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My Drabbles from Tolkien Weekly  by Mirkwoodmaiden

Elrond sat in his study looking over a scroll. The pitter-patter of drops from the first spring showers tattooed the windowsill lightly.  A gentle breeze blew and his mind was filled with fragrance.  He looked down and saw a sprite standing in the rain amid the flowers of the riverbank, face upturned, arms gently swaying with the breeze. A soft song drifted upwards. Celebrian. All thoughts of work vanished. Seeming seconds later, Elrond was encircling his beloved with his arms, “Lady, are you singing to the rain again?” A giggle. And they swayed together amid the soft showers in Imladris.

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