Celebrian was smiling as she slept, expressions of joy and peace playing across her face as her half-lidded eyes danced in elven-dreams. She was relaxed and restful amidst the pillows, arms entwined with those of her husband as they lay sleepily together. Having woken a few minutes beforehand, Elrond stayed still, smiling a little as he watched his wife drift from slumber into the stillness of the morning. The nights were more peaceful now.

"Elrond?" Celebrian blinked her eyes open and smiled rather blearily at him, still slightly confused and disorientated from sleep.

"It is a fine morning." Elrond smiled at his wife and propped himself up on one elbow to lean over and greet her with a kiss. "You had pleasant dreams?"

Celebrian started slightly and looked at her husband suspiciously, her expression quickly changing to one of guilt. She had thought that she had been able to disguise her hopes and dreams, but they had never been able to keep secrets from each other. Sometimes she felt that she knew Elrond better than she knew herself.

"I have dreams. Dreams of happiness." Celebrian admitted, squinting in the early morning sunlight. She rolled over and brushed some tangled silver- blonde curls from her face before turning anxiously to her husband and speaking quietly, "Elrond, I do not think that I am dreaming of these lands."

She fell silent and looked down at the blanket, fingering the crocheted lace trim on the coverlet. She could feel Elrond breathing, chest moving up and down in time as he tried to think of words to say. Although she did not meet his eyes, she could imagine his dark brows drawn a little closer together, and his grey eyes rather troubled and distant.

"You may. . . you should. . ." Elrond faltered and broke off, swallowing hard as he quickly blinked several times. He had been expecting this, waiting for it. But now it had been spoken aloud he seemed left without words to speak. The responses that he had prepared and troubled over suddenly seemed inadequate and weak. He was a healer and had guided others through this journey many a time, but he had not expected to feel as it did now.

"Follow your heart, Celebrian. Choose wisely, but go where your spirit guides you." Elrond resumed rather more strongly although his voice was tight with pain, taking Celebrian's hand in his and squeezing too tightly. "You will always have my blessing."

Celebrian remained silent for a long while, staring at the clean white fabric of the nightshirt spread over her husband's chest. Then almost as if she were not really there ventured, "But what of Arwen and our boys? What of Ammë?"

Her mother would never return to her homeland. She had seen and done things that even Ages of sorrow and regret could not fully heal, and she still had desires that were undiminished throughout the long years. Her father would stay with her mother until the end, that Celebrian did not doubt, but to be alone. . .

"What of us?" Celebrian turned desperately to Elrond, blue eyes begging for a response that she knew that he could not give. "I do not wish to spend an eternity alone."

"I. . . we. . ." Elrond swallowed uncomfortably. His nose seemed to be becoming hot and stuffy and his throat was sore. He had anticipated this, prepared for the sorrow and grief, but now he felt blank and distant, as if he were a mere spectator watching from afar. He brought Celebrian's hand up to his face and pressed his lips to her fingers. "I must linger, but I shall seek you when I may."

He could feel her shaking although she made no sound, hot tears threading down her face to create damp patches on the pure white of the pillows. He wanted to tell her to stay, to have faith that things would become better, that her joy in this world would return, but he could not lie. Strengthening his resolve he added in a gruff voice. "You cannot linger when your spirit would leave, Celebrian. It will not listen to another's bidding for long. Not to me and not to our children. Even your mother does not have this power."

Celebrian fell silent a moment, thinking of Galadriel. If she departed these shores it would be farewell for an eternity, until the ends of the Ages. And although her mother revelled in her own strengths, she did not have the power to make things the way they were, and Celebrian suspected that this would finally do what millennia of wars and loss had not.

"The twins - they have made sacrifices, parted with things that they could ill afford to give. I cannot throw that away, Elrond." Celebrian stroked a half-curled finger along his cheekbone, hoping to offer some comfort through her tears. He needed her here, and she feared that if he lost another that he loved, he would close his heart and no longer allow himself to love and trust. But it was the twins that she worried for most. She had seen them sinking into darkness and despair, clinging desperately to the hope that it all had been worthwhile. "It. . . I fear I am all they have left to hold onto."

"Do not stay on their. . . not on our behalf." Elrond forced the words from his lips, hastily correcting himself lest Celebrian guess of his thoughts. It was a terrible thing to be jealous of one's own sons, but the thought that his wife considered them before him seemed to be festering inside him. "This gift is not theirs to take away."

Celebrian took a deep gulping breath, her body shaking with silent sobs. "But I have taken something that I should never have asked of them. It is not mine to give away."

~*~

The pass was almost impassable at this time in winter, gusts of winds blowing harshly down from Caradhras and piling the snow in great drifts. The snow was deep, even for the elves that had beaten the difficult path through the narrow cleft, and the even the horses were finding the going difficult. The travellers had stopped awhile, huddling around a small fire and sharing a flask of miruvor. All were wary, never forgetting what had passed on this narrow road just months before, and though they spoke quietly, they dared not call out or sing. Finally, as the last of the embers lost their glow and the wind seized on the ash and scattered it over the snow, they rose and prepared to depart.

"Galadriel?" Celeborn pivoted on one foot, looking around over the hooded heads of the elves of Lorien for any sign of his wife. She had been at his side just a minute ago, but he could catch no glimpse of the golden curls blowing out from under a hood of silver-grey. "Galadriel!"

Eyes darkening with anxiety, Celeborn sprang up onto a high boulder and looked around him, shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun. The snow stretched out pure and unsullied on either side of him, even the path that they had carved earlier being buried under the blown snow, and thankfully there was no sign of a disturbance.

"Galadriel!" The Lord of Lorien bellowed, his voice ringing desperately over the smooth snow, echoing off the sheer icy walls of the cliff. Below him he could hear the anxious mutterings of his guards, but for the moment the feelings of his people were not his first priority. He could not face this again, not so soon. Hand slipping to the hilt of his sword, fist closing around the cold metal of the ancient weapon, Celeborn surveyed the expanse of snow one last time, praying for something. . . anything.

"Galadriel!" Sighing deeply in relief, Celeborn leapt up onto the steep bank and ran lightly over the surface of the snow until he could gain a closer look at the thin figure that he had just seen passing down a steep incline.

His wife was standing at the bottom of a hollow, facing the sheer wall of rock at the side of the pass. Her shoulders were squared and she was swinging her sword - a long curved mithril blade - with both hands, once again becoming accustomed to the weight and feel of the weapon. She had cast her hood aside, and her golden hair was being whipped by the wind, mingling with the fine white flakes of snow.

"Meleth-nîn." Celeborn leapt sure-footed from boulder to boulder until he was standing next to his wife and firmly removed the blade from her grasp before enveloping her in the warmth of his arms. "There is nothing that you can do."

~*~

"I had travelled that pass but months before." Erestor muttered quietly, not looking up from the map that was spread over the desk before him. Oblivious of the sudden stiffening of the other occupant of the room, he ran a finger back and forwards along the parchment, tracing a well-known path. "It was so peaceful, so beautiful."

It was early in the morning, and the study was yet quiet and empty save for two slender figures bent over their papers. Both were struggling to finish the preparations for a festival that neither wished to celebrate, for there seemed to be little light promised for the days ahead.

"There were flowers there, clouds of white flowers." Erestor spoke quietly and hoarsely. His lips were beginning to wobble against his bidding and the words and symbols of the map seemed to dance before his eyes. "I heard birds singing."

Glorfindel did not speak, and bent down to look more closely at the parchment he had been reading. Large quantities of fine golden hair fell like a curtain across his face, hiding what thoughts he may have from his companion. The hollow silence in the room was unbearable, the hurt and the pain of both elves weighing heavily on their shoulders.

"She was so kind and gentle. She is too small to wield a sword." Glorfindel was on his feet now, striding to the window with his back painfully stiff. Erestor knew that he should quieten, but the words would not cease their flow, now coming out more as a low mournful wail. "This was not her battle. She did not deserve this."

Glorfindel leant heavily on the window ledge, each breath coming in an unsteady gasp as he tried to control the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. He tried to focus on a thin spider's web lit silver by the dewdrops as it struggled against the wind, but it was a weak effort against the power of what he had seen. His mouth felt dry, and what saliva there was had the bitter metallic taste of stale blood.

"It is not right. . ." Erestor swallowed, uncharacteristic anger colouring his words. "If only I could. . . I wish. . ."

"Erestor," a firm hand gripped the younger elf's shoulder and squeezed, the great fatigue and sadness in the normally merry voice suddenly reminding the young counsellor of how very ancient his companion really was, "I understand, my friend. I know."

~*~

"I shall fetch some snowdrops," Celebrian's chewed on her lip as she looked around the prepared guestroom. She had always had an eye for detail and she wanted to make sure that her parents had everything they needed. It would be a long and hard journey from Lorien this late in the year. "Ammë is fond of them, and perhaps some extra blankets. . ."

"I shall check the towels." Arwen lifted a corner of the sheets and shook them out, sending a billow of air to the other side of the bed. Frowning a little in concentration she surveyed the bed and tugged at a corner of the blankets, straightening the chain of embroidered flowers on the coverlet. "Will you need help in the garden?"

"I will manage, my Arwen." Celebrian's face lit up with laughter as she turned to her daughter. All three children had taken their father's lead in sheltering and protecting her, and as a result she was finding it difficult to get even a minute to herself. "They are but a few yards from the steps, little one."

"The steps are icy, Ammë. Be careful." Arwen's eyes widened earnestly. "Are you sure. . ."

"Arwen." Celebrian rolled her eyes as she began laughing, and after a moment Arwen joined her in mirth. "You may always watch me from the window."

Still smiling, Arwen set the pitcher back down on the dresser and embraced her mother closely. Holding her closely, she smiled a little sadly and added tentatively. "I do not want anything to happen to you."

Blinking quickly, Celebrian touched her lips to her daughter's forehead. While Arwen had not spoken of such things, she could well guess what fears shadowed the young face. "Nothing shall happen to me, Arwen. There is still too much that I wish to see."

Arwen looked anxiously at her mother, wanting to believe but her eyes betraying her doubt.

"You have so much to look forward to, my child." Celebrian smiled brightly, thinking of the joys that still lay ahead of her daughter. "Someday you shall meet one who with whom you wish to spend all the Ages of this world, and then you shall find that he feels the same for you. You shall bind yourselves to each other, and then may you be blessed with children of your own."

Mother and daughter exchanged smiles, and Celebrian added softly, "I wish to be there with you, Arwen."

Arwen smiled softly at her mother, only a slight barely perceptible darkness in her eyes remaining. "You shall, Ammë."

Celebrian held her daughter once more, then turned to the door, eager to have the room perfect before dinner. Arwen stood still and silent for a few seconds, wondering. There had been a question that had been lingering unanswered for many long weeks, and although she tried to ignore it, it seemed to grow larger with each passing day.

"Ammë," Arwen said slowly, her serious tone prompting her mother to turn around and look at her, "When you first came home, why would then not let me see you?"

"My Arwen," Celebrian walked slowly to her daughter's side and gently brushed her fingers along one of the stray dark curls that tumbled down across her forehead, "It is not for you to know."

~*~

It was quiet in the chambers of the chambers of the family of Imladris. Elrond had departed to spend a few hours with his papers, much to Glorfindel's disapproval. Arwen was in the kitchens, overseeing the preparations for the Midwinter Feast. She had not expected to know what to do, but it seemed to be natural, a lesson taught by years of watching her mother. Both Elrohir and Celebrian lay silently on their beds, one slumbering peacefully and the other staring blankly at the wall. Out in the too tidy hallway a single sword stood propped against the wall, the only break in the lifeless monotony of what should have been a busy family room.

Celebrian woke suddenly, blinking sleepily as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Although she felt that she no longer needed to rest during the day, Elrond was apt to insist that she went to lie down for a number of hours in the afternoon if she wished him to accompany her to the singing in the Hall of Fire in the evening. Someone had opened the window above the blanket chest, and the cold breeze had woken her earlier than she had become accustomed to. The sun was still quite high in the sky, and she could not have been sleeping for longer than an hour at most. Shivering a little, Celebrian pulled her shawl around her shoulders and padded softly over to the window, drawing it shut. She had never felt any but the most biting cold before, but since it had happened little things like drafts and frosts had begun to bother her.

"Ammë, I am sorry! Did I wake you?" There was a light padding noise as Elladan dropped down off the window ledge, and he hurried over to his mother's side, providing her with unneeded assistance as he pulled the window shut with a bang. "I wished only for some air. I thought not. . ."

"I am well, Elladan." Celebrian narrowly avoided laughing at her son's concern as the elder twin roughly tried to settle the shawl closer around her. While the child's heart was in the right place, his hands were hardened and callused from long hours spent with the sword, and he had little idea of when snug became tight. "I am quite comfortable, my child."

Smiling reassuringly, Celebrian stepped back a few steps to survey her son, automatically reaching out to finger a loose and fraying button on the collar of Elladan's shirt. She had not known that her eldest son still sat with her as she slept, but surprised though she was, the thought was comforting. "You grow thin."

"I am well." Elladan said stiffly, not quite meeting his mother's eyes. "I train hard. It is my duty."

Celebrian looked at him in silence a moment, her own misgivings rising rapidly. It had always been important to Elladan to live up to expectations and fulfil his duties. To be a good captain, a good heir - a good son. Sometimes she wondered whether he acted for himself or for the sake of the person he felt that he needed to be. The person that he felt that those he loved wanted him to be. Sighing inwardly, but wisely keeping her sorrow to herself, Celebrian touched her fingers to the soft cloth of his shirt and spoke quietly, "Do your duty, Elladan, but do not forget that which you owe yourself."

Elladan shifted uncomfortably, looking as if he would gladly flee but for the steadying touch on his arm. Eventually he sighed deeply and spoke reluctantly. "Everything is different now."

Clenching his fists, he scowled at the floor, thinking furiously. He did not doubt that his mother would be distressed to hear of his recent activities, but she did not understand, not truly. She had always been someone that he could talk to when his own desires conflicted with those required of an elf of his standing, but this was different. Nothing else seemed to matter any more. The things that had worried him in years gone past now seemed small and insignificant, and he was almost ashamed to have let them bother him.

"I did not expect this of you. I would not have asked for it." Celebrian bit her lower lip slightly and reached upwards to gently brush a few strands of dark hair behind her son's ear. "You will always be my son, and I will always love you, no matter what choices you make."

"I did not do what I did because I am your son," Elladan frowned deeply and looked at his mother, eyes dark with badly disguised hurt. "I did it because you are my Ammë."