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“My King?”
Gil-Galad looked up from his paperwork. “Lady Celebrían. How may I help you?”
“Forgive me, but… your Herald is… flying?” She pointed to the window, and indeed, outside Elrond was floating, his hair and robes fluttering in the wind.
“Ah, yes,” Gil-Galad said, opening the window so Elrond could drift inside.
“My King,” he said with a smile, kissing him gently. “My Lady.”
Celebrían blushed when he kissed her hand. “You can fly, my Lord?”
“I… yes,” Elrond muttered self-consciously.
“Do you think you could…”
Gil-Galad watched, smiling, as Elrond soared through the air, Celebrían in his arms.