Source: Fourth Age
Disclaimer: All Tolkien's... not my characters, only my inkling of an idea...
Elessar relaxed in the Grey Lady’s Garden. Swathed in his elven-grey cloak, now silver-haired, he resembled the ghosts rumoured to haunt the place. Midwinter’s Solstice sun hung low, though south-facing, even at noontide it did little more than melt the hoar-frost to icy droplets... some sparkled, some hung like bitter tears... so many shed... Much had been renewed in Middle-earth... but much had passed away...
His reverie was broken by a nervous page, aware of the old garden’s reputation.
“Sire, the Queen welcomes guests – she bids you attend.”
“Strange elves... wearing white furs...”
"Avari. So... they’ve finally come... "
He remembered Solstice dawn in the north, long ago. Sent by Gandalf with messages, disastrous storms swamped them; recovering they found themselves in the Avari’s winter halls... tunneled under the eastern mountain slopes. He heard again the haunting sweetness of their caroling... They’d trooped to the highest cavern, and, without light, waited.
Suddenly – pale sunlight glowed through an unseen portal. Striking the polished stone, reflected light circled them... glinting from crystalline quartz seamed with gold. A seer... whose white eyes looked into his fea – saw his demise, but only said... 'they would come with his westward call...' It was time...
Elessar still walked with long, firm strides. He entered the reception room, a knot of elves turned at his footfall, bowed. Protected among them were Haldir and Lord Celeborn... between them stood a beautiful elven boy, barely grown, silver-haired pale as theirs, but his eyes... his eyes were a strangely familiar green...
Shocked, Elessar stood stock-still.
One Avari stepped forward.
“We come to pay respects to our old friend and plant these...”
He indicated leather sacks from which bare twigs and holly peeped – trees from the far north.
“...And to give your son this.”
He uncovered a circlet – golden oak-leaves.
Solstice: A Precious Gift
Elessar’s near-forgotten vision in the Crystal Cave flashed to mind... a dark-haired man wearing an oak-leaf chaplet... Now, he recognised him – Eldarion – his son! He gasped; the page sought to catch him, but was waved away... Elessar smiled, knowing what he must do.
Before leaving, the elf-child spoke quietly with Arwen – her face flowed from shock to joy and back at what he offered. Lord Celeborn clasped his grand-daughter, nodded assurance, before departing.
Through silver rain beneath clearing skies... it was Strider who found old friends waiting... and a new Grey Company set forth joyfully to ride that other land.