Rising as if Weightless by StarSpray

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Chapter Four

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As soon as word reached Eress ëa of the final defeat of Sauron, and of the Ringbearers’ plans to sail west at last, Celebrían leaped into action, scribbling plans and calling upon carpenters to modify several rooms in her house and add more furniture for the comfort of the halflings. “I have never met one myself,” she told Elwing, when they met to laugh and cry together over the news, “but I do know a thing or two about comfort, and I know how to shrink things down to Dwarvish size, and Elrond tells me that hobbits are only slightly smaller. He has also warned me that they like their food, though I wish he had also sent some recipes, or even an idea of what is eaten in the Shire. They seem to be simple folk, but how adventurous might they be?”

“I daresay they’ve had their fill of adventure,” Eluréd remarked as he looked over a few sketches of furniture, drawn to scale with normal elven things.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Finrod. “There’s a difference between adventures in the dining room and out in the wide world.” He waved a hand vaguely eastward. “Surely there are some folk from Rivendell here already, Celebrían, who know Master Bilbo’s tastes?”

“Oh!” Celebrían brightened. “I hadn’t thought of that! Thank you, Uncle.” She swept out of the room.

“Will you be at the docks when they arrive?” Finrod asked Elwing.

“No,” said Elwing. Finrod’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. “There will be a crowd already, and anyway it’s Celebrían that Elrond will truly want to see. I have waited two Ages to see Elrond again; I can wait a few days more.”

“Also,” Eluréd said, setting down the drawings, “we cannot be certain when Eärendil and Elurín will return.”

“Eärendil has no excuse to be late to this reunion,” Finrod said. “He’ll be able to see the whole voyage from up there! But I see your point. Does Celebrían know?”

“Does Celebrían know what?” Celebrían came back into the room.

“That Elwing is not going to go with us to meet the ship.”

“Oh, yes. We’ve spoken of it already.” Celebrían smiled at Elwing, radiant in her happiness. It was only slightly dimmed by the news of her daughter’s marriage to Aragorn; Arwen had long been a faithful letter writer, and Celebrían had known for many years of her choice and her hopes for her future with Aragorn. It was bittersweet, but something she had long come to terms with. “Though I wish everyone else was half so thoughtful—for they have less than half the right to be asking about coming to Eressëa the minute the ship is docked to meet him. It isn’t Elrond’s fault he’s related to nearly everyone in Valinor!”

“I’ll fend them off for you, don’t worry,” said Finrod. “You can’t blame them for being excited.”

“I can certainly blame them for wanting to all pile into my house at once,” Celebrían said primly. “Not to mention the poor Ringbearers. Everyone wants to meet them, too—everyone from Rúmil to Daeron to every king in the land! I won’t have them overwhelmed, of all people. From what my husband has written of Bilbo he wouldn’t mind it, perhaps, but he is quite old—he’ll be more than one hundred and thirty when he sails!—and Frodo most of all will need rest and quiet.” She glanced sidelong at Finrod. “And I include you in that throng, Uncle. You mustn’t pester them with all the thousands of questions I know you have in mind.”

“I promise, I shall limit myself to only one question per visit until I am permitted otherwise,” Finrod said solemnly.

With all of the work that Celebr ían had to do, time seemed to fly by until at last the day came when the ship bearing the Ringbearers was expected to arrive in Avallónë. Elwing and Eluréd had arrived again to Eressëa a few days before, and were waiting for Eärendil and Elurín at Dior and Nimloth’s house. As the sun rose golden-pink over the sea, Elwing climbed to the tallest tower in the house to gaze out over the sea. Rainclouds gathered over the sea not long after dawn, obscuring the horizon with rain falling like a silver-grey curtain over the water. Somewhere in a nearby garden a mother was singing to her child as she tended the flowers; inside Elwing could hear Nimloth laughing with Eluréd downstairs. Elwing smiled to hear it; sometimes it struck her all over again how marvelous it was that their family had been reunited beyond hope and death, there in the Undying Lands.

Quiet footsteps on the stairs behind her heralded Dior ’s arrival, bearing a tea tray. “Any sign yet?” he asked, handing her a cup.

Elwing inhaled the fragrant steam off of the tea, and shook her head. “No. I saw Vingilot descend just before sunrise, though.” She glanced northward, and caught a glimpse of white sails coming down the coast. “There is Nimroval now.”

They stood in silence for a little while, sipping their tea and listening to the sounds of the city below them, and the sound of the waves washing gently up onto Eress ëa’s shores. Elwing gazed out at the rain falling on the sea and found herself thinking of rainy days in Sirion, cozy afternoons when she’d been able to leave aside her duties and curl up with her boys to watch the rain, or tell stories, or play whatever little game Elros or Elrond had invented that day. Someone had gifted them a set of brightly painted wooden blocks, and Elros had loved to build them up as high as they would go, or else arrange them in carefully laid out little cities on the floor between their beds. Elrond had liked to build cities too, but he had liked even more games of hide and seek throughout the house. He had been the best at finding; Elros had been the best at hiding. “I wish you could have known Elros,” she said aloud after a while. Elros had been in her thoughts a great deal of late.

“There are many who I wish I could have known, Elros not least among them,” said Dior. He looked at Elwing. “Have I told you lately that I am proud of you?”

Elwing smiled at him. “I don’t think I’ve done anything remarkable recently,” she said.

“You are always remarkable,” he said. “As are your children, and their children too. You endured far more than you ever should have had to, and still here you remain, thriving where others would have wilted.” He put his arm around her and pressed a kiss to her temple. Elwing leaned against him, and they watched Nimroval come swiftly down into Eldamar, skimming around the island until it came to Tuor and Idril’s home on the water. Elwing leaned out over the balcony to wave when she saw Eärendil glance up.

As he waved back, Dior straightened. “There, Elwing. Look!” She turned to see the rainclouds parting like a curtain, and out of them came a pale shape, almost shining, like a pearl. Her breath caught in her throat, and she gripped the railing as Dior turned to call down to Nimloth and Eluréd, who rushed up to see the ship as well. Minutes later they were joined by Elurín, flying up on white wings, and Eärendil, out of breath and flushed from his sprint up from the dock.

It seemed as though another Age passed before the ship came into port, and all of the bells in Avall ónë rang out in welcome. Elwing saw Galadriel on the deck first, golden hair shining in the sunlight. A shorter figure stood beside her, clad all in grey, and up from the cabin came another figure, dark-haired and clad in blue and silver. He was accompanied by a pair of very small figures—but there was no mistaking Elrond, there at last. He moved to the ship railing by Galadriel, and Elwing watched as Celebrían rushed out from the crowd, and Elrond did not even wait for the gangplank to be set before he leapt from the ship onto the dock and into Celebrían’s arms.

They disappeared in the confusion after that, as the other passengers disembarked, and Elwing imagined Finrod stepping forward to take charge of them all, and keeping the crowd at bay, eager though they all were to catch a glimpse of everyone. Someone started singing, and many joined in—a song of welcome and praise for all of the Ringbearers; the words of it reached even up to Nimloth and Dior ’s tower.

Once the crowds began to disperse, Elwing left the tower. E ärendil followed her to the room they shared when visiting her parents, and he collapsed onto the bed. “I must admit, I am glad we didn’t go down to the docks today,” he said. “I am very tired, and I want to be properly awake when we see Elrond again.”

“Are you nervous?” Elwing asked. She was, all of a sudden, and unaccountably. It would be a happy reunion, if perhaps a little awkward.

“I’m too tired to be nervous,” Eärendil said. He had closed his eyes, and Elwing only then noticed that he was barefoot, having evidently not bothered with shoes at all that morning. “Anyway, he’s our son, not a dragon. It’ll be fine.”

“You speak wisely, my love,” Elwing said, laughing. She leaned over to kiss him. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you for lunch.”

Sooner than Elwing had expected, they had visitors. Galadriel came to renew acquaintances. With her came Gandalf, clad all in white with a wide brimmed hat that Elur ín immediately stole to wear himself as they sat in the garden. They spent the afternoon exchanging tales and gossip, and both Galadriel and Gandalf smiled and laughed more freely than anyone. It was as though they had built up a dam through the dark years in Middle-earth, and now they were free of rings and responsibility it had broken and joy poured out like floodwater. He had much to say about Frodo and Bilbo Baggins, all of it deeply proud and fond. They both also spoke of Elrond, and of his children—Galadriel’s grandchildren. It was always somehow startling to remember that.

At last, though, Elrond came. It was late in the afternoon, and Elwing was alone in the garden reading a book. E ärendil had walked down with Eluréd, and she was not quite sure where the rest of the household had gone. A nightingale alighted on the table beside her chair, and when Elwing looked up at it she saw two figures coming up the path, both tall, one silver haired and the other raven-dark. Elurín had his arm slung around Elrond’s shoulders, and both of them were smiling, laughing. Elrond still had dimples in his cheeks, just as he had when he was small. Elwing snapped her book shut, startling the nightingale into flight, though it settled again on a branch just above her head.

“Elwing!” Elurín called out when he saw her. “Look who I found coming up the road!”

Elrond was clad in plain robes of dark blue, and his hair was unadorned and falling loose about his shoulders. He was, of course, the spitting image of Elros, taking after Dior and L úthien. His bearing, though, was not the same. He was not a king, and did not carry himself like one. All of the joys and sorrows of his long life could be seen behind his eyes, star-bright and grey as a starlit evening. Something about him made Elwing think of Idril. But the dimples were his own, and the quiet strength and wisdom and assurance in his bearing. On his finger he wore a ring of gold, set with a deep blue gem—Vilya, mightiest of the Three. “Elrond,” she breathed when she found her voice again, and ran up the path to meet them. Elurín stepped aside, and Elwing flung her arms around Elrond. He was taller than she was, and smelled of fresh sea air and the lavender that Celebrían preferred in all her soaps.

“Where is Eärendil, Elwing?” Elurín asked as Elwing drew back so look at Elrond again.

“Down at the water,” Elwing said, “with Eluréd.”

Elrond laughed quietly as Elur ín strode off to fetch them. “I was not expecting to find uncles and grandparents awaiting me, too,” he admitted.

“I hope that Celebrían warned you,” Elwing said.

“She did.”

They began walking, following Elur ín more slowly, going arm in arm. “I am so glad you are here at last,” Elwing said finally. “You must be weary of all the questions—but I know your voyage was smooth and I am certain that you and your companions are settling in well, for Celebrían has been working to that end ever since we first received word of your coming.”

“We are all very comfortable,” Elrond agreed, “but how did you know the voyage went so well?”

“Most of them do,” said Elwing, “but your father was watching. He landed here only hours before we saw your ship on the horizon.”

“I admit that I have never been sure what he saw of us,” Elrond said. “But I always liked to think that he was watching me.”

“He was,” Elwing said, squeezing his arm. “And, more sporadically, so was Elurín. But they could not see everything.”

“There he is!” Eluréd’s voice floated up the path to them, and Eärendil appeared, damp and barefoot and sandy up to his knees, as he usually was when given half a chance. Eluréd and Elurín were just behind him, but Eärendil hardly slowed down, almost knocking Elwing and Elrond over when he embraced them. Once the excitement calmed down everyone had sand all over their clothes, and they were breathless from laughing and talking over each other all at once.

As they turned back to the house to find Dior and Nimloth, and Tuor and Idril, more nightingales flew into the garden to sing a joyful chorus in the trees; niphredil was blooming about their feet, pale green and white, and filling the air with sweet fragrance that mingled with the roses Nimloth had planted. Elur éd started to sing a song to harmonize with the nightingales, and Elurín joined in, the two of them quickly abandoning the harmony in favor of making up sillier and sillier words.

There was still so much to say, stories to tell and questions to ask and answer. But for the moment none of that mattered. Elrond was home at last, and the whole life of the world stretched out before them that no shadow could touch again. , Elwing felt as though her heart was so full it might burst.