For the Making a Face challenge.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only, and all rights remain with the estate of JRR Tolkien.
Continuing the series of drabbles that could well be entitled 'When The Boat Comes In'!
Approaching the quay he was suddenly very conscious of just who he was and where he was. He was not an Elf. This was ‘The West’ of which he had heard tales since his childhood.
Somewhere inside was a tiny doubt; a fear that, despite his heritage, they might turn him away. But he had many years of practice – he knew how to make his face a mask of tranquillity.
But in the end, as he stepped off the gangway and into the arms of his wife, not even Elrond Half-elven could maintain that non-expression. His smile lit all Aman.