Title: A Bond of Brothers 
Chapter Fourteen - Reflections
Author: Oakenshield (Oakenshield@lonelymountain.zzn.com)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Elladan/Elrohir
Warnings/Spoilers: Incest
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: Galadriel convinces Elrond of the error of his ways. 

-------

Chapter Fourteen - Reflections


A week had passed since Elrond had returned to Imladris and Galadriel was very
surprised how quickly he had returned to the role of the Lord of the realm. On
the outside, he seemed to be coping rather well. He had been keeping himself
very busy, walking and riding in the countryside with Arwen every afternoon,
but Galadriel could see into his heart and she knew that great trouble resided
there. He was breaking into pieces inside, torn apart by guilt and secrets. He
was struggling to keep his sorrow shut away and he was not succeeding. The lies
were eating their way out.

She had known for so long... If only she had spoken sooner... 

If only she had heeded the signs. If she had, then perhaps her daughter would
not have departed this world so prematurely. It was of no use to think in such
a way, but she could not help it. She had to keep telling herself that it was
not her fault. Everyone had delayed. Everyone had made the wrong decision. Now
they all had to bear the consequences together.

She pitied Arwen the most. Arwen had played no part in the downfall of her
family, yet she had been wounded the worst by it. Her loyalties had been torn,
her trust had been tried and she had lost the most. No child should have to see
their mother leave them.

Arwen had been giving herself very little time to grieve for Celebrían. She was
very swiftly stepping into her mother's shoes and trying her best to hold the
remnants of the family together. She should not have had to bear that
responsibility. Galadriel was trying to help her, as best as she could, but all
the males of the household seemed determined to use their mouths more than
their ears.

The twins had been keeping themselves concealed. They had seldom left their
chambers since Elrond had come home. Elrohir seemed to have something on his
mind, and it was a relief to Galadriel to find him entering her chambers one
night.

"Grandmother, I need to talk to you," he mumbled nervously as he lingered in
the doorway in his nightshirt and open robe, his hair tousled and his eyes hazy
from sleep. "May I come in?"

"Of course you may," she replied, looking up from where she was reading by
candlelight. Though the hour was late, rest had not come to her. She had not
retired that evening. She had too much on her mind, and it seemed that she was
not alone in that. "You look troubled, Elrohir."

Her younger grandson slipped around the door and closed it behind him, then
walked across the room to sit on the couch beside her, looking down at the
floor and fumbling nervously with the edge of his sleeve. 

"What is it?" she asked him, taking his hands. "Have you quarrelled with
Elladan?"

"No," he replied, curling cold fingers around hers. "I have not seen him all
evening, he went out for a walk and has not returned yet. I am so worried about
him. I wish everything could be all right. I miss Mother so much." He swallowed
and lowered his head further, as if he were trying to hide in his hair. "And I
miss Father," he continued softly. "We need each other at this time! I want so
badly us to be a family again, and it was Mother's wish."

"Everyone wants that, my dear," she said, putting her arms around him. "Even
Elladan and your father want it, but they are stubborn and far too alike." She
hugged him gently, feeling that he was trembling. "What has unsettled you so?"
she asked him. It was surely not only the quarrels between his father and
brother. 

"I have been having the most disturbing dreams," he confessed, lifting his head
to look at her. "I cannot make sense of them, yet I feel they are trying to
tell me something."

Elrohir had suffered such dreams before, Galadriel knew, and they had always
troubled him. He never understood his premonitions until they had come about.
She always wanted to help him with such matters but never before had he come to
her regarding it. "Would you care to tell me what the dreams are about?"

"It is the same every time," he explained. "I am lying in my bed, just as I was
when I actually fell asleep, and I wake to find a light shining through my
window. All around the house I can hear the sound of weeping. I hear a voice
begging for forgiveness but the voice is not spoken, I hear it as I would read
someone's thoughts, but different somehow." He frowned and closed his eyes to
better recall the dream. "I rise from my bed and go to my window and then I
realise that the light that woke me is the star of Eärendil. He tells me to
forgive Father. He says that Father had been calling to him in his dreams, full
of sorrow. He says that I must make Father see the light." He opened his eyes
again and looked at Galadriel. "I prayed to Eärendil for help, and I have had
this dream at least five times now. It has to mean something."

"It does mean something," she said, feeling years of tension leave her body.
This was the sign she had been waiting for. This was the sign she needed to
know that the time was right to speak of what she knew. 

"What am I to do?" Elrohir whimpered. "I do not know what I am meant to do! I
cannot forgive Father unless he asks me to, and he will not even see me!" Tears
rolled down his cheeks. "You look like you know something. You know what this
means, don't you?"

"Yes, I know what it means, but I am afraid I cannot tell you." Galadriel
kissed his forehead and stroked his hair away from his tear-stained cheeks,
tucking it behind his ear. "You entrusted me with your vision, Elrohir. Do you
trust me to make it right for you?"

"Of course I do," Elrohir looked at her with confusion. "But why can you not
tell me?"

"It is something I must speak to your father about." She wanted so badly to
explain it all to the poor, bewildered child, but it was not her place to. It
was to be kept entirely between herself and Elrond. If the wrong people knew
about it then it would create more damage than it would undo. "Go back to bed,
my dearest," she said, rising and taking Elrohir's hands to help him to his
feet. "I will talk with you in the morning."

******

Elrond sat before his mirror with a single candle burning on the window ledge.
The curtains were open and the moonlight was trying to break through the
clouds. He did not want it to. He could see only the outline of his own
reflection in the darkness. That was how he wanted it. He did not want to look
at himself. 

He felt exhausted. He did not want to see...

He had seen too much. He had heard too much. He had felt too much. He had not
listened enough. If only he had listened to the words of those wiser than
himself. 

/'You should think about your own past. You are not free from sin yourself.'/

/'I think you underestimate the bond between the twins...'/

/'Before I leave, I would not feel at ease with myself, if I did not say what a
fine hypocrite my father is.'/

/'You are hardly worthy of condemning an unethical love, are you, my Lord?'/

/'The choice is yours, Elrond. Aid me, or I will do it alone.'/

Words of his wife, words of his son. He had not listened to them, and now it
had come to this. But there were visions in his mind, words he did heed,
memories that he could not forget, and he used them to try to convince himself
that he was doing the right thing.

He could not escape the image of dark heads, a kiss in the moonlight. A kiss
goodbye. Grey eyes looking into grey eyes; one pair sorrowful, the other guilty
and determined. Words whispered against lips that longed only for the touch of
the lips that looked the same. 

/'My heart is not as yours. My path is not as yours. It must end now. It is
over, before it has begun.'/

Those words, those words he had listened to, and he did not feel regret for
what he had done. He had tried to save the twins from the pain they did not yet
know they would have to endure, but he had failed. Was it too late? Could he
save them yet?

They hated him and he was too full of shame to even look at them. For the first
time in the long years since he had learned of their incest, he missed them. He
missed Celebrían. He missed Arwen. He missed his children being a playful
trinity, he missed his family being whole. He missed the pride he had once had
in his sons. He missed the love and respect he had once had from his daughter.
He missed the respect he had once had for himself.

All was lost, it seemed. He was lost. He felt so very alone. What he would have
given for a friendly voice, a kind smile, a loving embrace. Only Glorfindel was
there for him now, but he had hurt and used and compromised his dearest friend
far too much already. This should never have been Glorfindel's problem.

"Would they ever forgive me?" he whispered, covering his face with his hand so
that he could not see himself in the mirror, so that he could not see his own
tears. He did not have the tears to cry for what had befallen his family. It
had been his fault, as much as the fault of the twins. Why had he been so
stubborn? Why had he covered his fear with pride? Why had he been so scared to
be afraid? 

"They would forgive you," a voice spoke gently to him from the doorway where
Galadriel stood in the shadows, unannounced, unintruding. She might have been
there for minutes already. "I need to speak with you, Elrond. There are things
I must say. I dare say I am saying them too late, but they must be said
nonetheless." She held out a pale hand to him. "Come with me, I wish to show
you something." 

Hesitating for a second, Elrond rose and took her hand. Though Celebrían had
always been more like her father, some sides of her had been so much like her
mother. It broke his heart to look at Galadriel now. 

His beloved wife was gone, and it was because of his secrets and lies. He had
betrayed her every day and every night of their marriage. She had never known
how much he had loved her. Perhaps she never would.

Was she at peace now? Was she being healed by means that he did not have? He
had tried. He had tried so hard to restore her to health, but it had not been
enough. He had not had enough strength of heart to heal her spirit. How could
one piece together the broken shards of another's soul, if one's own was
smashed to splinters?

He let Galadriel lead him out of the room and down the corridor.   

"Where are we going?" he enquired, though it was clear. She was taking him
outside.

"It is as I said, I have something I wish to discuss with you. It is about the
twins." Galadriel stopped and looked into his eyes, laying a cool hand against
his cheek to stop him turning from her sight. "I think it is time that you told
someone about your feelings on the matter. Your true feelings, Elrond." 

"You know my feelings," he said shortly, pulling free from her hold upon him
and walking ahead of her. She knew as much as anyone knew, perhaps a little
more, and he did not dare to let her see into his mind lest she find things
that even he could no longer see. "I need not discuss it." 

"I think you do." Galadriel caught his elbow and led him down the steps. "Come
to the garden with me, I wish to show you something. Do not judge your sons so
harshly, Elrond, you are not so innocent yourself."

Elrond swallowed. So now Galadriel was accusing him as well. It mattered not
who the accusation came from, he still felt it the same, though he would not
admit that it was as bad as what Elladan and Elrohir were doing.

"Elladan says I am a hypocrite," he disclosed to her as he followed her. It was
pointless to argue with her, and he did not have the energy to. He did not wish
to. It was favourable to being alone in the room he had once shared with his
wife, the room where the shadows of her memory still danced on every wall. "He
says I have no right to condemn them after what I did with Gil-galad."

"That may be so. I do not approve of how he has been behaving towards you, but
he is right." Galadriel said no more words until they came to a fountain, where
she bade Elrond to sit. And then she spoke the words that he had never wanted
to hear from anyone. "At least he would be right if he knew of the one you
loved before Gil-galad. Your sons do not know how much of a hypocrite you
really are." She dipped a finger in the water. "Your guilt does not lie with
Gil-galad. And neither does your heart." 

"I... I do not know what you mean!" he insisted defiantly, but Galadriel was
not bluffing and neither could he. 

Yes, there had been another before Gil-galad, one who had held his heart in a
far firmer grip. Yes, he had loved Gil-galad, as much as he had been highly
flattered by his attention and awed by his beauty, but the High King was a dim
candle to the light of the one who had come before him.

Galadriel glanced to the rippling crystal water. "Look into your own face,
Elrond," she persuaded him. "See what hides in your soul. Do not be afraid to
look. It is not all so dreadful. If you look hard enough, you will see that
there is a light in your darkness, and it will guide you if only you let it." 

Elrond turned away. He had seen enough of his own face. He did not want to look
at it again. It pained him too much. 

"Look," Galadriel repeated.

Drawn against his will, unable to ignore her command, Elrond stood and looked
into the water, reaching out to touch it. 

It was a nightmare. It was a dream. It was his horror. It was glass, broken
like his heart. It was a vision, and it was real.

A hand rose to meet a raised hand. A head turned to face a turned head. A smile
curled the corners of a mouth in greeting to an identical welcome. Deep grey
eyes blinked in the dusk as their pair answered, long lashes fluttering above
high cheekbones. Dark hair flowed freely across broad shoulders. Fingers combed
a gentle tug through the slightly tangled hair. 

Words rang in his ears, words bringing sorrow and death and separation. He
could not stop the words being spoken, however hard he tried. 

/'My heart is not as yours. My path is not as yours. It must end now. It is
over, before it has begun.'/

No one had seen this but Elrond. No one had known his fear. No one had
understood. It was almost a relief to know that Galadriel had seen it too.

In the surface of the fountain, a fingertip traced a pointed ear from the lobe
to the tip, touching as only one who owned such a body could understand how to.
A thumb crossed an arched eyebrow, down a pale cheek and across quavering lips
that were salty with tears. A voice wanted to beg for forgiveness but the words
could not come out. 

A vision haunted him. A dark-haired, grey-eyed Elf Lord stood alone in Imladris
while his twin had long become a part of the earth, his soul journeyed to where
the other could not follow. 

A stranger would have looked in the dark and seen Elladan and Elrohir, but
Elrond could see closer than anyone else could. The face was his own. The hands
were his own. The vision was not a premonition but a memory. And that too was
his own.

Tears clouded Elrond's eyes and he trembled as the wind of time turned about
and swept him into his past, hauling him through the conflicts of his family,
the trials of war, until it abandoned him in his youth. 

He stood upon a balcony beneath a moonless sky, his heart thundering as it
waged war with his conscience. Oh, such dark and painful love he had felt! Such
futile denial he had fought for years! 

That one terrible and glorious night, when thunder had been in the distance, it
had all nearly come together, but his brother had heeded the warning in his
heart and had been strong enough to resist. 

"My heart is not as yours," Elros had said softly with no anger, staring into
the eyes that had refused to meet his, even as a hand had lingered near his
ear, ready, waiting and willing to pull him into a virgin kiss. "My path is not
as yours. It must end now. It is over, before it has begun." 

It had never been spoken of again. Pretence had been held up until Elros' dying
day and then time had buried a once-blazing love deep, deep within the ice in
this Elven Lord's heart. Buried. But never forgotten.

Elrond opened his eyes to see his twin's face smiling back at him, telling him
that the right choice had been made. Then as the wind caught in his hair and he
dipped his hand in the pool of crystal water, the face broke apart, memories
scattering upon the surface of the pond like ghosts on the breeze. As the
ripples ceased their flow and the moon lifted high enough to break the
illusion, he was left looking into the face of a tired, worn Elf. His own face,
lined with care and bitterness that an Elf should not have to wear. 

"Oh, Eru save me..." he whispered, rising and stumbling away from the fountain,
away from the eyes of Galadriel. "How do you know this?" He glanced back at
her, trembling. He had never told anyone! He had always been careful to guard
his thoughts and dreams so that not even the wisest would see the terrible
truth of his past. 

Galadriel followed him calmly. "There is no one in the world who knows but me,
save for the one who took the secret to his grave," she assured him, laying a
comforting hand against his shoulder. "Elrond, my dear child, it is not right
that you should punish your children for your mistakes." 

Galadriel was not angry with him, and how he wished that she were. The mother
of his wife had just torn open his heart and seen his deepest secret, his
darkest sin, and she was not angry. Her daughter was in the West because of his
deceit and his cowardice, and she could only comfort him. It made him want to
die.

"I do it to protect them, not to punish them," he declared in a trembling voice
that no longer held the conviction it had once had. "I could not bear to see my
sons suffer as I did."

"They do not need protecting," Galadriel pressed. 

"All right!" Elrond cried, unable to hold up the crumbling wall of courage for
a second longer. "It was all for shame! I was ashamed! I still am ashamed! I am
ashamed of them, and I am ashamed of myself!" 

"You have been ashamed of them and yourself for long enough," Galadriel told
him sternly. "You must forgive them. You must forgive yourself. They are no
different to you."

"They are very different!" Elrond maintained. "I did nothing! Elros did not
allow anything to happen!" And perhaps there he had voiced his very reasons for
treating Elladan and Elrohir as he had. He had covered his shame with excuses
about laws and politics, and those excuses had not been wholly untrue, but
somewhere deep in his conscience, he was also resentful of them. "I am thankful
that he did not allow it to be," he murmured the hollow words, trying to
believe them. Surely it had been for good. The line of Númenor had been
founded. Elrond had found love with Gil-galad and then Celebrían, he had been
blessed with three beautiful, wonderful children. Three beautiful, wonderful
children that he had sundered. It had been such a waste!

"You might have done nothing," Galadriel said, "but you felt much. The
incestuous love was always there, whether or not anything came of it. You loved
him."

He dared to meet her eyes, and found no anger or disgust there, just gentle
understanding. "Yes, I loved him," he whispered, feeling the pain anew. "More
than I should have, and more than I would care to admit. But nothing happened!"

"Is that the point?" She gently took him into her arms and held his head
against her shoulder. "Elrond, my dear Elrond... Do not destroy your family
with your own pride. My daughter was raped and tortured and is now in the West
because of what has happened between you and the twins. Let no more tragedy
come of it. You will not succeed in breaking them apart, and you must be able
to see that by now. Whether it is right or wrong - and I am not saying that is
it right - their bond is true and unbreakable. They have spoken oaths to each
other, they have stood the test of time, they have been challenged by life and
death, and they are still determined. They will not suffer as you did, believe
me. They will fare alike and follow each other's course. I have seen it. It is
time to give in. Be honest with yourself. At least be honest with me. You know
your campaign is futile. You knew it was doomed from the start." 

"I had to try." Perhaps he should have gone about it a different way. He should
have been open and honest with the twins. He could have stopped it while the
love had still been young. He could have... He could have doomed them to live
eternity in lonely misery, torn from their only loves, just as he had. It was
indeed futile. And now it was too late to mend the damage he had made. "Oh, my
Lady, what am I to do?"

"Look into your heart," Galadriel said, releasing him to look into his eyes and
he felt her comfort and strength wash through his soul."You will find the
answers if you are brave enough to see them." 

Elrond stepped away from her to glance into the water of the fountain once
more. The memories of Elros burned raw in his mind and in his heart. It almost
felt good to tear them open again, to bear them so they might heal properly.

His memories urged him to recall his own sin. It was so easy to go back... It
was so easy to remember... 

He had never dared to imagine too hard what life would have been like if Elros
had not been so determined, but sometimes it had been almost real. Sometimes he
had allowed himself to make believe. Behind the gauzy curtain of dreams,
mortality had held no isolation. In such cloudy, faded worlds, death was not
between him and his first love, nothing and no one could break the bond between
them that was as old and true and sacred as time. 

In his dreams his relationship with his twin had been as passionate as he'd
allowed it to be. As long as words had not been uttered, as long as glances had
not been held too long it had been allowed to exist in mirrors and pools for
years.

The fantasies had made him feel complemented and sated yet alone and empty all
at once. They had made him feel on fire yet cold just seconds later. They had
made him feel untainted in body but filthy in soul. Guilty in conscience.
Hungry in heart. It had been torture, a torture that had only ended when he had
allowed Gil-galad to claim him.

He thought he had stopped wounding himself with imaginings thousands of years
before. He thought he had pushed it aside. He thought he had turned that place
in his heart to stone. He thought he had convinced himself that he hated the
one who had rejected him and caused him such pain, and that it had all been a
dream, long long ago. But he had never really forgotten, and he never could.

Despite the words that had been said, he knew that Elros would have loved him
too if his will had not been so strong. The love had been there, the bond had
been there, but never joined. Elros had been able to resist. Elrond himself
never could have resisted, and while he knew that the right path had been
chosen all those years ago, he never could have set foot onto it alone without
his brother forcing him. 

He had loved Elros so much. So much that it still hurt. 

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Elrond cleared his vision and inclined his
sight to the reflection of Galadriel standing behind him. Behind her shoulder,
the sky had cleared and a bright star shone down from the heavens. The only
star visible in the sky, seeming to twinkle just for him.

He thought of Elladan and Elrohir, as he thought of Elros, then he thought of
himself. Was it their fault that his sons were cursed to carry the burden of
their father and uncle? The burden perhaps, but not the fate. Galadriel was
right. They would not be parted now. Neither one was wary; one was shy and the
other brazen, but their hearts would fare alike, Elladan had told him so years
before. He had seen it when they had been but hours old. They belonged
together, as one.

Elrond knew the choice they would make when the time came for him to cross the
Sea, but that decision was still endless years ahead of them. He would not make
them choose before it was time. He knew they had been fading in his
renouncement, but they were still Peredhil. They were still bound to him. They
were still his sons. He would not let them fade.

Perhaps denial had kept him strong enough to be angry. Rather than lose both of
them himself, he had insisted on the one losing the other. Rather than having
to say farewell to them, he had shunned them. He could not forgive them, nor
could he condone them, but he could certainly not lose them now and forever,
not when nearly all was lost already. 

Galadriel gently squeezed his hand and offered him a smile. "Elladan sits in
the next garden, and he is upset. You should go to him."

With tears in his eyes, Elrond walked slowly into the small garden hidden away
by shrubs to see his eldest child perching tensely on the edge of a stone
bench, staring up at the stars. 

At the sound of his father's footsteps, Elladan rose to leave but Elrond halted
him. This was possibly the most difficult moment of his life. There was so much
to do, so much to lose. He did not know if he had the courage to forgive the
twins for all that had happened, or if they would forgive him, but he had to
try.

He motioned for Elladan to sit again. "May I join you?" 

"Please yourself." Elladan shrugged and dropped back to his seat. "It is your
realm, therefore this is your bench. Sit upon it if you wish." 

Elrond shivered at his tone, lamenting days of not so many years ago, when they
had talked for hours about trivialities, when they had laughed together and
sung together. He doubted they could ever be like that again, but even a little
progress was better than none at all. 

"Can we talk, Elladan?" he asked as he seated himself on the bench, a safe
distance away from his child. "Can we just *talk* to each, without harsh words?
For one moment, can we not pretend that everything is as it should be? For one
moment, let me..." He held his breath, and tried to catch Elladan's eye. "Let
me be your father again." 

Elladan glanced sideways with eyes of carved ice, but refrained from giving a
witty reply. Oh, but the most wicked words could not have hurt more than that
look did. One so young should never be able to carry such bitterness, such
vicious hatred, such contempt in his eyes. Such sorrow should not cloud his
light. Such pain should not dim his soul.

"Elrohir and I will be leaving here soon," Elladan informed him. "We wish to
travel the lands again, and avenge our mother of her torment."

Elrond nodded slowly. Only days ago he would have declared that it was his wish
for them to leave his house, but Celebrían had wanted them to stay. He owed it
to her. He owed it to himself. "Will you come back this time?"

"It depends if death takes us first," Elladan whispered. "Elrohir and I have
discussed it for many long hours. Mother's strife was our punishment for our
sin. We will not give each other up, we cannot, and we do not want to, but we
will scourge the lands of the vile filth that dared to do such a thing to her.
It will be our course until we are taken from this world."

"You do not have to do that," Elrond told him. The idea made him quake inside,
and Celebrían would never have allowed it had she been there. But she was not
there, and it was not Elrond's place to tell them what to do. "But if that is
your choice, then I am proud of you." 

"Mother loved to watch the stars here, didn't she?" Elladan said softly after a
moment of silence, and he lifted his eyes to the sky. "Elrohir and I used to
follow her here some nights when we were children and you thought we were in
bed. She would tell us the names of the stars, the constellations..."

Elrond followed his gaze to the Heavens, casting his eyes briefly past
Eärendil. Had he known the secret? Would he have done as Elrond had? Would he
have stopped his son doing the wrong thing?  

"Mother said to us," Elladan ventured in little more than a whisper, "I think
we were about two decades old, and she said us /'My sons, the stars are so much
like us. They take so long to burn out, yet when they do they are gone faster
than you can blink and leave not the smallest scar on the sky. They are fading
all the time, though you cannot see it. Then before you can come to love them
as you should, they are gone'/." He took an unsteady intake of breath as though
he was hiding tears, but he kept his eyes turned to the sky.

"Your mother is a wise woman," Elrond said, his own voice trembling. "I wish
you had inherited more of her qualities." He halted as Elladan turned accusing
eyes towards him. "Instead of mine," he finished. "You are too stubborn for
your own good, and look where it has got you."

"If you have come to make me feel guilty you need not bother," Elladan said
coldly. "I could not begin to tell you of the guilt that is enclosing my heart.
To see my mother, the woman who gave life to me, torn and defiled in a goblin
cave, and to know that it was my fault... If I had not tarried a night with
Elrohir on the journey home, if I had not run away those years ago, if I had
not trusted Haldir, if I had never loved my brother, if I had never pursued him
one foolish day when the feelings had been buried for years. Everything that
has come about is my doing. Down to the first kiss. Oh, Father, you do not know
the meaning of the word 'guilt'."

"I know it better than you would think," Elrond assured him as a tear rolled
down his cheek. "Do you think I do not share your guilt? Do you think I do not
regret not heeding your mother when we learned of your incest? And that I do
not wish I had not plotted against you? And I do not wish I had listened to my
own heart, rather than see in tunnel vision? Do I not wish that I had not
driven you away from home, then driven your mother away in my anger? I know
what is in your heart, my son, for it is in mine also." 

Elladan looked at him with wide eyes. "You do not blame us wholly?" he asked. 

"Never!" Elrond reached for Elladan's hand but his son withdrew it. "Your
grandmother has made me look at things that I was too blind to see," he
admitted. "The blame is mine as much as yours. More so." If only Elladan knew
how much. 

"Those are very different words to the ones you have been repeating since we
returned," Elladan muttered. 

"I was full of grief," Elrond sighed, "but that is no excuse. My children were
full of grief also, and I should have been there to comfort them. I have heard
Arwen weep at night, and Elrohir too. I know not if you have been troubled at
night, but I should have comforted all of you. Instead, I absorbed myself in my
own grief and wept myself to sleep in my loneliness." 

"But you were not alone," Elladan accused with narrowed eyes. "Glorfindel has
been with you every night since you returned."

Elrond did not like the tone of voice Elladan was using. It sounded like he
suspected him and Glorfindel of something that was very untrue. "I might as
well have been alone," he said. "Elladan, I am trying to get through to you,
but I do not know what I can do. You have to tell me."

"Why should I?" Elladan rose angrily to his feet. "Why should I accept this
hand of friendship from you when your guilt about Mother and the nagging words
of Galadriel are all that has brought you here? I am the one who shamed you,
don't you remember? I am not your son! I was bereft of that title long ago, my
Lord." 

The last two words were spat with such vehemence, that Elrond wept with sorrow
before his son. "I am your father, Elladan," he said. "You are my son. That
will never change. I was wrong to say all the things I did, but can I not try
to take it back? I have come to make peace, but I can see you will not accept
my apology. So we will continue to battle, and tear apart Arwen and Elrohir
with our quarrels, just as we did your mother."

"Apology?" Elladan cried, turning to walk away. "I have not heard the word
'sorry'  so much as try to struggle from your lips yet!"

"I am sorry!" Elrond rose to his feet and clasped Elladan by the shoulders. "I
am sorry, my son. I am so sorry. How many times can I say it? A million times
would not be enough. Will you not even look at me?" He forced his gaze into
Elladan's reluctant eyes. "Look at me! Believe me. I am not doing this because
of Galadriel, though she surely talked some sense into me. I am not doing it to
grant your mother's final wish, either. I am not doing this for any reason
other than that I love you." 

"If I give up Elrohir..." Elladan defied him with his stare. "But I will not do
that."

"Then I do not ask you to," Elrond whispered, releasing his hold even as
Elladan shrugged him away. "I do not ask you to."

"Ha! You would bear the shame of incest in your name?!" Elladan crowed. "Valar
save me!"

Elrond shook his head with a small smile. He already bore the shame of incest
in his own name. It made no difference now. "Everyone knows about you and
Elrohir," he said. "There is nothing I can do to change what is done. You are
my son and heir, despite the lover you have chosen, and our people will accept
that. They do not have a choice, lest they disobey their Lord." He reached a
cautious hand to Elladan. "It is a shameful choice, but it is the one you have
chosen, and your choice is true. I will bear that shame, rather than lose my
sons forever. I love you both so much. There is little I can do to make you
believe me, but I speak from my heart. Perhaps I am selfish, yes, I am selfish,
but I cannot lose my children as well as my wife." 

Elladan looked down to the hand extended towards his. "What has made you change
your mind? What did Grandmother say to you?" 

"There is more to the course of fate than what you know, my dear son," Elrond
reached the last inch and grasped his hand. "I was made to see my part in your
tale, and I was made to realise that I cannot change the course of a heart, any
more than you can."

Elladan slowly closed his fingers around his father's hand. "You... you will
permit Elrohir and I to be together?" he questioned, blinking slowly. "You will
allow our... our incest?" He shivered, as though the word pained him. "You will
stand by us in our decision?"

"I will," Elrond promised. "To the world's ending, I will stand by you, for you
are my blood." He stepped forward to embrace Elladan. "So many bridges will
need rebuilding between us, and that will take many years to do, but I am
willing. I want my sons back." 

Elladan stood stiffly in his embrace, not returning it. "I am glad you have
come to this decision," he said flatly, though Elrond could hear tears hidden
in his voice. "I wish to go to Elrohir now. " 

Elrond nodded, taking a step back. He longed to hold them both within his arms
again. Elrohir would forgive him faster than Elladan but certainly not readily.
It would take time, it would take a lot of time, but he could wait. "Then go to
him. Tell him to come to me, when he is ready." Nodding his assent, he watched
Elladan stare at him for a second, before turning swiftly onto his heel and
running back towards the house. "To the world's ending, my sons," he whispered,
his heart feeling both heavier and lighter than it had in years. "I will stand
true to my promise."




~THE END~