~*~

The convoy arrived at Edhellond two years later than planned, looking well if not entirely eager. The horses were led away by stablehands, and the weary travelers retired for rest. In this way Celeborn came to his bedchamber; there his wife was waiting with no more anticipation than a candle standing unlit, indifferent towards a matchstick. Or so it seemed.

After the Elves delivering Celeborn’s luggage departed, Galadriel spoke, "I had organized parties to conduct thorough searches along all the shore of Belfalas in your absence, and at my behest they toiled tirelessly. Wrought with long and hard labor are the spoils of our time and effort, but I do not regret." She smiled. "Such is my love for you."

Eyes narrowed, Celeborn replied, "Are you unwell?"

"I speak of your ransom! I guessed Amroth’s price would be high indeed, and planned to appease him with a wealth of pearls, so that he might surrender you unharmed, and as soon as may be."

With a sigh he sat on their bed. "You jest."

"Not of my love for you." She came to stand before him. "Now, tell me what kept you so long in the Golden Wood! How is the good king caring for that fair land?"

There was a pause long enough to be a hesitation. "Lorinand prospers, and the king is well." More was expected of him. "But he did not keep us longer than his wont. We set out from Imladris later than planned."

"I see." Galadriel sat next to him. Normally she would know where her husband and daughter walked, even from afar. "Well, I have indeed been incessantly occupied – though not at the trials I explained in jest, of course. Still…" she made a motion with her hand, as if sweeping away the oversight. "Was there aught amiss which required your prolonged attention there?"

"Nay— that is," he paused, "after those planning to depart for Mithlond had gone, Imladris was left quiet and bare, less peaceful than deserted. Though I have long desired to return to our home here, it seemed inconsiderate to leave so soon after that land had lost so many. Hardly a voice resounds now beyond the walls of the House; the valley sleeps."

"And Elrond has fewer demands upon his time."

Celeborn glanced sidelong, perceiving his wife’s next question as well. "He does indeed. And yes, Celebrian wished to remain – she also yearned to return, even after our stay in Caras Galadon."

Seeing his wife sink slightly, he thought to comfort her by saying, "They had had scarce time to spend undisturbed together, since they began courting." This had begun but years ago; he recalled another beginning in a past Age and a different place – yet love and its symptoms had not changed. "Not like our own courtship in the safety and peace of Doriath, my wife. Their love is still new and exciting as a world unexplored. Well should we understand that feeling! I was pleased to remember it, as I observed them together."

Galadriel stood, saying after a moment, "Doubtless you are weary, husband. Why not disrobe, and I will have a bath drawn for you. Have you eaten? I will see that a meal is brought also, after you are made comfortable."

Celeborn did not move. "If you had but seen them together in these last years, your mind would be different."

Turning, she retorted, "Would it be changed entirely, not dissimilar to your own?"

"Do not look upon me as an ally lost! I am still cautious, and I retain a number of reservations. But I cannot deny now that their love is genuine, and I suspect more profound than friendship." He watched her closely. "Do you still doubt? It has been a decade, after all, and their hearts are unchanged."

Galadriel came closer again, finding answers to countless questions within her husband’s eyes. Her own mind promptly closed; such was truly her love for Celeborn, that she would not burden him with her own insights unnecessarily. "Mayhap time and observation will sway my mind also. But my own judgments I shall keep for a while. I go now to prepare your bath." Pausing at the door she said, "Yet Celebrian left Elrond’s company of her own volition."

Laughing lightly, he replied, "Of course. And though she misses him already, she has missed you for longer, and dearly."

Galadriel nodded. "Then we shall see if distance strengthens their bond, or if with longing comes forgetfulness. In the meanwhile, let us speak no more of this." And for some years that followed, they did not.

~*~

"I do not ask that you agree with me. I merely ask that you acknowledge my opinion."

Galadriel threw up her hands. "Consider it noted."

For a moment there was silence in the room, mirrored by the icy scene of winter outside. Then Galadriel amended, "Though being partial as you are, your opinion weighs less in this case than it otherwise might." Her husband made a strange sound of aggravation, and set down the book he had not been reading with undue force.

"You are being purposefully difficult," said Celeborn.

"And you are unnecessarily irate. Do you now refuse to acknowledge my own opinion?"

"That being that I am partial? I suppose I do, for I am not."

"But you are so." She held up a hand when her husband whirled. "In a time without war his peaceable nature befriended you; later upon a battlefield his healing hands mended you. Do you not understand? You like him too well to see this matter clearly."

"Then since you like him not at all, I should say we are evenly matched." He crossed his arms as if to stop any reply, but seeing his wife was undeterred, went on in her place instead, "If I should have no say in this because of my presumed biases, then to be fair neither should you. And it shall be left for Celebrian and Elrond to work out amongst themselves." A decidedly smug smirk tugged at his mouth. His wife did not smile.

"Convenient, since their minds are of similar inclination as your own."

He shrugged. "Now yes, but maybe not in the end. By our decree, there is yet eighty years that must pass before they may consider marriage."

Gliding to a chair, Galadriel said, "I am glad to hear, at least, you have not changed your mind about that."

Whether by defeat or distraction, the fight left Celeborn. In a quiet voice he replied, "Nay. For a hundred years she loved another – or thought that she did. Therefore a hundred years they must wait. Alas that this time is not like the last, for all our hearts were then glad, and between us was none of... this."

Celeborn stood looking like a wilted flower, his words falling gentle as petals. Galadriel could not help but soften. "You spoke wisely of fairness. In that vein I say we should not neglect our role as her guardians on account of our own differences. Celebrian would be better served to have even conflicting advice from both of us than none at all. And Elrond -though mature as he may be- is still parentless, and him also we shall counsel in his need."

If Celeborn was cheered it did not show. He said only, "Yes. That would be best."

A knock at the door ended their conversation, though the argument was far from over.

That night Celeborn came quietly to bed, and laid himself down possibly an inch further than his usual place. But an inch could be leagues, depending on which map is used, so Galadriel turned to him in the darkness.

"Are you wroth with me?"

His eyes closed. "I am weary of the day."

What remained unsaid was the answer she heard loudest. "Pray do not be wroth with me."

He turned onto his side, facing away. "We may speak on the morrow."

Embracing him from behind, Galadriel said, "As you wish." For a while there was stillness in the room, if not in her heart. Lying thoughtful beside her husband, sad and asleep, Galadriel could feel little but sorry. Words had proven unable to mend the uneasiness resultant after years of debates and disagreeing – and little compromise could be made when both parties were equally right and wrong, if in separate ways. It seemed that each attempt at reconciliation had done more harm than good, yet she desired to make amends no less.

"That tickles," came Celeborn’s complaint.

Her fingers ceased the circles they had been tracing along his stomach. "In a lovely way? I would continue as it pleases you. It seems your muscles are tense... here. Might you sleep better after a massage?" She kissed his shoulder once, then again with her teeth when he did not respond.

"I am content."

And so was his wife; steadfast and constant as an Eldar could be – in flesh. "At heart?" she asked, and silence followed.

Finally he sighed, but not with annoyance. "Your needs are mine, beloved, as ever. Yet though I would gladly please you as I can this night, for my part I would be slow to rouse."

Galadriel smiled into his hair at this inaccuracy. "Oh, but I would be very patient, and assiduous." Her fingers traced calculated circles around other things, and Celeborn was not so slow to rouse after all.

Turning onto his back, they kissed fluently. Upon parting he caught her eyes; sorrow he saw, among other things. "It seems we are matched," he said.

"Then let us make amends, and be matched in forgiveness." Her hand that had cupped his face descended to trace a row of scars along his chest, each regarded as a reminder of life, and as cherished. She bent to kiss one after another.

"But do not think that my mind can be changed in this way," he added, flinching at a nip, then chuckling along with his wife.

~*~

Galadriel had resolved to tell only a condensed account of the tale. Having relayed all relevant points to Cirdan she stood patient and waited. The Shipwright had listened attentively. Now in the silence he was pensive, head tilted back and eyes half closed, obviously deliberating.

"Ah," he began, full of meaning. Galadriel leaned forward a touch. As his brows knit, her eyes rose. He said with conviction, "Their children will be fair indeed. I look forward to meeting them." Galadriel’s frown was not misleading as his had been.

Next the tale was told in full, not a single detail omitted. Cirdan became immensely busy with a fishing net during the telling, his eyes never leaving his hands’ work. "Ah," he stressed with finality at the second conclusion of the same story.

"It is not a short ride to Mithlond from Edhellond, my friend." Galadriel shifted her weight from one tender thigh to the other. "Might you manage any more than that, considering my trouble?"

"Hm."

"Cirdan…"

He looked up, hands spread in a demonstration of defenselessness. "What would you have me say?"

After a long and unwavering stare, she nodded. "So you endorse the union."

He laughed lightly. "Of course! My heart is glad for them both – may they bring each other eternal joy. I do not know Celebrian closely, but Elrond is a good… well, what he is!" He laughed again. "A good Peredhel, a good person, you know. Yes, my heart is made glad."

"Your heart—" she began again, "Cirdan, I ask respectfully and only for the insight of your long wisdom." To no avail she had been attempting to reason with love-besotted hearts for the last decade, and had not expected as much from the Shipwright.

After a deep breath he stood, tall and slender as a young tree, and still as straight. "So be it: in truth and wisdom, I cannot perceive of a better match."

"Do you mock me?"

He snorted. "If you must ask, the answer should be obvious. But I would not mock you, and it is not my pleasure to quarrel with you, nor is it my place; yet you did ask my opinion, and not on condition that it echo your own." After a pause he asked, "What says Celeborn? You have told me little of his mind in this."

"Celeborn looks upon this with his heart, not his mind, and he will not be... swayed. Ever has he been fond of Elrond."

No humor colored Cirdan’s voice. "The same could be said of myself, do not forget. Before Elrond bore his mother-name I knew him, watched as he took his first steps upon the shore of Arvernien, ere Beleriand sank and the world was broken." Blinking away a faraway expression, he said, "Now come – let me give my farewell to the day, for it has been good, and then we may talk more."

They walked to the end of a long pier, the sun setting before them. Cirdan admired the fiery view with a hand upon his breast. Galadriel smoldered from within, her hands clenched. Night fell as signing arose, and the smell of roasting fish enriched the air.

With a content sigh Cirdan turned away from the West, and Galadriel turned her gaze on him. "You think me cold," she said evenly, "yet it is not so. Would that I could only perceive the happiness in this, and rejoice with the rest of you. That would be my greatest pleasure, if you would know. But I see many things when I cast my sight down that path, Cirdan, not all of them good. Of their love I delight; of their union I am fearful, and also loath to interfere. All the more does doubt plague me as they ignore the inevitable ending of this course."

The same pensive look overcame the Shipwright’s bearing, and Galadriel feared what she might do if he uttered another monosyllable reply. She made as if to leave, pausing when from behind Cirdan said, "You have but one choice to make from only two options, if I understand aright all that I have heard this day.

"Either you disapprove openly, and over their marriage will loom a shadow of doubt, after which guilt will brew until it spawns remorse, and aught that you fear shall come to pass all the sooner; for their bliss will be dimmed from the outset, doomed ever to darken.

"Or else find a place within your heart where hope and trust yet lieth, and therein receive them both sincerely, taking upon yourself fair share of whatever fate awaits them; only in this way will you be joined in their happiness, for as long as it may last."

No words followed, save the rush and hush of the tide, and Galadriel found herself wondering if Cirdan had spoken at all, or if the waves had ferried this message to her. Two paths indeed, and it seemed that they each were laid before her feet in that moment. At length she turned. Cirdan now faced westwards, his silver head crested by stars and the inky blackness of night. Decision made, she returned to his side.

"What can you tell me of Elrond? Halfelven."

Cirdan smiled. "Is there another?"

~*~

When Elrond hurried into the chamber, Lindir bowed respectfully towards the seated lady, and took his leave.

Rising Galadriel said kindly, "There was no need for you to rush, Elrond."

Slightly bemused, he replied, "I see that there was not." Yet the messenger sent to inform him of Galadriel’s arrival had seemed nervous beyond reason. "Well, it is my pleasure to receive you, as ever. But what brings you to Rivendell? Word reached me in the spring that you had set out for Mithlond."

"Yes, and Cirdan sends his greetings." By all appearances, Galadriel seemed content to remain in place, smiling at the Lord of Rivendell. Eventually her gaze wandered all about him, as if inspecting a newly presented gift with interest and approval. "May we walk?"

To Elrond this was a welcome change, and he led them out of the sitting room. They roamed the residence without conversation, eventually settling amid a garden. By then Elrond had grown from uncomfortable to suspicious, and decided to forego formalities. "Celebrian is here visiting, did you know?"

At first Galadriel was visibly surprised, but then she sighed. "I did not, but that should be little wonder." Her eyes searched the area for an example, finding none that seemed as fitting as could be. But she gestured to a birdbath nearby. "Nor did I know of those sparrows yonder, though certainly I knew sparrows may be found in places they belong."

Elrond kept silent, and unnaturally still. Unexpectedly Galadriel laughed, and embraced him. Separating to meet his gaze, she said, "I shall fight not the inevitable dusk impending, lest I spite the glorious dawn ascending. And though it be dark and hard at its falling, even the twilight is not everlasting – the sun should have taught me that!"

Deeming Elrond was on the verge of glee or flight, she took his hands to bar one and encourage the other. "Now tell me of your travels in the far lands, Elrond, when the Second Age was young and the word knew a time of peace; I have little knowledge of the south, and I greatly desire it. Then tales I will tell you of life among the light of the Two Trees in the Blessed Lands long ago, or of Melian your foremother and the deep wisdom she shared with me under the boughs of Doriath long gone."

After a moment, Elrond blinked. Galadriel looked upon him expectantly, while the insight she offered awoke a pang of hunger within him. "Well," he began, "many things wild and strange I knew..."

~`end`~