Author's note: CW: This chapter will contain mention of physical trauma and touches briefly on a su*cide check. As always, please be gentle with yourself. Work within your limits, eat your vegetables where possible, have a few deep breaths, and remember that you can do the thing, whatever it is!

Also, if Valarin is mentioned, dialogue in italics is Valarin.

I honestly don't know which was worse: the ever-growing body of evidence fuelling our worried suspicions that Sauron was the likely culprit behind this, or the intolerable smugness that came from Curumo once Olórin had sent said culprit absconding into the east with his tail between his legs.

He had made a special effort to ram the fulfillment of his "all will be well" predictions down our throats, visiting Imladris especially to deliver it.

"There, you see," he said, his voice dripping with condescending self-righteousness as he addressed me, Elrond, Glorfindel, Olórin, and Celebrían in his study. "It is precisely as I said it would be."

"I will strangle this motherfucker with his beard, I swear to god," I broadcast in my head to everyone except Curumo, almost straining to keep my face neutral and my hands on the armrests of my chair.

Glorfindel let out a sudden hoot of laughter, which, naturally enough, drew the attention of all present. Shit. Alarmed, I joined in and put on a high, false laugh, Curumo watching the two of us suspiciously.

"I know, isn't it funny!" I said, not entirely keeping the panic out of my voice. "I feel so silly to have thought it was Sauron at the helm. Guess we should have listened to wise old Curumo, huh?"

As fabricated as that clearly was, it was convincing enough for Curumo, and his irritatingly good humour returned straight away.

I don't really recall anything more he said after that. I allowed myself to lapse into power-saving mode shortly after Curumo had resumed speaking, and all but the essential services (circulation, respiration, and digestion) were shut off.

It would have been lying to call the four hundred-some years that followed blissfully peaceful, but given the circumstances, life in Imladris was fortuitously calm. The seasons came and went; vegetables were harvested (with the overalls on, of course); Happy Hour was had as frequently as possible, and overall, despite the constant lingering concern, things were pretty decent.

And then, of course, things were turned on their head again, with the Watchful Peace ending when the evil presence returned to Dol Guldur. This led to another assembly of the White Council- two, in fact.

The first had been rather unremarkable and was mostly for the purpose of administrative tasks. Galadriel had proposed that Olórin be leader, and everyone else was pleased with the suggestion, but Olórin wasn't keen to get tied up in allegiances and managerial responsibilities. Curumo was incredibly sour about that, but nominated himself as leader, which I'm fairly sure the Council only allowed to shut him up.

Shortly after that Council, Elrond and Galadriel pulled me aside to deliver news that I couldn't believe had come so late.
"It's about Olórin, Rhodri," Elrond said quietly. "But if we tell you, you cannot tell anyone."

My money was on them telling me he was gay and crushing mighty hard on Círdan. More fool me for banking on that as hard as I had, because then I gave myself away.

"He is a Maia, sent from the West," Elrond confided in me.

"Oh, that," I said, waving a hand dismissively. They both raised an eyebrow at me.

"You already knew?" Galadriel asked, her surprise clear.

I almost felt guilty about giving them a caustic look of disbelief. Almost.

"Of course I knew," I said incredulously, blinking hard. "Name one mortal race that looks like they're so old that a good shag would finish them off," I said holding up a finger, "who not only continues living, but actively travels on foot over an entire continent for another four hundred years! I- I mean, what on earth did you think he was?"

I rubbed my forehead in despair as my best friend and his mother-in-law, now speechless, exchanged shocked glances. "Olórin told me he was a Maia when we first met and asked not to tell you, but I warned him you were clever and would figure it out soon enough!" I sighed as I looked at them with affectionate exhaustion. "I love you both dearly, but honest to god. I need a bloody wine." That was the end of that conversation.

The second council was called by Olórin some years later, after he had done a little more probing in secret and found out that the nasty inhabitant of this squalid ruin was indeed Sauron.
Curumo looked distinctly displeased to be present this time, but by this point, nobody was especially interested in whether or not he had a bug up his arse about having to do his job. It was in a most concerned state that Olórin had called for the meeting in the first place, and the only thing anyone wanted to do was get the details. This time, even Círdan had showed up to hear what Olórin had to say, which I got a special glee out of when I sat down in the meeting room and saw Curumo glowering at him just as he had all those years ago at the Grey Havens. He was still cut up about that damn ring! I had to force myself to keep calm as Olórin addressed us.

"My recent investigation of Dol Guldur has revealed that the Necromancer is Sauron himself," he said, skipping the niceties and salutations. "It is time for the White Council to assemble in earnest and prepare to take action. Now is the time for us to prepare to attack."

"Why would we do that?" Curumo spoke up, rising and walking over to Olórin.

"Did you miss the part where the name of the perpetrator is Sauron?" I called out, unable to stand his bullshit a moment longer. Curumo spun around and glared at me. I wasn't put off. "You know the one," I continued. "Angry, powerful guy, forged the ring, fallen Maia. He's quite well-known."

Curumo sneered at me and addressed the entire room. "And what if it is Sauron?" What have we to fear from someone who cannot even form a body of his own?"

"He is obviously gaining strength somehow," Olórin countered. "He took Thrain's ring, and I do not doubt he seeks other rings of power- his own, for example."

This was met with a fervent shake of the head and a dismissive wave from Curumo. " Sauron is nothing without the One Ring, and we all know that the Ring is gone. It probably washed down the Anduin and into the sea, never to be found again. There it will likely remain unfound until the breaking of the world."

"We cannot be certain about that," Olórin said exasperatedly. "He may have servants combing every patch of land and water for it. We should attack now, while he is weak enough to be subdued!"

"We should wait a little longer. Enough to see if this really warrants an attack on Dol Guldur," Curumo continued, not paying any attention to the pursed lips of the others.

With that, the meeting was adjourned, and with defeated sighs galore the Council filed out of the room. Inconveniently, the bottom of my faithful backpack finally gave way as I made to take it out from under my chair, sending my possessions all over the floor.

"Ah, thanks, but don't worry about this," I said to Glorfindel as he bent down to help me pick my things up. "Save me a seat at the lunch table before it fills up?"

Glorfindel gave me a smile. "Certainly. I'll wait for you there." I smiled back and watched him stroll out of the room, his hair rippling behind him like spun gold.

I took off my robe, swept my things onto it and bundled it up, slinging it over my shoulder like I was one of those people who hopped onto passing trains for an adventure. When I stepped out of the room, I saw Curumo and Olórin off to the side, arguing between themselves in Valarin.

"Olórin," Curumo said in a cold tone, "I think you have spent too much time with the Halflings, smoking their pipe-weed."

Olorin said nothing, his face expressionless. And then, bless him, he took a drag on his pipe, blew a ring of smoke in Curumo's direction, and then shot out a hand and snatched it away.

"What do you mean to imply by that?" Curumo demanded furiously, and rounded on him threateningly, pointing his staff at Olorin's chest. Olorin didn't move a muscle, but I was less able to control myself. In a flash, I was behind Curumo and had grabbed his hands in mine, pinning them to his back.

"Don't even try it," I whispered into his ear, feeling him vainly squirm in resistance. Curumo was too shocked to say anything, staring at me with wide eyes. I looked him up and down, curling my lip in disgust. "Pathetic."

"Let him go, Vinyaten," Olorin said in a gentle but firm voice, smiling at me like a kind teacher. I shot him a grin back and shoved Curumo out of my grip so that he stumbled a little. Curumo watched me closely for a moment, then with a dismissive sniff, he walked off.

"Must be time for lunch," I said to Olorin, clapping his back genially as he nodded in agreement, and together, we made for the dining hall.

The uneasy times dragged on for decades, but we tried to maintain a sense of normalcy. Trade deals continued, Glorfindel and I took the nippers camping, Bregedúr would return with news from Mirkwood, albeit much less often now. The usual sort of business. On one particular afternoon in the late summer, Glorfindel and I had gone on a walk with Elrond (Celebrían had left a week prior for Lothlórien), and we were sitting on the balcony with a wine, enjoying the sunset.

The silence was shattered by frantic yelling coming from out in the corridor. "ADAAAAAAAA!"

It was Elladan and Elrohir. They never made distressed noises like that. We all looked at each other in alarm and shot out of our seats and into the corridor, Elrond getting through the door first. Before Glorfindel and I could pass through the doorway, a scream came from Elrond that made my blood curdle. I had never, ever heard him make a sound like that before, but when I looked up, I could see why.

Elladan and Elrohir were both exhausted, bedraggled and covered in dried blood, and together they were carrying a deathly pale Celebrían, who lay limply in their arms, covered in blood and bruises and showing no signs of life. Glorfindel let out a horrified gasp, clapping a hand to his mouth as Elrond ran over and took her from his sons.

"She's still alive," Elrond choked, eyes wide with terror as he looked up at us. He was white as a sheet.

"We'll go ahead and ready the healing wing," I said quickly, grabbing Glorfindel and sprinting off with him down the corridors to prepare a bed and organise the right instruments and tinctures.

Elrond worked on Celebrían, who had sustained a poisoned wound in the abdomen that appeared to have spread to much of her body. Glorfindel and I assisted where we could, and when I felt it was safe to, I went to the twins, who had a large number of deep gashes and lacerations that needed urgent attention.

"Come, both of you," I said gently, guiding them onto beds of their own. They both protested, but I eased them into a reclining position.

"Shhh, it's all right," I whispered as I put a hand on each twin's shoulder. "She is right there, she knows you are here. You do not need to sleep, but you must at least get off your feet for a moment and let me have a look at your wounds."

I passed them both a small glass of Miruvor. "Drink this, then tell me what happened."

They knocked back their drinks and started to explain while I began to clean out their gashes and lacerations, which were many and quite deep.

By their reports, Celebrían had been waylaid at the Redhorn Pass by a pack of Orcs, who killed her entire escort, kidnapped her, and made off. Elladan and Elrohir had pursued them until they found her, but by that time, she had already been subjected to various kinds of torture and injury by that filthy blade. Her sons apparently had managed to wipe out the entire pack of Orcs (at substantial cost to themselves), and had ridden back with her to Imladris as fast as they could.

We worked without pause in the hospital wing until nearly midday the next day, though I am certain that it was through Elrond's efforts that Celebrían finally stabilised. She lay still, her face contorted in pain, and did not awaken for weeks. The entire time, Elrond didn't depart from her side, and could not be persuaded by a single soul to even take a mouthful of food, let alone leave the room or sleep. Glorfindel and I came in a few times a day to sit with Elrond and Celebrían for an hour in a numb, distraught silence. The only thing that persuaded us to move was to put our arms around Elrond when he dissolved into tears, which happened frequently. The rest of the day we spent keeping things running smoothly with Erestor, trying to keep some kind of order in the day, even though we knew good and well that normal was a luxury that we wouldn't see again. I threw myself into my advisor role; the clinic was closed until further notice, and everyone knew why.

Celebrían was still in her semi-comatose state when Galadriel and Celeborn arrived during one of our visits. A gentle gasp escaped both of them as they reached the doorway to her room and saw her tucked up, her complexion almost grey. Glorfindel and I got up and left them, quickly retrieving something to eat.

"Tell me she will live," Glorfindel murmured to me fearfully as we sat in my office, the door locked and gingerly picking away at some grapes.

I looked up at him sorrowfully. "Her chances are as good as they can-"

"Rhodri, please," he begged me desperately. "Suspend my disbelief a little longer! She is our best friend, and so is Elrond. You know that if she dies, we lose them both." His eyes filled with tears and he bit his finger to distract himself. I got up out of my seat and went to Glorfindel, who was trying and failing to stifle a cry. I bent down, picked him up and carried him to the couch where I sat and cradled him tightly as he broke down, sobbing into my shoulder.

I didn't even dare to entertain the thought of how close we were to losing them both. Somebody had to be that ever-composed person with half an eye on everyone, keeping the show on the road. If I did, I didn't know how well I would pull myself together again. As I stroked Glorfindel's hair, I felt myself shudder internally and I knew that the best years in Middle-Earth had finally run out.

The period that followed was uneasy at best. It was like nobody dared to breathe until they were given some sort of sign Celebrían was going to pull through, that things might be all right again. Oddly enough, though, my hope didn't grow much when Celebrían finally awoke. In fact, I don't think anyone's did. Her grey eyes had lose their sparkle, her cheeks were hollow and lacked colour, and her movements and speech lacked all conviction. Now, she spoke in a hushed monotone, constantly vigilant and in fear of everything. For all intents and purposes, she was barely alive, even with her newfound consciousness. Had she been in London, she would have undergone immediate and extensive psychiatric assessment and been put onto a raft of medications.

Looking equally as worrying was Elrond, who had only now started to permit himself to sleep and eat. He had started to wither, and looked frighteningly unlike himself, having lost an impressive amount of weight for an Elf and developed deep, dark circles under his eyes. After a few days of Celebrían being awake, Galadriel and Celeborn cajoled him into letting them sit with her awhile as he left and ate something. He made to get up but was so shaky in moving that Glorfindel and I each had to take an arm under him to guide him to his study, where we brought some food and water to him.

"Just have a couple more mouthfuls, Elrond," Glorfindel encouraged gently, pointing at Elrond's almost untouched plate.

Elrond tried to do as his best friend asked of him, but when he took a piece of bread and brought it near his mouth, he could not bring himself to eat it. He looked away from his hand in disgust, wincing uncomfortably. He looked up at me now.

"Rhodri, you will help her, won't you?" His dark blue eyes searched mine worriedly. "It is a mind problem. You are our expert. You can fix this, can't you?"

A part of me was sure that she was beyond the help of any initiative here, a thought which made me furious at myself for even indulging for a moment, but all the same, it was something I couldn't quite shake. As I held Elrond's gaze, I had to keep myself from succumbing to the urge to lie or make promises I couldn't keep, just as I had had to with Glorfindel in my office.

"I'll make you a watertight guarantee, Elrond," I said as I held his gaze. "Every assistance I can possibly afford is at Celebrían's disposal, unconditionally and without limit. Of that you can be absolutely sure, and I will work tirelessly to keep it that way."

"... You are not sure you can heal her?" he said, his voice trembling a little.

I sighed. "I have not made any assessment as yet, so I cannot be certain of anything." The truth was so ugly sometimes. Hideous in its ambiguity, shapeless, lacking in any offer of stability, and yet this is what Elrond clung to.

"Here's what we'll do," I said gently. "I'll talk to her tonight and see if we can't get the ball rolling with things, all right? And in the interim, we'll take it one day at a time. We won't gaze too far into the future. We'll focus on what's happening right here, right now, and what's coming will make itself apparent in time. For now, though, we have today to get through."

Glorfindel nodded supportively and put an arm around Elrond, who propped his head up in one hand, still fighting with himself to eat the piece of bread.

That night was the first night Elrond slept a little. Worried that Celebrían wouldn't sleep well, I headed to the hospital wing with my guitar in tow and found her wide awake, trembling in her bed.

"Celebrían?" I called out gently as I knocked on the door. "It's Rhodri. Do you want some company?"

I saw a big pair of silver eyes flash in the dimness as Celebrían nodded. I ventured inside and pulled up a chair beside her, taking one of her hands in mine. It was freezing to the touch, and I sandwiched it between both of my hands to warm it up.

"How are you faring, my lovely?"

"I am trapped in a nightmare," she said in her lifeless voice, looking at me wearily. "I cannot rest, I find no comfort in anything. There is nothing left for me any more, nothing worth living for."

That wasn't reassuring. "Are you thinking of hurting yourself, Celebrían?" I asked her in a soft but serious voice.

Celebrían shook her head. "No, I am hurt enough," she uttered breathlessly, "but I cannot deny that I expend great effort in keeping my fea and body together." My heart plunged as I heard that, but I forced a calm exterior.

"You know, Celebrían, a large part of my work before coming to Middle-Earth was helping people process and come to terms with traumatic events. Do you think you might be interested in giving it a try yourself, see if it helps?"

"Do you think you can heal me?" she murmured, eyes watering as she bit her lip a little.

"I'd give anything to give it a try," I said, squeezing her hand gently.

She sat quietly for a moment, and then nodded. "But not tonight," she said in a fearful tone. "Not in the night."

"That's fine," I said with a reassuring nod. "We'll do it whenever you want, wherever you want. You call the shots entirely."

"Don't leave me alone, Rhodri," she whispered, pulling the blankets up to her chin like a small child.

"Oh, you can be sure of that," I promised as I tucked the sheets firmly at her sides. "I'll be here until Elrond arrives."

"I won't be sleeping tonight, I don't think," she mumbled. "But I'm too tired to talk."

"Not to worry," I said with a small smile. "How about a little music, huh? I brought my guitar."

She nodded. I picked up my guitar with one free hand, and though Celebrían didn't notice she was doing it, she refused to let go of my other hand. I moved my chair right beside her and carefully shifted her hand so that it held onto the crook of my arm instead. In that position, we played the night away, pausing only for song requests.