By: Dana
Summary: In Rivendell, an elf and a hobbit meet again.
Characters: Merry, Celeborn
Pairings: None
Rating: G
Warnings: Fourth age fic
Author's Notes: Inspired by a passage I read in the prologue, that mentions Merry often visited Rivendell in his later years.
A set in progress: And The Singing Sea, The Last Light.
Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

Silly how he feels like a tween in the presence of this great Lord of Elves – perhaps, despite his own age, he is but a child in comparison – but then, such comparison would be as one that likened an apple to a rock. "Celeborn, my lord," he says, and Merry deeply bows. When he looks again, there is a smile near as old and as effortless as starlight upon the elf's fair mouth.

He had not thought to see him here, at Rivendell. But then, Merry thinks, when in a place of elves, what else might he be expected to see? Even if Celeborn's own Lothlorien is leagues into the east.

Perhaps he had fancied himself a stroll, had kept on walking, and found himself here.

"Pleasure in our meeting, Master Meriadoc. Has it been so long?"

"Years," Merry says, "my lord."

Celeborn's eyes are clear and pale and there is light about him, and his smile is wistful: regret and yet such longing. "She has gone before me. But I follow after her, now."

She – the lady Galadriel, Merry thinks, and Celeborn's low nod makes it seem as though the elf can hear his own thoughts. And that, Merry thinks, would not be such a surprising thing. He thinks of Lothlorien, then, of shadows on the trees – he thinks of the lady Galadriel, yet again, and cannot help but shiver despite the age of her remembered words.

"You're leaving?" Merry cannot help the sadness.

"Now is not the time for such sorrow," Celeborn says, "I have lived here long, and I have spent time in my forest, but time is fading – time has a way of fading, Master Meriadoc, whether you would have it not, or even if you would have it so."

Merry nods, but slowly. "Still – when you are gone…"

He needn't say anymore. It will be as if light has left the land, well, perhaps not anything so dramatic, as that, but Merry knows that the whole of Middle-earth will not ever be the same.

What might happen? Would darkness fall upon them all?

For all the sadness of this parting, Merry does not look forward to telling Sam of this news. But then, he thinks, this day has been long coming – ever since he had stood with Sam and Pippin and they had watched the first of the last light sailing West upon the Sea.