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The Last Ship
Elrond knew he wasn't alone in his excitement; he could feel Celebrían's shiver of anticipation. They had waited centuries, begun to grieve that it would never happen - and one word from Olórin had turned their world upside-down.
"There!" Elrond stretched out his arm to guide his wife's gaze. They joined hands and ran to the docks and pushed through the throng to wait next to Erestor and Galadriel, who never failed to greet every ship to arrive from Ennor.
The spot became a ship, and then grew larger than any had expected. Murmurs trickled through the crowd as the ship dropped its sail and began to slow; at the wheel was Cirdan. Worry and excitement washed over everyone; who had taken this last ship? Who remained behind, lost forever?
Many exhausted elves disembarked one by one, each met at the bottom of the gangplank by weeping, elated friends and family. Only when they thought none left aboard did four heads appear near Cirdan - two dark, one golden, one silver.
Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, Celeborn - they all had come home! His family was whole again!
Elrond felt the weight of worry drop away, and he could breathe at last.