A/N: in the distant past, noblemen and their wives usually had separate rooms, even if they loved each other. I'm playing with this historical fact here, though Tolkien never specified one way or the other, to the best of my knowledge, about Elven living arrangements.

Losgael's tragic past is anchored in canon: most Elves over a thousand years of age would have one because their history is littered with wars and skirmishes between themselves and with others. I was taking a pop at the Tragic!Sue cliché - I believe the trick to avoiding Suedom is to make your OC as canonical and believable as possible.

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In the family wing, Celebrían was in her dressing room, preparing for bed. She usually shared her husband's bed, using the room given her to store her clothes and for personal grooming. Losgael went in as usual to attend to her, and helped to brush her lady's long silver-gold hair.

“Is all well with you, Losgael?” asked Celebrían, concern in her voice.

“I am well,” the lady replied dully.

“You seem distant tonight. It is as if you were weeping,” Celebrían said in a gentle tone.

“Did my lord say aught?” asked Losgael. A stab of discomfort caused her to pull too hard on the brush.

“Ai!” Celebrían cried out in pain.

“I am sorry, my lady,” Losgael stammered. She backed away and let the brush fall.

“You are not yourself,” Celebrían told her firmly. “Why will you not tell me what ails you? How can I offer you the comfort you so clearly need if you say nothing? Losgael, is it anything I said that has caused you the pain you are feeling? I can feel it coming from you like sunshine on a hot day.”

As Losgael crumpled, Celebrían pulled a stool over for her to sit on. As she put a tender arm around her lady-in-waiting, Celebrían said, “Tell me, Losgael, what the matter is.”

In a sobbing breath, Losgael cried, “It is everything and nothing, my lady. I hardly dare to speak of it!” She burst into tears, and wept like a child on her lady's shoulder.

Soothing her as best she could, Celebrían stroked her hair and softly sang a lullaby in the hope that this would comfort her, but it seemed to make matters worse.

Asleep in her bedroom, Losgael was woken by sounds of consternation. A strange whistling reminded her of arrows being shot through the air, but there could not be so many flying at once, could there?

From her bedroom window, she saw the most appalling sight. Dawn had just broken in Lonnath, and strange Elves were setting fire to some of the houses near the wall while others raided the house of Eärendil, shouting about bringing forth the Silmaril, whatever that was. The fire-starters arrived at her house, and she went to rouse her mother and brother. Her father had perished at Gondolin some years before.

“Nana! Come quickly! We are being attacked! I think they are Elves. They look like Elves, but they are hurting our people!” she shouted through sobs of terror.

Losgael could not believe what she was seeing. Nothing had prepared her for the sheer horror of seeing Elves hurting Elves. Some of the attackers had appeared to be attacking each other, but Losgael was so horrified by what she had seen, she found anything she saw hard to accept.

“Losgael, come, we must leave now,” called her mother. “Rouse Urui while I go downstairs and see what is happening now.”

“Urui,” Losgael said urgently, “come, we must leave now.”

Urui came sleepily to his door and made his way downstairs, still clad in his nightshirt, Losgael behind him. Their mother looked warily outside their front door, which suddenly crashed open.

A wild-looking Elf-warrior wielding a lit torch was holding it towards them. “Get back inside!” he shouted.

“Do not hurt my children, I beg you!” screamed the terrified mother. “Why are you doing this?”

“I have my orders,” said the Elf, and set fire to the bunches of herbs that hung from the ceiling.

“What are you doing?” screamed Losgael's mother, desperation thrusting her towards the Elf in a vain attempt to stop him.

The Elf raised the torch and brought it down hard on her head, trying not to look at the children. The mother slumped down, and whether she was stunned or dead, Losgael could not tell.

Urui thrust his sister behind him. A scant few years older than her, he did his best to protect Losgael. “Let us out!” he ordered, raising his small fist.

“I need you to scream,” the Elf replied harshly. “It will bring the others running.” He backed out, slamming the door shut behind him. A scraping sound indicated that he had pushed something against the door to prevent the children from escaping.

“Nana!” shouted Urui, terrified but determined to bring his mother with him if he could.

Losgael knelt down beside her mother, shaking her prone body. Her hair, which had briefly caught fire when the Elf had hit her, smouldered with a sickening stench. The herbs had burned out and the wooden beams from which they hung, though some smoke rose from them, had not caught fire. An overwhelming sense of danger pinned the little girl to the floor, where she cowered trying to wake her mother, crying pitifully.

“For the love of Eru, cease this madness!” a voice was heard to plead, but the children knew not whose it was. Cries of battle and pain erupted, then, as smoke began to fill the room, the door was wrenched open. A neighbour rushed in with friends and pulled the family out, but Losgaels' mother was dead.

“Losgael?” Celebrían's voice cut into her reverie, and Losgael was jerked back to reality. Her mistress was soothing her, smoothing her silvery hair and rocking her gently. “Losgael, you were far away.”

“I wanted to go back for Diltheniel, but they would not let me,” sobbed Losgael, lost in her grief. “They said it was too late for that, the house was on fire; and it was, my lady, it was!”

“I am sorry, Losgael,” Celebrían replied, weeping too. “Who was Diltheniel?”

“My doll,” Losgael wailed. “My mother made her for me!”

The sensation of her lady's teardrops falling on her neck pulled Losgael back from the dark place she had fallen into. “I am sorry, my lady,” she sniffled, trying to compose herself. “A bad memory took me, and I could not find my way back. I thought I never would.”

Still stroking her, Celebrían asked, “Was it something I said or did that made that memory come?”

“The lullaby you sang, my mother sang to me,” Losgael replied in a small voice.

“I did not know,” said Celebrían, matching her handmaid's tone.

“I never spoke of it,” Losgael told her gently. “I have never told anyone what happened that day.”

“Why not?” Celebrían asked, with her hands on Losgael's face.

“Other people seemed to have troubles of their own, and when I saw them with their missing limbs, weeping for their losses, my pains seemed trivial compared to theirs,” she explained.

“No-one has a right to say your pains are trivial, Losgael,” Celebrían stated firmly, and dropped her hands to her handmaid's shoulders.

“Even if their losses are greater than mine?” asked Losgael, who looked like a lost child.

“'All that is hurtful is hurtful,'” Celebrían quoted.

“Who told you that?” asked Losgael. Her curiosity pulled her a little way out of her grief.

“Elrond,” Celebrían replied, animated with pride. “He said that when he found me bewailing the loss of a ring given me by my father after I came here for the first time. Other Elves told me he could have another made for me, and I ought to be thankful I still had both my parents when so many others had lost their entire families. 'They should not say such things,' he told me. 'If they cannot sympathise with the loss of a trinket, however small, they cannot sympathise at all. Would you like me to help you to find it?' I said yes, and he went to a Man who had a dog. The dog sniffed my hand and snuffled around until he found the ring. I was delighted, and could not thank Elrond enough. He walked back to the house with me and we became friends after that. Whenever he sent messages to my parents, there was always something for me.”

“When did you know you were in love with him?” Losgael asked, her voice filled with wonder. She never asked her lady about personal matters, but since she had let her into her heart, she needed to deepen the connection between them. It felt good to be loved. No-one had held her at all since she lost her mother, and it felt wonderful to have a pair of arms around her.

“On that day,” Celebrían confided, “but he never said anything about the way he felt. It would not have been deemed proper to ask him if he loved me, though I knew he did. He never told me why it took him centuries to decide to ask for my hand in marriage. He was afraid my father might have refused, I think.”

“I want to be in love,” Losgael told her, looking her in the eye. “Truly in love with someone who loves me.”

“I want you to know true joy,” Celebrían replied with a twinkle in her eye. “But first, you must know true friendship. If you cannot be a friend, you cannot be a lover.”

“Did Elrond tell you that?” Losgael asked shyly.

“I thought everybody knew that,” said Celebrían.

“I want to feel safe,” Losgael snuffled, wiping her face with a handkerchief.

“You will always be safe when you are among friends,” Celebrían told her.

Losgael went quiet for a while, then picked up the brush and brushed her lady's hair. She had never opened her heart like that before, and she felt vulnerable and frightened. What if her lady told the other ladies all she had heard just now? Losgael sighed. She had said far too much and let someone in. She found it hard to become close to others because she was afraid of being hurt again.

“Losgael,” her lady asked, “why did you leave the Hall of Fire tonight?”

“When Lord Glorfindel sang that song, I knew it was about me,” Losgael replied in a small voice, “and I was embarrassed. I thought he was making fun of me, depicting me as an object of pity.”

“I do not think he meant it that way,” Celebrían replied. “I think he was grateful for the lovely shirt, and wanted to thank you.”

“He seems to know me too well,” Losgael replied. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“There are other ladies who have talent with a needle and thread, who are generous and beautiful,” Celebrían told her with a smile. “They may well have thought the song was about them!”

“I never thought of that,” Losgael said, a tremor in her voice. “My lady, I feel such a fool. I have acted like an elfling in this matter, and I fear that people think ill of me now.”

“Courtly Elves consider it a maidenly thing for a lady to blush in their presence,” Celebrían explained. “It indicates purity in our hearts and minds to them.”

“So he is not laughing at me now?” Losgael asked, daring to hope.

“He is probably looking for you, wondering where you are,” Celebrían answered. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to learn more from you about the ways of love,” Losgael replied, blushing as she spoke. “It seems I have a lot to learn.”

“My dear friend,” Celebrían said with a smile, “I would be delighted to help you!”

The two ladies giggled and talked about matters of love for hours. Finally Celebrían left to go to her husband's bedroom, and Losgael went to her own chamber with a smile on her face. She had a plan, and could hardly wait to put it into action.

TBC...

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