Elrond stared down into the box. He'd told them not to pack it for the voyage.
He bent down and carefully pulled the lap harp from its cushioning bed of fabrics and bed linens. The inlaid mithril sparkled in the clear light of the Undying Lands, the design as graceful and beautiful as when Maglor had given it to him.
For half a millennium, he hadn't been able to touch it, to bear the sight of it. Now…
In the next room, Celebrían hummed as she unpacked. Elrond sat and, as his fingers touched the strings, began to smile again.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.