Disclaimer: The characters of Tolkien's world that appear in the following chapters don't belong to me.

A/N: To be honest I can't remember when I started writing this story. Maybe two years ago…? I'm not sure. When I heard the story of Elrond and Celebrian for the first time, I was touched. It was so sad and it was a shame it had to end the way it did. So I decided that it would be nice if they had a second chance before Elrond sailed to Valinor. And also make an unhappy, disheartened woman from our world happy at the same time. Maybe I should warn you that I invented most parts of this story and there are almost no parallels to Tolkien's storyline. But I think that is included in the word "fanfiction" already, right?

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0. Social Isolation

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Social isolation.

Ever heard about that one? I bet you have.

It is used every day all over the world in all languages one can imagine. It is an ugly word but somehow it sounds interesting, so one can find many people using it in a way that would make every better psychologist want to either rip out their throats or to chain them to the wall of a dark cellar for, let's say, two days. If they would start talking about social isolation afterwards I would be the first one to listen to them patiently.

Life ain't always peachy but some people just love to fuss over the most trivial things. I know what I'm talking about - it was my job to listen to their problems and to help solving them. I was one of those unfortunate creatures they call "psychologist" - a dying breed if you ask me, for most people preferred visiting psychiatrist with all their lovely, colorful pills to take away any pain, a fast and for a short time very effective method but on the long run with severe consequences - and in fact, I liked my job, I really did. According to the few friends I had I liked my job a little too much.

They claimed I was so involved with my job that I forgot what it feels like to have a private life. Well, if they were to sit in one room with more or less hysteric, depressive, hyper or otherwise mentally ill persons the whole day I bet they would understand how difficult it was for me to have a decent private life. But maybe they were right. I was always there for my clients and if there was a case of emergency they could even call me at home and I would do anything in my power to help them.

I was so occupied with my job that it was almost impossible to make new friends or keep the old ones I had, let alone finding a boyfriend and that was what worried my best - and how I liked to call her my only - friend Laura the most. We were living together in a rather large apartment. Well, it was my apartment but one day when I came home from work I found her lying on my doorstep, fast asleep. Her face was covered with bruises as was her whole body as I found out later. It seemed like she and her husband got into a fight again, this time not only verbally but also physically. I offered her to live with me during the acrimonious divorce that was to come. It had been very ugly and I had been by her side all the time, supporting her the best I could. Living with Laura was exciting for she was in her mid-twenties and had a six year old daughter that kept her occupied most of the time. I'd always wanted to have children on my own but since I had difficulties in dealing with other people that weren't my clients, there was only a very slim chance of that ever happening to me.

Sure, I had a great job, my own practice with a good reputation and therefore enough money to lead a comfortable life. But sometimes I felt that there had to be more.

I knew only too well what it meant to be alone. That's why I hated people who ran around and kept talking about social isolation all the time just because their friends didn't call them twice a day but only once. I had been alone for a very long time, dedicating my life to the well-being of other people and often forgetting about what I wanted or needed. Like sleeping – I slept less than five hours every day – or eating meals regularly. I had always been a tall and rather slim person even though I didn't do any sports I never had problems with my weight, something Laura was very envious about. I couldn't understand her – she was a very beautiful woman, with long auburn hair and a well-curved body. She had an exciting private life with her daughter and a lot of men fighting for her attention. There weren't any males who would want to be with me, except for some of my clients but of course I never returned their affection.

Maybe I should learn to be happy with what I had. Maybe I should accept the fact that I would never have an own family. I knew it was impossible but still I couldn't keep myself from thinking about it sometimes. A few years ago I didn't have this problem but come to think of it I was younger back then.

Now that I was growing older and Laura was around all the time I would often catch myself doing something I never thought I was capable of – thinking about the infamous phrase „what if".

What if my life would have been different? What if I had concentrated more on my love life? Would I have been in Laura's position? With a sweet daughter and an abusive ex-husband?

I hated thinking about this for I could never find a pleasing answer to my questions. Tomorrow would be my thirty sixth birthday, maybe that was the reason why I had all these confusing thoughts. It would be an ordinary day, I would go to work as usually, go through my appointments and when I returned home there would be a message on the answering machine – my mother's inevitable birthday call where she would fuss about how screwed up my life was – and Laura waiting for me to give me a present though I told her not to get me anything because she barely got any money from her ex-husband. Still, I would be happy, knowing that someone cared about me, thank her and carry my sorry ass into my bedroom. There I would go to my nightstand, take out the bottle of whiskey I kept hidden inside and get drunk, so I had an excuse to drown in my self-pity.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not addicted to alcohol in any way. I know a lot of people who are and believe me, the stories they tell would make any person in their right mind feel sick.

I've seen a lot of people standing on the brink of insanity, sometimes I felt like I might be losing it, too. But somehow I could always manage to comfort them even when I felt lost myself.

Maybe I didn't care about myself enough. I had no one who would listen to my problems voluntarily so I kept to myself. Sure, there was Laura but she had been one of my clients before she moved in with me. She had enough problems of her own – she shouldn't be concerned about me, too.

Some day I would break, that was something I knew for sure. But until that day I would do anything to make other people feel better.

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