Disclaimer: I don’t own Middle-earth, however much I’d like to live there.
It had been a long time since he had gone through the oldest of boxes and trunks stored away in Imladris. Many belonged to Elves long since departed. Elrond knelt before a dusty trunk he recognized as his own.
Inside were papers - letters, mostly - and assorted small items, brought from Lindon that he had not needed at the time. He picked up a small comb, delicately carved with roses. Someone had told him once it had belonged to Elwing, brought out of the ruin of Doriath.
He ran his fingers over the carvings and wondered what Elwing was doing then.