Lord of the Rings Take My Hand

**Take My Hand**

**Summary:** A great fear has blanketed the Elves of Lothlórien. Haldir, amidst his worry, wonders why Galadriel is certain it will pass. It's certainly not because of any far-seeing or wisdom, but something far different...

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing of the marvelous world of the revered Tolkien, save Tordren. I also do not own the uploaded "book cover" for this particular story. If this is ill-suited for any purpose for anyone, I will gladly take it down, all you need to do is ask. But please inform me so before rudely going to delete my story without warning. Thank you.

**A/N**: In this story, I decided to explore a side of Galadriel that is rarely seen in fanfiction, at least I rarely see it; the role of a wife. In this one-shot there will be a flashback. I don't want such a large section of this one-shot to be all in italics so it will be noticeably separated by a marker. That will be when the flashback begins and likewise when it ends. I know that having it in italics for as long as it would be will make it hard to read, so I wanted to avoid that as much as possible. It's not all melancholy and gloom either. There is some humor at the end. So bear with me! :) And this story was inspired by something that was said by **Tori of Lórien**. So thanks for the inspiration! Whatever it was. And thanks for all the help you gave me. :) I hope you all enjoy and please review! I welcome all words of both comments, critics, questions and any concrit is a definite welcome. Just no flames please. Happy reading!

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><p>Galadriel rushed down from the talan that she shared with her beloved husband as quickly as her feet would carry her. The cover of night enveloped the woods of Lothlórien, but as ever, a peaceful veil settled over the inhabitants with a promise of a peaceful night's slumber, the air wholesome and the woods feeling as a pristine bubble of the Elder Days. But not for her lady. Galadriel swept across the cool grass even quicker, her focus solely on her destination. She could feel her heart flutter in her chest as she fought away the last remnants of sleep. She could feel him. Distance and meager and thin the connection was, but she could feel him. And that was all that mattered, for it meant that the fëa of her love had not yet fled to the arms of a being of higher power. But she could feel that it was by a miracle's intervention that he had not yet. He was alive and she felt both relief and alarm flood her senses at that.<p>

There were few Elves about and those that were seen were among the Galadhrim, remaining faithfully at their posts despite the news they had just received. Word spread fast after all, even under the cover of night. Wishing to retain her dignity, Galadriel managed to refrain from running, but resigned to make it a very quick walk. But in all honesty, she didn't care at the moment what the few Elves about thought of her quick trot. Some might think that she would maintain her poise, her elegance and serenity even in the direst of times. But this was her husband; all that mattered now was getting to the healing ward, which normally only a couple hundred steps away, now felt to be a wild trek in her worry-laden mind.

The Elves of the Galadhrim watched their lady fly right past them, her urgency to reach her destination evident. Despite their concern, they had to commend her – in all actuality, they were surprised that she wasn't running. It had been well past the mid of night when they had spotted a hand-maiden ascend their lord and lady's talan and, only a moment after, descend back to the cool earth. After a quick inquiry, they quickly became informed of the desperate situation. How they wished they could have been there to protect him - to die for him. Their respect and loyalty to their lord was unending. How they wished….

Galadriel reached the healing ward and weaved her way through the meandering healers outside the entrance. None dared to get in the way, not of a worried lady, but of a fretting wife. It certainly wasn't their right to, after all. Before entering, she gently touched the shoulder of one of the assistant healers.

"Which room does he lay in, young one?" she asked. Her voice remained steady, but the worry clearly shown in her eyes.

The young maiden, who couldn't help but feel compassion at seeing such prominent fear, pointed through the doorway. "He was taken to the last room at the end of the hall, my lady. That is all I know."

Galadriel gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Thank you," she said quietly, and within ten seconds she was in the room indicated.

It was quiet. Very quiet. She swiftly entered the room and felt her feet freeze in place and her heart stop. The room was illuminated by only a lowly lit lantern and the curtains were drawn back, the sheets of the bed pristine and light. Towards the opposite wall was the master healer, cleaning and organizing the healing supplies on the table before him. His countenance was grim and not at all reassuring as he worked with rigidity, as if the cleaning of blood off his tools was a routine his hands were accustomed to. Next to the bed was a hard wooden chair and sitting on it was Haldir. The lord and lady had such faith in this guard and were humbled by his loyalty to them and they were waiting with impatience to announce his promotion to marchwarden. But his loyalty was proven now; he was off duty, yet here he sat next to his lord. But he was silent. Not one word passed from his lips and his worry could be seen with every contour of his body.

But Galadriel saw none of it. Frozen in the doorway, her eyes were locked on the being of her beloved. Elves in general were pale, but he seemed to have taken on the paleness of a corpse. Shadows surrounded his closed eyes and his lips were white. Covering his body from the shoulders down were two sheets, but spread all along the top of the sheets were several pounds of crushed ice. He was visibly shivering and his breathing was audibly erratic. But what terrified her was the tension of his countenance, as if he could still feel the pain, even in sleep. He looked to barely have a grip on life. _Celeborn…Ai Elbereth, I beg of you not to take him from me_.

"My lady…."

As if being shaken out of a daze, she turned her attention to Tordren, their head healer, who looked at her with a compassion that only a healer could have. Though she maintained eye contact, she couldn't help but noticed the blood stains on his robes and the weariness of his features. She moved closer to Tordren and tried to stay focused instead of rushing to her beloved.

"Tordren, please, tell me what happened," she said quietly. Her voice still remained calm, but this time there was a noticeable shudder in it and Tordren could see the light line of tears rimming her eyes, the kind of tears that are derived from the panicked alarm racing through one's body.

He nodded with a small sigh. He was truly exhausted. "He has severe head trauma," he said quietly, in an attempt not to break the concentrated muse of Haldir. "There is a laceration on the left side of his head that luckily avoided the temple and it required eleven stitches. The skull around the wound is fractured and the pressure inflicted to cause such a wound would explain his unconsciousness. Captain Haldir informed me that the skirmish involved a group of Men and that it was they who attacked Lord Celeborn. Their blades had already been stained with the Orc blood when they wounded him, thrice in the torso. Thus, a heavy infection has set. I am sure Captain Haldir can inform you of the events that happened. He has lost an alarming amount of blood and he currently has a low grade fever, but I am very concerned that it might escalate to being very dangerous. That is why I have him covered in ice. Six others of the patrol were wounded, but they are well on their way to recovery." He couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy for his lady as she once again looked at her husband, the fear and terror evident in her eyes. From the strain of her body, Tordren could tell that she was doing her best not to rush over to him. "My lady?"

Galadriel snapped her gaze back over to Tordren and bowed her head apologetically and took a deep breath to calm the nervousness. "I apologize, Tordren. You can understand my fear." He nodded and she glanced back over to her unconscious husband. "Will he be well?"

He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Lord Celeborn is strong, my lady," he said, his voice laced with indemnity. "I am confident that he will respond well to the medication. My main worry is the head wound and his fever." He gestured towards the door. "There will be a healer placed outside. The ice must remain on him until his fever breaks. If he begins to sweat, I have informed the warrior Haldir that he is to notify the healer to come and get me. Likewise, should he wake I told him that I want to be summoned. Worry not, Lady Galadriel," he stressed again. "That he will fully recover I believe with full confidence."

Galadriel nodded. "Thank you, Tordren," she said. "Is there anything I can do for him in the meantime?"

"To be honest, my lady, the best thing you can do is to return to your rest," he said. "You will be informed of the slightest change, for better or for worse."

Galadriel was already shaking her head adamantly. "My place is beside my husband," she said, her glare daring him to deny her this. "I will not leave him."

Tordren nodded in understanding. He knew it was practically pointless to separate any bonded couple in a time of need, but he knew it was worth a try. He then turned his attention over to Celeborn with a thoughtful look. "There is nothing you can really do, my lady. The best thing you can do is wait and inform me if there is any change." He glanced worryingly at Haldir before taking a step closer to Galadriel. "There is one more thing you should be informed of, my lady," he murmured in a low voice that, even with elven hearing, was hard to pick up. "From what he has told me, I am able to conclude that Captain Haldir feels guilty for what happened to my lord. I know not the details of the attack, but I am confident that the guilt is misplaced."

Galadriel looked over Tordren's shoulder to Haldir and suddenly understood the rigidity that he sat with. "Thank you, Tordren," she said. "I will speak with him."

As Tordren made his exit, Galadriel took up the other hard chair and placed it beside the bed. She could feel the cold of the ice as she leaned over her husband to spy the injury to his head and she couldn't help but cringe. It was ugly. The darkness of the stitches was such a contrast to his fair hair and skin. The wound had been cleaned, but all around the laceration was deep bruising and discoloration that traveled from the corner of his eye to where it disappeared beneath his hair. It was truly an ugly wound.

With another small sigh, Galadriel sat down in the wooden chair and looked at the ice. It was spread across his whole body, but was really packed in between his arms and chest and in between his legs and the area of the groin. She also spied ice placed underneath his neck under a cloth and couldn't help but be both thankful and impressed; Tordren was taking no chances with this fever. Celeborn didn't deserve this. Why did he have to suffer so?

Galadriel looked fondly at her husband's ill complexion and felt her heart swell with love for this Elf. With a small smile surfacing from a memory, she reached under the sheet and searched until she found his shivering hand. The ice on the sheet began numbing her skin, but she didn't care. She took a firm yet tender grip on that hand, feeling the gold band on his finger. She leaned over and placed an affectionate kiss on his forehead.

_Yes, Celeborn…you are strong. You have proven your strength before as you have ever been strong for me_. She ran her fingers lightly through his bright hair, admiring how the silver shone beautifully in the moonlight coming in from the window. She continued to look down at him as she ran her thumb over the back of his hand. How she truly loved this Elf. Yes, he would come through this. Though the worry and fear was still there, it was finally pushed over to the side. She knew he would overcome this…her husband could overcome anything.

He certainly was stubborn enough, after all, she thought, though Celeborn would vehemently deny any such accusation. His stubbornness was something that always made her laugh, though. Or made her want to rip out her hair in frustration, now that she thought about it. She remembered one time when he had walked with a fractured leg to attend the annual security council meeting, much to Tordren's anger and dismay. No one had expected him to show up, but she remembered dropping her head in her hands when he did anyway. And he had sat at the head of the table as though nothing was out of the ordinary, all too obviously ignoring the flabbergasted looks he had been receiving, and initiated the meeting. Oh yes, her husband was certainly stubborn enough.

Pulling her gaze away from Celeborn, Galadriel looked to Haldir and felt compassion swell within her for the younger Elf. He looked positively tormented to her. Though he seemed to have been looking at Celeborn, his gaze now had that far-away quality. The worry, the fear, the guilt…all of it could be seen in his countenance. He was obviously far from relaxed and needed to be dragged away from his gloomy thoughts.

"Haldir?" There was no response. "Haldir?" she said a tad louder. Still, there was no sign that he had heard her. "Haldir?" she practically shouted.

His head snapped up as if waking from a dream. He noticed the slightly worried look Galadriel was giving him and he bowed his head with a sigh of defeat. "Forgive me, my lady," he said. "My attention was elsewhere."

"You were there?"

He gave a single nod. "Aye."

Galadriel looked at him silently for a moment. "Tell me what happened."

He nodded again as he looked down at the floor. "As you know, Lord Celeborn decided to investigate the situation on the southern border since both he and you had misgivings about the constant intergrated attacks. We headed out with two companies and when we arrived there was a skirmish between the Orcs and some Men. We still do not know where the Men hail from, but without a second thought we all rushed in and finished off the remaining Orcs. Only one was injured during the attack. But," Haldir continued with a sigh, "when the excitement died down, Celeborn approached the Men in a friendly manner and began speaking to them. But, out of nowhere they started to then attack him. I believe he was surprised at their aggressiveness, but he managed to defend himself for the most part. By time we arrived there, all the injuries had been dealt and a short while later he obtained the head wound that knocked him unconscious. We fought the Men, but they did not relinquish to our gesture of peace, so we killed all of them."

He shook his head in confusion. "None of us can comprehend why the Men attacked him. It was as though they were still frazzled from their skirmish with the Orcs. We do not know if they were simply confused or if they had actual ill-intent in mind."

Galadriel gave a placating smile. "We may never know, penneth. But rest assured; I will discuss this with the advisors on the morrow." She caught Haldir's guilt-laden look, even though he tried to hide it, and gently asked, "What is it, Haldir? What are you not telling me?"

He furrowed his brow and shook his head in what she guessed was self-hatred. "I was right there, my lady, and I could not save him. I was _right there_." He closed his eyes with a sigh. "I should not have let him approach those Men alone. I should have been with him. We were all entrusted with his security and we failed. But I was right there beside him and I let him –"

"Haldir," she said gently but firmly, hoping to stop the self-chastisement, "listen to me, penneth. No one failed in their duty tonight. Celeborn committed to the common act of trusting those that you save and he counted on that truce of friendship when you saved them all from the Orcs. I am sure that he was as shocked to his core as you were when they attacked him. You say you failed him. Tell me, did you or your comrades stand aside while he was being attacked or did you rush to his aid to help him? Did you stand aside?"

Haldir shook his head, still looking towards the ground.

"No, you did not," she continued. "You went to his aid. And though none of us are pleased with the outcome of the skirmish, I entrusted you with the life of my husband and I would still do it again. Do you hear me?" she stressed. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

He gestured helplessly at his unconscious lord. "But look at him," he said despairingly. "I was here the whole time they cared for him and I have never seen a life in such peril."

"He will be fine, Haldir," she reassured. "Trust me, I know he will recover fully."

He looked at her. "How can you know that?" he asked. "Have you foreseen something?"

Galadriel shook her head patiently. "No, Haldir, nothing like that. It is simply because I have faith in my husband that I know he will overcome this. He has, after all, had to endure far worse in the past."

Haldir looked at her a tad surprised. "He has?" He, at the moment, couldn't think of a worse situation that a life could be in.

Galadriel nodded, a shadow passing over her features as she recalled that paralyzing time in her life. "Yes, he has. I was not sure if he would survive. The healers were not even sure if he would."

Haldir cocked his head. "What happened?"

She sat back with a small sigh, but still maintained a secure hold on Celeborn's hand. She caressed his cheek with the backs of her fingers, wishing that he wouldn't have to endure all this cold, let alone this pain. "It was a time that I truly hope will never happen again, for many different reasons, the most being for what happened to Celeborn."

OOOOO = OOO = OOOOO= OOO = OOOOO

_Sirion, 537 FA_

Galadriel waited along with two other ellith as more emergency pallets were constructed. Now Elves did not pace, but she was pacing endlessly. The two ellith had tears running down their cheeks and looked utterly defeated by their posture. But that is why Galadriel paced as furiously as she did; she was afraid that if she stopped, if she had nothing to distract her, she would join them in their mourning.

The Moon was high in the night sky, enveloped by the unnumbered clusters of stars. In the distance the crashing of the waves along the cliffs could be heard along with its smooth rhythm of sweeping the shoreline. One could smell the overpowering saltiness in the air as the wind whipped ferociously as the result of a cloudless sky. And the cry of the gulls could be heard from the shore. All in all, it looked to be a peaceful night in the small land of Sirion. But it was not so. Far from it, to be clear.

For among the sounds of the waves, among the whispering wind, among the calls of the birds of the sea, above all the sound there could be heard the cries of mourning, the screams of agony and the groans of pain. Hundreds lay dead and even more lay wounded.

Galadriel could feel the tears beneath the surface, just waiting for the smallest reason to break through. Even though hours had passed, she still didn't know what to think. Her thoughts were so jumbled and her shock so intense that she didn't even know where to begin. Too much had happened, too much within a few hours for the mind to act calmly and rationally. Indeed, adrenaline was rushing through her body like no tomorrow.

Maedhros and his three brothers had attacked and had succeeded. Well, almost succeeded, thank the Valar. They didn't leave with what they had come to obtain. Maedhros had continued to ply Elwing with demands for the Silmaril. But with Eärendil, the Lord of Sirion, at sea, they could not make such a decision. But Maedhros had not accepted that answer. He then threatened her with an attack on the city, that they would retrieve the jewel by force if she didn't relinquish it instead. A reply had been sent along with a request of aid to Lord Círdan of Balar and King Gil-galad.

It had not even been two days later when his army had arrived at their doorstep. They had been unprepared and unequipped to take on such a force. They hadn't even given them the option to surrender; they simply fought their way through to find Elwing and the Silmaril. An offensive rebuttal had been haphazardly constructed, but the damage had already been done. By the time Galadriel had heard of the commotion outside, hundreds had already been fighting and were being killed. She had become separated from her husband as Celeborn took charge of the defense and headed into the battle while she had immediately went to the aid of the healers to help with the dead and the wounded.

Now here she stood, pacing, blocking out the sounds of the constant hammering of at least thirty Elves. All the pallets from the healing wing had been used and new ones had to be constructed to retrieve the dozens among dozens more of wounded out there. The healing wing was full and now the Dining Hall was being used as a healing station and that, too, was now almost full. She had no idea where Celeborn was and she feared for him. Through their bond she could tell that he was not well and it terrified her, since she didn't know what was wrong. She had hoped that he would have found her by now. The army was now gone and they were left to deal with the horrors it wrought.

And her own cousins had done this. Her family! Never did she dream that such horror could be wrought by her own blood. That she had seen them, for a second time, attack her people was almost too much to bear. The first time, in Menegroth, they had almost killed her husband. If it was possible to die from shock as it was from grief, she knew she would have.

And what was worse, they had kidnapped the sons of Eärendil and Elwing. They were gone and none knew what to do amidst this catastrophe. There was too much to handle at once.

"Ladies, two more have been constructed," one of the ellyn said.

Galadriel was drawn out of her muse as she spun around. Blood stained the ellon's clothes and dirt covered his face and hands. You could see the terror and hopelessness in his eyes. The amount of dead and wounded was truly overwhelming.

"I will take those two," she said, rushing forward before the other two ellith could. The ellon stacked one atop the other, hauled them up and placed the two wooden pallets in her arms. Once she had a secure grip on the basic structures, she hurried off towards the field where the massacre had taken place as the ellon went back to making more.

She reached the crest of the hill and couldn't help but pause to look down at the field below and felt her stomach churn and her heart twist. Hundreds of bodies littered the scarce ground. The moans of the wounded filled the air as warriors, ellith and healers alike went about finding those that yet lived.

The people of Sirion were comprised of many different Elves; survivors of the Falas, of Gondolin, of Doriath, of Hithlum, of Nargathrond, and the people who lived in Sirion since the beginning. None of these people were strangers to the horrors of war or of grief, but could one ever get use to such things? Would the time when one had finally seen and experienced too much that he became use to it be the time when he became dead on the inside?

No matter how much fighting she saw, now matter how much war, no matter how much death she saw, Galadriel knew that she would never get use to it. Indeed, every cry of torment jarred her mind as though she had never heard it before.

She heard a shrill, loud whistle, the signal that someone had been found and needed to be transported. She hurried down the hill and rushed across the field, briefly condemning the restraints that her dress caused her. But, thinking on it, she was thankful that she had spent all that time in her youth wrestling with her brothers. Otherwise, she would have might not been able to haul these solid wood pallets across hundreds of yards without regaining a good grip. She weaved through dozens of bodies that no longer drew breath, their eyes staring blankly out in the distance. Such horror…how could the mind recover from such things?

She arrived at the sight and was dismayed to see that there were three Elves that needed to be taken inside and she only had two pallets. But she laid them on the ground as she watched one of the Elves convulse as the healer tried to stop the flow of blood coming from his neck. There was also a broken arrow shaft protruding from his thigh that had yet to be removed. Another healer, that had just finished staving the blood flow on another Elf, turned to Galadriel and opened her mouth to ask for assistance before her eyes widened in amazement.

"I must commend your bravery, my lady, since you are out here at this time," she said, quite out of breath.

Despite the situation, Galadriel slightly raised her eyebrow, wondering if she had just been insulted or not by this young one.

"Why should I _not_ be out here?" she asked a trifle sourly. Did this elleth truly think that she would hide behind the walls when Elves were dying out here?

The elleth looked a tad nervous as she began binding the wound on the Elf beneath her. "I apologize, my lady, I meant no offense. I just thought that with the situation of Lord Celeborn you would be with him instead."

Galadriel felt her blood run cold. Her heart rate sped up until she could hear it pounding in her ears. _No…dear Valar no…please do not let it be_.

She took a deep calming breath, but she couldn't help the shudder in it. "What are you talking about?" she asked in a carefully neutral voice.

The elleth's eyes widened when she realized that she was the first to inform Lady Galadriel on the state of her husband. She grimaced; she didn't want to be the first. "I know not the situation, my lady. I only saw him carried into the fortress and there were four healers with him."

The elleth saw all the color drain from her face as she stared at her, fear and horror growing in her eyes. She laid a placating hand on her shoulder. "Go to him, my lady. He is in the conference room, another room that has been turned into a healing station. Go to him. We can handle the situation here."

Galadriel stood without a second thought and began running towards the stone fortress as if her life depended on it. She felt as though she were moving in slow motion, that her legs weren't going as fast as they ought to. Not her husband. Please, not her dear husband. She couldn't live without him.

She entered through the archway, skidding on the floor as she sped around the corner. The people in the hallway passed in a blur of motion. A few called out to her, but she didn't hear them.

She entered the conference room, now another temporary healing room, which was swarming with action. One could hear the despairing cries and groans of pain from both patient and visitor alike. The healers rushed to and fro, not even bothering to retain any dignity, while friends and family went about searching and asking for certain Elves they knew. She was about to step further into the room when a pallet was carried in front of her out, the body covered fully with the sheet. She briefly wondered how many more bodies had yet to be carried out as she stood on her toes searching, every wasted second feeling like a year. Where in the name of all the Valar was he?

All of the sudden, she spied him with two healers kneeling down beside him, and her heart stopped. She couldn't even breathe as horror engulfed her at the sight that met her eyes. He lay there with nothing but a blanket separating him from the stone floor with a thin pillow beneath his head. And the white sheet that covered him was soaked in places in what she hoped was old blood. She barely let a second pass before she ran over to him, not even stopping to apologize to those she bumped into.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she dropped to her knees beside his head. She went to cup his face, but had to resign to letting her hands hover around his head since she didn't know where the injury was. There was simply blood everywhere.

"Celeborn?" she said, and when there was no result she did so again more despairingly. "Celeborn?"

Her vision began to blur when there wasn't the slightest response. His skin was so pale and the contrasting blood covered well over half of it. And she had no idea where the blood was coming from. It was simply there, very dark and thick. But what terrified her beyond words was that he had no glow, evidence of his strenuous hold on life. Indeed, he was barely breathing.

"Lady Galadriel…."

She looked up at the healer across from her and caught the sympathetic gaze he looked at her with. The other healer was beside her, working on Celeborn's lower right leg, something she couldn't see. She didn't even bother to stop the tears from falling. "What happened?"

He continued to sponge off the blood as he spoke. "We are not entirely sure, my lady. He was found in the reeds in an off-branching stream from the shore. If our sources are correct, it was the area that Maedhros led the attack on. We assumed he dragged himself there after being injured to avoid being a target. He has a head wound; there was no concussion, it simply bled a lot. He also had an arrow in the chest. The head did not pierce his lung, but only by a hair. I do not have the time to check, but the tissue may be slightly torn from the arrow's edge, but there was no fluid in his lungs. It has been treated and cared for, but must be monitored." The healer working on the leg laid the sheet over the limb and stood, leaving to aid other patients. "There was also another arrow wound to the torso. There are signs of minor internal bleeding and a small infection has set, but it has been treated and again, must be watched. The infections have caused a raging fever, one that I am very concerned about, but we are running out of herbs to combat it. I am praying that Lord Círdan is bringing more. There are simply too many patients for our stock. To be honest, my lady, I am purely amazed that he is still alive."

Galadriel looked at him with her brow furrowed and her eyes widened slightly. She highly feared to ask, but she knew she must. "Infections?" she asked, stressing the pluralism. "What else are you not telling me? And what did you mean when you said that he _dragged_ himself to the reeds?"

The healer looked at her, his reluctance obvious. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he reached towards his lower right leg and pulled back the sheet.

Galadriel covered her mouth at the sight as the tears came even quicker.

The leg was hideous. Most of the skin along the shin was gone. That it had bled was obvious and she wasn't entirely sure where the wound site was. But the leg was taut with infection, some areas a deep, shiny red and some other areas of the tissue had already begun to turn black. The infected tissue stretched from his knee to the top of his foot and she could swear that she spied the white of bone towards his ankle.

"What caused this?" she asked in a barely audible whisper.

He shook his head before covering the leg back up. "We are unsure. Possibly something with a serrated edge or a hard surface of similar texture caused this. The bone has shattered, though, and my greatest fear is that the infection has set into the bone. I know that Lord Celeborn is a valiant warrior. My assumption is that he was hit first in the leg. This allowed his attention to be taken, thus his disability to dodge the two arrows. Finally taken down, he dragged himself to the reeds out of harm's way. I am hoping above hope that his leg will start to heal."

Galadriel stared at him, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. But she had to ask – she had to know. "If it does not start to heal…what will happen?"

He looked at her knowingly and with sympathy. There was no easy to way to put this. And as he spoke, one could hear the apologetic sorrow in his voice. "If it does not start to show any sign of healing within the next four hours, if it only gets worse, or if the infection has set in the bone…his leg will have to be amputated. If not, the infection will claim his life."

Galadriel had bowed her head, her eyes shut tightly, but even then the tears fell without restraint. _Oh, Valar, no…please…not my Celeborn_.

"I am sorry, my lady," he said, and one could tell by his voice that he was. "I wish there was a better way to tell you this. The wound is severe; there is no hiding it."

Galadriel took a deep breath in an attempt to rein in her emotions and then released it with a shudder. She felt herself taking in several more quick breaths before she found the strength to speak. "Excluding the leg," she said rigidly, her voice tight, "will he survive?"

He looked at her in silence for a few moments before shaking his head. "I know not, my lady. He has lost a severe amount of blood and _that_ I am very concerned about. It is my fear that he does not have enough blood to fight the infection in his leg, to start healing it, let alone fight the other infection, or to disperse the herbs throughout his body quickly enough. We really will not know his chances of survival until we see how he responds to treatment. And the state of his treatment is very dire; we are truly running out of herbs. As I said, it is a miracle that he is alive right now."

Galadriel's shoulders began to shake with the sobs she couldn't contain. She looked down into the face of her husband, wishing that she could bear this for him instead. "Is there anything I could do for him?" she managed to get out.

He nodded as he passed over the bucket of lukewarm water and a clean rag. "I truly wish I could stay, but more wounded are being brought in as we speak. Keep sponging his forehead and neck; we are trying to get the fever down. If there is any change for the worse, call for a healer. Otherwise, he will be checked periodically." He stood from his spot and looked down at her. "I truly am sorry I could not do more, my lady." With that, he rushed off towards another patient being brought in.

She sat there in silence for a moment before getting a hold of herself. She wet the rag and ringed it out before gently padding it along his forehead and cheeks. Never had she been so afraid in her life. She couldn't lose Celeborn. She just couldn't. There was no other Elf that she had such a deep, abiding love for and couldn't imagine living without him by her side.

"Please Celeborn…just hang on," she whispered. "Do not leave me now, just hang on."

She couldn't help but recall when they first met, how her attraction for him simply seemed to blossom out of nowhere. She had felt like a silly young maiden, standing in the shadows while he spoke with the Elvenking as she admired his eyes, so full of knowledge and wisdom, how his silver hair shown bright under the starlight, and simply how handsome he was. And the timbre of his voice just simply enchanted her. But when they had begun to walk the Caves of Menegroth together, simply talking about nothing and everything, months of simply spending their spare time together, she finally felt what it was to be like in love. She became enamored with him and loved the fact that seeing her in the morning always brought a bright smile to his face.

She had learned so much from this Elf. Though she had taken to heart the lessons learned from her parents, her brothers, and the experiences of life in general, it was from this Elf that she had truly began to learn the world of diplomacy. He had ended up one of the king's most trusted confidents and she had watched him delegate and debate in all different kinds of meetings, seeming to own the room as he spoke. Though she had also taken part in such discussions, it was from the prince of Doriath, his technique and style, which she had learned to be a very well-skilled diplomat.

But he had also taught her things that her own race could never teach her. He had spoken about the life of the Teleri, about the establishment of Doriath and the creation of Beleriand. Such things spoken from someone who had witnessed most of it was more educational than anything else. Before Middle-earth, all she had known was Valinor, the Noldor, and to see through the eyes of someone who hadn't even seen the Blessed Land was an enticing experience and one that she didn't regret.

And then he had always been there for her. When she had received word of the deaths of her brothers, of her uncles and cousins, he had always provided her his shoulder to cry on, his person to lean on. Though she had made many an acquaintance, none had truly cared for her the way that he did. None had taken such an interest in her, even as a friend. Within a truly short amount of time, this Elf had fully captured her heart and she had never wanted it back. Out of all the Elves she had met, out of everything she had seen and all the experiences she pulled through, never had she felt so blessed as to when she became betrothed to this Elf. Celeborn was her rock, the one she knew she would always be able to go to with anything and with nothing. The one who she knew that she could never spend the rest of her life without.

There had been times, during her stay in Menegroth, when she had questioned her decision to cross the Helcaraxë. She had wondered if she should regret it. There had been times that she had started to regret leaving her birthland, leaving her father and the unending bliss of the Blessed Realm. But after meeting Celeborn, after being wed to him…no. She had no regrets at all, for had she remained in Aman, she would never have met him. The day that she had wed him, the day when they had made their vows and became a bonded couple forever...that day had been the brightest moment of her life, the day when she knew that she would be forever happy with this Elf by her side. What blessing could have been greater? She didn't deserve him, and yet she was given his heart. Her love for this stubborn Elf was truly unending.

Galadriel leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on the white lips, dismayed at just how cold they were. "You are strong, my love," she murmured. "You can fight this. Please, find the strength to fight this. Do not leave me."

"Hmm…"

Galadriel nearly jumped at the small moan. She dropped the rag in the bucket and leaned close, running her fingers through his light hair.

"Celeborn? Meleth? Can you hear me?" she asked, her voice barely concealing hope.

His head fell towards the side by only a little as his brow furrowed. She knew he was trying to wake up. She placed her hand against his cheek and caressed it with her thumb. "Come, Celeborn, wake now. Let me see your eyes."

And after several agonizing seconds, they opened. The fever-induced haze was there, but they were lucid and, after a moment or two of getting a hold of his surroundings, they looked at her with that deep love that always made her feel warm inside. As he blinked a few times to push away the fatigue, she couldn't help the wide smile that broke through.

"Celeborn…meleth…thank the Valar that you are awake." She leaned down to give him another kiss, this one filled with her relief. She pulled back and cringed at the pain she saw in his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"I…hurt," he said with a hoarse voice. Evidently, it was difficult to talk. "My chest…leg…"

She nodded in understanding and gestured for him to remain silent. "Do not speak if it hurts you, meleth nín. You have a heavy infection as well as a fever, but the healers are caring for you. Your job is to simply fight it. You certainly are stubborn enough."

A ghost of a smile was seen at that on him. He forced his eyes open again to look at her, this time worry amidst the pain. "What…happened?"

She shook her head. "Celeborn, you do not need to be weighed down by this right now. Just rest and –"

He held up his trembling hand to stop her. "What…happened?"

Galadriel nodded, resigned. She knew her husband would not rest until he knew everything that was going on. "Maedhros and his army have left; we believe that they might be heading back towards Himring. Elwing is dead; she jumped off the cliff with the Silmaril, but there have been rumors that she was transformed into a great white bird with the Silmaril attached to her breast, but I do not know if I am ready to believe such things." She sighed. "And their children are gone."

Celeborn furrowed his brow. "What?"

"We have searched everywhere, but Elros and Elrond have not been found. Maedhros and Maglor must have taken them with them. Amrod and Amras have also been killed in the fighting. Many have been wounded and are still being brought in for treatment. Our supplies run low and Lord Círdan is on his way by sea. Hundreds lay dead and the cairn is being prepared." She grimaced. "You now know everything."

Celeborn cringed from a sudden jolt of pain. "What is…being…done –" He was suddenly overtaken by a bout of violent coughing. She held him until the fit subsided and was grateful that no blood appeared.

"Celeborn, dear…do not speak anymore about what has happened. Please, let your focus be solely on your healing," she said quietly, looking him in the eye.

"I will…be well," he hoarsely whispered.

She shook her head, tears stinging her eyes once again. "The healers tell me that your wounds are very severe. Please, Celeborn, promise me that you will only focus on healing."

He looked at her adamantly in the eye and held up his right hand. "Take my hand…and hear me…wife. I promise…that I will be…well. So long as you…feel my hand holding…yours, I will always remain…in this world. Just…take my hand and…never let go…I will be here." His voice fell to a barely audible whisper. "I will not…leave you…I love you."

And she did take his hand, kissing the gold band on the finger, and smiled at her husband, this time a truly hopeful smile, as his eyes closed once again. She leaned forward and kissed his brow, feeling his grip tighten on her hand as she did. "I will not let you go," she whispered. "I promise."

She grabbed the cloth and once again began to dab his forehead with the lukewarm water.

OOOOO=OOO=OOOOO=OOO=OOOOO

Galadriel's eyes were out of focus as she remembered that horrible day. Haldir sat in silence as she finished the tale, truly amazed at what Lord Celeborn had managed to survive in the past.

"He truly recovered from all that?" he ask quietly in awe.

She nodded with a fond smile that showed the pride that she had for her husband. "He did recover, and rather quickly to the healer's astonishment. The infection began to heal within two hours. And five days later he was back on his feet, more or less, busy as ever as he took charge of finding Elros and Elrond." She shook her head in amusement. "His stubbornness amazes me sometimes." She paused before she nodded her head with surity. "If he could overcome that, he can overcome this."

Haldir nodded in understanding. Though he was reassured to some degree by what he just heard, he was still a bit uncertain as to his lord's healing.

Despite what all she just said, the warrior's worry was still evident and Galadriel knew that she couldn't let him wallow in this. Haldir needed to be distracted from it. "Tell me, Haldir, how fare your brothers?"

Haldir smiled at the mention of them. "They are well, my lady. Orophin just left for the four day border shift and Rúmil, for some reason I cannot fathom, had found it within himself to pester me last night for an hour about how I was such a bossy know-it-all while raising him."

Galadriel couldn't help but laugh at his mock disgust. "I know how he feels. Sometimes it can be fun to remind your elders of that later in life."

Haldir raised his eyebrows in slight surprise. "You know how he feels, my lady?"

She nodded with a knowing smile. "Recall your history, Haldir. I grew up with four older brothers," she said and then she laughed. "And they were always so overprotective of me." She gave a wistful smile as her eyes briefly clouded over with a deep sadness and longing.

Haldir saw the look. "My lady, they died honorable deaths."

She nodded resignedly. "I know. And though I know that I will see them again on the white shores, I cannot help but wish that they were still here." She looked back at Haldir with that humorous glint in her eyes. She held on tighter to the hand in hers and a mischievous grin broke through. "I remember when Finrod came to Menegroth for a short time. This was before Celeborn began to court me. We were still at that awkward stage on whether we should have more than a deep abiding friendship." Haldir smiled, enjoying the image of a carefree couple as they. "But," she continued, "I believe that Finrod caught my interest in Celeborn that day and he swiftly took care of that awkwardness."

Haldir raised his eyebrow slightly. "What did he do?"

Galadriel shook her head fondly. "First, you must remember that Finrod was my oldest brother and he was _not_ in a good mood that day. I was walking with Celeborn in the courtyard, hand in hand, when my brother came upon us after just leaving the Caves from a meeting with King Thingol. Like I said, he was not in a good mood." She paused for a moment and could barely refrain from laughing at the memory. But she didn't stop the wide smile that grew from the recollection. "Think about it, Haldir. The night was yet young…Celeborn and I walked closely together…hand in hand…in a deserted courtyard. You can imagine his reaction."

Haldir's smile grew; he most certainly could imagine it. "What did he do?" he chuckled.

She began to lightly run her fingers through his hair again. "Well, as soon as he saw us he froze in his steps. So did we, now that I remember it. One of those silences fell that seem to last forever in the few seconds they last. No one said anything. But, I do remember not liking that look in his eyes as he stared at Celeborn. It was like I was not even there. Already in a bad mood, you could tell by his expression that he was furious. Shocked he was as well, yet furious. And then that awkward silence broke as he approached us, quite quickly I might add. Not a word was said. Finrod simply grabbed Celeborn by his arm and _literally_ dragged him out of the courtyard behind some grown foliage." Haldir began to laugh and Galadriel couldn't help but join him. "All I could do was stand there as I heard talking and muffled yelling. I could not make out what they said, but I do remember cringing as the bushes shook from some mysterious force."

Haldir laughed even harder as he pictured the scene in his mind. Never did he imagine that his lord could get into such a situation. After his chuckles died down, he cocked his head curiously. "Did you fear your brother's reaction?"

Galadriel shook her head with another fond smile. "No, I would not say I feared it. I would say that I was nervous about it. Finrod had ever been overprotective of me, but I could not have been blessed with a better brother. He had always cared for me, even when I was far past my majority. But I know he drove me to insanity with his mother-henning because he loved me. If it were up to him, no harm would ever come to his 'little flower'."

Haldir smile began to grow again. "So…?"

Galadriel furrowed her brow. "So what?"

He began to chuckle again. "So what did your brother say to Lord Celeborn?"

Galadriel gave a slight shrug with a resigned sigh. "To this day I still do not know. Celeborn refuses to tell me for some reason. All I can tell you is that when they returned from behind the foliage, Celeborn looked rather uneasy and Finrod looked far too happy. My brother approached me, kissed me on the forehead, and then said, 'you have my blessing, little one', and then he simply walked away. And right there and then, Celeborn asked if he could court me. It seemed that Finrod knew even before we did."

"'Little one'?" he asked, still inwardly chuckling at the absurd scene.

Galadriel shook her head fondly. "Like I said, he was always overprotective of me and always saw the little sister that would climb onto his back when he came home." Her eyes went out of focus as she began to recall all the happy memories that had been buried for far too long. As she did, she ran her thumb across her husband's forehead and was instantly brought out of her muse when she felt the sweat there.

His fever had broken.

A bright smile lit her face as she addressed Haldir. "Please, penneth, go inform the healer to fetch Tordren." She saw Haldir's prominent relief as he went to speak to the healer. When she looked back at Celeborn, she was ecstatic to find that he had also woken and that his eyes were opening.

"Celeborn?" she whispered, running her hand tenderly over his hair. "Meleth? Can you hear me?"

His eyes opened further and he looked around the room with that fever-induced haze until he spied Galadriel. "Meleth?" The word barely came out as a faint whisper.

"I am here, Celeborn," she said quietly. She smiled further as she felt her hand squeezed in return, despite the shivering. "You are safe. You are home and Tordren has been looking after you. Haldir is here as well," she added as Haldir wearily approached the bed.

Celeborn turned his gaze over to the young guard. "P-penneth, I must thank you f-for…s-saving my life," he ground out, his voice still shaking from the chill of the ice.

Galadriel looked at the guard with a bemused look. "Omit something, did you?"

Haldir had the grace to look embarrassed. But before he could say anything, Celeborn spoke again. "Have y-you been here all n-night?"

"Aye, my lord," he said, his worry still evident. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yes," he said adamantly. "Go and g-get some rest….You look dead on your f-feet."

Haldir nodded, recognizing a subtle chastisement when he did. He bowed to his lord and turned to speak towards his lady just when he spied Tordren walking down the hallway. He shook his head, as though coming out of a daze. "My lady, I apologize. Forgive me for being so informal with you."

Galadriel shook her head with a smile. "Your melancholy has passed, Haldir. And I did not mind sharing that with you. It was a happy time in my life, after all."

Haldir nodded and with a small bow, he left the room.

"What h-happy time? What have you b-been sharing with our g-guard?" Celeborn said quietly. But before she could comment, Tordren entered the room.

"Lord Celeborn, it does me a world of good to see you awake." He stood on the other side of the bed and reached to check his temperature. "How are you feeling?"

Celeborn felt justified to direct a glare at him. "C-cold." His expression practically screamed, 'what do you think?'

Tordren chuckled as he reached under the sheets for his wrist. "I apologize for the ice, but it was necessary. And since your fever has now broken and your pulse is steady, I will go and bring some healers so that we can remove all this ice."

As soon as Tordren left the room, Celeborn turned his gaze back to his wife. "W-what happy time?"

Galadriel chuckled at her husband's stubbornness. She leaned over and gave him an affectionate kiss. "I feel in the mood to ask once again, my love," she said playfully. "What did Finrod tell you that day?"

Celeborn turned his gaze the other way. "Nothing," he said.

Galadriel bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing at the disgruntled expression that appeared on his face. "Nothing again? Come, my love, why will you not tell me?"

He rolled his eyes and his glower darkened. "Your b-brother and father w-were a nightmare."

She shook her head adoringly. "No, they simply loved their only sister and daughter."

Celeborn looked at his wife lovingly and squeezed the hand again. "I l-love you," he whispered.

She leaned forward to give him another kiss and then rested her cheek on his forehead. "And I love you, my stubborn husband."

**The End**

* * *

><p>ellonellyn = male Elf/Elves  
>ellethellith = female Elf/Elves  
>penneth = young one<br>meleth = love  
>meleth nín = my love<p>

**A/N:** The information used in this story were taken from the "Silmarillion", 'Laws and Customs among the Eldar' in the "History of Middle-Earth" vol. 10 as well as vol. 11 and vol. 12. In other words, it was as accurate as I could make it. :)

Please, please, please review! Even if it's read sometime after it was published. All words are welcome as well as concrit. If there's any way you believe that I can improve my writing, then I'm all ears. Please review! And thank you for reading. :) Happy trails.


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