Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tokien has the rights to all the characters and settings.
Light
Summary: 'The man was home, the light had returned him safely' Elrond has a ritual that helps to return Estel to Imladris.
The night when he had first wandered into the wilderness – when he had been only ten years old and had got lost in the forests surrounding Imladris – Elrond had lit the lantern in his youngest son's room with the coming of dusk, and had let it burn down throughout the night. It had soon become tradition. Every time that Estel wandered from Imladris' safekeeping, the Elf Lord would radiate an almost unnerving calm that was always shattered when he walked into the bedroom, drawn the curtains open halfway, and then lit the lantern sat on the bedside table. More often than not, he would then return to the window, and then stand staring out over the grounds for an hour before retiring to his own room. Every time Estel left, no matter how long he happened to say that he'd be gone for, no matter who he'd have left with, or what state he was in at the time, the lantern would be lit without fail every night, the curtains left half-open to guide the wandering boy home.
Now was no different.
The candle was lit.
That was the first thing he saw as he broke through the trees—a soft glow seeping through the window that made him smile widely despite his tiredness and aches.
He was home.
On stealthy feet, he entered the house, slowly pacing the corridors to avoid waking any who slept, once or twice bowing his head in greeting to those elves who were still awake. Finally, he passed the room of Glorfindel, silent except for the soft tap of claws on stone flooring, and he slipped into the comfortingly dark corridor of the family rooms.
The soft glow of the candle dipped and danced as he swung the door open, and he paused for a moment before swinging the door shut, crossing over to the bed and setting his weapons and pack against the table as he snuffed the candle out. He straightened and turned – head filled with thoughts of washing some of the blood and muck from himself before retiring…
And almost collided with the solid form of his surrogate father, who reached out and grasped his arm to prevent him from stepping backwards and into the bedside table, though not preventing him knocking over the arms, all of which clattered noisily to the floor.
For a moment, there was silence, and then Estel chuckled softly, and leant into the grasp of the elf, who hugged his youngest in the dark. Both were happy that the man was home, and that the light had returned him home safely.
Note: In my stories, Glorfindel keeps hunting dogs, which live in his room, hence the claws.