for all the good I was doing,” he admitted. His seriousness fled as fast as it had come. “I am a knight of the King now, I hope you notice.”

Before Elrond could speak, Merry elbowed him and Frodo laughed, “We know, Pippin, we all know!”

The time for visiting was cut short, though, for there were wedding plans to discuss. Elrond excused himself from the hobbits feeling a little lighter of heart. What he had learned of Frodo he tucked away in his mind for further thought.

Aragorn led them to a comfortable room inside the King’s House. Wine and a light meal were prepared and waiting for them. Elrond listened as wedding plans were discussed. It seemed to him that Gondor was using the wedding as an opportunity to celebrate a new beginning – the city was more prepared than one might have expected for having been besieged only months earlier. The wedding itself would be simple, following the customs of the Elves and the Northern Dúnedain, which were not far different from the customs of Gondor.

Despite all that had occupied Aragorn’s time since coming to the city, he clearly had put much thought into this day and to what he thought Arwen might want. Elrond knew that Arwen was prepared; she and Galadriel had spoken long on their journey. Aragorn’s concern for her happiness touched him. He had eyes only for her.

Elrond watched them together, lost in thought. They glowed in the presence of each other. He could not help but remember how he felt when he saw Celebrían the morning of their wedding day – he recalled little of the day itself – the feast, the decorations, the preparations – but he recalled well the pure joy he had felt when he spoke his vows to Celebrían and she to him, and of their joining, which there were no words to describe.

He realized he was happy for them. Soon they would know that same joy.

“Who will stand with each of you for the ceremony?” asked Mithrandir. “Might I assume that Galadriel will stand in place of Celebrían?’

Aragorn and Arwen both looked up and around the table. Arwen spoke first. “Galadriel will stand in place of my mother.”

Elrond met Aragorn’s eyes and read his heart. “If Aragorn so wishes, I would be honored to stand for Arathorn.”

Aragorn nodded in acceptance. “As the father of my youth, there is none I would rather have at my side than you.”

Many smiled to see Mithrandir take such an interest in the proceedings, but only when he was satisfied with the details did he say, “All that is left now is for all to have a good night’s rest.” He rose. “Until morning, then.”

Laughter rippled about the room at being so dismissed, yet the hour was late. Aragorn led them to their chambers, a spacious apartment with multiple sleeping rooms that opened onto a comfortable sitting room. They found Glorfindel and Erestor sipping wine on a balcony off the main room.

“Come, Aragorn,” said Elladan suddenly. “There are certain brotherly rituals that must be observed on this the eve of your wedding.”

Aragorn laughed, his gaze resting on Arwen. She stepped forward and took his hands in hers. “Go, my love. Galadriel and I have to prepare my gown.”

Aragorn kissed her hands and bowed, then walked to the door, the twins close behind him. He stopped though, and turned to face Elrond. “There are things for us to discuss yet,” he began.

“I have some thoughts, but they may wait until morning,” replied Elrond. He raised a paternal brow of warning at his sons, but before he could speak, the twins trapped Aragorn between them and led him through the door. “Good night, Adar,” they chorused. Elrond could hear them laughing down the hall.

Arwen and Galadriel disappeared into Arwen’s chamber, and Celeborn poured himself a cup of wine and joined Glorfindel and Erestor on the balcony. Elrond stood alone in the middle of the room for a moment. He did not wish to speak to anyone, for weariness had again settled on him. He felt strangely isolated, a feeling he had recognized and grown accustomed to on the journey south. Life was moving forward around him, while he seemed to shrink further away from it. He was swept along with the current, yet no longer in control of where it led him. He entered his chamber, changed into a loose tunic and went to bed.

He found himself on the path of dreams despite his weariness. He saw Celebrían immediately, waiting to meet him. He hesitated, for she looked so pure and radiant that he did not wish to sully the glow about her with the shadows that burdened him. She did not hesitate, but lifted her skirt and ran to him, though it appeared to his eyes that she glided on air. When she wrapped her arms about him, he felt her strength flow into him.

He meant to resist, for he did not wish to burden her. When she had left the shores of Middle-earth her spirit had been weak and fading, and he had given her all the strength he could for the journey. What he sensed now was a spirit not recovered to what it had been, but a spirit stronger than it had ever been. She surrounded and enveloped him, pouring strength and love into him as if she had a limitless supply. Where his heart was frayed, she soothed it, but there was no healing. He searched her heart for the same wound and found it.

She allowed him to find it, he realized. She was being upheld by others. There is no point in mending a wound that is soon to be rent further asunder, came the message. His heart sank. He did not fear pain, but he wanted this day without blemish for their daughter. And the one you called son, Celebrían reminded him.

Her words were spoken with love, in agreement. Five hundred years they had waited for Aragorn, for Estel, but in their victory they had lost their daughter. The sweet with the bitter, for all victories cost something of great value. He needed to hide his pain and be joyful for them. There was so much he wished to say, but as he spoke to her, offered his apologies and begged her forgiveness, the hum of her love drowned out his words. She lay down beside him and held him close until morning came.

* * *

Elrond woke with the dawn feeling refreshed in a way that he had not for many weeks. He dressed and entered the sitting room to find everyone else already gathered. Many a worried eye followed him, to which he smiled in reassurance. He was ready for the day, as unusual as it might be.

“Adar, I volunteer to have the father-in-law talk with Aragorn,” announced Elladan.

Elrond raised a brow at the gleam in his son’s eyes. Though a more informal custom among the elves, it was a treasured one, a time of letting go of one’s child and setting expectations while making the new member of the family feel welcome. It was also a time of humor, not so much in the talk but in the build up to it.

Elrond had considered this on their journey. He was the father of the bride, but also the surrogate father of the groom. Aragorn was part of their family already. They had helped his mother raise him; if he were not the kind of person they wished Arwen to marry, they had only themselves to blame. On this day, he would act on Aragorn’s behalf in presenting a gift to Arwen. He would act on Arwen’s behalf by speaking with her future husband. He was unwilling to give up either responsibility to any other.

“No,” he answered, laughing and shaking his head. He smiled at them. “I assume he kept you two in line last evening?”

Elrohir laughed, while Elladan feigned offense. “I am hurt, Adar, at your lack of confidence in us.” Then he grinned. “Aragorn has become too grim and serious as it is. You will not need to make him more so.”

“Elrond was much the same way,” said Celeborn. “I had pity on him that day, though even if I had not, his only thoughts were of Celebrían and I doubt he heard anything I said regardless.”

Elrond smiled at the memory. He finished preparing his breakfast from the fruit and pastries spread out on the table in the corner and sat down next to Celeborn. “We spoke that day?” he asked.

Celeborn gave him a withering look, but then smiled. “We were in a situation somewhat similar to yours. We were involved in your youth and upbringing and lived in your house for many years. There was little to say to you except to welcome you formally into our house.”

“I will be sure to speak to Aragorn when Arwen is out of his sight, so that I might have as much of his attention as possible,” replied Elrond.

He ate while listening to the banter about him. He was glad for the activity, for somehow it helped him focus on all that was to come. When he saw the sun’s midmorning glow creeping in the windows, he knew it was time. He wondered yet again how he could feel like he was marching to a death knell, all the while seeing such joy around him. He rose and returned to his chamber. Glorfindel followed him.

“What do you expect to happen today?” asked Glorfindel.

Elrond stopped in his tracks, finally turning to face his friend after a long silence.

“I do not know,” he admitted. “I am as prepared as I am able to be.”

“You must not try to bear this alone,” warned Glorfindel.

Elrond clenched and unclenched his fist several times, warring with his pride, before answering, “I will not.” He took a deep breath. “Stay near to me.”

Glorfindel nodded, then walked to Elrond and placed his hands on Elrond’s shoulders. Elrond felt strength flow into him, a soothing golden glow. “When you have need, let that light be your guide,” instructed Glorfindel.

Elrond nodded, speaking his gratitude without words. Then Glorfindel left him, and Elrond went to meet Aragorn.

He found him in the king’s chambers, in his sitting room. Externally, he appeared calm and composed. Yet Elrond could still easily read him, and found barely constrained excitement and passion. There was even a touch of anxiety present; a strange thing to perceive in this very confident man.

Aragorn rose as the guard escorted Elrond inside. Elrond did what he had not done publicly the day before and embraced him warmly. Aragorn accepted and returned the embrace, then pulled back and studied him carefully.

“How do you fare?” asked Aragorn.

Elrond smiled. “I fare well, Aragorn. My sorrow diminishes in the light of your joy and Arwen’s happiness.”

Elrond wandered around the room, admiring the tasteful décor and the many works of art that graced the walls. This room spoke of the long history of men in Middle-earth, but also of their past in Númenor. One particular painting caught his eye, and he walked to it. He reached into his pocket and drew forth a pendant, and held it up to a painting.

“Is that the same jewel?” asked Aragorn in wonder. He took the white jewel and held it to the canvas, near where it hung from the neck of a Dúnedain woman.

“It is,” replied Elrond. He smiled at Aragorn. “I spoke only a partial truth yesterday when I placed the Scepter of Arnor in your hand. This is the last token of your heritage in my possession. Gilraen gave it to me when she left Imladris.”

Aragorn looked at him questioningly, a slight shadow crossing his face at the mention of his mother.

“This has passed from mother to daughter-in-law from the time of Silmariën all the way to your mother. She came to see me before she left Imladris. She knew that many years would pass before your time came, and even then she knew she would not be there to see it. She asked me to stand in Arathorn’s place on the day you wed, for I had been the father of your youth, and she gave this into my keeping. I told her I would, if you so wished it.

“When she learned that you and Arwen had troth-plighted, she wrote and released me from my promise. I told her of my conditions, and that if this day came and you so wished it, I would be honored to stand by the man I had helped raise.”

“I do so wish it,” replied Aragorn solemnly. “Many things have come to pass, some directly by your hand and others indirectly with your guidance, and I know that I stand here today because of the sacrifice of many. In my joy, I do not forget the pain I have caused you.”

“I will not deny my sorrow, Aragorn son of Arathorn, but you are not the cause. With loves comes the risk of pain. I tarried long in Middle-earth, waiting for one who had been foretold. I must admit I had my doubts as I watched the North Kingdom fail and many hearts turn to evil. There was little strength left in the Dúnedain, but only a little strength was needed. A remnant survived. Then suddenly you were in my house, long before the time of fostering, a two year old child, fatherless, hunted, and the hope of Men rested on you. All motivation begins with duty, but it did not take you long to capture my heart and soon I loved you as my own son. All the while I knew that one day I must give you up, return you to your own people, and I had to prepare you for that day and for your future.”

Elrond reached out and smoothed Aragorn’s hair back, a familiar paternal touch.

“I know Gilraen’s death weighed heavy upon your heart. Do not think her weak. She was so young when she came to us, full of grief, and in exile. Imladris was a beautiful prison to her. She never felt like she truly belonged, and when she returned home, she felt she no longer belonged there either. She was weary of life, yet she never once regretted her decision. She was a warrior who fought her battles with great stamina and perseverance. You get your strength of character from your mother as well as your father.”

As Aragorn’s eyes glistened, Elrond changed the course of the conversation. He held up the jewel again.

“Legend tells that this was a gift of the elves of Tol Eresseä to Númenor. Some power dwells within it, to comfort and to heal, and it fills the senses with the wonder of the west. It was given as a token of friendship, a sign that the bearer was an elf-friend. On behalf of Arathorn and Gilraen, I will give it to Arwen.”

Aragorn took the gem in his hand and caressed it, closing his eyes and allowing his other senses to be filled with that wonder. He frowned and opened his eyes. “But will it bring Arwen comfort, or despair for what she has forsaken?”

Elrond felt the pain in his heart grow. “I do not know. I trust Arwen will set it aside if it pains her or otherwise put it to good purpose.”

Aragorn covered his hands, jewel and all, and smiled. “Now do you change roles and lecture me on being a proper husband?”

“Elladan and Elrohir have prepared you for that, I assume,” replied Elrond dryly. He sat and motioned for Aragorn to sit beside him. “Whatever intimation they have made is the worst you will experience. I have no doubts about the kind of husband you will make. I will follow Celeborn’s lead instead, and tell you what I have learned of being a husband.”

To Elrond’s surprise, Aragorn visibly relaxed.

“Cherish your wife, for she is a most valuable person. Know that her family feels that they have entrusted to you their most precious treasure. Listen to her and treat her like your partner. She has wisdom and experience that will complement your own.” Elrond paused, closing his eyes, girding himself for the next part he wished to say. His pain must have shown on his face, for he felt Aragorn again take his hands. Warmth and healing spread through him. He opened his eyes and looked into what had become a noble face. Aragorn’s eyes were filled with compassion. “The hands of the king are hands of healing,” murmured Elrond. He composed himself, then continued, “The Gift of Men is far off in your future, my son, and I do not wish to dwell on such a topic on this your wedding day. But that is my last word of caution to you: I do fear the Doom of Men will be difficult for Arwen at the end.”

Aragorn squeezed his hands. “I will treasure this advice, as I have all the advice you have given me. I will not forget your fears for Arwen.”

Elrond rose. “I shall go to her. The feast is due to begin shortly.”

He left the King of Gondor and returned to the apartments assigned to the elves. He knocked on Arwen’s door and was granted admittance by Galadriel. He walked into the room to greet his daughter. He watched her for a moment as she fixed the gems that hung from her headdress, then she turned to face him and took his breath away. He went to her, kissed her hand and bowed before her.

“You, my daughter, are breathtaking,” he managed.

For she was. Her dress and hair were stunning, but more than any outward adornment, she shone from within. A sudden vision appeared before him, of Celebrían on their wedding day. Then silver faded to ebony, and Arwen again stood before him. “Your naneth would be so happy for you, so proud of the woman you’ve become.”

Arwen smiled sadly at the mention of Celebrían, and Elrond knew she had been much in her daughter’s thoughts this day. He gave her the white gem, explaining its origin to her. She held it in her hands.

“Power remains in this gem,” she said. She did not put it on, but instead tucked it carefully away.

“Will you be well today, Adar?” she asked.

“I am and will be well,” replied Elrond. “Do not worry. This is your day, yours and Aragorn’s, which you have long awaited. Today that is all you must concern yourself with.”

He left her to finish her preparations, and returned to his own chamber. He dressed in the clothing he had brought for this day, elegant robes of sapphire blue trimmed in silver. He placed his circlet on his head. He carried no devices, but elves serving as his standard bearers would carry the flags of Imladris. Galadriel and Celeborn would, he knew, be similarly turned out in the dove-grey and white of Lothlórien, with their banners prominent. The people of Gondor would know their new queen came of her own fine lineage.

He stepped on to the balcony of his room, which overlooked the Court of the Fountain. Aragorn had chosen this site for the ceremony, for he wished for the White Tree to be visible; a sign of prophecy fulfilled. A canopy was set up and decorated in the colors and devices of Gondor and Arnor. The banners of Imladris and Lothlórien flew in the breeze on the bride’s side.

“Adar, it is time.”

Elrond turned at the sound of Elladan’s voice. He had been so lost in thought he had not heard his son come in, and he chastised himself for allowing his defenses to be lax.

His sons stood side by side, identical in every aspect of dress and appearance. He smiled in approval. A short rap on the door preceded Glorfindel’s arrival. His costume and appearance was as day to their night. He glowed in gold, white and blue, a mixture of the colors of his house and that of Imladris.

They met Arwen, Galadriel and Celeborn in the sitting area, and Arwen and Elrond led the way to the feast, walking out the door and through the outer court the short distance to the entrance of Merethrond, the Hall of Feasts.

They entered to music and much talking, but the voices fell silent and only the musicians continued as they walked to the head table. There Aragorn waited. As was tradition, the head table was a mix of both families. Those of the northern rangers still in the city stood behind chairs, but also Faramir and Imrahil as representatives of Gondor, and of course, Mithrandir. Arwen walked to Aragorn with Elrond and her brothers behind her.

Mithrandir spoke words of welcome, then the feast began.

Elrond spoke little. He listened to those who sat near him, reading hearts as well as words. There was much joy to be found, even among those who had suffered and lost loved ones. He was glad for what he saw and heard, for each one spoke of hope for the future. It was clear to his eyes that Arwen was immersed in this future, giving herself over to it fully.

When the feast had ended, Mithrandir led them outside to the wedding canopy. The sun was still high, and it shone upon them from a cloudless sky. Many people of the city crowded the terrace, erupting in cheers and song as their king and soon to be queen walked among them. Silence fell when Mithrandir stopped at the canopy and held up his hand.

Elrond took his place at Aragorn’s side, while Galadriel stood at Arwen’s. Celeborn stood just beyond Galadriel, her arm wrapped in his. Elrond sensed Glorfindel’s presence at his side, and his sons beyond them. Family, friends and official representatives of Gondor gathered around.

Aragorn and Arwen faced each other, and Aragorn began. He removed the silver ring from her finger and tucked it into his pocket, then spoke, “With Manwë as my witness, I wed thee, Arwen, and take thee for my wife. I will love, honor, protect and serve thee until time ends.” He slipped a gold ring on to her finger.

Arwen took his hand and slipped the silver ring from it and placed it in a fold of her dress specially designed for this purpose. “With Varda as my witness, I wed thee, Aragorn and take thee for my husband. I will love, honor, cherish and serve thee until time ends.” She slipped a gold band on to his finger.”

As Arwen spoke, Elrond felt the pain growing within him as his bond with his daughter strained and pulled from one of elvish life to that of mortal. He was suddenly aware of the presence of others in his mind, of Galadriel and Celeborn and Glorfindel, but they faded as he sensed Celebrían in a way he had not for over 500 years. The pain eased a little and his mind cleared as he heard Galadriel speak.

“Before Eru our daughter has spoken. Let her be joined for eternity to Aragorn, raise with loving care and joy any children that He entrusts to them, and live with her husband in honor and truth. Aragorn becomes a son of our house from this day forward.”

With Celebrían supporting him and Glorfindel’s light surrounding him, Elrond spoke.

“Before Eru our son has spoken. Let him be joined for eternity to Arwen, raise with loving care and joy any children entrusted to them, and live with his wife in honor and truth. Arwen becomes a daughter of our house from this day forward.”

“Before Eru we pronounce our children wed. They may now live together as husband and wife and consummate their bond,” finished Celeborn.

Aragorn took Arwen in his arms and kissed her deeply, and the ring of family and friends around them parted. The newlyweds turned and walked forward through the opening made for them. Behind them, Mithrandir announced in a loud voice, “Behold the King Elessar and Queen Arwen Úndomiel!

Cheers of blessing and long life rose in crescendo as the King and Queen of the Reunited Kingdom walked among their people.

Elrond felt Celebrían’s presence dissipate somewhat, and he steeled himself against the growing ache in his heart. Glorfindel unobtrusively moved closer to aid him, and then Celeborn and Galadriel closed the gap that Aragorn and Arwen had just walked through to stand with them.

I sensed her, too. Her presence was strong and healed and whole, came Galadriel’s thought.

Elrond clasped his hands together to keep them from shaking. When we met on the Path of Dreams, she wrapped me in her presence and I felt her strength. But never in conscious waking have I experienced her this way since she departed.

Others are supporting her, people of power, replied Galadriel in his mind.

Elrond recalled how the Valar had cared for him after Elros made his choice. Perhaps they were supporting Celebrían, and through her, him. It comforted him to know that Celebrían did not face this alone.

They turned their attention to Aragorn and Arwen, who were now walking among their friends. Music again played, and impromptu dancing had begun. Wine and ale flowed. Elrond was pleased to see the elves of Imladris and Lothlórien joining in the celebrations, mingling with the humans, and with the hobbits. He watched the ease with which all three of his children melded into this society, but Arwen in particular. She has come into her own, he realized. She is in her element. Despite the pain in his heart, peace about her choice settled on him.

* * *

Aragorn and Arwen retired from the festivities quietly, aided by the twins and Faramir, who knew all the means of slipping away unnoticed. The celebration would continue long into the night, though already guards had begun sending some home to their beds as ale loosed their tongues and restrained their thoughts.

Elrond waited until they were gone, then also slipped into the night. He found Celeborn and Galadriel already in the sitting area and others on the balcony, watching as the stars grew bright and Ithil rose to its zenith.

“Eärendil flies low this night,” said Celeborn. “See how bright he shines.”

Elrond moved to the balcony and watched as his sire passed overhead. He had often wondered how much Eärendil knew of the events occurring in Middle-earth. Many people below in the Court of the Fountain were also watching his voyage, their voices rising in awe at what they were seeing. That he would choose to shine so bright over Minas Tirith on this night of all nights was a sign to the Elves that he did indeed know of the events of the day.

“Eärendil’s heart was with Men,” said Celeborn softly beside him. “On this night, he sees the long sundered lines of his sons reunited in the birth of a new age.”

“It is comforting to know that he will continue to watch over Arwen and Aragon and their descendents long into the future,” replied Elrond finally.

He left them on the balcony and went to his own chamber. The maids had been busy despite the celebrations, and he found the candles lit, warm water waiting for him to wash, wine to drink, and the bed plumped and prepared for sleep. He undressed from his finery slowly, then loosened his braids, brushed his hair and washed. For several months now he had found himself needing sleep in quantities he had not needed since he was a child. He was actually grateful for that, for he knew that those afflicted with the sea longing often couldn’t find rest. Celeborn said Galadriel often wandered in the night now, the wind and stars providing comfort when nothing else would.

And she was not the only one. Galadriel said Legolas was also so afflicted and was learning to tolerate it, for so long as he must.

He poured a cup of wine and set it on his bedside table, then settled himself to read from the comfort of the pillows. He had been reading poems and lays of the deeds and victories of the elves of Middle-earth, and their friendship and alliance with Men. They anchored him, reminded him of all they had fought for these many years.

He was deep into an account of Gil-galad, much of which he had written himself, when a sudden emptiness overcame him. He forced himself to breathe, for he felt like he was suffocating. He dropped the book as grief filled him.

Arwen had consummated her wedding bond; her fëa was now bound to a mortal and sundered from him and the elves. He grasped at the final threads that bound them, learning the feel of them, their kind and texture and strength. They were all he would have until her death.

Celebrían’s presence blossomed in his mind in the next moment, and he gathered himself enough to blow out the candles, set aside his book and follow her to the Path of Dreams. Sleep came easily, despite the pain and grief in his heart, and he found her waiting for him. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, and together they grieved what they had lost.

* * * * *

A/N: All of the history of the white jewel is made up. A personal note here: it is that white jewel that led me to fanfiction. When I read the books, I wanted to know what that white jewel was, where it got its power from, why Arwen had it, and why she gave it to Frodo. I searched the Internet for an answer. I read pretty much everything Tolkien had written and didn’t find my answer. So, three and a half years later, I’m finally making up my own! It will unfold in the next chapter.

I’ve always planned on having Elrond stand for Aragorn’s father in the spirit of LACE. I think that is one of the most bittersweet things to have him do, showing that despite his own pain, he nonetheless loves Aragorn too.

From Appendix A: Then Aragorn, being now the Heir of Isildur, was taken with his mother to dwell in the house of Elrond; and Elrond took the place of his father and came to love him as a son of his own. Though Elrond gave Estel back to his people, and he became Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Elrond remains the father of his youth.