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Mithlond's grey buildings drew closer with every pull of the horse-drawn cart. Celebrían still remembered the days when Mithlond had shone bright white in the sunshine. But with the Elves retreating westward, too few remained to protect the city from its own weathering. The encroaching saltwater had brought Mithlond to its knees, and it remained to be seen how long it would take before only the ruins of a bygone era were left. Celebrían's time had also come to move West. But it was not saltwater that forced her to leave everything she held dear behind, it was the horror she had endured at Redhorn Pass.
The memory of the experience made her shiver, and she pulled the thick woollen blanket tighter around her. Secretly, she was glad that Elrond had not given in when she had announced with conviction that she was strong enough to ride a horse. They probably would not have made it to the Ford of Bruinen before she collapsed from exhaustion. The poison the orcs who had held her captive had smeared on their blades had lingered in her body far too long, inflicting irreparable damage on her fëa. Elrond had been able to heal the fractures and wounds, but the poison had been too evil, too vile, too determined to drag its victim into the abyss and destroy her, so that even Elrond's healing hands were powerless. And Elrond. Her Elrond had tried everything possible. But in vain. She was withering like a leaf before the onset of winter. Too weak to ride a horse. Too tired to comfort her grieving children, who did their best not to break down in front of her.
Their children rode behind the horse-drawn cart, while Elrond rode alongside her, keeping a watchful eye. During the first few days, the twins and Arwen had tried to tell amusing stories, as if this were a normal outing in the countryside and not the last days Celebrían would spend at their side. But as time passed, their laughter and stories faded, and they sank into a grim silence. Elrond had also tried not to let the mood sour, but now he too was lost in thought. They all were. Their destination was nearly in sight; seagulls called overhead, and the waters of the Gulf of Lhûn shimmered in the sunshine.
Her heart ached. In the past, she had enjoyed the view of the Gulf, a welcome change from always seeing only forests. The air was different, as were the animals, even the elves who lived in Mithlond. Although visits to Mithlond had been rare, they had always been fascinating. The stories the elves told here were so different from those told by the Galadhrim or her parents. But now, as the time to say goodbye drew nearer, she felt even weaker. It was as if a heavy weight pressed down on her chest, stealing the air she needed to breathe. She felt unbearably heavy and longed to go back. Back to Imladris, where her home awaited.
But there was no turning back. They passed through the entrance gate, and the horse-drawn cart jolted as it crossed from the unpaved path onto the stone road. “Hang in there. We’re almost there,” said Elrond in his soothing, gentle voice.
But she knew him too well not to notice how tense he was, sitting rigidly on the horse, his hands gripping the reins so tightly that the knuckles stood out. The clatter of hooves and the rattling of wheels echoed through Mithlond’s corridors. The sun was hidden behind the tall buildings, casting long shadows. Without its warmth, Celebrían felt even colder. Behind her, she heard a rustling and a long, shaky breath. Tears welled in her eyes. Her children were already unraveling, and there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say to soften the inevitable.
She swallowed the hot lump in her throat, burning like coals. She had to pull herself together: for Elrond, for her children. The smell of salty air grew stronger as the passage to the harbour opened before them. The first thing she noticed was the ship moored at the pier, rocking gently in the shallow waves. Elves had gathered to say goodbye to their loved ones, who were already preparing to set sail for the West. Seagulls perched scattered on the rocks of the landing stage and on the ship’s mast.
The cart came to a halt, and Elrond dismounted to join her. “We made it. Let me help you.” He opened the door and placed one arm around her back and the other under her bent knees to lift her up. She threw her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his shoulder to hide her tears. Her fingers clutched tightly at the fabric of his tunic.
“We were expecting you.” Círdan must have noticed them and approached. She heard the twins and Arwen greet him in broken voices. She felt Elrond nod slightly to Círdan, though she could not bring herself to lift her head from his shoulder. She was too busy silently weeping. “The ship is ready to set sail soon. This way, please.”
Elrond started walking. Everything inside her screamed. She didn’t want to sail on the ship or head West. She wanted to stay by Elrond’s side, as they had promised each other. She wanted to see her children fall in love and start their own families. She wanted to do so many things. But her time had run out, like sand in an hourglass. She had to sail. There was no turning back. All she could do was cry silently.
The ship rocked gently as they boarded. The water beneath made soft, glugging noises. Elrond sat her down on one of the benches at the rear of the boat and held her close, then released her so her children could say goodbye.
“Nana.” Arwen was the first to dare approach her. Her eyes were red and swollen. Celebrían’s heart ached. She opened her arms, willing herself to smile and not let them tremble with exhaustion and sadness. Her daughter carefully wrapped her arms around her, nestling up just as she had when she was a little elfing. Celebrían ran her hand through Arwen’s hair, wishing she could braid it many more times. Arwen’s body trembled, and now Celebrían could hear her soft sobbing clearly.
“Everything will be alright, Arwen.” Her voice was shaky and faltering. When words failed her, she held her daughter closer, hoping Arwen would understand. “I love you, my dear,” she managed to say, fighting against the burning lump in her throat. A new stream of tears flowed down her cheeks.
“I love you too, Nana,” Arwen said, her voice no less shaky. “I’ll write to you. Lots.” She adjusted her hold slightly, loosening her embrace so she could meet Celebrían’s eyes.
Celebrían wiped a tear from Arwen’s cheek. “I will cherish every letter you write and reply to each one.” It was a promise she was only too happy to make. Her daughter smiled sadly, lips pressed together to suppress another sob. Celebrían wished she had more time with her, who was so much like her in so many ways.
“Don’t worry. When the time comes, we will see each other again, and until then, I’ll keep an eye on Elladan and Elrohir so they don’t do anything foolish,” Arwen said reassuringly, though her lips quivered.
Celebrían pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Be careful not to get grey hairs from the mischief your brothers get up to.” Arwen’s brief laugh was balm for her fëa.
Her daughter kissed her on the cheek in return. “I won’t. I’d rather give my brothers grey hairs.” Arwen hugged her again. The embrace was brief, too brief for Celebrían. But time was running out, and they both knew that Elladan and Elrohir also wanted to say goodbye.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arwen walking toward her father, who welcomed her with a hug. Her attention shifted to her two sons, heads together as if deciding who would come to her first. Elrohir was the first to notice that Arwen had gone to their father; he looked at Elladan with pleading eyes. Elladan nodded and strode over to her.
“Naneth,” Elladan said quietly, almost inaudibly. He sat down next to her, his expression serious.
Celebrían knew this was only a façade. Ever since he and Elrohir had rescued her from the Orcs, her eldest son had been seething with anger. Anger he tried to hide from her. But she knew him too well, being his mother. His shoulders were constantly tense, like a bow drawn before release. During their journey to Mithlond, his gaze had kept wandering to the Misty Mountains, his hand clenched around the hilt of his sword, as if he expected an attack or was planning one himself. It troubled her that her eldest son spent his days plotting revenge. She did not want to be the reason yet another family member was torn from their midst.
“Promise me you won’t do anything rash.” She took Elladan’s hand and squeezed it.
Elladan looked at her with wide eyes, full of suppressed worry and sadness. His lips parted, but no sound escaped. Then he let his head fall, black hair tumbling over his face, and his body began to shudder as he finally let himself fall apart. Celebrían pulled her son into a half-embrace, patting his back.
“I won’t do anything rash, I promise, but I will take good care of everyone,” Elladan vowed between sobs. The fabric of his tunic formed a damp patch where his tears fell.
“I know you will.” She knew it would be pointless to try to convince her son that it was not his duty to protect them all, or to stop him from riding into the mountains to vent his anger on the Orcs. But she trusted that Elrond and the entire household of Imladris would keep a watchful eye on him and Elrohir. She would have to be content with that.
Elladan pulled back, hastily wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. As he straightened, his gaze drifted past her. She followed it. His eyes were fixed on the grey expanse of the Gulf, where the ship would soon turn toward the open Sea. She saw his throat work, as if swallowing down his grief and anger. The salt wind lifted his dark hair, and for a moment, he looked lost. “I’ll miss you, Naneth.”
Elladan’s words prompted another flood of tears from her. But before Celebrían could reply that she would miss him too, he stepped away toward his brother, whom he patted briefly on the shoulder.
Elrohir did not hide his tears. While his older twin let anger and grief weigh him down, Elrohir had given free rein to both. First on the training ground, where he shot arrow after arrow and challenged anyone to sword fights, until Glorfindel put a stop to it. Then he threw himself into paperwork, writing letters and inventory lists late into the night, until Erestor instructed him not to return until the dark circles under his eyes had faded. Forbidden to wield both sword and pen, he poured his grief into songs that echoed plaintively throughout Imladris, until Lindir advised him to rest his voice.
He approached her calmly, tears cascading down his face. Without a word, he folded himself into her, arms wrapping around her back with a sudden, desperate strength that stole her breath. For a moment, he was utterly still, except for ragged breathing. Then a great, wrenching shudder tore through him, and he broke.
Sobs racked his body, harsh and gasping, muffled against the fabric of her dress at her shoulder. She could feel the heat of his tears through the cloth, the violent tremors running through him. One of his hands fisted in her dress, clinging as if he were an elfling again, hurt while playing and needing his mother’s comfort. She held him tight. Her own tears fell silently into his dark hair as she cradled his head, fingers stroking his hair to soothe him, just as she had often done when he was still young.
“I will be good, I promise.” His voice was soft, laced with sorrow, as another shudder ran through him. “I love you… so much,” he choked.
She pressed her son closer. Grief overwhelmed her too, and she could no longer hold back her sobs. “I love you too.”
A seagull cried in the background. Time showed no mercy. Elrohir must have realized the same, as he loosened his grip on her dress and lifted himself from his sitting position beside her. With a final kiss to her cheek, he said goodbye, wiping his tears with his sleeve and making space for his father, who regarded her with quiet wistfulness.
Elrond knelt before her and took her hands in his. His hands were warm, but they trembled. There were no tears in his eyes, but that was unnecessary. She knew he was trying to hold himself together for their children, who now stood together, comforting one another.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.” His thumbs stroked the backs of her hands. His words were meant to reassure, yet they left a hollow ache in her chest, reminding her that she should be at his side, helping him shoulder it all. But now her fate was to travel West, far from where she truly wanted to be, because she was fading.
“Your belongings are stowed away. Círdan said the waters are calm at this time of year.”
He leaned forward until their foreheads touched and closed his eyes. “Wait for me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. His grip tightened. “I will follow when the time is right. You won’t be alone for long.”
“Of course I’ll wait for you.” She would wait for him for Ages if it meant holding him in her arms again. She had waited centuries for him to dare confess his love. Her love for him would not falter now, merely because the ocean separated them. A smile formed on his face. Just like back then, when she had told him she loved him too. Her heart felt warm. She would cherish that smile during their time apart.
But something else weighed heavily on her mind. “Will you bring our children with you?”
He looked at her again, his gaze growing wistful once more. “I’ll do my best.”
She simply nodded. They had talked about it. About his foresight. One of their children would accept the gift of Men and never be able to go to Valinor. But the vision was still too unclear to reveal which of their three children she would never see again. The fate of the other two remained unknown, and that uncertainty frightened her even more. She also felt guilty for burdening him alone with the knowledge of one child’s fate.
“Do not worry, my love. Our children will find the right path for themselves.” He squeezed her hand as if to reassure her. “You must focus on your own healing first. So that when they make their way to the Undying Lands, you will be strong enough to welcome them into your arms.”
Celebrían pressed her lips together to stifle a sob and nodded. She wanted so much to believe Elrond that at least one of their children would follow them to Valinor.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we must set sail.” Círdan’s voice was gentle, but his expression was heavy with sorrow.
Celebrían flinched as though the words themselves had struck her. Beside her, Elrond stiffened in the same instant, and the fragile world they had built between them shattered at once. Only then did she remember they were not alone.
“Of course. Just one more minute, please.” Elrond’s head turned toward Círdan, but the pleading edge in his voice made it clear how much he wanted just a little more time. Círdan bowed his head and stepped back, leaving them in silence.
Over Elrond’s shoulder, she saw the sailors hauling at the ropes, the sails unfurling, and the last Elves said goodbye to their loved ones before disembarking. A sudden chill ran through her: this was the moment she had feared most.
Elrond wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. She hadn’t even noticed shedding one. He leaned forward. “I love you,” he whispered, his breath warm on her skin, and then his lips met hers, sealing his words.
She clung to the kiss with a quiet desperation, pouring into it everything she could not bear to say. For a heartbeat she tried to pretend that time could be held still if she simply refused to let go.
But it ended far too quickly. Much too quickly. “I love you too.” The words trembled as they left her, fragile and uneven. When she saw tears rising in Elrond’s grey eyes that he fought to hold back something inside her twisted so sharply it stole her breath.
He lowered his gaze, as though afraid that if he looked at her any longer, he would not find the strength to leave. Then he rose without another word, grief closing around him like a shadow.
Círdan stepped closer again for a moment, placing a steady hand on Elrond’s shoulder. “We will take care of her,” he said softly. She saw Elrond nod, then walk over to their children, who were still gathered on the ship. His hand briefly touched Elladan’s elbow as he passed, beckoning them to follow him.
Celebrían held her breath as Elrond and their three children stepped carefully down the gangway onto the pier. The moment their feet touched solid ground, the ropes groaned and the gangway was hauled in, severing the last thread that still connected her to them.The ship drifted free, surrendered now to the Gulf and to the will of wind and oars. The sails swelled, heavy with gathering air, and the gulls wheeled overhead, crying sharply as if guiding the vessel across the waters, carrying her away from all she loved.
Many of the Elves traveling west had gathered along the railing, waving desperately to their loved ones, while those on the pier mirrored their farewells.
Celebrían clutched her dress so tightly the fabric bunched in her fists, though she did not feel the pressure. Through blurred vision she could still see her family growing smaller with every breath the ship carried her away.
They were waving.
She knew they were.
But her arm would not move. All strength had left her.
All she could do was watch, her heart aching with the knowledge of how hard they must be fighting not to break. Just as she was, but to no avail. Tears now fell freely from her face in plump droplets onto her hands and lap. Her body trembled with every sob. One of the Elves offered her a handkerchief, which she accepted gratefully, but she did not use it. She did not want to miss the last glimpses of her family, already growing soft and shapeless.
Another stroke of the rowers’ oars carried her family away from the haven for good. Celebrían was left alone, bound for a land she knew only from stories.