"Go back to Imladris and tell Elrond!" Celeborn commanded with his last bit of strength, "And send troops out to search for my daughter and her servants!"

Everybody obeyed immediately.

"Yes, Milord."

"Immediately, hir-nîn."

After he had sent everybody away, he lifted his wife up and took her to their bedroom. She was still unconscious, but as he gently laid her down on their bed, she opened her eyes, and with a hoarse, weak voice, she whispered

"I felt it… I should have done something, instead of worry! It's all my fault…"

Sternly, Celeborn shook his head.

"No, Galadriel, do not blame yourself! Do not, do you hear me?"

He had spoken louder than he had wanted to, and when she sobbed softly, he embraced her.

"I am so sorry, Galadriel…. Do not cry…"

"I am sorry, Celeborn…" Galadriel sobbed.

"So sorry…" She hid herself even more in his arms, and he tried to comfort her.

"You know, Galadriel, maybe Celebrían is not captured at all. Maybe she's just delayed! I mean, we have sent a large group of warriors with her, haven't we?"

Despite herself, Galadriel smiled through her tears.

"You are so sweet, you know? And maybe- maybe you are even right?!"

But Celeborn wasn't right, and they both knew it.

And after a week, it was for sure, when the Lórien and Imladris warriors found the cruelly murdered bodies of the troops that were sent with Celebrían, and of a few slain Orcs. But they couldn't find the Lady of Imladris herself…

Until…

It were Elrond and his sons themselves that found the badly wound Lady in the woods.

She was wounded by many lashes, and she had a poisonous wound on her left shoulder… There was blood everywhere, and firstly, the Lady's husband and sons thought that she had already passed away. And though she had not, she was wounded so badly, that nobody truly doubted that she would die in a few days.

Still, she was brought over to Imladris, to try to let her at least die in her own bed.

Her mother and father, as sad as anyone could be, traveled with her, along with some other Lórien elves who had known her very well.

It looked like a funeral procession, and maybe it even was one.

But the Lady was still alive when they arrived in Imladris, to everyone's surprise.

She was laid down on her bed, and her parents, her husband and children… there was constantly someone sitting next to her bed, even in the night.

Two days after she had come to Imladris, Celeborn and Galadriel sat in Celebríans room, just staring at the thin, pale, almost diminished Elven Lady that lay down on the bed.

"She was so beautiful…" Galadriel whispered.

"She is still beautiful! Look at…"

Galadriel raised her hand in a stopping gesture.

"She doesn't have to be beautiful, Celeborn. She has to be alive!"

And suddenly, all the pain and sadness about her dying daughter came out of her. She had not cried since she had heard about the attack, but now, she cried like she would never be able to stop sobbing.

"Celeborn I don't want her to die!" She threw herself in his arms.

"I don't want it!"

"Oh, meleth-nîn!" They were both crying now, holding each other like a drowning person holds his piece of wreckage, staring at the woman in the bed.

"Do you remember when you gave birth to her…"

"I didn't gave birth to her, we gave birth to her! Without you, I had not survived it… But of course, I remember it, for it was the most frightening as well as happiest day in my life…"

They both went back in time…