A/N: This is the third installment of the "Too Deep to Heal" series, surrounding Celebrían's departure in the year 2510 of the Third Age. It is the sequel to "A Mother's Choice" and "Too Deep to Heal", but I do believe it stands alone. Want a reply? Make sure I can contact you. Please see my bio for a couple notes on these stories. To all of you who reviewed, thank you so much! I know several of your reviews were deleted when I rather idiotically deleted "Too Deep to Heal" when I only wanted to republish the chapter, but c'est la vie, I suppose... Your comments have helped me keep going on this. :) I am so sorry this is such a late update, but I was stuck in a major case of writer's block and no time whatsoever. I hope this has been worth the wait.

And now one question to all of you who read this: if you have been following this series (and even if you haven't), would you like a second chapter or another installment on the twins' private reaction to the sequence described here? Please let me know in your reviews! Thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Middle-Earth and its respective elements are the property of Tolkien and his estate, not me. I wish, but no, as per usual...

Learning to Live

I wake with the rising of Arien as she begins her days' journey through the skies – ever have I been an early riser, and this day is no different. One thing alone mars the beauty of her rising, and that is the worry that plagues me – that has plagued me since Naneth returned and only grows stronger.

I know that something is wrong with her – that something bodes ill for our family, but I cannot say what I believe it to be, for I know not. My steps take me to my balcony, where the beauty of our home is again revealed to me, as it is every time I step out to see it. Even the falls are quiet here, a rushing in the background that seems incapable of providing disturbance, and I close my eyes, listening to its steady rhythm as peace envelops me.

A sigh escapes my lips and I turn back into my chambers. All the peace in the world cannot dislodge the sense of wrongness that quietly tries to intrude upon our home. My fingers brush lightly over the fabric of my gowns and finally I settle upon the shade of pale azure that Naneth has always been so fond of – the shade that I suddenly realize she has all but stopped wearing. No sooner do I draw the gown on do I hear a knock at my door, and I turn towards it hesitantly – somehow I know that if I open that door and acknowledge the day, my life will be forever changed. As I am pondering this, the knock sounds again, more insistently, and I move towards it with a sigh.

Completely without any semblance of a greeting, my brothers come inside and shut the door behind them, leaving me rather puzzled, still standing with my hand on the ornate knob.

"Good morning?" I comment rather dryly, sitting down across from them.

"I doubt it," Elladan answers me, and I shoot him a careful look.

"What did the two of you do? If you put up another bucket –"

"No," he cuts me off. He and Elrohir trade glances – their eyes hold nearly as much panic as I feel, and my heart sinks. Somehow, I know what they wish to tell me. "I know not of how to break this to you," he starts, "but I overheard Ada and Naneth speaking this morning – I was going to go in to ask them something, and I never got the chance. I do not even recall what I was going to ask," he adds helplessly.

His eyes turn to Elrohir, and I see the silent pleading for him to continue. My fears are confirmed, for my eldest brother shies from nothing.

"Something is wrong with Naneth," Elrohir finishes quietly. "Something terribly wrong – they speak of her passing to Valinor."

I stare at my brothers in horror; for all I could have guessed or suspected, this far surpasses all of it. I never thought my mother would leave us – never did I think that something could press her so far to do so. Nearly unaware of my actions, I rise from my place, crossing the room until I stand before the window.

"Did you hear of a reason?" I hear myself ask numbly. I suddenly feel so detached from myself – as though I am merely witness to this scene that is my life.

"We already know the reason, muinthel," Elrohir answers. "We knew of it from the moment they found her."

I spin to face him, and I can feel the disbelief written across my face. "Ada healed her, Elrohir! You know this!" My voice is rising – I can hear myself speaking as I have never before addressed my brother, but I cannot stop the pain and desperation tightening around my heart.

He rises and comes to stand before me, his hands upon my shoulders. "He healed her body, Arwen; he cannot heal her soul. She is fading – even I can see it," he finishes, his voice so quiet that even I can barely hear him, though he stands but inches away from me. "I thought she looked so much better from when we brought her home," he continues as Elladan comes to stand with us, "but I see now that her fëa desires to leave." His voice breaks as those words leave his lips and I close my eyes, trying to keep the tears back.

My brother draws me to him, and I realize that we are all of us weeping now, our fears solidified now that we have openly uttered them, albeit only amongst ourselves. My mind wonders when our parents will choose to tell us; my heart hopes they never will – perhaps if they do not, this reality will never grow beyond us.

I lose track of the hour that passes in silence among us, and somewhere, somehow, I draw myself together enough to request our morning mean brought to us, for I know that if we avoid the meal entirely, too many questions will be asked. The inevitable moment drops over our heads, and we know this, for my brothers and I spend hours with each other in the sitting room of my chambers, offering each other what comfort we can provide.

The knock sounds on my door, and I force some life into my voice as I answer, beckoning the visitor in. Neither my brothers nor I are surprised to see our parents enter, and as they come in and sit together, facing us, their subtle expressions make me want to find an excuse to run.

"We missed you this morning," Naneth says by way of opening, though whom she addresses is beyond my comprehension.

"We lost track of time," Elrohir answers, smiling slightly in apology.

There the conversation dies – literally. Two statements, and no one present can come up with anything intelligent to say. Silence descends over us, weighing down like a wet blanket until I want to scream – do anything that will shatter the oppressive silence. Ada breaks it for me.

"We have something to tell you," he says, his tone as mundane as though he were informing us of the evening meal.

My brothers and I exchange looks across the room, barely noticeable. Though they say nothing, I am certain our parents see those looks.

"There is no easy way to say this," Ada begins, taking Naneth's hand in his, "but you know your mother has not been entirely well for some time now."

He pauses, turning slightly toward her, and from where I sit I can see the question in his eyes, and her answering nod; with it, my heart tightens in my chest.

"Your mother has informed me of her desire to –" He breaks off slightly, the catch in his voice so imperceptible that I do not think my brothers notice, but I know our father too well. "– to pass to Valinor," he finishes.

For the briefest moment, the same silence attempts to arrogate a place in the room, but it is given no chance, for Naneth's voice drives it back.

"I cannot remain here, my children," she says quietly, her eyes meeting each of our gazes. "What you have given me is priceless beyond words, and I regret none of our years together. I only wish that my time here was not shortened so soon, but there is naught that can be done about it."

She pauses for breath, and my normally unbelievably reasonable brother takes her place, rising from his seat and looking at my father. "I thought you healed her," Elladan whispers, seemingly forgetting our hours' worth of exchange in the morning. He leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Ada looks as though he's been slapped full in the face; Naneth, Elrohir, and I stare at the door, each other, and Ada in turn, our disbelief mirrored in each other's faces.

Elrohir rises quickly to go after his twin, but he places a gentle hand on Ada's shoulder. I can see the look in his eyes, silently refuting Elladan's rash statement; Naneth follows a moment later, her gentle embrace saying the same, but Ada barely responds to them.

I am left with him sitting across from me, his face a blank mask of nothing, but his eyes hold pain and hurt beyond words. Dropping my head into my hands for a moment, I fight the urge to scream. I cannot believe my brother's words; he knows as well as any that Ada is not at fault, and would have even had we not spent the entirety of our morning discussing it. Of all of us, I have always been the closest to Ada, but this time not even I can find the words to amend the pain I see in him. Part of me understands my brother's feelings, but another part of me wishes to strangle him – how such words could have ever been uttered is utterly beyond my comprehension.

Looking up, I see him in the same position that I had just left, leaning on his knees, head in his hands, and the quivering of his shoulders breaks me from my stupor. Rising from my place, I cross the room to sit beside him. My hand upon his shoulder draws him upright again as my silent command for him to look at me reaches him, but the tears on his cheeks rip my heart out. Never in all my years have I ever seen my father lose control, and it frightens me as I realize the extent of the pain that has been thrown upon him from all sides. I know how much he loves Naneth, and I know equally that he must have been blaming himself for her decision. Elladan's response had likely convinced him that belief was true.

"He was wrong – he spoke rashly; you know this," I whisper, fighting to gain some reaction from him.

"Perhaps he did," is his response. "That does not make him wrong."

He tries to stand, but my hand upon his shoulder stops him. "Yes, it does," I answer, ignoring the tears in my voice and on my cheeks. "He knows it as well as we do that you are not at fault! Losing Naneth is like losing a part of us, but we will see her again! Had you not done all in your ability, we would have lost her already – lost her forever to Mandos! Please, Ada, do not believe him! It is your skill that has kept her alive, that allows her to make this decision!"

I am sobbing by now; my fury at Elladan, my sorrow for Naneth, and the pain I see in him pour out of me, and I can do nothing to stop the flood. Through my tears, I stare at my father, desperately trying to make him see. Naneth has ever said that I could convince Ada to change the world if I so desired, and I can only pray that she is right as I embrace him, as I feel him return that embrace, resting his chin in my hair.

I know not how long we remain there, my face buried in the soft velvet of his robes, his in my hair, but he finally draws back.

"Do you mean it?" he asks me quietly.

"Oh, Ada, how could you believe otherwise?" I respond.

"I wish there had been a different way to tell you… an easier way…" he answers instead, avoiding my question.

"There is none," I tell him. "How do you say such things in an "easy" manner?"

He shakes his head in response, slumping back against the chaise in a way that the Lord of Rivendell simply does not do. I lean back, resting my head against his shoulder, feeling as though I am a child again and not an Elf who has seen more than two thousand years of living.

Time passes, and for what feels like the tenth time today, I know not how much, but neither of us try to move until a knock sounds on my door. We both sit up, and my brothers and Naneth come in. Naneth's gentle but insistent nudge to Elladan shoves him forward, and I rise, moving to join her instead. Elladan's hand catches my wrist in a silent request for me to stay, and I send him a slightly puzzled look that he does not meet.

"Ada," he starts, "Ada, I am sorry. I did not mean what I said earlier – I let my temper get the better of me. Please – forgive me?"

I realize that the apology is directed to me as well, and I simply nod; I can speak to him later. Ada does not respond for a long moment, and just as my brother begins to draw back, regret filling his eyes, he stops him, catching him in an embrace. "I cannot do otherwise, ion nín," he murmurs, before my brother buries his face in Ada's shoulder.

Turning my gaze to Naneth, I embrace her. "Im le melan… ui," I whisper to her, drawing back to look deep into her eyes. "My heart rejoices for you… you will find healing." I cannot stop the tears welling in my eyes, but the slight smile on my lips lets her truly believe me.

"Hannon le, iell nín," she whispers back, wiping my tears away with her thumb.

We are all drawn together in a tight embrace, all of our pain and bittersweet joy mingling with each other until I begin to believe my words. Our family may be breaking, but somehow, somewhere, someday, in some way, we will learn to live again. We will be able to let Naneth go, and when we see her again, she will be whole again, and we will learn to let our hearts live again. Because our family can never be truly broken, even if the seas of the world lie between us.

Final Notes: There is some dispute over "I love you" in Sindarin; I chose to use what can be termed the "direct translation", and as far as I can tell, individual usage depends on the teaching. "Ui" translates to "always", and yes, now I shall shut up and let you go punch that review button. :)