Lifting his face to the darkening sky, he pondered life. As the light of Vingilot brightened and shone upon the half-elf, he remembered…
From abandonment by his parents to being forced away from his foster fathers, Elrond had accepted each new blow because he knew nothing else. Elros’ choice was almost too much to bear, and his damaged soul began to believe he had somehow deserved the loss of his beloved twin.
Healing came, for a time, but then Elrond suffered the loss of his bright star, burned out before the Black Gate.
Into the depths of his darkest hour, Celebrían glided, bringing a muted silver glow to his world. She created a safe haven, a cocoon that he had never before known, but even that did not last. Elrond had been unable to heal her. Her parting words intended to soothe his battered soul, but instead he mulled them continuously, mentally flailing himself for failing her and now… Arwen, too.
He collapsed to his knees, finally overcome.
Elrond awoke to the raucous cry of gulls, the bright light streaming in the window of his cabin causing him to wince. He tidied himself and rushed above deck. They had already docked. Following Círdan he felt momentarily adrift among the crowd, seeing no one familiar.
Suddenly, strong arms encircled him from behind and a warm, deep voice whispered, “I have missed you, meleth.”
Whirling, Elrond stared into shining blue-grey eyes, his smile blinding.
Elrond’s lips were seized and he clung desperately. All would be right in Aman.