Awareness

They had come.  Beyond all hope, their loss long since mourned, the hollowness of their absence endured: they had come. 

Elrond leaned on the frame of the long window and gazed into the deep blue night.  He still found it hard to believe.  He smiled more now, he noticed.  Stopped at unexpected glimpses of his sons to marvel at their presence.  Looked forward to a future that had seemed – somewhat grey.  They had come.

Sliding the brush through her waterfall of silver hair, Celebrían inspected her husband and sighed with pleasure.  He had found it difficult to forgive himself for arriving without their children – he had tormented himself with the fear that she would be unable to accept Arwen’s choice or the twins’ delay – and his grief had shadowed their reunion.    But with the arrival of their sons, the brighter, more fun-loving side of her duty-driven husband had started to emerge from the confinement in which he had kept it.  She grinned mischievously.  And it was up to her to encourage him to let go of the last of the burden that had almost overborne him.

A burst of distant laughter floated across the still lawns and Elrond rested his head against the warm wood as he savoured the sound.  Elladan and Elrohir had been so drained when first they stepped off the worn ship, but each day revived in them some part of the boisterous elflings who had kept Imladris on tenterhooks as all anticipated the ellyn’s next enterprise.

‘Let us join them,’ Celebrían said suddenly.  ‘We could take a wineskin and some bread and cheese and wander the night.’

He turned and smiled.  ‘But would they want us?’ he asked.  ‘They seem to be enjoying themselves – would they want two old staid elves to spoil their fun?’

‘Speak for yourself,’ his wife sniffed, using one hand to loosen the laces on his tunic while the other pushed his formal robe from his shoulders to tumble to the floor.  ‘It would take more than added years to make me staid.’

‘I wonder what you saw in one who is as dull as I am,’ Elrond commented, shaking his head sadly.

‘So my adar said,’ Celebrían told him smugly.  ‘You and he are more alike than you know.  My naneth, on the other hand, said that you should not be underestimated – you had hidden depths of which even you were unaware.’  She slid one cool hand under his tunic to press it against his warm back.  ‘She was right, Elrond Eärendilion.’

‘Events would have to be very brave not to prove your naneth right, my love,’ her husband said ruefully.

Celebrían smacked him lightly on the chest.  ‘There is no need to be impudent,’ she told him indignantly. 

Elrond’s hand captured hers.  ‘Do you really wish to join our sons?’  He glanced out into the moonlit garden.  ‘I think we might be too late – they seem to be returning to the house.’

‘It is good to hear them laugh,’ their naneth sighed, pressing herself against Elrond’s lean body.

‘Better even than that.’ Her husband’s clasp on her tightened.  The first light had ignited in their sons’ jaded eyes at the sight of their naneth, restored to health and joy.  ‘They missed you.’

Outside, the twins were clearly attempting to subdue laughter that had nothing to do with drink or mischief, but that surged from a freshly revived delight in living.  Elladan placed an admonitory hand over his brother’s mouth only to have his fingers nipped.  He grumbled a curse as he snatched it back to cup it protectively.

In the window of their room, the moonlight caught Celebrían’s eyes and made them sparkle with a brilliance that echoed the stars.

‘Well, it was your fault,’ Elrohir protested, muttering a growling phrase of his own as his brother cuffed him across the back of the head.

His adar’s shoulders shook.

Celebrían turned to gaze at her husband suspiciously.

Elladan avoided his twin’s attempt to trip him with practised adroitness, dodging past him to lead the chase into their parents’ peaceful house.  Elrohir murmured disgustedly before pursuing his brother.

A delighted giggle escaped their naneth.  ‘You know!’ she said accusingly.

‘Underestimated,’ Elrond reminded her complacently.  ‘Listen to your naneth.’

Celebrían jabbed him with a sharp finger.  ‘How long have you been aware of your sons’ – deluded belief in their language skills?’

‘Am I not a lore-master?’ her husband asked with mock offence.  ‘You expect me to remain in ignorance?  I am, on the other hand,’ he said, putting a hand to his heart, ‘shocked beyond belief that my lady should have such words in her vocabulary – and that my sons should have exposed her to whatever they think they have been saying.’

‘Oh, tosh,’ Celebrían dismissed his teasing.  ‘I am not made of snowflakes, my love, to melt away at the suggestion of something warm.’  She twined her arms round him and tangled her fingers in his ebony hair.  ‘Should we tell them, do you think?’

‘After all this time?  No,’ Elrond decided.  ‘They will find out soon enough.’

‘After all this time?’ Celebrían smiled. ‘May that discovery never come.’