She was home sick. It had nothing to do with the city - it was beautiful. The people were kind, and there was plenty to do. It was seeing her daughter, her Undomiel, taking on the role of a studious queen while balancing the role of a mother that made her heart ache for Imladris. Even for Lórien.

Celebrían sat in the rocker that had seen her backside plenty in the last month or so, eyes fixed in a gaze through the north window in her bedroom after shutting it to keep the cold night air out. There were no stonewalls, no trees, no peaks, nothing to obstruct her view out of the window, but distance. The stars and the white moon lit a clear path for sharp eyes, and her eyes were as sharp as they'd ever been, but Rivendel was obviously too far to see.

Now, it was hard to place the silver lady's mood. She hadn't felt very active lately, the the cool of the season wasn't the most encouraging, and there had been too much to worry about. She'd heard little to no word of the procurment of the Lady Eowyn and Lord Faramir, not to mention the return of the White Company. Then again, she hadn't left her room for much other than to eat, or have short visits with the Queen and her grandson.

She was neither tired nor angry. Not aggravated. Only sick for her home, and worried for those she loved and those they loved. Celebrían sat now with long fingers collected in her lap and lingering legs crossed at their ankles, still looking out into the sinking dark blue sky. She smiled a bit as a memory found its way to the surface from the depths of many. She was but an elfling, thousands of years ago, as she sat in her mother's lap in their old home.

The young silver queen asked her naneth of the stars, and their fate after death. The memory of her mother's ringing cackle gave her chills. She could hear it. She felt the kiss left on her brow, smelled the soft scent of niphredil her mother always seemed to carry. And she could hear Galadriel's rich voice tell her, the stars never died. Elebreth would not allow it. They would only grow in numbers.

The drop of a glass in the hallway pulled her out of reminiscence, blue eyes finally moving from the hard line of the dark tree tops meeting the dimly lit sky, ending her staring contest with Varda. A sigh as she rose from her seat, she picked up a thick shawl, draping it over her shoulders for both warmth and comfort. She was not going to sit and sulk this night. Nor would she wallow in her past, as vibrant and full as it may have been. Celebrian had finally come to terms with her return. She was ready for a new story.