Chapter Text
The fact that her mother returned at all was a blessing. The fact that she returned, walking under her own power, still able to speak and to smile, was a blessing too great to imagine. The wounds on her fae were great, but so was her strength. And so was the amount of company she brought with her. Who could have foreseen her mother would befriend Goblins, and bring them home!
Yet here they were, wary and exhausted, leaning on wolves and holding their helpless children and all their belongings, like any group of refugees Imladris had ever opened her doors for, and Arwen felt her heart turn towards them.
"Welcome to Rivendell, friends of my mother!" She said, stepping forward with open arms. "Please, follow me – we've prepared rooms and refreshments for you, you must be tired after your long flight."
Her father would care for her mother, and she would take on the care of their unusual guests.
Goblins and Wargs, invited into Imladris as friends. What an unprecedented experience, what a joy!
"Master Wolves", Arwen continued pleasantly, "Would you prefer to stay with your Goblin friends while we venture into our halls, or would you rather roam freely? We have prepared a feast of meats for you, and you may enjoy it inside or out."
The Wargs exchanged glances and some low words in their tongue, which Arwen did not speak but was looking forward to learning.
"They will stay with us", one Goblin replied.
"Very well!" Arwen said. "Come along then, all of you, to Rivendell's Hall of Fire!"
To tell the unkind truth, the situation was, all in all, tense and quite awkward. Elrond had taken Celebrían up to their private halls, which seemed to make several of the Goblins even tenser, which in turn unsettled the Elves guarding them.
Glorfindel was still a bastion of strength and calmness, which gave Arwen the courage to set aside her own nervousness and do her best to treat the Goblins – and Wargs! – as she would any other group of refugees that came to Imladris' doors. Elrohir was treating the injured Goblins, in sight of both Goblins and Elves, as that seemed to make everyone the least uncomfortable.
Truly, Arwen understood the cause of the tension, and even felt it herself – Elves and Orcs had been enemies from the beginning, and these Elves and Orcs had fought against each other often! - and yet, when she looked at the Goblins, all she did not see evil souls, bent on doing the Enemies' will. She only saw people, who had only known cruelty before and were quite confused to be met with kindness. And some very sweet babies.
Elladan stood next to her, leaning against the wall to take pressure off his hurt leg, and watched the Goblins with a frown. He was much more cautious than Arwen, but he had also fought against many more of them. She put a hand on his arm and smiled reassuringly.
"If we cannot trust Lord Glorfindel's judgement, we can trust nothing at all", she said quietly.
"I don't think they mean us harm", Elladan replied, "but they were part of the group that attacked us and took mother."
"And now they have brought her back", Arwen said. "I will go speak to them, and see if I may hold a baby."
"Be careful."
"I will, I will!" Arwen said with a laugh, making her way over to the Goblin mother and her children. Her friend Medlinel, who was also trained to guard her, followed her steps. "Don't frown at them like Elladan!" Arwen chided playfully. "You'll scare the babies!"
"I will be polite to the babies", Medlinel said.
"To the others too!" Arwen said, just as they reached the table. "Hello, friends, may we sit with you for a while?"
"Oh, um, sure", said the Goblin mother, gripping her baby tighter. The other one was held in the lap of her biggest child, who looked up at Arwen with stars in his eyes.
"Thank you", Arwen said, pulling a chair closer, Medlinel sitting down next to her. "This is my good friend, Medlinel."
"I am Mozgid", said the Goblin. "These are my children."
"A pleasure to meet you all!" Arwen said, smiling brightly. "Do your children have names you would like to share?"
"This is the Runt", Mozgid said, motioning to her largest child, who waved shyly. "The others are too young to earn their names yet."
"Many men have similar traditions", Arwen said, "but we Elves tend to name children very soon, often even before their birth! Do they have nicknames?"
"Ah, I call this one the red one, and the other the screamer. If you..." Mozgid hesitated, giving Arwen an evaluating look. "How do you know if the name you chose will fit your child, if you name them so early? And what if you lose them?"
"Children are rare for us Elves", Arwen explained, comfortable in a conversation she'd had many times before with Men. "But once one is begotten, it is also very rare for us to lose one, and almost unheard of without outside influence. As for the fit of the name, we often have several names too, that we gain throughout our lives."
"Sometimes you will find a name that fits your child before they are born as well", Medlinel said. "My mother named me for a bear, because she felt my kicks had the strength of one!"
"I was given my name Arwen after my birth", Arwen added, "But my name Undómiel my father chose long before I was begotten, together with his brother, whose only daughter was named Tindómiel, the Morning Star to my Evenstar."
"I see", Mozgid said. "Only the greatest Goblins earn a second name, for us – or I suppose, for our former people."
"It is difficult to leave behind all you have known, to set out into the unknown with nothing but hope for a better future", Medlinel said. "Well do I know that fear! Even knowing our distant kin was waiting for us, it was hard, when my family came here. Yet now, I feel truly at home here, and one day you may find a place like that as well."
"I hope so as well."
"We will do what we can to help", Arwen said decisively. "But first, I have a very important question."
She leaned forward to stare at Mozgid seriously, who raised her eyebrows and leaned back.
"May I hold your babies? I promise to be gentle and careful!"
"Hah!" barked Mozgid. "Very well, you may have the red one. It will give me time to try some of your elvish food!"
"Wonderful", Arwen said, gently taking the child in her arms, and smiling down at it. "What a sweet little tyke you are!"
The red one gurgled at her, sweet baby sounds, and Arwen leaned down to press a kiss to its forehead and gave it the mark of the Elf-friends, so that whatever the future might hold, all Elves would see that this child was beloved, as her father had done for all children of Elros' line that came to Imladris.
Once their guests were settled into their rooms, to rest and refresh themselves, Arwen went to find her parents. Elladan came with her, for her brothers were anxious and did not like to let her out of their sight then, and so did Medlinel, who was also anxious, and ever watchful for treachery, as was her charge.
Her father had brought her mother to their bedroom, for privacy and rest and healing. In front of the door stood the guard Echeleb, and the scent of healing herbs drifted through the corridor.
"Is all well?" asked Echeleb quietly.
"Our guests have settled in to rest", Arwen replied, just as quiet. "There has been no violence, and I have seen no ill intent towards us, not even from the wild wolves. How... has it been here?"
"Quiet", Echeleb said, grief in their eyes.
"Thank you", Arwen said, and Elladan put a hand on her shoulder to steady her.
"May we go in?" He asked softly.
Echeleb nodded, and stepped aside, and in they went. Medlinel stayed outside, taking up a guarding position, though Arwen barely noticed it.
Her mother laid in her bed, silent and unmoving, eyes closed in deep sleep, paler than Arwen had ever seen her. Her father sat by her side, holding her hand in his, shoulders bowed as if all the grief of the world rested on them. Elladan's hand on her shoulder tightened, and Arwen reached up to put hers over it.
Quietly, they made their way to the bedside, sitting besides their father, one on each side.
After a long moment of silence, he spoke.
"I have done all I can for now, and she needs her rest badly. Her body will heal soon enough, though some scars may remain, but for her spirit..."
They had all seen it before, in victims of the Shadow and of other violence, how damaging it could be to the fae, even worse than to the body. It had never been one so close to them.
"But she made it home, in one piece and under her own power", Arwen said. "That is a good sign, isn't it?"
"It is", Elrond said, with a sigh. "But sometimes, we use all of our power to make it to safety, and then have nothing left to heal ourselves."
"We'll do whatever we can do help her", said Elladan, and Elrond nodded, but the grief did not leave his eyes, and Arwen felt the knowledge rise in her heart: Her mother would not be able to stay in Imladris for long.
In the morning, Arwen packed up her grief neatly and turned her mind to her duties as Lady of Imladris.
Their guests had, with the exception of the babies, slept through the night, or at least spent it without disturbance, as her handmaid Tegillían told her.
"It would be best to speak first to the Goblins attached to the Wargs", Tegillían said. "I think they are most clearly uneasy – at least one Warg and one Goblin was always awake, the guards tell me, and one of them I think slept not at all - we must find better accommodations for them, we cannot have them all sleep in the Hall of Elrond their whole stay."
"They do pose the most logistical problems", Arwen said, with a slight smile. "But they are also some of the most exciting to me! I would dearly love to learn the language of Wargs. Have you spoken to the tailors yet?"
"Not yet today – I gave Aegwiril their exact numbers and rough sizes yesterday, but anything more than the necessities should wait for input from our guests."
"True enough", said Arwen. "We do want them to be comfortable."
"Even if they are Orcs", said Tegillían, voice dark. "I know they helped your lady mother, and wish to escape the Shadow, and I do think they deserve help, but why must it be us?"
Arwen stopped walking abruptly, and turned to her friend, who had gone pale.
"Tegillían", she said helplessly. "I would never force you to be here. If you want to leave to grief in peace, you can go at any time."
"It would be worse", Tegillían said. "Sitting quietly, doing nothing but thinking, knowing Orcs walk among us and not seeing them – it would be worse."
"My dear friend", said Arwen, holding her hands out for Tegillían to take.
"I will see her again, one day", said Tegillían, and took them. "One day, we will sail west, and my mother will wait on the shore to greet us."
"She will", said Arwen, closing her eyes in grief and hope. Tegillían's mother was Arveril, who had been Celebrían's closest friend and handmaid, just as Tegillían was to Arwen, and who had gone with her Lady to Lothlórien, and been taken by the Goblins, and had not returned.
After a moment, Tegillían shook her head and said: "Oh, let's keep going – I don't wish to think more of this. Let us see if we can learn to speak Warg!"
"Very well", said Arwen.
First they went to the kitchen and collected Medlinel and breakfast for their guests, both the Goblins and the Wargs, and then made their way to the Hall of Elrond.
Four Wargs, three sleeping closely together, their favoured Goblin besides them, and one further away, their Goblin curled up next to them. As soon as Arwen and her company stepped into the room, all eyes turned to them, filled with wary suspicion.
"Good morning", Arwen said, smiling gently. "I hope you have rested well. My friends Tegillían, Medlinel, and I were hoping to talk to you about your accommodations. You are Razaukh and Crezza, I believe? Is there a name we may call your Wargs?"
There was some shuffling, and some looks thrown between Goblins and Wargs, and then Crezza said: "I call her Mugu."
"Their real names are in the tongue of Wargs, and hard for others to get right", Razaukh said grudgingly. "I call them Claw, Fang, and Biter."
"It is very nice to meet you, Mugu, Claw, Fang, and Biter", Arwen said.
Mugu gave a low woof, and Biter yipped in greeting. One day she would understand what exactly they were saying, Arwen was sure.
For now, she moved on and, gesturing to the baskets Medlinel and Tegillían were carrying, said: "We've brought breakfast for all of us, and after I was hoping we could speak about where you'd all like to sleep while you're here."
The weariness did not leave them entirely, but at least the younger Wargs – Mugu and Fang – visibly perked up at the promise of food.
During breakfast, Razaukh asked: "When you say where we'd like to sleep, do you mean the Wargs or us Goblins?"
"Both of you", Arwen replied. "Separately or together, in what constellation you prefer."
"We've never hosted Wargs or Goblins before", Tegillían added, "so I searched for some options you might like, and you can tell us what you prefer. You are of course free to simply choose a room upstairs, with or without your Wargs, we can make room for you there. If you'd prefer to be closer to nature, there are some natural caves in the valley that could be made comfortable for you. Or we could construct a new building in style you prefer, though Razaukh and Crezza, you would have to translate for your companions, as none here speak the language of Wargs yet."
"Right", said Razaukh, looking bewildered. "You'd put up a new building for us?"
"Of course!" said Tegillían, puffing up proudly. "We want our guests to be comfortable, and you will be here for some time yet."
"Why do you decide how long we'll be here for?!" snapped Crezza, bristling with tension that made Tegillían jerk back.
"Forgive me", said Arwen smoothly. "She only meant that some of your group will require some time yet to heal enough to travel, and we assumed you would all stay together. If you wish to leave on your own, no one will stop you."
She was mostly referring to Menglǫð, of course, who had been tortured for a long time and hurt very badly, and was still unconscious in the healer's halls at this time. But also Mozgid's children, who were still at such a young age that long travel was dangerous to them. And, on a less physical level, all the Goblins had been hurt by their forced servitude to the Enemy, and could all use some time to rest and recover before going off into the wide world again. But Imladris was not a prison, and they would not keep them from leaving if they so chose.
Her words made Crezza's eyes snap to hers, and for a long moment, they stared at her, deep distrust and hurt in their eyes, until it slowly bled away and Crezza settled back down, looking away.
Razaukh looked displeased by the interchange, but more at Crezza than at the Elves, and the tension was reflected in the Wargs as well.
"Why don't we sit together and eat, before we get into the discussions?" Arwen said, hoping to defuse the tension. "Come, Medlinel, Tegillían, help me set a table for our guests and us."
They had brought many different foods, tailored to the tastes their guests had shown last night at dinner, and so focused more strongly on meat than usual for Elves. Then, they had served raw meat to the Wargs, and today they had a selection of it too, but the Wargs had shown a preference for cooked meat, so the cooks had prepared more lightly salted roasts. The Goblins seemed most fond of the goat sausages, so they had gotten plenty of cured goat meat and cheese.
Arwen would have dearly liked to ask them about it. Did the Wargs prefer cooked meat because they only rarely got it, or did they always seek to eat it? Did the Goblins prefer goat because they were used to it – after all, goats were well suited to living in the mountains? Did Goblins hunt for wild goats, or did they keep herds of them? Did they work with the Wargs to herd them, if they kept them? But the mood was still tense, and she could be patient.
While they ate, Arwen made light conversation with Tegillían and Medlinel about a book they had all read recently. Crezza, Razaukh, and the Wargs listened, and ate, and didn't say much to each other.
Suddenly, Crezza put down their cup loudly, and said: "I want to see the caves. Alone."
"You'll probably need a guide, at least", Arwen said, tilting her head, and Crezza blushed.
"With just you Elves, I meant."
"Very well", said Arwen. "We can go straight away, if that's alright with you – and with you, Razaukh."
"Why would I care what that freak does?" said Razaukh, quite hostile. Crezza and Mugu responded by bearing their teeth at him, and he snarled back at them.
"Alright", said Arwen, standing. "Let's go view the caves then."
It was early in the morning, but the hated sun had come up and was standing high in the sky. The Elves had handed Crezza a wide brimmed hat to shield herself from its glare, and then led her out into the valley, further away from the house.
This land of Elves was unlike anything Crezza had ever seen before. Or, rather, it was like many things she had seen before, but also entirely different in a way she found hard to explain.
It was, in the most basic sense very much like some places in the mountains where she grew up. Surrounded by high rocky walls, split by a wild river running, green grass and yellow flowers and tall trees growing. The big house of the Elf Lord was not unlike the houses of Men she had seen on her travels, though much grander – stone and wood and clay, taken from the valley around it, and shaped into what they found pleasing. The Elves worked the land much like the Men did, growing crops and raising animals.
Yet there was something to it, a quality to the air that set Crezza's hair on end and made her feel... watched. It reminded her of Grandmother's stories back when she was young, and living with her original tribe.
"When the Dark Lord rises, he will call!" Grandmother had told them, "He will set his sight on us, and we all will know him again, and go to conquer the world, to bring wrath and ruin and claim all the riches for ourselves!"
It was both horror and victory in those tales, Crezza remembers. The rise of the Dark Lord would lead them to victory, but not to freedom. They would rule the world, and the Dark Lord would rule them. Grandmother had not been old enough to remember the rule of any Dark Lord, of course, no one among the Goblins was. But she was a keeper of tales, passed down from her own grandmother, and from her grandmother's grandmother, and so on, all the way back to the Beginning of the World under the Great Lord.
"In those days", Grandmother had said, "all could feel His touch on you, and feel his will on yours. The goal was always clear, and strife among us rare, for the Great Lord watched and all the land was His."
This Elf-Land reminded Crezza of those old tales. It belonged to the Elf-Lord, and his will laid upon it, and all those within it. But... she didn't feel controlled the way Grandmother always said. It felt the same as knowing Mugu was with her, even when she couldn't see her. In this valley, Crezza wasn't alone. It was terrifying, and exhilarating.
The Elves seemed as unbothered by it as they had by everything after the return of Celebrían, walking calmly and unhurriedly. This also set Crezza's teeth on edge. She was also not used to sleeping at night, and therefore very tired, which may have had something to do with her bad mood, not that Crezza would admit it.
Around the Elf Lord's House was a thick forest of mixed trees, with some construction high in their boughs that Crezza only barely glimpsed. The paths through the wood were not much clearer, but the Elf in charge, Arwen, and her – servant? Tegillían knew them well and lead with confidence. The third Elf, Medlinel, walked behind Crezza with the air of a guard around her, which was comforting to Crezza, in a strange way. All things here were different and some strange power laid on the land, but at least they still wanted to control her through the threat of a sword in her back.
The cave they took her too was not far from the house, and looked entirely unnatural as soon as Crezza stepped in. It had clearly been lived in at some point, and was well maintained even now, with no dust on the smooth floors or the comfortable benches that were hewn straight from the rock. Near the wide entrance sat a firepit, and in the back a narrower path led deeper into the rock.
"This is one of the smaller caves that are suitable for living", said Tegillían. "Further down the path are more rooms, more sheltered and private. If you like it here we will bring in some more furniture."
These Elves were insane, Crezza thought. There was no other explanation for it.
"This barely looks like a cave at all! Did you make this yourselves?!"
Tegillían and Medlinel smiled, and Arwen laughed and said: "In part! Most of it is natural – We only opened the walkway further and made it more suitable for living."
"You need the floor and the walls to be so smooth they shine to call a place liveable?" said Crezza, with despair.
"Well", said Arwen.
"If you take a closer look at the hallway and furniture", Medlinel said, "you'll find that we also need engravings."
"You are all insane", Crezza said, and the Elves laughed again.
"We can survive without such beauty, certainly", said Arwen, "But why should we settle for it, when we have the time to create it?"
"The first Elves that came here in Imladris spent some time living in caves, before the Great House was built", said Tegillían. "It was an uncertain time, and those caves were much rougher! But once things settled down, they were greatly expanded and made beautiful, though no one lives there now."
"This cave wasn't part of the original system", Arwen added, "it was much too small and a fair bit removed from the first camps, but it was a perfect size to teach the craft of hewing caves."
"This is what your students do?!" said Crezza. "You Elves are insane."
"It did turn out a bit more elaborate than usual", Arwen said, with a tone of indulgence. "But it was fun!"
"You made it?"
"We three and some others, including my brothers", said Arwen. "With instructions, of course! Especially when it came to widening the passages and caves deeper in, we were taught very carefully."
"Not paying attention leads to a cave collapsing on you", Crezza said, nodding. "Did they tell you horror stories of incautious delvers too?"
"They did", said Medlinel. "Some from experience, and some passed on from their own teachers, and their teachers, or even from the Dwarves who once helped hew the great cave city of Doriath."
"Grandmother had a story that was passed down from the building of the second great fortress", said Crezza, "where a lieutenant of the Great Dark Lord was too impatient and caused a whole legion to be buried in a rock slide, in a loss so great the Dark Lord strung him up and flayed him alive, and did not allow him to die for seven years after."
Medlinel nodded, seeming interested, while Arwen and Tegillían exchanged a look. Mugu, uncaring of all this talking, had already wandered off to investigate further in.
"Did that work to deter others from moving too fast?"
"Hm, I don't think so", Crezza said. "We have more stories about deaths caused by impatience after that, but I think they did start to use less useful Orcs for the excavating, so that if something did collapse, they wouldn't lose valuable soldiers or mothers."
"Is that the only two things the Enemy values in you?" said Medlinel. "Doesn't the task of excavating give you valuable knowledge?"
"It *does*", said Crezza with delight. "Some of those surviving excavators helped our kind to survive the Fall, and even became leaders of their own tribes, until the Dark Lord rose to power and called for us to be his army again. Grandmother says many of those tribes resisted his call, and so he culled them, destroying much of their knowledge."
"And so you had to relearn much of what was once known through your own had work", said Medlinel. "This has happened to Elves many times as well, when the Enemy turns his eye to us."
"Even though you are immortal?" Crezza said, then furrowed her brow. "No, I remember our stories... Devastated kingdoms and destroyed cities, and not everyone knows everything, no matter how long they have to learn it... I've never looked at it that way. We have more in common than I thought."
"I need to go see about the accommodations for the other guests", said Tegillían suddenly. "Excuse me."
"We did get a bit of topic", said Arwen, smiling soothingly at the startled Crezza and chagrined Medlinel. "Do you like this cave, Crezza?"
"Yes, I think so."
"I can stay to help gather your furniture", Medlinel offered.
"That would be great, thank you", said Arwen, dipping her head in a shallow bow. "I'm afraid I must leave now as well – is there a message you would like me to give to your companions?"
Crezza shook her head, and Arwen left to catch up with Tegillían. She did not have to search for long, as Tegillían had not gone far, but was standing behind a nearby tree, face turned towards the canopy, shoulders shaking.
"My dear friend", Arwen said quietly.
"She sounds just like the Mannish refugees we've helped escape from Angmar", Tegillían said. "Of course the details of their cruel history go much farther back, but all the mood is the same."
"It is", Arwen agreed, leaning against the tree, almost close enough for their shoulders to brush.
"And they still killed and ate my mother", Tegillían said. "They aren't monsters, they are just people, and they chose to do that."
"They did", Arwen said. "If you'd prefer to remain distant -"
Tegillían sighed, and leaned into Arwen, closing her eyes.
"My mother was the child of kinslayers, so has she not faced the same struggles as the Goblins do now?"
"You can feel for them, and even help them, without coming face to face with them", Arwen said. "Your help would not mean less if you helped from a distance. There is no virtue in suffering."
"There isn't", Tegillían said, mouth turned down. "Yet I would feel ungraceful, if I refused to face them. Mother was always brave..."
"Perhaps you might assist Erestor with his logistics for the rest of the day", Arwen suggested. "He could use the help. You might eat dinner with your aunt, and ask for her wisdom regarding bravery."
"In hope she talks me out of it?" Tegillían said dryly. "Very well, my lady, I will do as you ask."
"I only worry for you, my friend."
"I know."
Her father was in the healer's halls, together with Elrohir, speaking quietly to Menglǫð, who had needed by far the most medical attention. Celebrían and her escaped Goblins had given her what aid they could, which might have saved her life, and Elrohir had treated her during the journey, with the herbs and tinctures he had brought for their mother. It seemed to have worked to stave off infection, Arwen gleaned, but there was only so much any of them could do.
Still, her spirit was unbroken and her fae shone brightly. Unlike Celebrían, who was so dim in spirit that she looked almost like a statue, Menglǫð was vibrantly alive. How do you do it, Arwen thought, and wanted to say, how can you go through torture for so long and still shine so brightly, tell me, tell me, so I can help my mother -
She took a deep breath, and turned her mind away from those thoughts. Menglǫð was healing as well, and she should not ambush her. If there was something to be learned from her, her father would find out. Arwen had to trust him, and do her best to shoulder her own tasks.
"Daughter", Elrond said, looking up to her. "Do you need something?"
"I came to ask if you could spare Elrohir to accompany me, as Medlinel has become otherwise occupied", Arwen replied, smiling, then turned to Menglǫð with a bow. "And to ask how our guest is feeling."
"Your father is taking good care of me", Menglǫð said, "I am well."
"I am glad to hear that", Arwen said, smile frozen on her face.
"Are you?" Menglǫð said sharply, then sighed and brought up her hand to cover her eyes. "My apologies. It has been some time since I was among people who would lie for kind reasons."
There was concern on Elrond's face, both for her and for Arwen, and a sternness in Elrohir's that had Arwen shake her head at him.
"It was not a lie", she said. "I am glad that you are well. I just wish that my mother was as well as you."
"I understand", Menglǫð said. "If there was a secret art to it, I would tell you, but I don't. Time helps, often."
"It does", Elrond said, sighing. "We have to hope that time will help Celebrían as well."
It was not, Arwen knew, what he would say if he had any confidence.
"She seemed well", said Elrohir helplessly. "I know that wounds of the fae are complicated, but..."
"Sometimes", Elrond said, "it is easier to be strong if it is only for a time."
"It is", Menglǫð agreed. "I think, when I go home, I will take a long time to rest as well. And then, one day, I will be well enough again, or leave this world for the halls of our Father."
"You plan to choose the Fate of Men, then?" Elrond asked.
"Oh, perhaps", said Menglǫð easily. "It is the more common choice, and the safer, in some ways, or at least that's how it is seen by my people. If I find that I cannot carry my hurts any longer and find no more joy in this world, why should I not leave and go beyond the pains of Arda?"
"You would leave behind people to grieve you", Elrohir said.
"Would they not also grieve my pain if I stayed?"
"They would", Elrond said. "It is not so different from the choice to sail that all Elves may make."
"Do you think..." said Arwen.
"Perhaps", Elrond said, sadly.
"Perhaps what?" asked Menglǫð.
Arwen looked at her father, who seemed deeply grieved, and at Elrohir, who was grim and tense, and said: "There is great healing beyond the sea that Mother could seek out."
"Ah, but she would have to leave you behind", said Menglǫð, "at least for a time. Well, my home is not as hallowed as Valinor, but great healing can be found there as well, and though it is hidden, it still lays in the bounds of this world, and we do have contact with trusted sailors, who carry news and letters."
"Where is your home?" asked Arwen. "I have never heard of a land, where Orcs or Goblins may find healing."
"That is, in some part, on purpose", Menglǫð said. "We are hiding, from the Shadows, and from those who might not accept that we are opposed to them."
"I have heard rumours", Elrond said. "Stories of sailors, who were lost at sea for many years, who returned, hale and healthy, long after they should have perished, but would not speak of where they had been."
"Some of our visitors are like that", Menglǫð said, smiling. "We are hidden, and hidden well, but those who ask for help with no shadow in their heart may always find us."
"And you would allow Celebrían to stay with you, until she felt strong enough to return?"
"Or until she has to sail further", Menglǫð said. "Would it help steady your heart to know that one of the sailors who is trusted to make the journey back and forth is known to you? Nowë, who you call Círdan, has long been a friend to us."
"Ah, he would be", said Elrond, bowing his head. "Perhaps I shall contact him."
He already knew, Arwen realised, that her mother would not recover here. It was not uncommon, for Elves who suffered great trauma to sail, even after being saved, and it was bittersweet every time. Bitter, because their friends and kin had to leave for distant shored, yet sweet because they could look forward to seeing them again one day, whole and healthy. But now, that it was her mother who might leave them, it was greatly bitter, and not very sweet.
She felt Elrohir's eyes on her, and saw in his face that he felt the same as she did, and that understanding was, at least, a comfort.