Come Back to the Valley by StarSpray

Chapter Two

The war lasted many years. Little Valandil grew up from a babe in arms to an active, cheerful child on the cusp of that awkward stage where children were all elbows and knees and cracking voices. Celebrían found herself the acting mistress of Imladris, though she had no real claim to the role, and she set about making some of the changes she had longed to see but never quite had the courage to suggest before Elrond had departed. The gardens were reorganized and the library was expanded, made more open and airier. Texts from Arnor and Lindon were copied, and the tanners busied themselves making the leather for the bindings. Princess Lirulin and her ladies took to their looms, and the Hall of Fire gained many colorful tapestries, and Celebrían made sure that the room was open and often used in the long stretches of time between reports from the south, when all was uncertain and worry and fear could creep in like a winter's chill through chinks in walls and underneath doors in less snugly built houses.

Queen Sírien reigned in Annúminas until her death, only the year before word came north at last of victory on the slopes of Mount Doom—and the deaths of Gil-galad and Elendil. The news of Gil-galad's loss rocked Celebrían. Somehow she had thought that if they were victorious it would be a true victory, and the king would return to Lindon in blazing glory and fanfare. All in Imladris were plunged into mourning even as they breathed a collective sigh of relief, for Sauron was no more. The armies of the north came trickling back, greatly diminished. The Dúnedain did not linger long in Imladris, eager to return to their homes, and those who had waited in the valley for them also began to depart, until only the royal entourage remained. Isildur would be coming north to take up his father's seat in Annúminas, and his wife did not wish to leave without him.

There was little fanfare when Elrond himself returned. He arrived with only a small party late in the evening, as dusk was starting to settle into the valley, as the sunset turned purple and the stars began to come out, twinkling gently. A burst of cheerfully teasing verses came from the pine trees near the path leading down into the valley, though it was shorter lived than usual. Celebrían heard it from farther up in the valley, where she had been all day in a small, newly-planted apple orchard, singing songs of growth and vibrancy and sweetness to the slender young trees. She hurried down to the main house, following a path that wound beside the course of a small stream that flowed with a sound of laughter over smooth river stones and leaped down tiny series of falls.

Elrond had just stepped into the rose garden when she arrived. He had removed his traveling cloak and his boots, and stood barefoot on the flagstones in front of the fountain, gazing about him as though seeing the valley and the garden for the first time. He had untied his braids and was combing his fingers through his hair slowly, absently. He looked, Celebrían thought, very tired, weighed down with grief as well as travel and all of the years of fighting in the foul airs of Mordor that had come before.

"Welcome home," Celebrían said, stepping out of the shadows of a trellis. Elrond turned and smiled at her. He was thinner than he had been, and there was a small scar just above his right eyebrow that had not been there before, but otherwise he was nearly unchanged. His hair fell in messy waves about his shoulders, still half tangled up in the remnants of his braids. The relief that surged through Celebrían at the sight of his smile surprised her—she had not realized until that moment just how worried she had been for him. She gave into impulse and rounded the fountain to throw her arms around him. He made a small surprised noise, but his arms came up to hold her without hesitation.

"Thank you," he said. He took a breath and as he let it out Celebrían could feel his shoulders relax beneath her hands. Overhead the stars blazed, and elsewhere in the gardens someone took up a flute, its delicate melody weaving into seamless harmony with the fountain and the flowing streams.