Disclaimer: Not mine. Please don't sue, because you won't get anything except a lot of wasted time. Promise!

Time frame: I'm not really sure. Probably after the twins, and possibly Arwen have been born, however they're not mentioned.

A/N: Meh...I don't know where this came from. Probably from the fact that I'm a) exhausted, and b) have had a constant headache for the past 3 days or so. I really shouldn't have written this, because I need to be in bed thirty minutes ago. But oh well. My sincerest apologies for any and all grammatical issues herein. They're mine and mine alone, and I'm sure there's a few at least. I promise I did read through it, but at this point, I dunno that I'd even recognize a fragment. Haha, such is my mental state. Haha.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! Silent One, Greenleaf's Daughter, and dinopoodle. You guys are the best! Thank you so much! To all of you who are reading, I'd love it if you'd drop a few words on your way out, even just to say whether you liked it or not. In any case, though, I hope you enjoy!

Translations:

Meleth: Love

Name:

Brí: Elrond's name for Celebrían. Not really sure what it would mean, when broken down into its Sindarin parts. I've seen it done before, though, and I like it. So...this falls in with the "pet name" thing that I mentioned a couple chapters ago.

~Strange Melody~

Raven hair pooled out beneath him, cascading across a silken lap and framing a delicately angled face. His eyes were closed fast, his long, dark lashes dusting his cheeks. The soft sound of his hitching breathing lay just beneath the crackling of the fire, weaving a strange melody of pain with that of comfort.

Celebrían sat upon a couch in Elrond's study, feet tucked up beneath her, and her Beloved's head resting on her lap. Her long fingers were lost amongst the tangles of his hair as she methodically massaged his head, neck, and upper shoulders. She was looking down at Elrond's face, which was tight and drawn with suppressed agony.

"Feeling any better?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"A little," Elrond replied, his own voice as quiet as Celebrían's, and somehow more fragile. He winced almost imperceptibly at the words, however, and Celebrían quickly saw through the lie.

It was not often that Elrond suffered from such debilitating headaches, a fact that Celebrían was eternally thankful for. Yet when such a headache came, they were often strong enough to cause him to black out and vomit. Most often they came when he was exhausted, and most especially after he had spent much of his strength healing another.

He had already been drained from nearly a week of Council meetings when they brought Aravadhor's squad home on litters. Aravadhor himself had been the most grievously injured, and throughout that first night, all had believed that his spirit would flee to Mandos' Halls ere dawn broke the veil of night. He had defied all odds, however, and had lived to see daybreak and beyond. Much of that had been Elrond's doing, however, or so Celebrían assumed. She could sense, even if she could not see, how he had poured as much of his own brightly burning life into his dear friend as he dared, giving the younger elf's heart the strength to continue beating, and his lungs to keep breathing.

He had fallen silent once more, his labored breathing the only sound signifying that he lived, and he lay so unnaturally still. Unbidden memory filled her mind, carrying her back just a few short hours before, and once more she felt a small bubble of terror well up in her chest, even at the simple thought of what she had seen.

"Elrond?" she called out, knocking on his study door. Her knuckles fell against the thick wood and the sound echoed percussively, as if the sound met only emptiness on the other side. When she got no reply, Celebrían unlatched the door and pushed it open, stepping through into the dimly lit room beyond.

Brow creased at the oddity of the fire in his study being unlit at this time of night, Celebrían pushed farther into the room, the uneasy feeling that had sent her to her husband's study increasing with each passing second.

"Elrond?" Celebrían called out tentatively into the shadows, which seemed to be welcoming, as if they yearned to fold her into a warm embrace. None answered.

'Perhaps,' she thought, 'he has yet to awaken, and is still in our chambers.' She hoped that such was the truth, although, knowing him as well as she did, she had been sure that he would not have slept for so long, even after nearly exhausting himself the day before.

Celebrían turned to exit the study when a faint flicker caught her eye. Turning quickly, she caught sight of the faint light yet again, issuing from behind the sofa pushed close to the row of bookshelves lining the wall. On quick feet, Celebrían hurried around the couch toward the faint light, the knot of worry growing tenfold although she could not say why.

When she saw what lay behind, she stopped stock still for a long instant, frozen in place with numbing fear.

Elrond lay crumpled at the base of a bookcase, one arm stretched out above his head. Near his fingertips, listing to the side in a pile of melted wax, lay guttering candle – the source of the light Celebrían had seen. Elrond's eyes were closed, and he lay deathly motionless.

Celebrían suddenly found it in herself to move, and she flung herself down beside her Beloved. With trembling hands she reached for him, placing two of her fingers in the small hollow to the side of his neck. His skin was ice cold, she noticed off-handedly.

The faint throb of a weak, yet steady pulse met her touch, and she released a breath that she had not known she had been holding. It came out as a strangled sob.

As if reacting to her touch, Elrond stirred, his clouded grey eyes fluttering open. For a long moment, it seemed as if he could not focus on her, but then recognition dawned in his face, and he reached for her. Celebrían seized his hand in hers and held it tightly, clutching to it as one would a lifeline thrown to a drowning sailor.

"Brí?" he asked tentatively, and almost immediately winced in pain as the sudden sound grated on his ears.

"Hush," Celebrían ordered softly. "I shall go find Glorfindel." Unsure of what else to do, she leaned down and kissed him gently on the brow, conveying with the touch the promise that she would return as quickly as she could. With that she stood, his hand pulling from hers listlessly and falling back to the floor. His eyes followed her as she turned and ran from the room, then closed painfully as he waited for her to return with the Balrog Slayer.

"Do not ever scare me like that again," Celebrían plead barely audibly. Elrond's eyes opened slightly as he looked up at her questioningly. "Please," she added, and in her crystal blue eyes, Elrond could catch a glimpse of the depth of her fear.

"I shall try," he promised, "Although I can make no promises." For the first time in many long hours he smiled. It was a small, pained smile, but it was a smile none the less. Celebrían's heart soared.

"Good. I rejoice to hear that." Elrond's eyes slid close again, and the lines above his brow creased. Even that much speech had taxed him and caused him more pain, Celebrían realized with a pang.

"Sleep, meleth," Celebrían urged quietly. She leaned down and softly kissed Elrond's forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips. "Sleep," she whispered.

Slowly, Elrond's breathing evened out as he sank into a dreamless healing sleep. Celebrían did not move but for her hands, which continued to massage Elrond's head and neck. She simply sat, guarding her Beloved against any nightly sound or disturbance, giving him what she could, which was, consequently, that which aided him most – her love.