Chapter 4: Conflicting Natures

Elladan pointed to where the sunlight glimmered off white rock in the distance. “There!” he cried.

Celeborn joined him at the bow of the ship, shielding the sun from his eyes as the glimmer of light slowly took the form a white tower. The gulls flew about their ship, crying, seemingly excited about their arrival. Then suddenly they left, flying toward the white tower. They circled around its pinnacle and were returning when Celeborn noted the lead bird was different from those who flew on either side and behind. Its wings were white and silvery grey, and it was larger than the gulls. It flew over them and then circled back, and the gulls followed. They cried with delight and followed where it led, out to sea and then back to the coastline.

They were nearing the small haven on the rocky coastline where they might set anchor when the bird landed on the quay. The bird spread its wings wide, but when it lowered them, the shape was that of a slender woman.

“Elwing,” said Galadriel breathlessly.

Elladan was speechless. Elwing stepped back as they eased the Alphir to the quay. Elladan leapt on to the planks and secured their craft, but his eyes were on this grandmother he had not yet met rather than on their ship.

The three walked forward to meet her. She inclined her head in greeting and said, “Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, welcome.” But she stepped forward to Elladan and there was wonder in her eyes. “You bear even greater resemblance to Eärendil than your father, Elladan Elrondion. Welcome, grandson.”

Then formality fell from them, for Celeborn and Galadriel had known Elwing in her youth and life in Sirion. They embraced her and wept, and Celeborn felt the weight of two ages of the world fall from them.

“Never did I think to see you again, Elwing, after that day at the havens of Sirion. This day brings me great joy,” said Celeborn. “And we share something greater now, kinswoman: grandsons.”

And Elwing laughed, and there was joy in her now that Celeborn had never seen in her youth. “I am glad you have come. Our plans had been to visit Elrond’s house again to meet you, but we foresaw that you might come to us first. Come, and bring what you need now, for the climb is long and you may not wish to do it more than once today.”

She led them up stairs cut in stone, twisting and turning among the boulders and sheer rock of the cliff. The stairs were not crude, but had been made with great care and skill.

“Look at the gulls!” Elladan pointed not to the sky, but to a rock pillar that marked the turn of the stairs. There was carved a gull, leaping into flight, with only one foot on the stone.

“That is the half-way point,” replied Elwing. She stopped and pointed toward the top of the cliff. “There, do you see the white swans? They mark the entrance to this stair.”

Far above them were two great swans with their wings outstretched. They were looking upon their backs, and even from a distance the delicate carving of the feathers could be seen.

“Finarfin had them made,” said Elwing. “He also sent craftsmen of the Noldor to carve the steps.” She continued the climb. “There was no entrance from the sea until after Valinor was hidden. When rumors reached Aman that Númenor was planning an attack upon the Valar, word was sent to me to keep watch and prepare for flight. The tumult was great, and when Númenor sank the wave washed over this cliff and even into the tower itself. This wall was sheer, but it broke apart and crumbled, and the waves brought the glittering sands to the newly formed beach. At high tide much of the beach is hidden, but when the waters withdraw, many a treasure may be found.”

They had listened in wonder to Elwing’s tale, and soon passed between the great swan guardians to a field of wildflowers. A path led them to a terraced garden, where seats had been cut into the rock to look out over the sea. They were shaded by flowering trees, whose boughs formed a canopy to the entrance of the tower.

“I see why Naneth loved it here,” said Elladan simply.

Elwing turned to him and smiled. “Celebrían spent many years here with me, and a better companion I could not have wished for. She was quiet in those early years, and this was a place of respite and healing for her.”

“Elrohir would love it here,” added Elladan softly.

Celeborn turned at those words, for he heard more in them than what was said. There was a wistfulness, a realization perhaps that he wished his brother were here with him.

“Then I hope you will bring him with you one day,” replied Elwing.

Elladan fell silent and it seemed as if a cloud gathered around him. Elwing took his hand and led him inside.

* * *

They ate together, and then Elwing led them up a winding staircase to the lookout at the tower’s pinnacle. It was open all the way around the turret, and they could look out across the land and the seas.

“There is the isle of Tol Eressëa, and the tower of Avallónë is lit in the havens,” said Elwing, directing their gaze south. “Look east. Do you see the long chain of islands? There in the middle is the Tower of Pearl. It is said by those who take the Straight Road that they see it only in grey mists. From here you may see it more clearly. It is a great tower, and there is a watcher there who turns back those who come to these lands unbidden.”

“We saw only grey,” replied Elladan.

“Our ship was battered in the passing. We feared the Straight Way had been closed to us,” said Celeborn. “We could not at first pierce the veil.”

Galadriel and Elwing both looked at him in surprise, and Celeborn realized he had not spoken of it since their arrival. The joy of reunion had driven the thought from his mind.

“Our road also was perilous,” admitted Elwing. “But we expected as much. If elves, we were under the ban and doom of Mandos. If men, our lives were forfeit for setting foot on these shores. But we bore the Silmaril and had the goodwill of Ulmo.” She looked keenly at her grandson. “But I have not heard of others ships with such difficulties.”

“I had set it out of my mind once we reached the haven,” admitted Celeborn. He looked at Elladan, who seemed strangely quiet.

“Elwing, will you fly again? Do you meet Vingilot in the morning?” asked Elladan.

Elwing accepted the change of subject. “Eärendil knows of your arrival and will join us tomorrow.” She smiled at him. “I may fly out to greet him. Would you like that?”

“The only thing I would like more is to fly with you,” said Elladan. “I was amazed to see you today. It must feel so free to ride on the wind.” When Elwing took his hand and turned them both to look out over the sea, he spoke again. “I rode on the back of a great eagle once.”

Celeborn could hear the joy tinged with sorrow in his voice, for this story he knew too well. Yet Elwing caressed her grandson’s hand and he finally continued.

“After our mother was rescued from the orc den, we were racing home, to get her to our father, in hopes she might live. Our father had sent the great eagles to seek for us. The one that found us had been an eaglet I had once rescued on a foolhardy climb to their eyries. He bore us to Imladris.” Elladan sighed at the memory. “I had dreamed of flying since first I heard the tale of Elros leaping with a sail from the cliff on Balar. This was a dream come true, only at the worst moment of our lives.”

Elwing slipped her arm through her grandson’s and leaned against his shoulder. “I wish I could carry you with me, but I am not strong enough. But I will fly to Eärendil in the morning.”

Elwing awakened them before dawn, and they went to the cliff’s edge with her. In the distance they could see the Vingilot returning from its nightly journey. Then she turned to Elladan and held out her hand to him. He took it, and she drew him to stand next to her, an arm’s length apart.

“Will you trust me?”

Elladan blinked, looking from Elwing to the sea and then back to Elwing again. She held his gaze and said again, “Will you trust me?”

“Yes.”

There was silence for a moment and then Elwing leapt from the cliff and pulled Elladan with her.

Celeborn gasped and felt Galadriel’s shock, and they raced the few steps forward to the edge. Not one bird, but two, flew up from the foam below. Elwing was silvery white and as graceful as the wind. Elladan was darker gray in color, and he wobbled in flight, then with a great flap of his wings he rose above Elwing and soared through the skies.

They dipped and rose, circling back once, and then as the sun rose in the eastern sky, their feathers glowed red and they raced to the Vingilot. Eärendil flashed the Silmaril bright on them, and they passed him to the south, then circled around and reappeared at his side, keeping speed with him. Then, while still over the sea, both landed on the ship and disappeared from Celeborn’s view.

Celeborn sat down on one of the stone chairs, nearly missing the seat. Galadriel looked at him, but they were both speechless. The sun rose in the sky and still they sat, and then suddenly from around the tower came three walking toward them arm in arm.

Elladan was between Eärendil and Elwing. Their raven hair mingled and so alike was Elladan to his grandsire that under other circumstance it might have been difficult to tell them apart. But Eärendil shone with a light that none could miss.

In Elladan’s face there was a joy and in his eyes a light that Celeborn had never seen before. As soon as he saw them, he called, “I flew!” They embraced him when he flung his arms around them in carefree abandon. “I flew! I will never be the same again, Daeradar. I flew!”

Celeborn hugged his grandson and he laughed at the joy. Then he greeted Eärendil, whom he had not seen since the young man departed Sirion on his last voyage seeking Tuor and Idril.

They breakfasted together, as Elladan related his tale. Eärendil and Elwing were mostly silent, watching this grandson with pride and something else Celeborn could not quite identify.

“I do not understand,” said Galadriel, when he had finished. “I have always heard it told that when you first flew as a bird, Elwing, it was Ulmo who bore you up on wings. And that once here, you learned from the birds to fly as they do. A special grace of the Valar. How did Elladan fly?”

Elwing and Eärendil exchanged glances, and were long in answering. Elladan seemed nonplussed by the question, and Celeborn was unsure if his grandson already knew the answer… or did not wish to know.

“A special grace of the Valar,” said Eärendil finally. He smiled at his grandson. “Tonight he will fly with me, beyond the circles of the world and into the pathless voids.”

Then Elwing spoke. “On such journeys I go not, but Elladan must prepare, for it is cold and the voids dark.” Then Eärendil and Elwing excused themselves and took Elladan with them.

Celeborn and Galadriel walked out further on the terrace. In the distance they could see Taniquetil, the highest peak in Valinor and the home of Manwë and Varda. They did not speak for many hours. When evening came, Eärendil and Elladan left them. A short time later, Vingilot appeared in the sky, and the thought occurred to Celeborn that he did not know how Eärendil passed from Aman to the ship, which did not rest in Valinor.

For a week Elladan stayed with Eärendil, and they saw him only when he passed over head. Then one morning, Elwing flew out to meet them. This time she returned in bird form, and Elladan was with her.

Celeborn watched them land and before his eyes return to their normal form. The two stood together for a moment, adjusting to their bodies, and Elwing spoke to Elladan softly. “This is the last time that you may fly in such form, by the grace of the Valar. The choice is before you. If you wish to learn flight, then you must learn in the form we have been given.”

“Thank you, Elwing. This gift, whether you arranged it or brought it to fruition, has given me more joy than you know.”

“It does not wholly assuage time or prevent weariness, but it does help to find contentment,” she answered.

Then Elladan and Elwing joined them, and more like Eärendil did Elladan look than ever before. He too glittered in stardust and his face was radiant, and there was wonder in his eyes that touched his soul.

“I do not know if I can find words to express all that I have seen,” he said as he sat down with them. “My mind is overwhelmed and yet Eärendil says I have seen little of all there is to see. There are stars and worlds, and oceans of heaven that are endless!” He paused, breathless. “And the wonder of it all is the Imperishable Flame, the spark of all that is. It was far off, and yet I yearned to come close to it!”

Elwing stood at his side, her hand resting on his shoulder, and in her eyes was a strange glimmer. “Ever does Eärendil seek to voyage close to that flame, yet it remains beyond his reach, for he is bound to this world.”

Elladan’s gaze grew distant. “Yet Men leave the bounds of this world and find something of great hope and joy beyond these circles. Do they reach the flame? Can they touch it? Can they bask in that glow that a mortal body could not endure?”

Galadriel reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly. He did not look at her, but through touch of body and mind she said, I think I know what ails Elrohir.

And Celeborn suddenly knew too.

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

Olórin led them to the green gates of the Gardens of Lórien, where Irmo himself greeted them.

“Welcome, Olórin,” he said as the Maia bowed before him. “Lead our guests inside. A house has been prepared for them.”

They were led to a simple cottage. There were other such cottages, each built among the trees in a way that made them nearly invisible unless one knew where to look for them. There was little transition between indoors and outdoors, as each room opened to the gardens, the cut stone floors giving way to natural stone paths and grassy avenues.

Elrond felt an immediate change come over Celebrían. She sank down on a chair carved out of a fallen tree, closed her eyes, breathed in deeply and sighed. “I love this place. It has all that one could need, except the sea. I had no great love of the sea in Middle-earth, but here I am drawn to it as never before.”

They refreshed themselves, eating and drinking and bathing, and nightfall came. Elrond wandered the small house, paternal instincts roused to check on Elrohir before he slept. His son’s chamber was empty and silent. He wandered from the house along the path, though he knew not where it went.

He came eventually to a lake, the sound of the water lapping gently at the shore announcing its presence before his eyes saw it. There he found Elrohir, seated upon a smooth rock near the shore, where no trees blocked his view of the sky. He was gazing at the stars and unaware of anything around him.

Then Eärendil appeared in the sky, leaving for his nightly journey. Elrohir suddenly stood, straining to see something on the Vingilot. Elrond followed his gaze.

Someone stood beside Eärendil on the ship. In his heart, Elrond knew immediately it was Elladan.

Elrohir watched until the ship was lost to his sight, then he sank slowly back on to the rock. Elrond heard him sigh, a low keening sound, and then he rocked gently back and forth, burying his face in his hands.

Before he could take even a step to go to Elrohir, he felt a gentle hand on his arm. He started, for he had not head anyone approach. It was Irmo. Elrond immediately bowed.

“Go to Celebrían and rest,” said Irmo.

Elrond looked from the Vala to his son, torn. But Irmo took his arm, guided him away from the lake and walked with him along the path. He did not speak for several minutes.

“Speak without fear,” said Irmo.

“I do not wish to leave him alone in his despair,” replied Elrond finally.

“To assuage your own sense of what is right, or because you believe you can aid him?”

The words were spoken without accusation, yet Elrond was taken back. He forced himself not to react to the words, but to consider them.

“How can I separate them?” he finally asked. “I love my son and would do whatever I could to ease him. Why would this not also be right?”

Irmo looked at him long before answering. A thought came into Elrond’s mind, followed by another, then a third. One involved Elrohir, the other two did not.

“What have they in common?” asked Irmo.

“The person needed to feel the pain, to understand their actions, so they could change, forgive, and move on,” replied Elrond. He stopped walking and faced the Vala. “Elrohir’s pain is due to something he has done, a choice he had made, and he must resolve the issue to move on?”

Irmo did not answer. They continued walking. “In all of the three memories you recalled to my mind,” said Elrond, “I could see that truth. I helped guide them to that truth. But only they could choose to see and understand.”

“You were usually a willing and apt tool,” replied Irmo.

Elrond looked at him sharply. He was not looking for validation of his own actions and was a little disconcerted to know that Irmo, master of dreams and visions, knew so much. “Why can I not help Elrohir now?”

“Elrohir is unwilling to accept your help.”

Elrond sighed. “So he must suffer until he chooses to see and understand the truth?

“That he suffers is an unfortunate consequence, but he knew it might be so and still chose this course.”

Elrond rubbed his forehead. “So this is his life? There is no hope for him?” When Irmo did not immediately answer, he continued, “Then cannot I at least comfort him? Strengthen him? He has accepted that.”

They were back at the cottage. Irmo followed him inside and entered the chamber where Celebrían was sleeping. He motioned for Elrond to prepare for rest, while he sat on the edge of the bed next to Celebrían. She did not wake.

He smoothed her hair and rested his hand on the now large swell of her belly. A smile was on his face. “She is dreaming of you and of this daughter in her womb. When first she came to us, I filled her dreams with memories of you and her children. When her nights were no longer tormented by orcs, her days became times of healing.”

Elrond sat down beside Celebrían, opposite the Vala. “Thank you,” he said, and he found he was more grateful than he could express. He recalled how awful the dreams of her torment had been, and how he could never chase them away.

Irmo smiled at him. “Even now, Estë is with your son. She will comfort him. But know this, Elrond Peredhel, you must learn patience. What ails your beloved son cannot be cured by any of us, but we can help him. A time will come when he will need you and Celebrían more than any of us here. Take care not to push him before he is ready.”

Irmo stood, walked around the bed, and laid his hand on Elrond’s head. Elrond felt himself instantly on the Path of Dreams, and there was Celebrían waiting for him.

* * *

The next morning Elrond woke more refreshed than he could remember ever feeling. Celebrían still lay beside him, though propped up on pillows watching him. She smiled as his gaze focused on her. “Awakening here is not like any other place. And each day seems better than the last.”

He laughed as she rolled off the bed. “I think our daughter grew overnight.”

Celebrían patted her belly. “I have asked her several times to confirm no one else is hiding in there with her.”

They stopped at Elrohir’s chamber and found him soundly sleeping. Remembering Irmo’s words of the night before, Elrond did not enter. Celebrían did, kissing Elrohir’s brow and smoothing the blanket before leaving him in sleep. Elrond looked at her in question.

“There is peace about him, but he is weaker,” she reported, and a frown creased her forehead. “Perhaps that peace cost him strength.”

Elrohir slept all that day, but again sat with Estë that night. This continued for several nights. They had been in Lórien for nearly a week when a night came when Elrohir did not go to the lake. He sat with them for evening meal. To Elrond’s eyes, there was a greater peace about his son. There was also acceptance, as if he were content with his state of being. He was also nearly translucent, which gave him an ethereal beauty that was stunning and yet haunting.

He asked Elrohir to walk with him, and they strolled about the gardens.

“Are you glad you came here?” asked Elrond.

“Yes, Adar, I am. Thank you for bringing me here,” replied Elrohir, and when their eyes met, Elrond could see contentment in them.

“I see peace about you, as light and comfortable as a summer mist. But your spirit shines through your body as if it is drifting into that mist and becoming part of it.” When Elrohir did not respond, he said, “Are you ready for healing?

Elrohir slipped his arm through Elrond’s as they continued their slow walk. “Not yet, Adar,” he answered gently.

Elrond remembered Irmo’s warning. Something made him look up and he saw a figure in the woods. He was sure it was the Vala.

“Is there naught I can do for you?” he finally asked.

“Stay here with me, Adar. Your presence is a comfort and source of strength to me,” replied Elrohir.

“As long as you need us, we will be here,” promised Elrond.

* * *

It would have been easy to lose track of time in that fair garden, thought Elrond, if not for Celebrían’s pregnancy. Their daughter’s begetting day was only a week away, and he found all present in Irmo’s garden full of joy and anticipation at the prospect of her birth.

Baby garments had been appearing for several weeks, and one day a beautifully carved cradle appeared in their chamber next to their bed. Most of the gifts held no clue as to the giver, and unless they happened upon the individual bringing the item they never did learn.

Elrond had asked that word be sent to Elwing letting her know that they were in Lórien, though he suspected she already knew. He did not know if Elladan, Celeborn and Galadriel had returned from their visit, but they would learn of Celebrían’s whereabouts at home or from Elwing.

He was not surprised when a messenger came to their cottage and informed him of a visitor. As he went to the gates to greet the guest, he found Glorfindel and Lindórië waiting for him.

“I would not miss the arrival of your daughter, Elrond,” said Glorfindel, his face shining. He looked over Elrond’s shoulder and grinned more, if that were possible. “Celebrían!”

Elrond turned and saw Celebrían strolling with Elrohir along her favorite path. She glowed, radiant, as she saw them and Glorfindel went quickly to her and kissed her hand and then both cheeks. “Just when I think you cannot become more beautiful, you do.”

Glorfindel turned to Lindórië but she was not looking at him or Celebrían. Her eyes were on Elrohir. And Elrohir’s eyes were on her. Glorfindel looked from his niece to Elrohir, and the smile faded from his face.

“Welcome, Lindórië,” said Elrohir.

“Greetings, Elrohir,” she answered.

Her smile was sweet and Elrohir seemed to melt a little. Elrohir reached for the bundle she was carrying, but Elrond managed to speak first. “Let me carry that for you, Lindórië.”

The elleth suddenly stopped and turned to Celebrían, her face flushing. “Lady Celebrían, I am so glad to see you looking so well,” she said, flustered.

Celebrían laughed. “I am pleased you came with Glorfindel. I hoped we would meet again soon, and am glad to have this time to spend with you.” She touched Elrohir’s arm. “Escort Lindórië to the cottage. I am sure she would like a cool drink. We will follow behind.”

Celebrían waited until the pair had a good start before she accepted Glorfindel’s and Elrond’s arms. “I like her,” she said thoughtfully.

Glorfindel laughed. “I do too, but I also know her.”

“I am a very good judge of character,” replied Celebrían. “And she is perfect for Elrohir.”

Elrond raised a brow at her. “Matchmaker? Are you playing matchmaker?”

“So what if I am?” She laughed. “Look at them!”

Elrond looked, and so did Glorfindel, but neither laughed. When they reached the cottage, Celebrían sat with the young elves, but Glorfindel nodded for Elrond to join him outside.

“He is fading. Dying,” said Glorfindel bluntly. When Elrond recoiled slightly at the words, Glorfindel grabbed his arms and shook him. “Do not tell me you do not see it!”

“I see it,” said Elrond. “I am powerless to stop it.”

“Is Celebrían blind to it?”

“Not entirely, but she has faith that this will end. She also sees him daily and so the changes are less noticeable.”

“Where is Olórin? Where is Irmo?” asked Glorfindel, searching the glades.

“They are here. They know. They continue to counsel me to patience, and they have helped Elrohir find peace. But they do not push him to get well.” Elrond could hear the frustration in his own voice.

Glorfindel ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Lindórië loves him.”

“I think he loves her. They fell in love the moment they met, and this second meeting only confirms it.”

“Maybe that love will push him to get well,” said Glorfindel.

* * *

Irmo and Estë came to Elrond two nights later. He followed them to a private area he had not seen before and looked into their grave faces.

“Elrond, we have counseled you to patience these many days. We do not change that counsel, but we believe the time draws near when patience will end. Yet we have a new concern, one unlooked for. The arrival of Lindórië is going to further weaken Elrohir, for he loves her.”

Elrond held out his hands. “I do not understand. The love between elves is strength to them both.”

They both looked upon him intently. “Normally it is,” replied Estë. “But for this time, for Elrohir, what seems to be great joy is going to cause him great pain.”

“Should we send Lindórië away?”

“We have considered this,” answered Irmo. “But the love is already present, and so for Elrohir it makes no difference. Sending Lindórië away would hurt her, and it would hurt Glorfindel. This is not our counsel.”

“What is your counsel?” asked Elrond, his voice calm though he was tense and frustrated.

“Patience,” said Irmo, and he sighed and shook his head. “Elrohir will need you, and Celebrían and your daughter. Let us help you, strengthen you. It pains us to see you put in this … circumstance.”

Elrond bowed his head to hide his emotion. Anger, frustration, and the accompanying feeling of helplessness weighed on him. Then he felt their hands on his shoulder and felt a tingling energy course through him. Never had he been so strengthened and comforted. “We will be near in the days to come,” said Estë quietly.

Elrond returned to the cottage. Celebrían was dozing in a comfortable chair and Glorfindel was staring at the stars. Elrohir and Lindórië were walking hand in hand in the moonlight. He considered speaking to Glorfindel about the words the Valar had spoken to him, but he held his tongue. How could he explain what he did not understand?

* * *

The next day Lindórië was with Celebrían. She had woven soft blankets for the baby and Elrond could hear Celebrían exclaiming over them and then the two were sorting through all the gifts and items Celebrían had prepared. Elrohir was not in the cottage, and Elrond walked along the now familiar garden paths in search of him.

He found him on the same rock near the lake where he had seen him the first night. This time he felt no restraint, but an urging to go to his son. When their eyes met, Elrohir did not attempt to shield the pain of his soul. He reached out to his father and Elrond pulled him close.

“I never knew love could hurt this badly,” gasped Elrohir.

Pain radiated from him in waves, and Elrond poured forth his love and strength to his son. There were light barriers in Elrohir’s mind to places he did not wish his father to go, and Elrond rejected the temptation to do so anyway. The love that pained Elrohir so deeply was his love for Lindórië, but to Elrond’s astonishment, also the love he bore for him and Celebrían. Yet his need for Elrond’s help had overcome his wish to hide this from his father. And though Elrond could not understand why this pain even existed between them, he did what he could to mend and soothe it.

Elrond noted the presence of several others near them. Olórin and Irmo were in sight, and there was an energy in the air that told him they were assisting him and Elrohir. He calmed his son until his hurts were only a dull ache. Then Elrohir’s eyes fluttered closed as exhaustion overcame him.

“He should rest now,” said Olórin. With effortless ease he lifted Elrohir. “We will push him into sleep and dreams of comfort, until your daughter comes.”

Elrond stood, weary, and walked with Olórin back to their cottage. Once Elrohir was settled, Elrond turned to Olórin.

“You have been my friend for an age of this world, Olórin. Now we are watching my son fade and you all say there is naught you can do to heal him. Please, Mithrandir, I beg of you. Speak to me of what is wrong and what can be done.”

A tear ran slowly down the Maia’s cheek. “This is beyond the Ainur to change,” he said gently. “But a time for its end is set. It draws near. Have hope, Elrond.”

Then Olórin turned back to Elrohir and Elrond could see the great power the Maia sent forth into his son. Elrohir’s pallor lessened and he relaxed into deeper sleep. Then they left him.

* * *

That afternoon, a messenger again brought word that visitors had come. Elrond had just walked out of the cottage when he saw Elladan, and behind him, Celeborn and Galadriel and Eärendil and Elwing.

His son had changed. He was more like to Eärendil than to his father or twin, hardier and stronger, and with the same indescribable quality that Elrond had only seen in his sire.

These five brought a merry presence to their temporary home. They met Lindórië and included her as if she were part of the family. Celebrían was immediately surrounded and laughter filled the house. That night, Elladan told them of his journeys with Eärendil and flying with Elwing, and they sat enraptured as he described all that he had seen.

Later, Elladan left them and when Elrond realized it, he went to Elrohir’s room. Elladan stood looking down at his twin for a moment, as if in shock. Never have they looked so different, thought Elrond.

Elladan stood strong and confident and full of life, yet peace did not reign in his heart. Conflicting desires still battled within him, and the spark of those desires drew other people to him. Elrohir was beautiful, Elrond realized again. In sleep his pain was gone and his spirit seemed to shine forth with pure light. Peace did reign in him.

Then Elladan sat carefully on the side of the bed and hesitantly touched Elrohir’s hand where it rested on the coverlet. Elrond could see his confusion.

“Elrohir?” he whispered hoarsely.

A figure appeared outside the room, though shrouded in mists. Irmo, Elrond thought. The Vala called to Elladan, who at first seemed not to hear him. Then Elladan lifted his eyes and looked out into the night. He answered the summons, rising immediately and disappearing into the darkness.

* * *

TBC

Thanks to daw for beta reading this chapter.