Title: A Bond of Brothers 
Chapter Eleven (b) - Too Late
Author: Oakenshield (Oakenshield@lonelymountain.zzn.com)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Elladan/Elrohir
Warnings/Spoilers: Incest, implied rape and torture
Archive: Anyone who wants it is welcome to have it, just let me know first.
Disclaimer: The characters and the places all belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I
am making no profit from this at all.
Summary: The twins bring Celebrian home to Rivendell, but Elrond will not see
them. 

------

Chapter Eleven(b) - Too Late


Elladan had never envisaged that he would be rushing back to Imladris in such a
terrific hurry.

The journey from Lórien had been a slow one, slower than it had needed to be,
even in the face of the harsh conditions of winter. In spite of claiming that
he wanted to get the confrontation over with as quickly as possible, he had
stalled. He had made the party linger for nights they should not have delayed.
If only they had not, then they might have been able to stop Celebrían getting
hurt.

Elrohir had been frantic to get back as quickly as possible. He had known. He
had known in his heart the morning they found the brutally murdered party of
Elves, that something had been wrong. How had Elrohir known? Why had Elladan
not? Elrohir's gift of foresight outweighed his own, but he should have felt
that. Had his heart lost all touch with his family? Had he severed the finely
spun link that all Elves have to each other's hearts? The only heart he felt
now was Elrohir's, and that was fainter than it had been. His tie to Elrohir
had not been the same since the night his twin had left him in Mirkwood. They
had apologised, and made up since then, but anger still clouded his heart;
anger that Elrohir had run from him in cowardice, anger that he had driven his
twin to such an act, anger that he could no longer look after his brother.
Elrohir had gone off alone, Elrohir had fought orcs, Elrohir had rescued their
mother. Elladan had always considered himself to be far braver than his younger
twin, but he could not have gone into that tunnel for anything in the world.

Their souls had been reversed, it seemed. Elrohir had made the sensible
decision to face the consequences of their actions while Elladan had wanted to
hide. Even now, he just wanted to run to some dark and remote place to curl up
in a hole and never face the sunlight again. His world was too painful to wish
to stay in. It was a cold place, shadowed with guilt and doubt and fear and
anger. He wished he could escape it.

He glanced across to his brother, sitting up straight in his saddle though his
shoulders hung heavy with exhaustion. Their injured mother lay in his arms. His
heart ached to look at her, ashen pale, shaking and gasping. The poison had
sunk into her body; it was visible in the veins that stood up against her
ghostly skin. Perhaps she did not have long to live. Perhaps it would have been
better if they had left her to die. But no... he should not think such things.
She would live, their father would heal her, he could heal anything; except the
relationship with his sons. It would have been awful anyway, returning to their
father, but this made it so much worse. Lord Elrond would surely kill them now.

"We must not worry about how Father is with us," Elrohir said softly, offering
Elladan a faint little smile of encouragement. "It matters little now, compared
to this." His eyes fell to Celebrían and he lowered his head to gently kiss her
feverish brow. "We are almost home, Mother," he whispered. "And this time, we
will stay, all of us together. None of us will leave again. We will make it
right this time, somehow." Tears shone in his eyes and one crept slowly down
his cheek. "I am so sorry, Mother. Forgive me for everything I have done wrong,
but do not die! Do not die without hearing me beg for your forgiveness! Forgive
me, forgive me please."

Elladan tore his eyes away from the heartbreaking sight and looked ahead. The
beauty of the realm glimmered brightly in the winter morning sunlight, but it
was a mockery. Imladris should have been clouded in shadow, as a sign of grief
at its Lady's dreadful return; the birds should have been silent, as a mark of
respect. But all was as it had ever been. The dew glittered on the trees, the
smell of pine hung heavy in the air, and Elladan could not bring himself to
breathe in the heady scent of it.

They were home.

He felt Daevorn stumble over some loose stones and patted her neck for support.
Her head hung low and sweat glistened on her coat. Elrohir's horse looked the
same. They had hardly rested for four days, and had ridden all through the last
night. Celebrían had worsened in the evening and they had not dared to stop.
Even Elrohir had not argued about running the horses beyond their endurance.

"Maybe you should ride ahead?" Elrohir said softly. "Go and get help."

"We need not," Elladan whispered, halting Daevorn as he caught a glimpse of two
guards stealing through the trees. He did not know whether he and his brother
had been recognised, or if they would be treated with hostility; goodness knows
what laws Lord Elrond had put down about them since they had left. His injured
arm throbbed with pain as he reached for his dagger.

"Elladan, don't!" Elrohir hissed. "Dismount and greet them, curse you!"

After a second of hesitation, Elladan slid from his saddle, hearing Daevorn
sigh with relief not to have him upon her back. There was no time for pride
now. They needed help.

"I know you are watching us!" he called into the copse, trying to will his
tired voice to bear some semblance of authority. "Show yourselves! I am the son
of Lord Elrond!"

"Master Elladan? Oh goodness! You have returned!" A dark haired Elf ran
forward. "Forgive me! I did not recognise you!" He bowed his head.

Well, at least the guard still treated him with the respect of his position.
And it did not feel good. He supposed they were rather unrecognisable, with
days of blood, sweat and dirt in their hair. He certainly felt nothing like the
Lord and Prince that he was.

"Anglor..." Elrohir looked desperately at the Elf. "Where is my father?"

"He is at the house," Anglor replied, looking up again and approaching
Elrohir's horse. "Oh my goodness! Dear Eru, save us! What has happened?!" His
face paled as he looked at Celebrían. "Fetch Lord Glorfindel!" he called back
into the trees to the other Elf. "And send for two horses! Quickly!" He hung
his bow over his shoulder. "May I take her from you, Lord Elrohir?" he asked.
"You look exhausted."

"Yes." Elrohir reluctantly released Celebrían from his arms. "Take care, she is
very badly hurt."

"She went missing two weeks ago," Anglor said, taking her carefully into his
arms, tucking the cloak snugly around her quaking body. "We suspected she went
to find you, but... did she?"

"We found her," Elladan said, grimacing at the memory. "We found her in a cave
on Caradhras, defiled by orcs."

/'And it is all our fault that she came to be this way.' /

"Elladan..." Elrohir looked at him with love and comfort and a soft blink that
said 'be brave'. "Elladan, my brother..." He stepped towards him and gently
wrapped his arms around him. "It will be all right, my love," he whispered in
his ear.

As much as Elladan wanted to return the embrace, he could not. The feeling of
Elrohir against his body... the sight of his mother half dead... it made him
feel sick. To think, that she was like that, because of this.

Something suddenly tore apart in his heart. Something suffocated his soul,
snuffing out the light of his love for Elrohir. It was wrong.

"I am not standing around waiting!" he said, pulling out of Elrohir's arms
quickly, leaving his twin standing rigid with a hurt look upon his face. "We
must get her to Lord Elrond! I do not wish to see the ass but we must!"

"Elladan!" Elrohir cried, flinching slightly and staring at his hands now
Elladan had pulled out of their grasp. "Wait for Glorfindel. There is nothing
we can do. We cannot run and the horses are close to collapsing."

"She is dying!" Elladan shouted feeling tears in his eyes. "And all I am
expected to do is stand here making small talk while we wait for Glorfindel?!"
He felt terrified. Something was coming to an end, his soul told him so. He
wanted to get away from the feeling as quickly as he could. 

"You wait no longer." A white horse nearly knocked Elladan off his feet as
Glorfindel rode up. "Anglor, give her to me."

The usually calm and collected Elf Lord looked frantic with worry. He looked
afraid. He looked hurt. What was the shadow Elladan could see in his deep green
eyes? Guilt? Why? What had Glorfindel done? What did he know? Was it merely
guilt for his part in this mess? For telling their father of them so many years
ago? For allowing him to do what he did? Or was it something deeper? Something
worse?

"Oh Glorfindel..." Elrohir looked tearfully at him. "It was orcs..."

"I know," Glorfindel said with a hard swallow, taking Celebrían into his
saddle. "Horses are coming for the two of you, catch up with me, I do not wish
to linger. You know the way." Though he met Elrohir's eyes, he inclined his
sight away from Elladan.

Elladan narrowed his eyes at his old mentor. "Yes, we remember how to get to
our own house," he muttered, mounting a grey mare as it was brought by the Elf
who had been in the trees earlier.

Elrohir mounted the horse that had been brought for him and rode up beside
Elladan. "How is your arm?"

"Not my first concern," Elladan replied, riding swiftly after Glorfindel,
ignoring the throbbing ache in the wound. He rode the winding paths and narrow
twists and turns as though he had never been away. He remembered every bend,
every footfall, every landmark. He did not need to see, and he could not see
for tears were stinging in his eyes and blinding him.

He reached the courtyard only moments behind Glorfindel. It was crowded with
people, but no one was there to welcome or dismiss the return of the sons of
Elrond. They were only concerned for their Lady, bustling around with concerned
whispers.

A figure in a black robe cut through the crowd, skin whiter than pale and dark
eyes wide with fear. Erestor. Elladan had never seen him look so afraid.
Erestor was the counsellor, stern and taciturn, sometimes colder than ice,
apparently unfeeling. But not now.

"Oh, Valar, save us!" Erestor whispered, visibly shivering at the sight as he
ran towards them. "I told her... I told her..." A trembling hand reached out to
Celebrían but he did not touch her. "My Lady, why did you not heed my words?"

"Told her what?" Elladan jumped from his saddle and approached Erestor seeing
the same guilt in his eyes as he had seen in Glorfindel's. "What did you tell
her?! Did you know she was going?! Did you?!"

"He did not!" Glorfindel told him. "He knew nothing. The blame is not to be
laid on him."

A tearful voice stopped Elladan arguing further, or hitting someone.

"What has happened?! Elladan! Elrohir! You are home! What... Mother!"

Not in his worst nightmares had he ever dreamed of hearing that voice filled
with so much torment and fear, and it was all his fault. He had never wanted to
hurt his beautiful Evenstar, but he had. Now he could not look at her for the
guilt weighing down his head. He could not bear to see her look at him and
blame him.

Elrohir dropped from his saddle as he rode up and caught Arwen in his arms,
holding her tightly against his shoulder. "Do not look, my sister," he
whispered, breaking into tears. "Do not look."

Arwen fought out of his arms, running to Elladan and shaking him by the
shoulders. "Elladan! What happened?! *What happened*?!"

He cried out in pain as his injured arm was jostled. "Orcs," he answered,
closing his eyes so he didn't have to look at her. "It was orcs."

"Is she dead?" He could hear his sister was sobbing though he would not see,
and he could feel her hands trembling upon his shoulders.

"No," he whispered. "She is not dead." Not yet anyway, and only Illúvatar knew
if she would live. He prayed that he would let her survive. She did not deserve
this. The sin was theirs, not hers. They should have taken the punishment, not
her.

The movement in the courtyard fell into silence and Elladan slowly turned
around to see why, though he already knew. Lord Elrond had come. He could feel
the cold hating glare being directed at him, and he did not have the courage to
lift his gaze and meet it.

"Father!" Elrohir cried, running up the steps towards him. "Father! Oh Father,
forgive me!" He dropped to his knees before Elrond, sobbing weakly. "Ada, I am
so sorry!"

Elladan watched numbly as Elrohir tried to clasp their father's hand, only to
have it brushed away, swatted like one would an annoying fly. He had known they
would face a frosty reception, but poor Elrohir did not deserve that. The anger
he felt at their father doubled in that second. Elrohir needed comfort, not
such a horrid dismissal.

"Get these away from me," Elrond demanded in a low but resonant voice, glaring
at both his sons, taking a step back from Elrohir like he was something
poisonous. "Bring Celebrían to the healing house!" He turned to walk quickly
through the hall with Glorfindel following.

"Let me help!" Elrohir got up swiftly, wiped his tears and ran after them.
"Father, I can help! Please!"

"I do not want you here!" Elrond turned to face him with anger. "Stay out of my
sight. Take your brother, and get out of my house. Neither of you are welcome
here, and neither of you are worthy of addressing me as 'Father'. Go."

"Elrond, he can help." Glorfindel looked imploringly at him and glanced back at
Elrohir with pity.

"I said I do not want him here!" Elrond hastened inside. "Glorfindel, come!"

"I am sorry, Elrohir," Glorfindel whispered.

Elrohir shook his head. "Just go with him," he whispered. "Take care of Mother,
we do not matter."

With a nod of golden head, Glorfindel smiled weakly at the younger twin and ran
after Elrond, carrying Celebrían safely in his strong arms, not jolting her
injuries once.

"Oh, Elladan..." Sobbing pitifully, Elrohir looked back at him, even as Arwen
ran to his side and embraced him.

With a shuddering breath and sick dizzy feeling taking over his head, Elladan
turned away from his twin and ran away into the gardens to find solitude. As
much as his brother needed his comfort, he could not bear to be near Elrohir.
It hurt so much to look upon him and know their love was the reason for their
mother's torment. It hurt so much to look upon him while knowing what he had to
do to make things right. He had never seen it before. He had never understood
before. He had been so selfish and defiant, he had only thought of himself, his
own heart, his own desire, his own lust. He had never considered the
consequences. He had never cared.

It was meant to be so simple. They had meant to return, make amends, and then
leave to go and stay in Caras Galadhon, happy and away from people who wanted
to interfere. Perhaps the Valar wanted to test them. Only a month ago, Elrohir
had nearly been stolen from him by death, and now his mother was hurt. Perhaps
the Valar just wanted to make them see.

But he loved Elrohir so much. He did not want to break his heart. Not again.

******

Elrohir had once had a dream, Glorfindel remembered, a dream that only he had
known about, as he had been the first to run to the screaming six-year-old when
he had awoken. He had dreamed of Celebrían, lying in a dark cave covered in
blood. He had dreamed of two Elf men, who looked like his father, riding to her
rescue and bringing her home. He had dreamed that she had died of her injuries.

He had wailed for a good hour, before sleep had claimed him once more, then by
the morning the dream had been forgotten. At least, forgotten by Elrohir.
Glorfindel had never forgotten it, though he had never mentioned it to Elrohir
again.

It had worried him at the time. It had turned out to be the first of many such
visions. Elrohir had a power of foresight that he was too afraid to admit to,
and too afraid to train, so sometimes it came to him in nightmares. Each vision
had always come true in one way or another. Glorfindel had always known the day
would come when the Lady of Imladris would be brought home by her sons, injured
and dying, but it had not prepared him for the horror of it.

He wondered if the memories of the childhood nightmare had come back to
Elrohir. The poor boy. He wanted to find him and comfort him. He had looked so
distraught when Elrond had dismissed him. Even now, Glorfindel could not
believe that Elrond - as angry and stubborn as he was - could have done such a
thing to his son, despite all that ways the twins had wronged their family and
their people. Elrohir was his blood! Glorfindel knew that if he had a son, he
could never have done such a thing.

But now he had been dismissed also, for Elrond had wanted to be alone with his
wife. He had been asked to go outside, without a please to the request, or a
thank you for his aid. It hurt.

He was worried about his friend. He had not seen him this distraught since Gil-
galad had fallen. But no, this was worse than Gil-galad, much, much worse. He
felt that he hardly knew Elrond anymore. He was not the person he had loved. He
was cold, and bitter, and in denial. Hatred had flooded the sparkle in his eyes
where laughter had once been. But Glorfindel could feel that Elrond was afraid,
and he did not know why, and there was nothing he could do to help.

"How is she?"

He started as a soft voice spoke at his ear and turned to see Erestor. He had
not heard him approach, so lost had he been in thought. Erestor did not move
all that quietly for an Elf, caused by the injury he had sustained to his leg
when captured by orcs when working as Gil-galad's emissary in the forming of
the Last Alliance.

He had never forgotten how he had found Erestor, naked and injured and drained
of blood, washed up on the banks of the Bruinen with his leg and hand crushed,
his face battered, his back whipped, burned, slashed. He had not been
recognisable as an Elf, save for his pointed ears. He thought that had been the
most horrific sight he would ever see, until he had rode up to Celebrían and
the twins on the borders.

"She is unconscious still, but stable now," he answered. "Whether she recovers
now is up to her."

He and Elrond had fought for two days with the poison threatening to claim her
body, forcing medicines down her throat which had made her vomit, bleeding her,
and now her veins ran clear again. Her cuts had been cleaned, the bite in her
ear had been dressed, the arrow wound in her shoulder had been bound though her
left arm was still worryingly paralysed. Her body was repaired, as much as it
could be, but her soul was torn in pieces. Only she could put that back
together now, only she could decide, as she slept in dreams.

"She will live." Erestor offered a hand to Glorfindel's shoulder. "She has been
broken, but she is strong. I was broken too. Your song lifted my heart and made
me want to return to the world."

"I know," Glorfindel whispered bitterly. "But she has suffered a horror that
you were so thankfully spared of. I think it would take more than my singing to
bring her back from this."

Nodding with wet eyes, Erestor squeezed his hand. "She will awaken," he said.
"Her family needs her."

"Right now, she needs them, and Elrond and the twins are divided!" He felt
tears in his own eyes. "This is all my fault. I never should have..." 

/'I never should have let her go.'/

He had seen her. He had seen her sneak away in the night, armed and dressed for
travel. He had known she had gone to find the twins. She had begged him with
her eyes, defied him to say anything. And he had said nothing. When Elrond had
asked him, he had seen nothing.

Erestor's grip on his hand tightened. "What?"

"It is nothing."

It was far from nothing, but he remembered the last time he had confided in
Erestor about a secret that had disturbed him. He could not tell him about
this. He trusted Erestor, but the counsellor was always so keen to do the right
thing. Experience had taught Glorfindel that sometimes the right thing was not
always right. Sometimes the right thing to do was to keep one's mouth shut. He
had certainly seen the truth in that over the past twelve years.

"Something is on your mind, I know," Erestor pursued. "Please tell me."

Glorfindel glanced up briefly into the dark eyes that could hide everything,
and detect anything. "It is nothing," he replied shortly. "I...I am just
concerned about Lady Celebrían."

"We all are. But it is not your fault. You must not blame yourself."

He sighed. "I would have been better keeping my mouth shut that morning I saw
the twins together."

"This is not your doing!" Erestor cried. "They would have been discovered
sooner or later."

"But this would not have come about!" He turned around quickly in a flurry of
white robe and golden hair. "I would not have had to bear the guilt of it!"

"Glorfindel." Erestor stepped up to him. "You bear no more guilt than any of
us. You should not blame yourself. You did the right thing. Anything that has
come about since is the fault of the twins. Not you."

"You do not know what you are talking about, Erestor, so you cannot pass
judgement!" he snapped more harshly than he intended to. He did not want to be
angry with him, but his patience was short, and Erestor's composure was trying
it. He knew in his heart Erestor was as worried as the rest of them, he was
just better at hiding it. Erestor only meant to comfort him, but he wanted to
be alone with his thoughts.

Leaving his friend in the darkness of the balcony, he walked back into the
healing quarters, regardless of Elrond's request for him to stay away. But the
Lord of Imladris was not in sight.

Sinking heavily into the chair at Celebrían's bedside, he took her cold, pale
hand gently within his own. She lay as still as death, the faint rise and fall
of her breast was the only indication that she still lived. He prayed that
Elrohir's vision would not come wholly true.

She could not die. She was his closest friend, maybe closer than Erestor, or
even Elrond. She knew of his innermost feelings, and did not judge. She knew he
was in love with her husband, and she did not mistrust him. She was married to
the man he loved, but he loved her also. She was the one person of the
household who had the strength and courage to put together the broken pieces of
this family. Though she was quiet, and sometimes allowed Elrond to cloud her
judgement, she was determined and once she had her heart set on something,
nothing would stand in her way. She was the daughter of Galadriel, after all;
calm, resolute, proud, and beautiful.

If she died... it was unthinkable.

"Oh why did I not stop you leaving?" he sighed.

"Because you knew I needed to go," she whispered just softly enough for him to
hear, but she did not open her eyes or turn her face from the wall. Glorfindel
did not need to look at her to know she was trying not to weep. "You must never
let Elrond know," she whispered, weakly squeezing his fingers. "He would be
angry with you, and I would not have that. I will not tell him."

He could feel no joy at the knowledge that she was conscious. She spoke, but
her voice was weak and flat. She did not wish to wake, only to comfort him.
Ever selfless, as always. It brought tears to his eyes.

"Elrond knows nothing," he said quietly. "I lied to his face the morning he
discovered you were gone." And it had not been easy. "I will tell him nothing,
if you do not wish me to."

"My boys are home now..." A faint smile graced her pale lips though tears
glistened upon her eyelashes. She was in so much pain.

"Yes, they are home," he assured her. He could not tell her that Elrond would
not see them, that he would not let them near her, that Arwen had screamed at
her father that morning for his behaviour, that Elladan was injured and furious
and would not speak to anyone, that Elrohir had done little but cry for the
past days. "They are safe and well." He forced a smile, thankful that her eyes
were closed and she could not see the falseness of his solace.

"And this time they will not go away again." Her eyes fluttered open and she
turned her head slowly to look at him, wincing with the agony that one small
movement caused. "Do not let them go again, Glorfindel! Glorfindel... Do not
let Elrond..."

"Shh." He tried not to flinch at the haunted look that shadowed her once-bright
eyes. "It is all right." He kissed her cheek as her eyes fell shut again. "I
will take care of it all, do not worry. Sleep again now. Fear not." Running a
hand through her silver hair, he rose to see Elrond standing behind him. "My
Lord..." he started, expecting to be shouted at for not calling him
immediately.

"She awoke? Did I hear her speak?" Elrond looked sadly down at Celebrían,
looking exhausted and hurt. All the rage that had been making him appear to be
strong had gone from his soul, he looked small and vulnerable, and Glorfindel
felt like he was seeing him naked.

"She awoke for just a moment, yes," Glorfindel told him, gently taking Elrond
in his arms. He blinked back tears as Elrond leaned heavily against him with a
sigh, and he felt that his arms were all that were holding his Lord on his
feet. But what could he do to help? "She is concerned about what will happen
now... with you and the twins..."

"I do not want them in my realm." Elrond glanced away sharply and made to stalk
away from Glorfindel, all the fury back.

"They saved her..." he began to argue. Yes, the twins had done some terrible
things, they had caused shame and outrage to their family and realm, but they
were still Elrond's sons. They had still saved their mother from certain death.
Surely all the crimes could be forgotten in the face of that?

"If it were not for them this never would have happened!" Elrond turned back to
face him angrily. "If it were not for them she would not have left to go after
them. This would not have come about."

"I think we all must take some blame, my Lord." If Elrond had only done as she
wished, and had them found. If he had gone with her. If he had stopped her.
"Celebrían wishes them to stay."

"Then they may stay, for her sake. But I do not want them near me. Make that
clear to them," Elrond ordered. "Now leave me with my wife, as I requested
earlier."

"My Lord." Swallowing down his tears, Glorfindel bowed his head and stepped
backwards towards the door, stumbling out of it and leaning heavily back
against it once it was shut. He was thankful Erestor had departed from the
veranda. He did not want anyone to see his tears as they fell.

******

Elladan absently picked at a thread on the sling that held his injured arm. The
wound did not hurt anymore, or perhaps its pain was rendered insignificant by
the pain in his heart.

His soul felt hollow and cold, like the icy wind outside, tossing the snow
around in the air. He had been watching it from his window for some time,
trying to let the dance of the white flakes distract him. It had not worked.

So many thoughts warred within his mind. What to do? To be selfish or moral?
What was more important? Love or lust? What would make things right? He could
not turn back time, so would it make any difference if he stopped loving
Elrohir now? He could not stop loving him, not for all the gold in the world
could he stop loving him, but he could stop tearing apart their family. He did
not care one scrap about his father; any pain that came to Lord Elrond was well
deserved. But he could not hurt his mother, or Arwen. They had done nothing
wrong. He had tried to hate his mother as much as he hated his father, he had
tried to hate her for letting Elrond do what he had done, but his grandparents
had shown him that had not been the case. Celebrían had always wanted them to
stay, but had not known how to make things right. He had misjudged her and run
away. She had fought their corner in their absence. She had gone to find them,
against Elrond's wishes. And for it, she had been hurt.

She wanted them to stay, and he could not cause her more pain while she
recovered. He knew what he had to do. If only it did not hurt so much to do it.

"Elladan?"

He heard Elrohir's voice, and the creaking of an opening door, but he did not
turn to address it. Tears stung in his eyes. He had to do it. He had to do it
now. He had to break more oaths, more promises, more words of love and
devotion. He had to break Elrohir's heart again. Hopefully Elrohir would see it
was the right thing to do. Hopefully.

He heard Elrohir cross the floor towards him and closed his eyes tightly,
trying not to tense as arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

"Elrohir, don't..." His voice sounded weak to his own ears. As much as he
wanted to turn and embrace his twin, as much as he wanted to kiss him and make
love to him until they both felt safe again, he could not. The dream was over.
They were not alone in the Wild anymore. They were home, and they had to be
sensible, for their mother's sake, for the sake of her survival. He had to push
away the horrible images of a lifetime without Elrohir in his arms, thousands
of lonely nights without Elrohir in his bed.

"Elladan, my love." A kiss landed softly against his neck. "What is wrong?"

"No!" He turned to face his brother. "We can't. We mustn't. Not now." He looked
at the floor as Elrohir's eyes filled with tears and his lower lip trembled as
he realised what Elladan was saying. Oh Eru, it hurt so much!

"I just want to hold you." Elrohir wept softly, leaning against him and
wrapping both arms around his neck. "I want you to hold me. Elladan, I am so
afraid. Please comfort me?"

He hugged him gently with his good arm, fighting to uphold his will and not
give in to fear. He had to be strong. Sensible. Mature. "We cannot do this
anymore, Elrohir," he whispered. "Don't you see? This was a warning, a warning
we should have heeded earlier."

Elrohir took two fast steps backwards, flinching like he had been struck. "No,
Elladan, I will not let you do this!" His eyes widen with fear and he shook his
head madly. "We are meant to be!"

"Even after this?" Elladan looked up and met his eyes. "Our mother is nearly
dead because of what we have done." Tears ran down his cheeks. "Elrohir, we
cannot do this anymore."

"Then Father has won!" Elrohir looked furiously at him. "You are the one that
wanted to stand up to him, you swore we would never part! Only in Caras
Galadhon last month, you swore it to me!" He slapped his face. "How many more
promises will you break?! How many more times will you do this to me! You are a
coward!" He sobbed, faltering backwards to sink to the edge of the bed.
"Elladan, I will die without you! Ai, Elladan, I love you so much..." He looked
for all the world like he was dying already.

"And I love you, but we must do this for Mother." Elladan walked quickly to the
door, wanting to run from the sight of his weeping brother lest he be weakened.
"I'm sorry, Elrohir," he whispered, tears running freely down his face. "But I
could not live with myself. Forgive me."