Title: One of Us

Author: Ilye (ilye_elf@yahoo.co.uk)

Website: http://www.wozupdoc.net/~talesfromthe

Summary: Set around 2600, Third Age - Celebrían has been in Valinor for 
about a century. For reasons known only to himself and the Valar, Elros 
has been remade and returned to Imladris. Elrond, understandably, is 
overjoyed, both at being reunited with his long-dead twin and at having 
the chance to solve old, unresolved issues. Soon, though, tragedy strikes, 
and as the reasons for Elros' return become apparent Elrond will have to 
make a decision a father and brother should never be forced to make. 

Pairing: Undertones of Elrond/Elros and Elladan/Glorfindel.

Rating: Probably nothing over R, for violence.

Warnings: UST, hints of twincest, some violence later on.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, all for fun, you know the score.

Notes: This idea was initiated whilst talking to Morgana about ideas for 
her own fic, "Second Chances" (which can be read at 
http://www.avalon.cobweb.nl/elros.html"). The first parts of these two 
have been posted at the same time, since they start in a similar manner, 
but please don't expect me to keep up with her posting rate!

Big, big thanks to Maybe for beta'ing :-D


Part I


The rain lashed down and the wind howled through the valley. Outside 
was black as Mordor until a bolt of lightning would cleave it in twain. The 
river ran perilously high from the deluge, the feeding waters cascading 
down the sheer sides of the vale and thundering onto the city below. No 
one in their right mind would have been outside tonight.

The room in which the lone figure stood was as dark as the night outside. 
Water dripped from his cloak onto the floor; ran over the edge of his hood, 
pulled low to conceal his face. He knew the bone-deep chill of a good 
soaking in a winter's storm such as this - cold was a familiar acquaintance 
of his. This was the first time in many, many years that he had not felt it. 

Footsteps outside made him straighten as he stood staring out of the 
window, made him listen with intent to catch any snippets of 
conversation. One voice was unknown to him, but the other he knew as 
well as he did his own. His heart pounded in his chest as the footsteps and 
voices grew closer; he was certain that the pair outside would hear it as 
the door handle finally began to turn. Physically unable with apprehension 
to turn and face the door, he held his breath and waited.

"I have already had this discussion with Glorfindel, Erestor, and as I have 
said to..." Elrond halted mid-sentence as he entered his study, frowning as 
the light from the corridor illuminated the room and silhouetted the figure 
at the window. "Who are you?" he asked sharply, "And what are you 
doing in my study?"

The intruder turned slowly around. He knew that, from their position, 
Elrond and Erestor would be unable to see much except the vague outline 
of his body, for the darkness of the room and the shadows of the hood 
completely hid his face.

"I was told that this would be the best place to find you," he replied 
smoothly. Erestor frowned at hearing his voice and Elrond's posture 
stiffened regally.

"What is your business with me?" continued the Elven-lord. "I confess 
that I prefer for guests to Imladris to be formally announced, rather than 
happening upon them skulking in my study."

There was a smile in the intruder's voice. "I felt that, given the 
circumstances, you would prefer to meet me alone."

Elrond's brow furrowed even deeper. "Who //are// you?" he pressed, 
taking a step forwards. "Erestor, light a candle..."

At that moment lightning flashed outside again, just as the unknown 
figure lifted his chin. The features beneath the hood were lit for a split 
second before being plunged into shadow again, and Elrond's eyes 
widened in confusion. "Erestor!"

"Coming, my lord!" replied the advisor, striking a match to light a candle 
which he then carried back over to Elrond. The half-Elf took it from him 
and held it up.

"Lower your hood." His tone of voice left no room for disobedience. 
Slowly, the figure raised one hand - it was shaking, he noticed - and 
pushed the hood away from his face. The hand fell limply back to the 
owner's side, but other than that everything inside the study was still, 
silent.

Elrond was agape, simply staring at what stood before him. The features 
were identical to his own: the jut of cheekbones, the curve of the jaw, the 
dark arch of an eyebrow; and those depthless grey eyes that twinkled in 
the candlelight. Dark hair, black with the water that drenched it, stuck to 
the pale face in wet, wispy tendrils. A long, elegant hand was raised to 
swipe it away, and then suddenly the moment was broken.

"Sweet Elbereth," murmured Elrond, staggering sideways slightly. Erestor 
laid a steadying hand on his shoulder, though he himself was no better off. 
"It cannot be..."

"It is, Elrond, believe me. It is," replied the other, and suddenly Erestor 
realised that voice to be almost identical to Elrond's. The accent may have 
been slightly different, but the sound and tone were exactly the same. If 
Erestor had not known better, he would have said that he was staring at 
Elrond's twin brother.

Elrond felt his advisor's hand tighten on his shoulder. "But what... You..." 
he stammered.

"I am dead," said Elros plainly. Elrond nodded, dumbstruck. "Or rather, I 
was dead. Clearly I am not any longer." Elrond nodded again, causing 
Elros to incline his head and take a step forwards. "My dear brother," he 
murmured, stretching out a hand to his twin's face. "I realised what a 
shock this must be for you, but I can assure you that I am real and that all 
will be explained in good time."

Elrond allowed the tentative touch to his face, though he did not move - he 
was unable to take his eyes from this mirror image before him. Elros 
offered him a smile of reassurance, before reaching out and taking his 
twin into his arms. Elrond stiffened for a moment, but then something 
connected between them and he allowed himself to sink into the embrace. 
This really //was// Elros. He could sense it. This was the person with 
whom he shared a fëa-deep connection, a bond that ran deeper than blood. 
Something inside him had snapped when Elros had died - he had felt it 
and had instantly known.

The grief had been almost unbearable; that grief, that guilt, that pain, had 
almost torn him apart. It had dulled over the years, but never really faded. 
It had always been present - until now. Now, though, Elrond felt 
something suddenly click again, just as that same something had snapped 
so many centuries ago. This was his brother, this was his twin: he knew 
this now, as he had known that Elros was gone. The surrealism of the 
situation gave way to overjoyed shock as he clutched at the body next to 
his, warm, solid and breathing, and unmistakeably alive. He buried his 
face in the sodden tresses of his brother, eyes squeezed closed against 
tears that threatened to spill over. He did not notice, let alone care that he 
was dampening his own robes.

"I don't understand," he whispered as he held tight to his twin. "How can 
this be? I don't understand..."

"I am remade - but all in good time, Elrond, all in good time," Elros 
repeated, catching Erestor's eye over Elrond's shoulder. A meaningful 
glance was exchanged between them, and silently the advisor took his 
leave. If Elrond noticed, he did not show it. Instead he took a deep lungful 
of air and released it slowly, before at last straightening and looking into 
his brother's face.

"It really is you," he muttered to himself. One trembling hand came up to 
Elros' face, the fingertips gently tracing the contours of those oh, so 
familiar features. Elros stood still for the scrutiny as the fingers wandered 
over his brow, down his cheeks, over his lips and chin; his grey eyes were 
fixed on Elrond's face as his brother's flicked all over him, drinking in the 
sight of this figure, believed lost forever. When Elrond's hand finally 
paused, however, resting on the side of his face, Elros brought his own 
hand up to cover his brother's and smiled at him again.

"Come, gwanunig-nîn, we have much to talk about," he said. "Shall we go 
elsewhere, or do you intend to leave me here dripping on your study floor 
all night?"

Elrond, whose face had been stilled in wonderment, simply absorbing 
every motion and word of his brother's, now sprang into action. "Of 
course, of course!" he exclaimed, shaking his head as though to clear it. "I 
forget myself; you must be hungry, thirsty, from your journey - oh, and 
you are soaked through! Come with me and I shall draw you a hot bath."

Elros gave his brother a gentle smile and linked their arms together as they 
turned towards the door. "That would be most appreciated, brother," he 
said, aware that the fatigue he was starting to feel had crept into his voice. 
"We have much to talk about."

~~~

Elros lazily lifted his head from the side of the bathtub as Elrond entered 
the bathroom, carrying a tray of food and drink. "Mmm, wonderful," he 
sighed, reaching to touch Elrond's hand in thanks as his brother set the 
tray on the floor next to the sunken tub. Elrond returned his smile and 
stood, making as though to return into the bedroom, but another touch of 
Elros' hand halted him.

"Will you not stay, Elrond?" Elros asked softly. "I was hoping we could 
talk now... unless this situation still makes you uncomfortable, of course."

Elrond turned and smiled again, this time slightly falsely - or was that 
Elros' imagination? 

"No, no, not at all!" he insisted. "Not with everything I want to ask you! I 
was merely going to remove my robe; it's hot in here."

Elros nodded and set to perusing the tray of food whilst his brother 
changed. Everything looked absolutely delicious, so much so that after all 
these centuries of being unable to eat he had no idea of where to begin. 
Eventually, though, he started by selecting a silver goblet of red wine.

Warm sweetness spread over his tongue, down his throat and permeated 
his very being at the initial mouthful. Elros suspected that the first taste of 
//anything// after being unmade for so long would have tasted amazing, 
but this, his very favourite...

A soft chuckle broke through the darkness, making Elros realise that he 
had closed his eyes. "You remembered," he said as he opened them, well 
aware that he had a large grin plastered across his face. Elrond laughed 
again as he approached the pool in the floor of the bathroom.

"Hot wine?" he said, settling down cross-legged at the side of the pool. "It 
was always your favourite; how could I forget?"

"With cinnamon and cloves, too," Elros practically purred, closing his 
eyes again to savour a second sip.

Leaning back on his elbows, Elrond inclined his head as he dotingly 
watched his twin. This really was the most surreal experience, seeing 
Elros alive and well in Elrond's very chambers. The other Peredhel oozed 
vivacity, just as he had done in his youth. It was hard to imagine that the 
last time Elrond had seen his brother, Elros had been grey-haired, his skin 
wrinkled and folded as that of Men was wont to do, and his strength 
slowly seeping from him, like his life. It had been agonising for Elrond to 
watch the fingers of time slowly coax his twin to his death, knowing all 
the while that he had been responsible for it.

And yet with Elros sitting here before him, Elrond found it difficult again 
to imagine that the previous image of his twin had ever existed. Slender, 
graceful and serene amidst the hot, scented waters, Elros could just have 
easily have been there since the day both twins were born. The gentle rise 
and fall of his slim but powerful chest, the contented expression on his 
ageless face as he sipped his spiced wine, the glow of his skin in the 
candlelit bathroom: all spoke of the bright Elven eternal flame that was a 
fëa. It was obvious to the trained eye.

The soft sound of water splashes was swiftly followed by warm droplets 
on his face. Elrond started from his musings and turned his head 
indignantly towards his brother; Elros was not quite hiding a smirk behind 
his goblet, his grey eyes glinting.

"You still brood, I see," he remarked. Elrond did not even bother to raise a 
mock-disdainful eyebrow, but merely smiled to himself.

"You can't break the tricks of this old dog," he said. Elros fondly flicked 
another few droplets of water at him before reaching over to the tray and 
helping himself to a slice of meat and two of bread.

"So tell me, what is on your mind?" the elder twin continued, pausing to 
take a bite of the sandwich. "Ai, I had forgotten that anything could taste 
so good!"

Elrond shook his head at the forward question. Elros had always been the 
more outgoing, the more impulsive of the two of them, and that did not 
seem to have changed. "I was just thinking how unbelievable it was to 
have you right before me," he said pensively. "You were //dead//, Elros, I 
felt it. Please, explain this to me, because I confess I still do not 
understand."

Elros shifted slightly so that he was facing more toward Elrond. "Ilúvatar 
remade me," he said simply, his grey eyes now fixed on his twin's.

"But how? Why? In what form - are you still mortal?" Half a hundred 
questions were upon Elrond's lips at once, all vying for an answer. He 
knew he would have difficulty preventing them from all tumbling out at 
once.

"I know not how, or whether I am mortal - I suspect my spirit is Elven 
now." Elros shrugged. "And why? I cannot say either, though we will find 
out sooner or later."

It vaguely occurred to Elrond that Elros sounded as though he did know 
the reason for his return, but by this point the next question in line had 
already found his tongue. "Have you any memories of that time? Surely 
you would be allowed a say in the matter of your rebirth, if Elven 
reincarnation is any indication?"

"I confess, I know not that either," replied Elros, shifting again, though 
this time more in discomfort. "Whether Ilúvatar chose not to restore my 
memories of it - if, indeed, I had any memories - is known to him alone. 
After all, not even the Valar know the destination of Men's souls after 
death; I do not see why I should be exempt from that, remade or not."

Elrond nodded; it was a fair, if obvious point. Usually his questions would 
be more subtle, but for once his excitement was getting the better of him. 
"So there is nothing between your death and rebirth..." he mused aloud.

"Nothing," said Elros with a gentle smile, "That you need to hear about." 
He laid a hand on Elrond's arm, the wetness of his palm warm on the 
other's dry skin. "I think we should just accept that, for now, I have been 
remade."

Elrond was practically beaming. "I can do that!" came the happy 
admission. Elros laughed quietly.

"I should hope so!" he shot jokingly back. "But enough about me - it has 
been over five millennia, Elrond! What about you?"

Elrond leaned back on his elbows and stretched out his legs, trailing his 
bare feet in the bathwater. "Aiya, where do I start?" he sighed.

"The four hundred and forty-second year of the Second Age might be a 
good place," interjected Elros, looking up from where Elrond's toes were 
carving meaningless statues in the foam bubbles. Elrond glanced up 
sharply before catching himself, forcing his expression to soften; 
nonetheless Elros instantly apologised, realising he had touched a nerve.

"Much has happened Elros - do not apologise. You were not to know." He 
fell quiet for a moment, until Elros lightly touched the sole of his foot with 
his fingertips.

"Tell me about Imladris, then," the elder twin eventually prompted. "What 
a magnificent place to be lord of!"

"Aye, she is beautiful," Elrond agreed, warming to the conversation again. 
"The people afforded much effort in her making - they made her their 
home."

"They were homeless?"

"Refugees from Eregion - but this is no topic to be discussing now," 
Elrond answered, quickly changing the subject.

"No, indeed; let us save war and destruction for another day," agreed Elros 
somewhat more soberly. "Tell me about //you//, Elrond - have you 
married? Have you a family?"

"I married, though fate took my wife from me," Elrond said with a wistful 
frown. "Celebrían was wounded on her way to visit her kin in Lothlórien 
and never recovered - she awaits me in Valinor."

"Oh, brother," sighed Elros. He had moved so that he was sitting cross-
legged in the tub facing Elrond, arms folded over the younger twin's shins 
and chin resting atop them. Neither Peredhel took any notice of the fact 
that this was soaking Elrond's leggings. "I sense that fate has not been 
kind to you."

"It is not so bad," protested Elrond gently as he looked fondly down at his 
twin. "I know that it was the best thing for her, for she would have faded 
had she remained here. And she did leave me three beautiful children." A 
slow smile touched his lips at the thought, mirrored in Elros'.

"Children, how wonderful!" he enthused. "Here in Imladris?"

"Yes, though all three are fully grown - I shall introduce you tomorrow. 
There is my daughter, Arwen, and the twins." Elrond paused to chuckle at 
Elros' delighted expression. "I thought that might please you! I have twin 
sons and heirs, Elladan and Elrohir. They have admittedly been a little... 
wild since Celebrían's departure, but they have good hearts. All three are 
very dear to me."

"I look forward to meeting them," said Elros before releasing an enormous 
yawn. "Ai, but I think I need some sleep first - I am barely in a fit state to 
greet Lórien at present!"

Elrond grinned as he got to his feet, reaching for a towel. "I daresay 
everyone is either abed or with their lovers, anyway," he added, handing 
the towel to Elros when he had risen from the bathtub.

"They have taken lovers?" asked Elros in mild surprise, mopping the 
water from his torso before knotting the towel around his waist.

"Elladan has," Elrond corrected. "An Elf called Glorfindel - yes, that one! 
Do not look so shocked!"

"Well, I must confess I was not expecting you to be housing dead heroes," 
Elros remarked. He slung a second towel that he had used to dry his hair 
in the general direction of the laundry basket, and yawned again.

"Trust me, Glorfindel is far from dead - but enough chatter for tonight, 
you look exhausted!" Elrond decided to take matters into his own hands 
and ushered his twin through to the bedroom. "All the more desperate 
questions have been answered and the rest can wait until morning. To 
bed!"

"But you cannot leave me hanging like that - there is so much more you 
haven't told me!" Elros objected. Elrond rolled his eyes and pushed his 
brother down to sit on the bed.

"Still pulling the petulant child act, Elros?"

"It suits me, don't you think?"

Elrond snorted with laughter and turned from the chest he was rummaging 
through. "I shall quote you on that!" he declared, and flung the spare 
sleeping robe at his brother. "Now put that on and get into bed."

"I am sleeping in here?"

"It is easier and makes more sense, and -- oh. You are not comfortable 
with that..."

"No, Elrond, no," Elros insisted. "I am perfectly comfortable with that, I 
was merely asking." Elrond did not look particularly convinced, so Elros 
stood up again and walked over to his brother. "This is clearly something 
else we need to discuss," he said seriously. Elrond looked at him, their 
identical grey eyes locking for an instant just like they always used to. 

"I don't know what to do about this," he said simply at length. He did not 
resist when Elros pulled him into another tight embrace, even though his 
brother was still dressed in nothing but a towel.

"Take it for now that this does not bother me," said Elros after a moment. 
He was still holding Elrond tightly against him, though he now leaned his 
head back to meet Elrond's eyes once again. "And come to bed."

Notes:
The fëa is the Elven spirit.
Gwanunig-nîn - my twin.
Lórien as he is referred to here is the Vala, or Dreamkeeper, rather than 
Lothlórien!




Part II

Elrond awoke shortly after it had grown light outside, though the morning 
was dull and the sun shrouded in thick grey cloud. He was instantly aware 
that he was alone in the large bed, where the night before he and Elros had 
fallen asleep with their shoulders touching and arms slung across each 
other. Sitting up with a start, he frantically surveyed the room, dread 
sinking into the pit of his stomach.

"Fear not, I haven't evaporated in the middle of the night!" A cheery voice 
reached him from the bathroom, shortly followed by Elros himself. "I 
hope you'll forgive me, but five thousand years is a rather long time to go 
without using the privy!"

A relieved chuckle left Elrond's lips and he sank back down into the 
mattress. "I'm paranoid," he freely admitted.

"Not unnecessarily, I'll warrant," Elros replied, leaning against the 
doorframe at the bathroom threshold.

Elrond inclined his head thoughtfully. "No, perhaps not," he said vaguely 
after a moment, then changed the subject. "How did you sleep?"

"Oh, not too badly - except you kept stealing the covers all night!"

"I did not!" exclaimed Elrond, sitting up again in indignation. 

Elros quirked an eyebrow. "You are wrapped up in them at this very 
moment, brother - you cannot deny this," he reasoned. "Besides, you 
always used to do it! This is no new development!"

Knowing he was beaten, Elrond said nothing but merely poked his tongue 
out childishly at his twin. 

"Oh, act your age!" chided Elros with a heaven-wards roll of his eyes, 
before unexpectedly launching himself away from his support of the 
doorframe and bounding towards the bed. Elrond cringed and twisted 
away when the elder twin then jumped up onto the mattress, but soon 
looked up in amazement when Elros began to //bounce// on the bed.

"//Me// act my age? That is rich, Elros!"

Elros grinned, and with his next bounce tucked his legs beneath him so 
that he landed in a sitting position in the middle of the bed. "I'm barely a 
day old, Elrond - I //am// acting my age!"

"By the Valar," muttered Elrond with a joking, indulgent roll of his eyes. 
"You haven't changed!"

"Oh, I have changed," Elros replied instantly. "I have just changed back 
again - in most respects, anyway."

Elrond looked at his brother sharply, trying to read that which remained 
unsaid. Elros briefly met Elrond's eyes, but the moment was broken when 
he blinked and grinned again, though his posture straightened almost 
imperceptibly. 

"Either way, I'm hungry!" he announced. "Any chance of some 
breakfast?"

"Of course - I was just thinking the same thing," Elrond replied. The truth 
was that he had been thinking nothing of the sort, but he had long ago 
learned to push the topic of his occupation to the back of his mind. 
Another hour or so would make little difference.

"I hope you don't mind eating in here," he continued as he rose from the 
bed to collect a dressing gown from the wardrobe. "It might save the 
nerves of some of our residents, rather than have them seeing the pair of 
us appear as they wake up over breakfast!"

Elros pulled a face. "You're no fun," came the pouted complaint. Elrond 
cuffed him gently around the ear on his way to the door.

"You're going to be causing more than enough trouble in my nice, 
peaceful house as it is, thank you very much. I don't need you scaring half 
of them to death over their toast!"

Elros pretended to sulk as he watched Elrond open the door and summon a 
maid from down the corridor. "I can behave when I want to," he huffed as 
he rubbed his ear. Elrond ignored him, instead continuing to instruct the 
maid about his preferences for breakfast. The girl, however, chanced to 
glance over her lord's shoulder, and Elros marked the exact moment when 
she noticed him sitting on Elrond's bed, for her green eyes widened before 
darting to Elrond and back to Elros. The elder twin offered her a cheeky 
grin and waved, at which she swallowed hard, nodded vigorously at 
Elrond's requests, then scurried off down the corridor.

Elrond pivoted slowly on his heel, turning to face Elros with an arched 
eyebrow. "You can behave?" he murmured incredulously. "Prove it." 

"Oh, come on, Elrond," Elros pleaded, overacting yet again with the pout. 
"You have to admit that was rather amusing."

Elrond shook his head, though more in mock despair than anything else. 
"The poor girl!" he sighed, but this time he was unable to prevent a smile 
from lifting the corners of his lips. A soft chuckle from Elros was enough 
to educe the same from him, soon evolving into peals of laughter. Making 
his way over to the bed, Elrond was unsure at what he was still laughing - 
but he had not laughed properly in so long, he did not really care.

"You're going to be trouble," he sighed at last as he sat down on the 
mattress.  

Elros scooted over to sit beside him. "Ah, but I can solve trouble as well 
as create it," he said. Elrond tilted his head to regard his twin somewhat 
dubiously.

"When I see it, I'll believe it," he said with a gentle smile to lessen the 
sting of the words. 

Elros smirked back, but as he moved to meet Elrond halfway in a tight, 
brotherly embrace, the smirk faded and was replaced by a look of disquiet. 
"You might just have to, brother," he muttered, but Elrond did not hear.

~~~

Elros was already washed and dressed in borrowed robes and Elrond was 
in the bathroom washing when a knock came at the door. Elrond had told 
his brother that breakfast would not be long, so Elros turned away from 
the window where he had been surveying the rain-dampened valley in 
order to answer the door. He walked over to the door and opened it, 
expecting to find a maid carrying a tray of food, but instead was greeted 
by a dark-haired Elf-maiden with bright, grey eyes and perhaps the 
loveliest face he had ever seen. The light of the stars was within her and 
her bearing noble and fair; struck by her radiance, Elros could offer little 
more than a half-smile in greeting.

"Good morning, Ada," she chirruped, her voice just as lovely as the rest of 
her. Elros was hard pushed to keep himself from gaping as she embraced 
him, though he did manage to weakly return the gesture.

"Arwen," he guessed when she released him at last, now giving a wider, 
more genuine smile. "Come in."

He stepped aside so his niece could enter and closed the door. He was 
again taken by surprise to see that Arwen had moved towards the unmade 
bed and was in the process of tidying up the linens.

"Honestly, Ada," she tsked, glancing up at Elros through long, dark lashes, 
"Look at the state of your chambers! You cannot let the maids see this; 
they will think you had a visitor last night!"

Elros laughed feebly and shrugged. He was about to say something 
useless and ineffectual, however - he could not very well explain to the 
girl that he was not her father - when a loud thud came from the bathroom, 
shortly followed by the sound of water being poured away. Arwen looked 
up sharply.

"Who is that in the bathroom?" she asked warily, giving a suspicious 
glance towards the door. With some want of originality, Elros shrugged 
again and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Arwen raised an 
eyebrow. "You did have a visitor last night, didn't you?"

Elros opened his mouth, though nothing came out - fortunately he was 
saved from answering any further questions alone, however, for at that 
moment Elrond opened the door and emerged from the bathroom.

"I assume all that noise was our breakf--" he began, only to be cut off by a 
loud shriek from Arwen. Elrond jumped and whirled around, a hand 
pressed to his chest, whilst his daughter stumbled backwards with her 
palm clasped over her mouth.

"Arwen! Sweetheart, you scared me!" he exclaimed with a soft chuckle of 
relief. He took a step towards her, but she scrambled backwards again, 
eyes wide and chest heaving.

"What is going on here?" she gasped, eyes dancing wildly from twin to 
twin. Elrond looked over his shoulder to where Elros was standing 
sheepishly by the bed and silently chastised himself; he had already grown 
so used to having Elros around again!

"Ah - I see you have already met your uncle, " he said at last, totally 
unprepared for explaining Elros' appearance in this way. Arwen's eyes 
narrowed.

"What on Arda are you talking about?"

"This is Elros, darling," Elrond explained gently as he beckoned the other 
Peredhel to his side. "My twin brother."

"Your twin brother who died five-and-a-half thousand years ago?" There 
was palpable scepticism in Arwen's voice, and Elros could not blame her.

"The very same," he replied, deciding to help his brother out a little. 
"Forgive me for frightening you, my lady, but I thought you were bringing 
our breakfast."

"Somebody needs to explain something to me," Arwen sighed, passing a 
hand across her face. Elrond and Elros both nodded simultaneously, 
causing them to smirk at each other.

"Ilúvatar has remade me," Elros began. "I arrived in Imladris last night." 
He held up a hand as Arwen opened her mouth to interrupt. "Don't ask, I 
cannot tell you. For now it is something we must simply accept."

Arwen nodded slowly. "Very well," she murmured, "If that is what I must 
do..."

"You 'mustn't' do anything," said Elrond, slipping a calming arm around 
his daughter's shoulders.

"It would be nice, though!" remarked Elros, now allowing himself a 
somewhat cocky grin. 

Elrond rolled his eyes. "First things first: Elros is trouble!" he warned his 
daughter gravely. Arwen giggled softly at Elros' comically wounded 
expression.

"Just because I act the fool on occasion doesn't mean I am one," he sniffed 
mournfully. 

"I am sure it doesn't," smiled Arwen. She pressed a kiss to her father's 
cheek before talking a step forwards so that she was now standing in front 
of Elros. "Pleased to meet you, uncle."

Elrond watched, his heart swelling with pride, as his brother took Arwen's 
hand and raised it to his lips. The kiss Elros placed on the back of it was 
reverent, matching the awed expression in his eyes, and soon a grin broke 
out on his face as Arwen then pulled him into an embrace. Elrond could 
tell that Elros was going to love Arwen almost as much as he did.

At that moment there was another knock on the door. Arwen and Elros 
broke apart as Elrond moved to answer it, both watching to check that he 
was sufficiently occupied with the maid before chancing a few soft words.

"You have done him much good already," whispered Arwen softly to her 
uncle. "A little of the light in his eyes has already been rekindled."

Elros gave her a gentle - if wistful - smile. "There is much history between 
us, and I gather he has suffered great loss in his life," he replied 
thoughtfully. "I will do all I can to ease the pain of that."

"That would make me eternally grateful," said Arwen, giving his shoulder 
a squeeze. "If anyone deserves to be happy, 'tis him."

That remark felt like a stinging blow to Elros, but he hid it admirably well 
and merely forced another smile. The sound of the door shutting made 
them both look up, their soft conversation broken, to see Elrond carrying a 
large tray of food.

"You had better be staying for breakfast, Arwen," he said as he made his 
way over to the table. "I think the cooks thought my guest and I were 
starving!"

"Speak for yourself!" Elros exclaimed, swiftly joining his brother and 
using the opportunity to re-bury all traces of discomfort after Arwen's 
words.

"And another thing: he is always hungry!" jested Elrond. Elros quirked an 
eyebrow at him as he popped a slice of apple into his mouth, and Arwen 
laughed.

"Ai, you are so like Elladan! Of course I will stay - apart from anything 
else I have so much to ask!"

Elros, who was just settling into a chair, eyed her guardedly.  "I am 
beginning to think that the next few days are going to be one long 
inquisition," he sighed, though there was a hint of mirth in his voice.

"In that case I shall have to put up a notice instead," remarked Elrond 
dryly and handed him a cup of tea. Elros pulled a face at him, which sent 
Arwen into a fit of giggles.

"So when can I meet your boys?" Elros asked when she had quieted, in 
which time he had succeeded in drinking a large amount of his tea.

"That will be closer to lunchtime," replied Elrond. "They have ridden out 
with the dawn patrol, as they do every morning. Imladris' borders have 
been threatened by Orcs in recent years, but Glorfindel does a good job of 
captaining the guards."

"One would hope a Balrog slayer might!" Elros took another sip of his tea 
and settled back into his chair. "So tell me of this hero, I am most 
intrigued..."



Part III

Elladan wiped the grime from his forehead as he entered the armoury, 
Glorfindel before him and Elrohir behind. The patrol had been uneventful 
save the storm, which still raged from the night before and had left all 
guards thoroughly soaked and chilled.

"There has been no trace of Orcs for three weeks now," remarked Elrohir 
as he set aside his sword and sat to remove his boots. "That cannot be a 
good sign."

"The rain may have washed any tracks away," replied Glorfindel, already 
bootless and wringing out his golden hair. "But I agree - the calm before 
the storm, perhaps?"

Elladan snickered beside him. "The calm before said storm has come too 
late, I fear," he remarked. Glorfindel rolled his eyes at his lover.

"Remind me to stop using analogies in your presence," he groaned. 

Elladan's mithril eyes glinted as he stood and laid a hand on the shoulder 
of the blond. "You lay yourself open to it," came the good-natured jibe, 
"And you know I cannot resist."

Glorfindel eyed him in amusement, then raised an eyebrow as Elladan 
pecked a teasing kiss to his cheek before walking off. As Glorfindel also 
turned, Elrohir approached from behind and laid an arm companionably 
across his shoulders.

"Just think," he consoled, though his eyes were also glinting, "We could 
have been triplets."

"So you keep telling me," Glorfindel replied as they followed Elladan 
away from the armoury and into the house. "But I think this is one of 
those situations where, after a certain level, it ceases to worsen - like 
putting too much sugar in a cup of tea."

"Analogies, analogies!" warned Elladan without missing a beat. 
"Comparing me to sugar, indeed - I'll teach you!"

Glorfindel grinned. "Oh, I don't know, you have quite a sweet side to you. 
What about that time you covered my room with rose petals and scented 
candles for my begetting day?"

Elladan's steps faltered and he spun around, face flushed with 
mortification. "That was a one-off!" he hissed, throwing a wild glare at a 
snickering Elrohir and the other soldiers not far behind.

"I thought you did it because you loved me," sniffed Glorfindel, 
pretending to look hurt and doing a remarkable job of it. "And I so 
enjoyed those satin sheets, too - where did you get those?"

Elladan's eyes widened further and he turned around again, keeping his 
eyes fixed to the floor in embarrassment whilst Elrohir enjoyed a hearty 
laugh at his expense. Fortunately, however, he was saved any further 
embarrassment by one of the pages who stopped them in the corridor.

"Begging your pardon, my lords Elladan, Elrohir," he began, "But I have a 
message from lord Elrond. He wishes for your presence in his office as 
soon as it is convenient."

Elladan straightened his composure with a weary sigh. "That means 
'now'," he groaned. "Adar does have a way with timing, it has to be said."

"Nay, my lord," the page answered, clearly not sure to which twin he was 
speaking. "He specifically instructed that you were to bathe and change 
your clothes, for he did not want you to appear before his guest in the... 
condition you are currently in."

"Oh, he has a guest?" Elladan's interest was piqued. "No ambassador, I 
daresay, for I have seen none of the required pomp and ceremony that 
usually announces their arrival. Come then, brother, I am intrigued; let's 
bathe so we can meet this mysterious stranger."

"Does Lord Elrond wish for my report on the patrol, then?" asked 
Glorfindel of the page as the twins set off towards the baths.

"I believe he said that, provided it was uneventful, you could forego 
today's report for the time being," the page replied. "But you are next in 
line to meet this mystery guest, following the Lords Elladan and Elrohir, 
so be prepared."

Glorfindel grinned at the page and clasped his shoulder. "Any idea who 
this guest may be?" he asked, leaning in closer in the hope of gaining 
information. The page smiled apologetically.

"I am afraid not, my lord, I was not privy to that information."

"Ah, well," Glorfindel shrugged, "I shall find out sooner or later!" Still 
grinning, he squeezed the page's shoulder and then set off in the twins' 
wake, intending to join them in the baths before their meeting.

~~~

"I fail to see how you can wear those robes out of choice," Elladan 
declared. Elrohir rolled his eyes and batted away his twin's hand as 
Elladan tried to tug disdainfully at the heavy brocade.

"They're not //that// uncomfortable," he replied as he opened the door to 
the antechamber of their father's study. "Perhaps you would feel less out-
of-place in them on special occasions if you wore them more often."

Elladan made a noise of scepticism as they moved inside the antechamber, 
to see their father perched on the front edge of the windowsill.

Mildly surprised by the strange position Elrond was occupying, Elrohir 
raised an eyebrow. "You asked to see us, Ada?"

"Aye, the page said you had a guest," added Elladan with a curious glance 
around the room. 

Elrond inclined his head as he rose to his feet. "I do indeed have a guest - 
he is waiting in the study," he said, leading his sons to the far side of the 
antechamber. "I trust the patrol was uneventful?"

"Indeed, no trace of an Orc to be seen," Elrohir replied. "But come, I am 
intrigued; who are you hiding in your office?"

"Patience, my son, and I shall introduce you." There was a faint smirk on 
Elrond's face as he opened the door, one arm laid across Elrohir's 
shoulders. Both entered the room at the same time, tailed by Elladan, to 
see a tall, dark-haired figure with his back to them, looking out of the 
window. He turned just as Elrond introduced him.

"Gwenyn, this is Elros."

Elladan and Elrohir both seemed frozen to the spot, identical expressions 
of disbelief on their faces.

"Elros," said Elladan after a moment, in which time Elrond had moved to 
stand next to his twin. "Your dead twin, Elros."

"Well he's quite obviously //not// dead," Elrohir murmured back to him, 
his voice kept low so the elder set of twins could not hear. "What do you 
make of this, brother?"

"I know not," whispered back Elladan. "'Tis impossible, yet he looks 
exactly like Ada."

Elrohir gave him an exasperated look and swiped at his shoulder. "That is 
because they are twins, idiot - you should be used to the idea by now, or 
do you still wonder why I look exactly like you?"

"You know what I mean," glowered Elladan with a roll of his eyes, then 
turned his full attention to Elrond and Elros. Elros smiled hopefully, 
having started to feel a little uncomfortable beneath the stony gazes and 
hushed words. Elrond had cautioned him that his sons might seem a little 
hostile at first, but swiftly reassured his twin that they would soon settle.

"So what //is// this?" Elladan's question was aimed at Elros, but Elrond 
caught the hint of warning in his voice and answered instead.

"For reasons we don't know, Ilúvatar has remade Elros," Elrond stated 
plainly, a hint of admonition in his own voice. He knew that Elladan had 
developed quite a temper of late. "It's as simple as it is clear he is standing 
before you, Elladan --"

"Of course you must know why you have been returned!" cut in Elladan, 
again speaking directly to Elros. " Elven fëar make the choice whether to 
be reincarnated; surely Ilúvatar must have spoken to you about it!"

Elros' voice was soft but sure. "Perhaps Ilúvatar did speak to me and 
perhaps I did make the choice to be remade - but I can remember almost 
nothing of that time, so it is beyond my power to enlighten you."

"Elves remember!" Elladan spoke loudly, ignoring the eyebrow that his 
father raised in warning. Elrohir had said nothing yet, but the elder twin 
was certain that his quieter brother felt the same as him. "Glorfindel most 
certainly remembers, be the memories pleasant or not. It cannot be that 
different for mortals!" 

"When was the last time you encountered a reincarnated mortal, Elladan?" 
replied Elros, still quiet and composed. He had always been known as the 
louder, more extroverted twin, but he certainly knew how to be calm when 
the situation demanded it. "I have already told your father not even 
Manwë knows what happens to the souls of Men after they die. Why 
should I be the exception?"

"You already are the exception." Now Elladan's voice had suddenly 
dropped in pitch and volume, and there was a strange, almost feral sound 
to it that instantly set Elros on his guard. "There must be a strong reason 
for your return and you know it - you know more than you are letting on. 
Why should Ilúvatar remake you, when he did not see fit to heal our 
mother?"

Everything clicked into place with that last sentence. Elros suddenly saw 
the real reason behind his nephews' hostile behaviour, and Elrond silently 
berated himself for not foreseeing the issue.

"Elros has already told you that he does not remember, Gweniaur," he 
cautioned his son. "This is not his fault."

"He chose to be mortal, Adar," Elladan replied, unfazed by the reprimand. 
"Nana hardly had a say in what happened to her, did she?"

"Elladan, that is enough!" Elrond said firmly. "I think an apology is in 
order."

But Elladan said nothing - instead he simply raised an eyebrow with a 
scornful expression before he turned on his heel and walked out of the 
study. Elrohir cast Elrond and Elros a swift backward glance and made to 
follow his brother, but a softly growled warning from his father halted him 
in his steps.

"Let him go," Elrond instructed, moving to follow Elladan instead. "You 
will stay here."

Elros, however, laid a hand on his twin's shoulder to stop him. "I will find 
him," he said with a meaningful look into Elrond's eyes. "It is me with 
whom he has the problem, so it is me with whom he shall deal." He had 
left before Elrond had chance to object.

Elrohir remained silent and watched as his father turned away, ran his 
hands over his face in frustration, then took a perched seat on the edge of 
his desk as he did when tense or anxious. Elrond glanced up at his 
younger son, regarded him as though in examination for a moment, and 
then said: "So what is your opinion on the matter, then?"

Mithril met steel as Elrohir caught and held his father's eye. "Elladan 
makes a fair point," he said seriously. "Perhaps he made it a little harshly, 
but I understand his point of view - mine is not dissimilar."

Elrond heaved a sigh. "I should have foreseen this... It's not Elros' fault!"

"Elladan did not say that, Adar," replied Elrohir. His voice was level and 
relatively quiet, but Elrond knew his younger son well enough to tell that 
there was a good deal of barely-checked emotion just beneath the surface.

"He did not need to," he all but snapped. "It was more than implied."

"What was implied," began Elrohir, voice strained, "Was that Elros chose 
to give up the option of eternal life and the possibility of rebirth, but 
seems to have achieved that anyway. Nana, on the other hand, enjoyed 
every single thing on offer here and wouldn't have given it up for a 
Silmaril. And what happened? It was cruelly ripped away from her and 
she's forced to cling to existence in Valinor." He paused to weight his 
words. "Hardly fair, Adar, is it?"

Elrond pushed abruptly away from the table and began to pace across the 
flags. Startled, Elrohir stood up straighter, but said nothing knowing that 
soon his father would settle behind his desk. This Elrond did after a 
moment or two, taking a seat in his high-backed chair and pinching the 
bridge of his nose.

"Very little in this life is fair, Elrohir, or so it seems to me." Elrond spoke 
heavily after another moment of taut silence, stretched so thin that it was 
almost certain to snap. "I have seen - indeed, I have experienced - some of 
the worst injustices you could imagine. I know not the workings of the 
Valar, or why they have chosen this path for any of us. I also agree that 
perhaps your Naneth deserved their attention more than Elros; either way, 
there is nothing we can do to change this now, so we shall have to live 
with it. And I, for one, am very glad to have Elros back, even if it proves 
to be only for a short while."

Elrohir's mood had warmed a little at his father's words and he now 
allowed himself to take a seat in front of the desk. "You have missed 
him," he stated simply.

Elrond sighed. "Of course I have missed him - would you not miss 
Elladan in a similar situation?"

"Elladan's death would destroy me," Elrohir said, a touch of accusation 
rising in his tone. "For one of us to die would be for both of us to die."

"You wonder why we did not choose the same." Elrond surveyed his son 
through the arched fingers supporting his brow. "In truth, Gwenneth, I 
know not. This is a very complicated situation that was never fully 
resolved between us... I made some mistakes. We both did."

"Blaming yourself will not solve that," said Elrohir quietly. "If it troubles 
you that much then you need to put your differences aside and talk to 
him."

Elrond nodded mutely. He had always admired his younger son's 
sensitivity, his ability to speak with candid tact. Both Elladan and Elrohir 
had developed a wilder, more temperamental side to them since their 
mother's departure, but despite their shortened fuses Elrohir had still 
retained most of this old quality.

"I think we all need to put our differences aside, now," he said after a 
moment, knowing that Elrohir would take his meaning. The addressed 
raised an eyebrow in something bordering defiance but held his tongue.

"I should find out where our brothers have got to," Elrond then said, rising 
from his chair with a slow, dignified grace that belied his mental 
weariness. "Elros and Elladan are very alike - I sincerely hope there has 
not been a personality clash."

Unable to think of anything useful to say, Elrohir remained silent as he too 
got to his feet. He fell into step beside his father as they both made their 
way to the door, but Elrond paused before he opened it and laid a hand on 
his son's shoulder.

"Make an effort," came the request, gently spoken to disguise the 
underlying steel to Elrond's tone.

Elrohir glanced at him sidelong. "I shall do my best," he deferred. 

Elvish Translations:
Ada - Dim. of "Adar" or father, so "dad"
Gwenyn - Twins
Gweniaur - Lit. "Older Twin", an affectionate name for Elladan
Gwenneth - Lit. "Younger Twin", an affectionate name for Elrohir
Nana - Dim. of "Naneth" or mother, so "mum"




Part IV

If Elladan realised he was being followed then he did not seem to care. 
Elros quietly pursued him along the corridors of the house and outside, 
through the gardens until they came to a low stone wall. Unhindered by 
robes, Elladan hopped neatly over the boundary and into what looked to 
be an old garden, where he settled on his knees by a flowerbed.

Elros remained to one side, out of sight, whilst he watched Elladan clear 
out the detritus from the bare borders and deadhead the hibernating 
perennial flowers. The grasses were long and straggly, the flowerbeds 
balding and the shrubs unpruned. A stream trickled along one side, though 
now clogged with algae and weedy plants where once it would have been 
clear and fast flowing. There was a wrought iron gate hanging on dropped 
hinges at one point in the wall, though it was rusty and probably creaked 
horribly. A small stone bench stood beneath the beech tree in the corner of 
the little square garden, covered in moss and lichen from want of use.

It was to this corner that Elladan eventually moved, though he did not sit 
on the bench but rather on a large tree root behind it. He jammed his back 
against the trunk and drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms 
around them; thus tucked away, he looked a truly desolate picture in the 
grey drizzle that was falling.

With some measure of caution, Elros moved slowly along the line of the 
wall. Elladan did not look up or show any sign that he knew of his uncle's 
presence, so Elros was surprised when he spoke.

"This used to be her own private garden. Nobody else comes here any 
more."

Elros inclined his head but said nothing, and after a pause Elladan spoke 
again.

"I think the memory pains them... That, or they've forgotten it completely. 
I'm the only one who comes here anymore, and I'm away on patrol so 
often that even my visits are rare." There was another pause, in which he 
now turned his head to look at Elros. "It's dead, just like she was."

"Only on the outside," Elros said. "It is winter, after all." 

But Elladan shook his head sadly. "Nay, come stirring it will not bloom, 
either. It is dead. This tree," he gestured behind him, "She planted over 
two-thousand years ago. The winter she left, the leaves fell off and never 
came back."

Elladan looked away again. For a moment, there was silence between 
them; Elladan appeared lost in his thoughts and Elros had nothing 
appropriate to say.

"Why have you come back?" asked the younger of the pair eventually. He 
still did not look at Elros, though his previous anger seemed to have faded 
into an irritated sort of melancholy.

Elros sighed quietly, and paused. "To help your father," he revealed after a 
moment's thought. 

"Why does he need help?" Elladan turned his head to meet his uncle's 
eyes. 

Elros hitched the borrowed robes around his waist and climbed over the 
wall, then moved to stand behind the bench. "Life has not been kind to 
him, Elladan," he said. "The greatest change in him that I have perceived 
since my return is his sadness. He hides it well - for your sakes, I believe - 
but I know him too well for that. He feels much sorrow in his heart and 
heaviness in his fëa, and if I can ease that then, by the Valar, I will give 
everything I can to do so."

Elladan briefly shut his eyes. "We have come to deal with Nana's 
departure."

"Your Ada is still grieved by the loss of your Naneth," Elros gently 
replied. "More than you would think. Tell me: how did you and your 
siblings deal with it?"

Elladan shrugged. "Elrohir and I had each other," he mumbled. "Arwen 
spends a great deal of time with our grandparents in Lothlórien."

Elros inclined his head a little, a calm but inquiring expression on his face. 
"And what of your father?"

"Glorfindel supported him when we could not," came the defensive reply, 
"And Erestor, to a lesser degree."

"So you and Glorfindel...?" Elros deliberately left the question hanging.

"That was some years later," Elladan snapped, turning away again.

"Ah, I see," said Elros. There was now a certain iciness underlying his 
outwardly innocent words. "So you are saying that your father had 
completely come to terms with the loss by then."

"Of course not!" Elladan almost snarled. "You said yourself that it still 
grieves him!" Slowly, he turned, to give Elros a dark, narrow-eyed glare. 
"You are accusing me of... How dare you! You have no place to accuse 
me of anything! Our relationship has as much to do with Glorfindel as it 
does with me - and my father gave us his blessing!"

Elros lifted his chin with a slow, not-quite-triumphant smile. "And now 
we are speaking on the same level," he said. "Just as it is not my place to 
accuse you of something you did not have full control over, it is not your 
place to accuse me of the same. The situations relate, pen-gorn, and there 
is no point expending your anger on me for I have little comprehension of 
the workings of the Valar. Perhaps their attentions should have been 
focused elsewhere - we shall see. But I would not have my brother hurting 
through lack of understanding."

Elladan did not respond to this - not that he was given the chance. Elros 
merely canted an eyebrow at his nephew before he turned and disappeared 
into the drizzle, leaving Elladan alone to fully absorb the effect of their 
conversation. The darkling Elf watched his uncle leave with a heavy, 
smouldering gaze, then settled back further into the trunk of his tree with a 
sigh, once more resting his chin on his folded knees.

~~~

Elros was on his way back to Elrond's study, deep in thought, when a tall 
blond Elf halted him in the corridor.

"Elrond, I was wondering if I could have a quick word, please?" he asked. 

Elros nodded distractedly, not noticing that, judging from the lack of 
formalities, this Elf must be close to Elrond. "Come with me," he muttered 
as he continued walking, beckoning over his shoulder. Preoccupied by his 
conversation with Elladan, Elros missed the puzzled expression on the 
blond's handsome face and barely noticed that he was being silently trailed 
towards Elrond's office. 

He could not help dwelling on Elladan's attitude: aloof, prideful and 
stubborn, passionate to a fault. Impulse drove decision, with instinct a 
close second - desirable traits in a warrior, though nightmarish around the 
council table. Much of this Elros recognised in himself, but had learned to 
temper them over the years. He had made many a rash choice and spoken 
many a harsh word, much of which he had sorely come to regret - and, in 
some cases, still did. It had not taken him long in his position as King to 
realise that a little diplomacy and tactical holding of tongue went a long 
way, and he hoped that Elladan would come to see the same. 

Still deep in thought, Elros was a little surprised to see Elrond walking 
towards them when he and the blond turned the next corner.

"Ah, Elrond - good," said Elros, speaking as though this would be the 
most natural situation in Arda to the blond. "This Elf would like a word 
with you. I will be in your chambers." With that he walked off down the 
corridor, leaving behind his somewhat beruffled brother and the 
thoroughly bewildered blond.

Elrond half-glanced, half-glared down the passage at his twin's retreating 
form. "Thank you, Elros," he muttered below his breath, silently cursing 
his brother's lack of tact at times. "Now is this important, Glorfindel, or 
can it wait?"

Glorfindel took a moment to gather his gaping self. "Er, no, it can wait," 
he said eventually, "But who--"

"Ask Erestor," cut in Elrond curtly, already turning to follow Elros. "I saw 
him a moment ago - he can explain it sufficiently for the time being."

Glorfindel was left with little choice but to nod dumbly as his lord also 
hurried away. A hand was laid on his shoulder, and he turned to see 
Erestor standing behind him.

"It's a long story," he said sympathetically.

Glorfindel ran a hand down his face. "I'll wager it is," came the 
incredulous response as he was led away to the advisor's office.

~~~

Elros, meanwhile, had slowed to wait for Elrond when he heard the 
hurried footsteps and his name being called. "Should you not have stayed 
to explain it to him?" he asked as his brother fell into step beside him.

"Glorfindel is intelligent enough to work things out," replied Elrond. 
"Erestor will explain most of it to him - I spoke with him just now."

"Ah, so that was the famed Balrog-slayer." The response showed mild 
interest. "He came into our conversation."

Elrond arched an eyebrow. "How did that go?"

"It could have been worse," Elros replied loosely. "I left Elladan with 
plenty to think on."

"I never know if that will be enough any longer," Elrond sighed. "Nothing 
seems to get through to him now, and Elrohir is little better. They were 
never quite the same after they rescued their mother."

Glancing at his twin sidelong, Elros gently took Elrond's hand in his as 
they walked. "Elladan is almost as stubborn as I am, I will give him that," 
he said. "I knew from the first I saw him that we would be matched 
personalities, simply from the fact that I can see you in Elrohir. Trust me: 
I got through to him."

"I hope so." Elrond did not sound too convinced. "Elrohir was not overly 
cooperative, either."

With a quick glance around to make certain they were alone, Elros halted 
his brother with a tug on his hand and moved so they were facing. "I am 
not surprised in the slightest that they are being awkward over this, 
brother," he said, placing his hands on Elrond's shoulders. "Given their 
situation, their reasons are perfectly legitimate. So they are being ill-
tempered about this issue - let them. Elladan will soon heed my words, 
and I suspect that when he comes round, Elrohir will too."

"Aye," Elrond nodded, raising one hand to clasp Elros' where it lay on his 
right shoulder. "Elladan is the more dominant of the pair, though Elrohir is 
no weak spirit. 'Twas always the same with us."

Elros squeezed Elrond's shoulders, released them and began to walk again, 
their hands clasped as before. "That had much to do with the situation, 
brother," he said, a trace of wistfulness creeping into his voice. "Growing 
up amongst soldiers is no easy childhood." And it was true, he thought: 
their contrasting personalities had only become so apparent after their 
kidnapping by the sons of Fëanor. Elros had become rash, brazen and 
impulsive, whilst Elrond grew introverted and pensive.

"Maedhros was no gentle teacher," Elrond added, recalling so-called 
lessons in combat and warfare that would often leave him shocked and 
shaking. "Maglor and his books were a welcome respite."

Elros jostled his shoulder playfully as they walked, now nearing Elrond's 
chambers. "You would say that, hên-ned perf," he teased. "But they taught 
us much."

"Aye, they did," Elrond agreed somewhat reluctantly, "Though you took 
to Maedhros' teachings better than I." 

"In all except the riding. I have to say that his mantra of falling off a horse 
seven times to become a good rider was hardly conducive to getting back 
on the animal!"

"Then you must be one of the best around," Elrond teased him back. 
"Though it stood us in good stead in the end. The War of Wrath was only 
the beginning... Ai, what a battle to begin one's career as a warrior with."

Elros sighed. "I confess I remember little of it - 'tis nothing but a blur of 
metal and noise to me. It is the time shortly after that sticks in my mind."

Elrond knew that Elros was talking of their choices - whether to follow the 
paths of the Eldar or the Edain. "I knew as soon as I laid eyes on Lindon 
that I wished to be accounted with the Elves." He stopped walking, for 
they had finally reached the door to his chambers. But although he laid a 
hand on the handle, the twins remained standing outside.

"It was Gil-galad," Elros verified. Elrond glanced away, nodded once; 
indeed, the High King had been the one to counsel him in his choice.

Elros spoke again. "Did you love him?"

Elrond took a deep breath and looked up into his twin's bright, mithril 
eyes. "Not as much as I loved you."


Elvish Translations:
Pen-gorn - Impetuous one

Note: The Elves had six seasons, of which the "stirring" referred to by 
Elladan is one. It would be around early March, between Winter and 
Spring, and was the time when things began to awaken from hibernation.

To be continued...


Title: One of Us

Author: Ilye (ilye_elf@yahoo.co.uk)

Website: http://www.wozupdoc.net/~talesfromthe

Summary: Set around 2600, Third Age - Celebrían has been in Valinor for 
about a century. For reasons known only to himself and the Valar, Elros 
has been remade and returned to Imladris. Elrond, understandably, is 
overjoyed, both at being reunited with his long-dead twin and at having the 
chance to solve old, unresolved issues. Soon, though, tragedy strikes, and 
as the reasons for Elros' return become apparent Elrond will have to make 
a decision a father and brother should never be forced to make. 

Pairing: Undertones of Elrond/Elros and Elladan/Glorfindel.

Rating: Probably nothing over R, for violence.

Warnings: UST, hints of twincest, some violence later on.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no fun, all for profit, you know the score ;-)

Big, big thanks to Maybe for beta'ing :-D



Part V

Elros looked at Elrond for a moment, then averted his eyes. "I thing we 
had better discuss this inside," he said to the doorknob.

Elrond, whose eyes had filled with apprehension at this reaction, nodded 
hastily and opened the door. There was an awkward pause whilst each twin 
waited for the other to move; then both stepped forwards at the same time, 
knocking shoulders as they tried to fit through the doorframe. Elros skitted 
aside as though he had been stung, and it was with an air of sadness and 
disquiet that Elrond led the way into his chambers.

Again there was silence. Elrond closed the door and turned to watch his 
brother, who had crossed the room to stand with his back to Elrond.

"I'm sorry," said Elrond after a moment. "I shouldn't have brought this up 
again."

"Of course you should," Elros replied. "This was something we never 
resolved and you had every right to bring it up again. I knew it was 
coming." Slowly, he lowered his head, then turned around to eye his 
brother from beneath lowered eyelashes. His voice was quiet and faintly 
tremulous, but he forced a feeble smile nonetheless. "I was just not 
prepared for it quite yet."

Elrond nodded, watching his twin uneasily. It had taken a great deal of 
courage to even bring up the topic; given the way that he and Elros were 
getting along at present, he was terrified that resurrecting these long-
neglected issues would drive yet another immovable wedge between them. 
But now that he had brought it up, he was loath to drop it again and 
continue as though nothing had happened. They just could not go on like 
this.

Seeing his brother's hesitation, Elros settled himself against the edge of a 
table and murmured: "So where do we start?"

Elrond sighed. "Elbereth only knows, Elros - Sirion? The camps of 
Maedhros and Maglor? Lindon?"

"It was in Mithlond that you told me, brother," Elros pointed out. "For how 
long had you felt that way? How long had you loved me?"

"I had loved you all our lives!" Elrond said with no small measure of 
exasperation. "As for how long I have felt this way... 'Tis hard to say. 
Perhaps some eleven years before I told you."

"'...Have felt this way...'" Elros echoed quietly. "So you still feel it?" 
Elrond nodded with an expression bordering on shame, and Elros shifted 
on his perch with a sigh. "I would have said that eleven years was a long 
time to have felt that way without saying anything, but //five thousand// 
years?"

"I tried all manner of distractions, but there is no way to change how one 
feels." Elrond's voice was dull as he spoke and walked over to the window. 
He braced his arms on the windowsill and leaned heavily on them as he 
looked out, though his eyes saw nothing beyond the glass. "Ereinion and I 
grew very close - we comforted each other. 'Tis a lonely life, being a King; 
and I consumed by my guilt... Well, the nights did not seem quite so long 
and empty."

"Whatever had you to feel guilty about?" asked Elros. "I never condemned 
what you felt for me, I merely said I could not return it."

"No," said Elrond, spinning around, "That was not what you said. You said 
you could not accept this and that you would have nothing to do with it."

"Oh, semantics, Elrond." Elros dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand, 
as had always been his wont when deeply unsettled by something. "The 
meaning was clear: the issue does not bother me."

"There is a distinct - if subtle - difference, Elros, and you would do well to 
mark the effect that might have had on a child who was confused, ashamed 
and terrified of losing his everything."

"We were hardly children; we were several years past our majority."

"That makes no difference," Elrond said sadly, turning away again and 
staring blindly at the window. "I was still young - I did not know what to 
think. I had harboured these feelings for you for over a decade and they 
were starting to corrode me inside. I was deeply ashamed of myself for it, 
this forbidden love, I knew that it was wrong and I knew that you did not 
feel the same. But I had to tell you. I could keep it inside no longer - if I 
had not made an outlet, it would have created one of its own, so powerful 
and vicious as it is. I had to tell you."

Elrond paused, resting his brow in the bridge of his fingers. He knew that 
Elros' eyes were fixed firmly upon him, but did not turn around to meet 
them. This was hard enough as it was. "And then, two weeks later, our 
choice was presented to us. Do you have any idea how it felt, Elros, to 
stand up before all those people and hear you speak your choice after I had 
spoken mine, and to hear you choose the path I had not? To know that I 
had opened this cleft and driven you straight down into it - driven you to 
your death? To hear that you had chosen mortality, brother, and to know 
that it was because of what I had told you only weeks before... It was as if I 
had been run through."

"Elrond, brother..." Elros pushed away from the table and took a few steps 
closer to his twin's tense form. "You did not drive me to my death - you 
could never do anything of the sort." Elrond did not turn when Elros drew 
closer still and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, though he did relax a 
little when the grip tightened in support.

"Listen to me, Elrond," said the elder twin, persuading the younger around 
to face him now. "I chose mortality for a multitude of reasons, but you 
loving me as you do was most certainly not one of them. I think, in my 
heart, I knew long before I ever made it what my choice was going to be. 
Quite honestly, I think you knew yours, too."

Elrond glanced down, his brow furrowed with sadness. "I would have 
followed you anywhere," he muttered evasively. "I thought you would 
have done the same."

"I would not have let you," Elros replied vehemently as he cupped his 
twin's chin in his palm and coaxed his head up again. "A mortal life was 
not the path suited to you, quildëquén, just as immortality held nothing for 
me. For all that we look the same, our characters are as separate as the 
rivers and the Seas: you are calm, fluent and graceful, ever changing, ever 
progressing, and highly tuned and caring of your environment. You were 
not destined to flicker and be extinguished in the blink of an eye to the 
Eldar; you were destined for great things. Yet I am stubborn and I will not 
be changed - much easier do things bend to my will than I to theirs. I was 
suited to the ways of Men; their short-lived passion for life and wish to 
experience all. Imagine, brother: imagine that I had been immortal. Just as 
the Seas erode the cliffs, slowly but surely I would have worn all around 
me to dust - and, in the end, myself."

"Then why did you never speak to me of this?" Elrond's quiet voice was 
laced with desperation and regret.

"Words were something I only later developed a way with," Elros 
shrugged.  "It was a difficult subject to broach... especially given that I 
knew we were bound to choose differently."

Elrond's eyes took on a strange, cold light and he drew back from Elros' 
touch. "You had two weeks between my telling you and the making of our 
choice --"

"Had I said a word to you then, you would have followed me into 
mortality," Elros reasoned. "I could not lead you away from the paths of 
the Eldar, not when you were so clearly meant for them."

"So why would you not speak to me of it //after// our choice?"

To this Elros gave no reply. Elrond regarded him for a moment, and when 
he turned away once more a pained expression crossed Elros' face, though 
this time he made no move to rectify that.

"That was what hurt the most, Elros," the younger twin said with a sigh. 
"That you refused to speak on the subject. The guilt... the regret... What 
else was I to think when you avoided me like the spawn of Morgoth after I 
told you?"

"Now that is not entirely fair," Elros objected. "Who was the one who 
turned and ran? Who barely gave us a chance to speak over the subject? 
Elrond, you disappeared for a whole day, and you had distanced yourself 
from me long before that."

Elrond dipped his head, closed his eyes. Elros was right: he //had// 
distanced himself years before, shortly after he had come to terms with the 
fact that his feelings towards his brother were a solid, permanent thing, 
rather than some form of childish confusion over the only person left to 
him in the world. It was an attempt to remove himself from his temptation, 
although in fact it had done nothing of the sort. Elros was unavoidable - 
every time Elrond looked in the mirror, he saw stone-hued eyes with that 
spark that his never possessed, a distinctly lopsided and cheeky grin that he 
would never have the courage to display. Constantly was Elros in his head: 
each time he faltered in his swordplay lessons, far stronger than Maedhros' 
cutting rebuke was his own of //Elros would have done better//. There was 
that infectious laugher that floated across the camp and the animated talk 
that had filled their shared tent. Elrond experienced less and less of this, 
withdrawing to the makeshift paddocks with the horses or retreating into 
the boughs of a tree with a candle and a book filched from Maglor's own 
paltry but cherished collection. Yet when he would return well after the 
hour of midnight, whispering the password to the sentries and creeping 
into their tent, his brother's slumbering form would greet him every time, 
broad and strong and breathtaking beneath the blankets. To have the 
sources of his desires so close after this withdrawal was, to Elrond, like the 
Silmaril just out of the reach of his guardians. It was a torture to which he 
had thought he would never succumb.

"I didn't know what else to do," he said at length. "I felt so ashamed, so 
dirty, so..." He tailed off with a noise of frustration. "And then when I told 
you, the way you looked at me - the words you spoke were kind in 
comparison to the disgust and revulsion I saw in your eyes."

"I did not mean... I was not expecting you to say that," Elros said. 

Elrond slowly turned his head and eyed his twin over his shoulder. He 
could see that Elros knew how harsh those words had been, and regretted 
them, but that did not make them any the less painful. "It was your 
instinctive reaction and it let me know exactly what your true feelings 
were. They were exactly like my own: disgust, horror, shame." He paused. 
"And far better that than any sweetened, scripted response."

Distressed by the quaver in his twin's voice, the sound showing thoughts 
that ran too deep for tears, Elros reached out bravely and laid his hands on 
Elrond's shoulders again. "And so you ran," he said simply.

Elrond nodded, sniffed. "Ran from my shame; ran from you. I could not 
face the loathing in your eyes."

"But you hid too, Elrond." Elros now gently pulled on one shoulder, 
encouraging Elrond to face him once more. "And then later we would not 
speak... Had I had the time and the courage to think on it, I would not have 
had such a reaction to this. Do you see the loathing in my eyes any 
longer?"

"You were certainly uncomfortable with it a few moments ago."

"'Tis a strange concept to come to terms with," Elros sighed. "But I stick 
by what I said when I told you this does not bother me, per se." 

Tiredly, Elrond ran his hands down his face, then scrubbed at his eyes with 
his knuckles. "I am so weary of this, brother, I just don't know what to do 
any longer. I have never been able to let go of you; this guilt has haunted 
me since our choices, and now... I lost my parents, Elros, I lost my home. I 
lost my childhood. I lost my brother, my king and my wife - I wonder how 
I have not yet lost my sanity."

With an incline of his head, Elros regarded his twin for a moment, before 
reaching out and gently gathering him into his arms. Elrond stiffened at 
first, but after a moment the comfort of the touch overcame any doubts he 
may have felt and he sank against his brother's body.

"What am I going to do, Elros?" he whispered raggedly. Elros looked 
down at him and stroked his hair, before placing a consecrating kiss upon 
the raven crown.

"I don't know," he said at length. "But we will sort this out."

To be continued...

 
Elvish Translations:
Quildëquén - Quiet one (Quenya)


Title: One of Us 
 
Author: Ilye (ilye_elf@yahoo.co.uk) 
 
Website: www.wozupdoc.net/~talesfromthe 
 
Pairing: Undertones of Elrond/Elros and Elladan/Glorfindel. 
 
Rating: Probably nothing over R, for violence. 
 
Please see part I for warnings, disclaimers and notes. 
 
Thanks to Maybe for the beta :D

Part VI

The oil-lamps were already lit in Glorfindel’s rooms when he returned to 
them. Elladan was sitting in the wingback chair before the open fire, his 
shoulders hunched over and his elbows resting on his knees. It was clear 
that he had bathed again, for he was garbed in a loose silk dressing robe 
and his long hair fell loose down either side of his face, curtain-like, black 
and damp. The robe hung open to his navel, where the belt pulled it 
together to maintain some kind of modesty, and the firm skin of his torso 
and half-bared shoulders glowed an alluring burnished gold in the firelight.

Elladan looked up as Glorfindel entered, his dark-eyed gaze flame-tinted. 
The blond smiled at his lover as he cast his outer robe onto a nearby chair 
and toed off his soft indoor shoes, before making his way over to the 
fireplace.

"Strange things happened in Imladris today." Elladan had lowered his head 
again, hands in a white-knuckled clasp before him as he stared into the 
fire. His voice was low and quiet.

Glorfindel eased himself gracefully onto the hides before the grate, just 
inside Elladan's line of sight. "So you know..." he tested hesitantly. He was 
well aware of the force Elladan's moods could take when deeply unsettled, 
as he was now.

"Oh, yes, Elros and I have had a long conversation," Elladan replied with a 
searing sideways flick of his eyes at his lover. Glorfindel raised an 
eyebrow.

"And?"

"I don't like him."

"That seems a little harsh," the blond said with a frown. "After one 
conversation? What makes you say that?"

Elladan shrugged, unwilling to admit the true reason - even to himself. "A 
clash of character," he replied, glancing away.

"Is that not something you feel you can work around, then?" Glorfindel 
asked. He shifted closer to the chair and laid a hand on his lover's silk-
covered knee. "Surely it would be worth the effort - after all, we don't 
know how long he will be with us, and he //is// your father's brother." 

Elladan's head whipped around, his eyes blazing. "Have you even met him 
yet, Glorfindel?" he snapped.

Glorfindel withdrew his hand. "Not as such, no."

"Then don't say such things until you have!" Elladan snarled as he 
suddenly stood up and paced away a short distance. "He is nothing like 
Adar: he is manipulative, he lies, and he makes accusations - he even 
attacked our relationship!"

Refusing to rise to the bait Elladan was laying, Glorfindel calmly rose 
from the floor and settled into the chair that the twin had just vacated. 
"How so?" he replied evenly. "Explain this to me."

"He completely denies any knowledge of why he has been returned, in 
which I can see no truth whatsoever," Elladan said, beginning to pace. "He 
accused me of stealing you away from Adar when he was still mourning 
Nana - everyone knows perfectly well that is not true! He has no place to 
make those accusations... He doesn't even belong here!"

"Presumably you gave him no grounds on which to make those 
accusations," Glorfindel pondered aloud, a touch of sarcasm in his words. 
He knew that he was treading on dangerous ground, likely to rile Elladan 
up even more; however, he also knew that his lover's rages only calmed 
once they had travelled their full course. Glorfindel just had to ride this 
out, and usually he was the best person to steer Elladan by the safest path.

"I was telling the truth when I said that he knew more than he was letting 
on. That was hardly an accusation." Elladan shoved a handful of dark hair 
out of his face as he paced, his voice tight and words clipped. "Why is he 
//here//, Glorfindel? What is the point? Surely the Valar had better places 
to focus their powers!"

"What is your place to question the Valar, Elladan?" Glorfindel asked. "If 
Eru saw fit to remake your uncle, it cannot have been without a very good 
reason. Who knows what Vaire's tapestries may have foretold?"

"So you suggest he has ulterior motives."

"Perhaps, though I imagine them to be far from sinister. Elros may well 
know why he has been returned, but there could be any number of reasons 
for not telling us and, frankly, I believe that they are all for our own good. 
If you do not know the details of the situation, you are in no place to 
accuse him any more than he is you."

Elladan turned away, glowering. "That is exactly what he said," he 
muttered. "I did //not// tear you away from my father when he needed 
you."

Glorfindel inclined his head and got to his feet, padding softly up behind 
his lover. "Whom are you trying to convince, Elladan?" he asked softly, 
laying a hand on the darker Elf's waist. Elladan glanced backwards over 
his shoulder at the blond, but said nothing. 

"I think," Glorfindel continued with all the diplomacy that he possessed, 
"That you resent him more than you dislike him. You have your reasons, 
of course, particularly in that he made you see that you were in the wrong. 
But life would be much more pleasant for everyone involved, especially 
for your poor old Ada, if you acted a little less harshly towards him."

To this, Glorfindel received no reply - not that he was expecting one. 
Elladan's defensive body language clearly showed that he had accepted the 
reasoning, but was not about to admit defeat over the matter - he never did. 
Silence would be the closest he would get.

"I have heard a good deal about Elros from many people," Glorfindel 
pushed after a moment. "Erestor met him after the War of Wrath, as did 
Gil-galad - though I had not yet returned, they have spoken of him to me."

"And my father?" Elladan questioned, now turning slightly towards the 
blond.

"Your father has always kept this topic close to his heart," Glorfindel said 
warily. "But from what I have heard others say of Elros, there is much to 
like: he was -- is loyal, lively and entertaining to be around, though I have 
also heard tales that he is forthright, stubborn, and not afraid to speak his 
mind. And having said that, there may well be a personality clash between 
you two."

Slowly, Elladan turned so he was completely facing Glorfindel. "What you 
are saying," the twin growled as he curled his index fingers around the 
golden braids and drew the Elda forwards to meet his mouth, "Is that he is 
too like me."

Glorfindel smirked, allowing a little lip contact before drawing back the 
tiniest bit. "Maybe," he evaded. Elladan arched an eyebrow in an 
expression of mild irritation, then seemed to cast the idea aside as he 
tugged on the braids again and kissed his lover hard. 

It was a deep, salacious kiss, forceful and hungry, but Glorfindel did not 
submit easily. Elladan invariably enjoyed the victory of such a duel, 
gaining territory bit by bit until he wholly possessed the Elda's mouth with 
his tongue - yet he found no entertainment in an easy defeat. Half of his 
arousal arose in the battle, fought on airless, tongue-rasping, lip-nipping 
plains by two with equal skill and courage, if not experience. He was, 
when aggravated, even more passionate and powerful than usual, using a 
lover's lust as an outlet for his anger and tightly-bound frustration.

Caught between the press of hips and the pull of hair, Glorfindel could feel 
himself becoming increasingly excited by Elladan's impulsive, somewhat 
irrational behaviour. He gyrated his pelvis suggestively against Elladan's, 
breaking the kiss again as his hands slipped down to cup his lover's 
buttocks through the thin silk. Sapphire eyes met a pair black with desire, 
then a low, rough rumble from Elladan's throat filled the room.

"Bed," he instructed, before he attacked Glorfindel's mouth with renewed 
fervour, pushing his whole body firmly against the blond's in order to 
propel him towards the four-poster across the chamber. Glorfindel allowed 
himself to be guided and tumbled onto the mattress, welcoming the heavy 
weight of his lover atop him and the nimble fingers that set about 
removing his shirt. This method of channelling Elladan's anger was one to 
which he had no objections, and it certainly looked like, this time, Elladan 
would be the one to ride this out instead. 
~~~

It was some hours later when Glorfindel entered the dining hall and dinner, 
he thought, looked set to be interesting. There was a place laid to Elrond's 
right at the head of the table - wide enough to seat two. It had been 
Celebrían's customary place, but none had sat there since her departure. 
Glorfindel did not think that this would be well received by Elladan and 
Elrohir.

Elladan joined the blond's side as they passed through the doors and 
entered the large hall. His sharp eyes instantly noticed the extra place and 
flew to Elrohir, who was already seated next to Arwen. Elladan tilted his 
head suggestively, returned by a pointedly raised eyebrow from Elrohir. 
Arwen nudged her youngest brother in the ribs and narrowed her eyes at 
Elladan, but the elder twin simply gave a nonchalant shrug and made his 
way over to the table.

"My, I wonder what this extra place could be set for," Elladan remarked 
rather loudly as he sat down.

"Please don't either of you cause a scene," Arwen said firmly.

"Us? We would never do such a thing," Elrohir objected, looking to his 
brother for support.

"Not in public, anyway," Elladan added. He reached for a piece of bread 
and cast a surreptitious glance down the table. "Being the centre of 
attention is not our style."

"Well just in case you change your minds, remember that I am willing to 
transfer the pair of you to stable chores and weapon-polishing for a 
month," Glorfindel stated cheerily. Elrohir glared playfully at his captain 
and former tutor, whilst Elladan muttered something under his breath that 
earned him a gentle backhand to the head.

Retaliation was swiftly forgotten, however, for it was at that moment that 
Elrond and Elros entered the room. The conversation all along the table 
dropped first to hushed but furtive murmurs, and then to complete silence 
as both twins stepped up to the head of the table.

"My lords and ladies," Elrond began, his voice calm and controlled as 
ever. "I am sure that, by this point, many of you have heard the rumours, 
and probably all of you will have noticed the extra place laid tonight. 
This," he gestured behind him, "Is my brother, Elros." Elros stepped 
forwards, revealed in all his likeness to Elrond. Glances were exchanged 
further down the table, but nobody dared utter a word.

"As many of you will know, Elros died many millennia ago," Elrond 
continued, taking full advantage before the questions began. "He has been 
remade by Ilúvatar, though the reasons for this are private at the moment, 
so we will thank you for not asking about that."

"I will be more than willing to talk after we have eaten," Elros said with a 
small, almost nervous smile. "Indeed, I recognise a few familiar faces and 
would very much like to speak with them again - but forgive me, I am 
hungry, so please partake of your dinner and I shall partake of mine!"

Both twins took their seats, and after a few hesitant moments those further 
down the table began to talk softly amongst themselves again. Elrond 
glanced sideways at Elros, taking in his twin's rather tense posture as he 
poured them both a glass of wine from a pitcher.

"'Tis not like you to be shy, brother!" he exclaimed teasingly. Elros 
smirked back with a pointed look at the faces turned towards him further 
down the table.

"I don't always like being the centre of attention," he answered, feeling but 
ignoring the hot flick of Elladan's eyes over his person at this statement. 
Elrond and Glorfindel both snorted, for different reasons.

Elros ignored this. "My lord Glorfindel," he said, directing his attention to 
the blond as he helped himself to some food. The room's conversation had 
risen to a volume where none at the head end of the table felt 
uncomfortable talking amongst themselves now. "I feel I should apologise 
for any bewilderment I caused earlier this afternoon."

Glorfindel laughed. "I must admit, it was quite a shock at the time!" he 
said good-naturedly. "I saw Elrond walking towards us and began to 
wonder what sort of mischief Mithrandir had been up to!"

"It did not seem appropriate to tell you otherwise in the corridor," Elros 
grinned. "You would have thought me - or Elrond - mad, undoubtedly!"

"No comment!" said Elladan and Elrohir in unison.

Elrond groaned; he had been expecting that. "If I am mad, gwenyn, 'tis 
because you have driven me to it."

Elros hid his smirk and spoke to Glorfindel again. "I am honoured to meet 
you, my lord - many were the tales and songs regaled to us as children."

"Embellished and over-elaborated, I am sure," the golden Elf demurred. 
"Though I know I remain one source of inspiration to other young 
warriors."

"Always tie your hair back!" quipped Elladan again, this time together 
with Elros. Both looked at each other, Elros with an eyebrow raised in 
amusement and Elladan with mild irritation written across his face. Elladan 
shook it off and reached for the potatoes - only to find that his uncle had 
also reached for the bowl and taken it just before him.

Swiftly pretending that he had intended to reach for the wine pitcher 
instead, Elladan ignored the meaningful nudge to his knee from Glorfindel 
and the glint in Elros' eye. He did, however, subtly take several deep 
mouthfuls from his overfilled cup and drew a deep breath.

"No death around the dinner-table, if you please," Elrond interrupted, 
noticing Elladan's discomfort and doing his best not to aggravate his son 
further. "There will be plenty of time to exchange stories later."

"Will the minstrels play tonight, Ada?" asked Arwen, her eyes lighting 
with hope. 

"I don't see why not," Elrond smiled at her, knowing her love for the 
music. Then, raising his voice so it carried down the table, he said: "Lindir, 
have you a composition for us tonight in the Halls of Fire?"

"Aye, my lord, I have several," replied the silver-haired minstrel. "In fact, 
there is one that would suit the voice of the Lady Arwen particularly well."

"Oh, would you sing for us, Arwen?" Elros's eyes held a similar hope to 
his niece's. "I should dearly love to hear your voice."

"Don't blush, tithen-rîn," Elrohir teased, ruffling her long, ebony hair. 
"You have a lovely voice."

"Praise indeed, coming from a brother!" Glorfindel grinned at her from 
across the table. "Elder..."

"...Brothers are always the worst!" finished off Elladan and Elros, again in 
unison. Elladan did his best to hide his scowl, elbowing Glorfindel in the 
ribs for he could feel the blond's hand on his knee and his sides trembling 
with suppressed laughter. He was thankful that Arwen had continued 
speaking.

"What is this song you have composed then, Lindir?" she asked the 
musician once again.

"'Tis on Beren and Luthien, my lady, from the Tinúviel's perspective," 
Lindir answered. "That is why I felt it especially suited to you."

Arwen blushed again, whilst Elros clapped his hands together. "Ah, 'tis my 
favourite tale!" he exclaimed.

"Ai, how strange!" came a snicker from Glorfindel. "That is Elladan's 
favourite tale, too!"

"Whose twin //are// you?" groaned Elladan, hiding his head in his hands 
and not seeing the eyebrow that Elros quirked at him. It was going to be a 
long night.

Elvish Translations:
Tithen-rîn - Little Lady (pet name for Arwen)



Part VII

Applause filled the great hall as the music finished and Arwen's last, 
haunting note dissipated around the room. Smiling shyly and with her eyes 
cast self-consciously to one side, the Evenstar stepped down from the dais 
with a word of thanks to Lindir and crossed to one of the smaller hearths.

"That was beautiful, my dear," Elros complimented her with an enchanted 
smile. Arwen returned it, bashfully accepting the proud glances from her 
father and Glorfindel, and was about to sit down next to her uncle when a 
pair of strong arms caught her about the waist. A small noise of surprise 
escaped her lips as Elladan spun her around once, chuckling, then plonked 
himself down onto the bench next to Elros with his sister in his lap.

"A delightful little ditty," he cooed playfully, holding her tightly as she 
squirmed and protested to be let free. "I could hear the dogs for leagues 
around!"

"Oh, Elladan, don't tease her so!" Elrohir chastened his twin. He moved to 
stand before them and offered Arwen his hands, pulling her free of 
Elladan's grasp and allowing her to retreat to the bench on which Elrond 
was sitting.

"Be grateful that you never had an elder brother, uncle," she sniffed, 
sending a baleful glare at Elladan.

"I am certain Adar caused enough trouble of his own," Elrohir said with a 
grin. Elrond and Elros both hid a wince at the seemingly innocent 
comment; something that went uncommented upon, if not unnoticed, by 
Glorfindel.

"Trust me when I say the pair of you are unrivalled in that respect," the 
blond stepped in, to divert any potentially perilous situations. "And if 
nobody minds, there are many things I would like to talk with Elros 
about."

"I shall retire for the night if that be the case," said Elladan, rising to his 
feet. "No offence, melme, but history never was my favourite subject!" 

"And neither did I enjoy teaching it to you, you insolent child!" Glorfindel 
teased him back. He accepted the kiss to his cheek with a knowing glance 
for his lover, then watched with some surprise as Elladan squeezed Elros' 
shoulder and dipped his head in a respectful bid goodnight. Elrohir did the 
same and both twins afforded a nod to their father and sister, before 
turning and leaving the hall.

Elrond, who had watched all this with a measure of wariness, suddenly got 
to his feet with a rustle of robes. "Do excuse me for a moment," he 
muttered, moving to follow his sons. Elros looked at Glorfindel, and both 
smirked.

~~~

"Gwenyn," called Elrond to his sons' backs. The twins stopped 
simultaneously and turned slightly so that they were half-facing each other 
and half-facing their father. Three sets of stony eyes met and locked for 
several silent moments, during which time Elladan and Elrohir both felt as 
though they were under the extreme scrutiny that usually only their 
grandmother could effect. Eventually, however, Elrond's deadpan 
expression softened into a small smile and he clapped one hand onto a 
shoulder of each of his sons.

"Thank you," he said simply, then turned and returned to the Hall of Fire.

Elladan waited until his father would be out of earshot and then looked at 
his brother. "Do you reckon he knew it was all an act?" he wondered 
aloud, turning around again.

"I imagine it's more the fact that we're making the effort," replied Elrohir 
quietly, falling into step with his twin. "He knows that we do not accept 
Elros - there is no reason for us to do so." He paused. "I must confess that 
your attitude surprised me, though. What did Elros say to you?"

"Nothing that made me like him any more." Elladan's voice was suddenly 
sullen. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, don't be so childish - when have we ever not talked about anything?" 
To this Elrohir received nothing more than a vicious sidelong glance. He 
shrugged. "Fine, have it your way."

For a moment there was no sound but the heavy steps from the twins' 
boots, until at last Elladan sighed and relented slightly. "He made untrue 
accusations with nothing to base them on and manipulated me. We just do 
not get on."

"Well in that case... Where are you going?" Elrohir's attention was 
suddenly diverted by the fact that he had reached the door to his chambers 
and Elladan was still by his side. "Are you coming in?"

"It looks that way," agreed the elder twin with a shrug. "We are still 
talking."

Elrohir laughed, laying an arm across his brother's shoulders. "One of 
these days, Eddan, I am going to take a lover and you shall not be able to 
do this any longer!"

"The fact that //I// have a lover rarely seems to affect it," replied Elladan. 
Elrohir simply shrugged as both brothers moved into the room. 

The twins had always been perfectly at home together, and this was no 
exception; Elladan moved about Elrohir's chambers as though they were 
his own, eventually throwing himself onto the bed and sprawling lazily 
across it.

"I was saying," said Elrohir eventually, having lit the fire and the oil-lamps 
and joined Elladan on the bed, "That you were very civil towards Elros this 
evening, considering how much you dislike him."

"It did not seem worth it - causing a scene over dinner," replied Elladan.

Elrohir cocked an eyebrow at him. "Glorfindel had words with you."

"I did not fancy polishing swords until Yule," the elder twin cut back 
evasively, unwilling to reveal the true nature of his defeat to his brother. 
"If I have an issue with him then that can be dealt with in private."

"And do you have an issue with him?"

"Don't you?"

"I have an issue," Elrohir began thoughtfully, "And certainly I resent him 
for being returned in place of Nana. Yet I cannot help but wonder why he 
has been remade and I find that I cannot entirely blame him for this. We 
don't know the circumstances."

"That holds little weight, I am afraid," Elladan said shortly as he pushed 
himself into a sitting position. "I just do not like him, and that is that."

"'Tis because you are too alike!" Elrohir remarked with a slight chuckle. 
"That was made clear from the start of dinner!"

A soft growl issued from Elladan's throat, before he rose quickly from the 
bed and paced across the room towards the door.

"Elladan!" Elrohir called, startled by the anger he had seen reflected in his 
brother's eyes. "Elladan, don't be like that - I did not mean --"

"Then do not speak what you do not mean!" Elladan snarled, already 
halfway to the door. "Glorfindel and Elros have found it amusing all night, 
and I will not remain here to be snickered at some more!"

"I am not laughing at you," Elrohir assured him, crossing swiftly to his 
brother and catching him by the shoulders. "I was merely offering an 
explanation for why you feel a more intense dislike for Elros than I do."

"I do not need an explanation, Elrohir," grumbled Elladan, already calming 
a little under his brother's hand. "Our personalities may clash, but that is a 
triviality compared to the fact that he should not be here and our Nana 
should. I cannot help but begrudge him that, no matter how much choice 
he was given in the matter."

"It seems to have made Ada so much happier," Elrohir mused quietly. "He 
still misses Nana so... "

Elladan sighed. "Ai, Elrohir, we all miss her so." He paused for a moment. 
"It's not that I don't want Ada to be happy, it's just..." He tailed off. 

His expression sympathetic, Elrohir slipped one arm around his brother's 
waist and eased them closer together. "You don't have to explain it to me, 
Elladan," he said gently. "You know how I feel."

Elladan grinned despite himself, softening into the embrace. "The same as 
me, only less so!" Elrohir snickered and, as both twins completed the circle 
of their arms and squeezed each other close for a moment, silence 
descended. It was a long while before it was broken by a quietly voiced 
thought from Elrohir.

"I wonder why they did not choose the same."

~~~

"You seemed to be getting along very well with our resident Balrog 
slayer," remarked Elrond as he and his twin made their way back to his 
rooms later that night.

"He gives a fascinating account of a battle," Elros replied with a somewhat 
faraway smile touching his lips. "He must be a sight to behold when 
fighting - I should dearly love to spar with him some time."

"Aye, that he is - ask him and he will surely match you," Elrond said. 
"Though I confess I cannot understand your love for the battle. I have only 
ever seen fighting as a sad necessity in dark times; 'tis something that must 
be done when the occasion arises, but at great cost. How can anyone see 
beauty in that?" 

"War is a cruel thing, I admit, but a spar between friends or an amicable 
contest is something utterly different." Elros cast his brother a subtle 
sidelong glance. "What better way to release the tensions and frustrations 
of a difficult day?"

"A walk through the valley, reading, or soaking in a hot bath usually does 
the trick more than adequately and with far fewer injuries for my healers to 
attend," Elrond answered almost gruffly, entering his chambers. Elros 
followed him in. "I have seen enough ruin of war to last me into the next 
lifetime and sparring does little more for me than to remind me of the 
horrors I have seen and experienced."

Feeling chastised, Elros did not reply, but merely closed the door and stood 
silently in front of it whilst his twin fussed around the bedroom. It was a 
moment or two before Elrond realised this and stopped what he was doing.

"I am sorry, quetequén, I did not mean to be so harsh," he said with a sigh, 
turning towards Elros. "But war and unnecessary violence have taken 
many loved ones from me and I cannot bring myself to condone it no 
matter the circumstances."

Elros regarded his brother with an expression of infinite sadness and 
understanding.  "I see that," he said quietly, still sounding rather contrite. 
"Battle has a much deeper effect on you than it does me; you were made to 
be the healer, not the warrior."

"I will fight when necessary," Elrond reiterated.  "Yet some things... My 
sons. It scares me half to death every time they ride out with the patrol to 
wreak yet more vengeance on those Orcs that took their mother - what if I 
lose them as I did her?"

Elros' breath caught in his throat. "You will not lose them - either of them," 
he stated firmly, taking one of his twin's hands with his own.

"I wish I could believe you." Elrond sounded so lost and sad in that 
moment that Elros found himself wavering on the edge of indecision: to 
put Elrond's mind at ease, or not? In the end, however, he forced down any 
errant thoughts on this - now was not the time - and concentrated his 
attention on his brooding twin. Elrond's brow was furrowed in thought; 
how quickly he slipped into his musings! But before Elros could rouse him 
from them, Elrond absently raised the hand in his and pressed it to his lips. 

Suddenly Elrond seemed to realise what he was doing and a look of shock 
crossed his face as his eyes flashed up to meet Elros'. "I... Sorry, I should 
not have done that," he gasped, dropping his brother's hand as if scalded. 
But Elros simply smiled at him and brought the same hand up to cup 
Elrond's cheek.

"Don't worry about it," he said soothingly. "And can I stay here again 
tonight?"

Elvish Translations:
Quetequén - lit. "Talking person"; can be taken as "chatterbox", a pet name 
for Elros.

Part VIII

It was several days later when Glorfindel knocked on the door to Elrond's 
study, patrol report from his second-in-command in hand. The two patrols 
alternated their week-long searches of the border and this week had been 
Glorfindel's rest, but nevertheless the report always came via him, as 
captain, to Elrond. 

Entering at the given command from inside, Glorfindel was not surprised 
to see Elros seated facing his brother at the desk, poring over some 
paperwork, for the elder twin had taken to aiding Elrond with the running 
of Imladris. Elros stood up when Glorfindel entered, smiling and offering 
his seat.

"What news from the border, toger?" asked Elrond without looking up 
from his papers.

"None, my lord," replied the Elda, refusing the offered seat and instead 
moving to stand next to Elros. The elder Peredhel looked over at the 
report, scanning it with a thought-creased brow.

"What? Nothing?" Elrond said in surprise. He set down his quill and 
pushed the papers aside, absently rubbing his ink-stained thumb and 
forefinger together whilst reaching expectantly for the report with his 
other.

"Not a trace, according to Bregolas," Glorfindel said, and passed him the 
paper. "This is the fourth week that we have seen neither hide nor hair of 
an Orc, nor tracks, either; it does not bode well."

"No, I agree - especially given how quickly they vanished, too." Elrond 
pursed his lips, ignoring Elros who was now peering over his shoulder to 
read the report. "One can only surmise that they are plotting something."

"I suggest that we allow one more week before taking any action," said 
Glorfindel. "If nothing further has been seen then a raid may be in order."

"Is that really wise?" Elros looked up from the report. "Given the time of 
year --"

"That is exactly why it may be necessary," cut in Glorfindel. "We cannot 
allow them to amass over the winter, and once the first snows arrive and 
they hole themselves up in their mountain we shall not be able to reach 
them. The locations of most of their dens are known and surprise raids on 
these have always proved successful in the past."

"And if something does happen during the next week?" asked Elrond 
quietly. Glorfindel and Elros both knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Then it happens, my lord," the blond told him gently. "We cover for all 
eventualities. With any luck there have simply been no Yrch in the area, 
and if we catch up with a few stray bands then all well and good, so to 
speak. They can be easily dealt with."

"Hope for it," Elrond muttered, then said more loudly, "Tomorrow marks 
the start of your week on, does it not?"

"Aye, my lord." Glorfindel bobbed his head. "My patrol is readying itself 
this afternoon."

"Well see to it that nothing //does// happen." Elrond's voice was sombre, 
his eyes showing his worry despite his attempts to mask it. "Take care - 
thank you, Glorfindel." Dismissed, the blond dipped his head again and 
left. 

Elros kept his eyes on the door even after it had closed, focusing on 
nothing, and let his hand come to rest on Elrond's shoulder. "Try not to 
worry about it," he said.

"I have tried not to worry for a thousand years, Elros, but thus far I have 
not been hugely successful," Elrond sighed. He lifted one hand from his 
desktop and moved it to cover Elros' on his shoulder. 

"It has been worse this past century, though, hasn't it?" said Elros, a 
knowing look in his eye. 

"Oh, of course it has," Elrond all but snapped, and let his hand fall back 
into his lap. "I refuse to discuss this now, Elros; I have work to do and 
little to say on the matter."

"'Tis almost lunchtime, though," Elros countered, "And you work too hard. 
Let me call for some food." Before Elrond could object, Elros had moved 
to the door, ensnared a passing servant and placed their order for lunch. 
The subtly placed request for some wine did not escape him, however, and 
he did voice an objection to this.

"One glass will do you no harm," the elder twin insisted, moving now to 
stand behind his brother's chair. "You are far too tense, Elrond - you need 
to relax a little. It is not good for you."

Elrond caught his breath as he felt Elros' hands move to his hunched 
shoulders and start massaging them. "I have a lot to be tense about," he 
protested quietly, though he was unable to prevent his head from falling 
forwards a little to allow his twin better access.

"So talk to me about it," Elros encouraged. "Let me listen." A small smile, 
unseen by Elrond, crossed his face as his younger twin began to respond to 
the soothing touches, some of the tension already leaving his frame. Elros 
knew exactly what his brother was like when anxious or stressed, and was 
one of the few confident enough to deal with him, unafraid of short 
remarks and tempers.

Elrond let out a sigh laced with pleasure, but was silent for a few moments. 
"You know why this scares me," he said at length. "If something happens 
to one of my gwenyn..."

"'Tis a trial of being a parent, Elrond," Elros said softly, his hands still 
working what was, in Elrond's opinion, sheer magic. "How do you think I 
felt every time I saw my sons ride out to battle with me? One well-placed 
arrow or blade from the enemy and I would just as well have sent them to 
their deaths."

"Elladan and Elrohir do not..." Elrond's voice hitched as Elros found and 
smoothed out a particularly sore knot, "...do not ride out under my orders. 
They slay these Yrch of their own accord: vengeance."

"The fault would not be yours," Elros murmured quietly.

Elrond exhaled loudly, his hands coming up to cradle his face. "Ai, as 
though that would make it any easier!" he exclaimed. "With all the 
potential for a disaster, I..." He paused. "I cannot bear to think on it."

"So don't think on it, then," soothed Elros. "You worry far too much." 
Elrond's shoulders had slumped beneath his hands, so he ceased his 
massage and settled for comforting strokes instead. "Aye, 'tis a possibility: 
that I will not deny. But dwelling on it will do no good whatsoever. They 
are excellent warriors and each is more than a match for a hundred Yrch - 
just think on all the times that they //have// come home safely."

Elrond's hands fell into his lap and he nodded wearily; Elros found himself 
floundering for a change of subject, sorely regretting raising this one. His 
brother's anguish aside, it weighed far too heavily on his conscience for 
comfort.

Fortunately there was a knock at the door in that moment. Elros hurried to 
the welcome distraction, accepting the tray from the servant and carrying it 
over to the desk. He poured Elrond a glass of wine and pressed it into his 
hands before the younger Peredhel could protest, then resumed his position 
behind the chair and continued to knead his brother's shoulders. For a 
while there was a not-quite-comfortable silence, and in the end it was 
Elrond who broke it.

"So what do you think of it all, then?"

Elros, who had settled deep into contemplation himself, jerked back to the 
present with a blink. "Sorry?"

"Imladris; my family; the people; the times. Everything."

Elros blinked again. Elrond looked over his shoulder at him and reached to 
tug on the sleeve of his robe; Elros realised for the first time that his hands 
had ceased to work and now rested comfortably on his brother's shoulders. 
Obeying the silent request, he carefully masked any signs of the disquiet 
brought on by his musings and rounded the chair to settle on its wing.

"I have missed much," he began slowly as he accepted his own glass of 
wine from Elrond. "I still cannot believe my Númenor is lost. These rings 
of power," he reached for Elrond's hand, bearing Vilya like an emblem, 
"So much history... Maglor would have me skinned for missing a history 
lesson!"

This elicited a soft chuckle from Elrond at the twins' own remembrances of 
their former guardian. "You have a beautiful home," Elros continued, now 
smiling, "And even more beautiful children. Arwen takes my breath 
away."

"You are thoroughly enchanted with her!" Elrond snickered, taking another 
sip of his wine. He was beginning to unwind already. 

"Aye, that I am," confessed Elros. "She is such a gentle soul; how could I 
not love her as my own daughter?"

"There is much of Arwen's mother in her," Elrond supplemented. "And 
Celebríìan is very like Celeborn. My gwenyn are less so - they have the 
temper of the Noldor in them!"

"Ah, but so did we - though its instillation by Maedhros is a distinct 
probability! And yet look at what we made of ourselves - you have done 
well, quildëquén." Elros was beginning to grow nostalgic; Elrond could 
see it in his eyes. "Lord of all this, brother..."

Absently punctuating his statement, the fingers of Elros' free hand had 
come up to toy with the mithril circlet in Elrond's raven hair. He glanced 
down and a wicked grin suddenly crossed his face; handing his glass to 
Elrond, the elder twin then began to unfasten the symbol of office and 
remove it from his brother's head.

"Elros, what are you doing?" asked Elrond, with an eyebrow canted in 
scepticism.

Elros merely grinned wider and lifted the circlet to his own brow. "Having 
some fun!" he replied, "As we have not done in many a century!"

To be continued...	

Elvish Translations:
Toger - leader - here: captain
Quildëquén - Quiet one (Quenya)


Title: One of Us

Author: Ilye (ilye_elf@yahoo.co.uk)

Website: www.wozupdoc.net/~talesfromthe

Pairing: Undertones of Elrond/Elros and Elladan/Glorfindel.

Rating: Probably nothing over R, for violence.

Please see part I for warnings, disclaimers and notes.

Thanks to Maybe for the beta, Andi for all the medical jazz, and 
Nellas for the thorough psychological analysis :D


Part IX

It was the patrol's third day on Imladris' borders, and still there 
had been no trace of the monstrosities that they sought. 

"I had never thought I would be glad to see an Orc," Elladan said 
gruffly to Glorfindel that morning as they rose and erased all traces 
of their camp. "And not merely because I wish to slaughter the foul 
thing, for once."

"I would be inclined to agree with you," Glorfindel muttered back, 
reluctant to show the rest of his patrol that their captain was 
uneasy about the situation. "I cannot help worrying over what they 
are planning."

"They will show themselves eventually." Elrohir's grim remark came as 
he moved with his horse to stand next to his captain and his brother, 
gazing steadily through the trees around them.

"But in what capacity?" wondered Glorfindel aloud. Neither twin 
answered.

The weather was typical of the time of year: bleak, slightly misty, 
and cold enough that breath crystallised at noon. It was also very 
wet underfoot, and the previous two days' travel had been spent in 
quietly squelching disquiet. Today looked to continue in the same 
manner.

Elladan and Elrohir rode on either side of Glorfindel at the head of 
their men. There were twelve of them in total, all familiar with each 
other for it was always the same group that rode out together. None 
spoke, save the occasional quiet command from Glorfindel as to the 
direction they would take next. The threat of ambush was all too 
present in the minds of the leaders - and doubtless in the minds of 
the rest of the patrol, too, for they would often look uneasily into 
the woods around them and rode close together.

Glorfindel was well aware of the solid presence of the twins beside 
him as he rode, his thoughts shifting slightly towards his 
insecurities even as his sharp senses were trained on his 
surroundings. //What if Elrond was right?// he thought. //What if 
something does happen? How will I ever face him?//

A part of him knew that he was being irrational; that they were well 
prepared in the case that something //did// happen and it was just 
the tension of the situation forcing his musings astray. But then, 
even under stress he was not normally this dour...

Glorfindel gave himself a mental shake, which nonetheless was noticed 
by Elladan, on his left. The elder twin glanced across at his lover 
and briefly allowed his hand to come to rest on the blond's knee. 
Smiling, Glorfindel took one hand from the reins and gave Elladan's a 
squeeze, before both returned to their original position. Their 
relationship had always been something about which they were very 
subtle whilst on patrol. 

"Which way?" murmured Elrohir, to Glorfindel's right, as they 
suddenly happened upon a fork in the path. The blond thought for a 
moment, recalling his knowledge of the area.

"Left," he replied. The twins both nodded and followed the directions.

This path was a windy one, containing many sharp corners around which 
nothing could be seen. All around it was silent; no one was prepared 
for the three heavily armed Orcs that sprang out to their left as 
they turned a corner and fired three arrows at the nearest target.

The rest of the patrol had whipped their bows and blades out within a 
fraction of a second. Glorfindel let out a cry of shock and anger as 
he saw one arrow bury itself deep in Elladan's stomach. The second 
whistled past the twin's face, just nicking his cheekbone, and the 
third vanished nearly to the flights in the chest of his horse. The 
blond ducked to one side as Elladan's horse reared up, his lover 
uttering a grunt of surprised pain and hanging on as best he could. 
It was no use, however, for the injured animal overbalanced himself 
in his distress and, to both Glorfindel and Elrohir's horror, came 
crashing down to the ground.

Despite this, though, no Elf was given the time to come to Elladan's 
aid. The three enemy archers had been quickly slain, but now the 
patrol found itself surrounded by Orcs from every direction. A few 
muttered words from Glorfindel instructed the mounted warriors to 
form an outward facing circle with Elladan and his fallen stallion at 
the centre. For a few heartbeats the foes simply stared at each 
other, the Elves with their bows drawn and pointing at the Orcs with 
swords in their paws. Then Glorfindel gave the signal, and the Elves 
opened fire.

The Orcs at the front fell instantly, for the Elven archers' aim was 
true - yet there were more waiting behind, ready to charge. No Elf 
was given the chance to fire a third arrow, however, for the distance 
between Elf and Orc was closed, forcing swords to be drawn.

There must have been nigh on fifty Orcs, Glorfindel thought, as he 
slashed his way through the enemy. Elrohir was fighting hard to his 
right, wearing a mask of grim calmness as he and his twin always did 
when slaughtering the things. Every time it chilled Glorfindel to see 
it. All around him the Orcs were falling, shrieks from the beasts 
matched by roars from his own men, enraged by Elladan's injury. 
Blades and cries rang around the area, though the fray lasted only a 
little more than fifteen minutes - even outnumbered as they were, the 
Elven warriors had no trouble obliterating the Orcs' forces.

Glorfindel killed the last Orc himself, which, unafraid of death, ran 
straight at him with its hooked blade aloft and its jagged teeth 
bared. The golden captain heard his men moving to Elladan's aid and a 
spark of intense anger was lit within him; narrowing his eyes at the 
beast, he urged his horse into a canter and charged at it. 

The Elven sword met the Orc's flesh low in its abdomen. With a snarl 
of fury and unprecedented strength, Glorfindel used the momentum to 
force the blade upwards, through the entire torso and split the 
sternum apart. The Orc shrieked, the ugly, grating sound turning to a 
gurgle as the Elda's sword cleaved its throat and lodged beneath its 
chin. With a sour look at the fallen creature, Glorfindel spun his 
horse around on the spot and yanked his sword free, before racing to 
where his men were gathered worriedly around Elladan. He vaulted to 
the ground and cast his bloody sword aside, pushing his men aside to 
reach his lover. 

Elladan's face was deathly white, his breathing shallow and laboured. 
His eyes were closed, but he appeared conscious and responsive to 
what Elrohir, kneeling at the right side of his head, was saying to 
him. Glorfindel knelt to the left and took Elladan's hand; Elrohir 
looked up at his captain, his lips pinched and his countenance severe.

"We need to get Rhossûl off him," he muttered, motioning to the horse 
that lay across Elladan's left hip and the greater part of his leg. 
The stallion was still breathing, but had long ago given up 
struggling and now lay quietly over his rider.

Glorfindel nodded and motioned to several of his warriors. They 
positioned themselves around the horse whilst Elrohir remained at his 
twin's head to soothe him; four more men each took hold of one of the 
stallion's legs. On their captain's count, they then began to heave 
the animal up and away from Elladan's body, whilst at the same time 
pulling on the legs, in order to escape further damage to what looked 
to be some nasty breaks. It took a considerable amount of what little 
energy the warriors had remaining, but eventually Elladan was free 
from Rhossûl's body. Glorfindel lastly exchanged a glance with 
Elrohir, who distracted his twin whilst Glorfindel slit the throat of 
Elladan's beloved stallion.

Now that all injuries were visible, Glorfindel made a quick 
evaluation of Elladan. His left leg was broken in several places; his 
pelvis was likely broken. The snapped arrow in his abdomen had been 
driven in very deep where the horse had caught it when struggling, 
and to Glorfindel's dismay there was a thick, foul-smelling black 
substance congealed around the wound.

"The arrowhead is too deep - we cannot remove it out here," he 
muttered to Elrohir, who had peered over to examine the 
wound. "There's also poison in there - and it's spreading. We need to 
ride him back to the house as quickly as possible."

"Would it not be better to construct a litter?" Elrohir sounded a 
little dubious. "Surely his hip and leg will not stand riding 
pillion?"

"A litter will be too slow; they will have to," Glorfindel murmured 
back as he applied a makeshift splint to Elladan's leg. He was trying 
to keep his voice as low as possible so as not to panic anyone else 
more than was necessary. "If there is to be a chance at all."

"Then I will ride with him." Elrohir's voice brooked no argument as 
he turned back to his prostrate brother and murmured softly to him. 
Elladan's eyes opened and he smiled painfully, weakly; one hand 
clutched at Elrohir's, whilst his other reached for Glorfindel's.

"It will be all right, melme," Glorfindel reassured him and kissed 
his hand. "We are going to get you onto Elrohir's horse now."

Elladan nodded, and whilst one of the other warriors held the younger 
twin's horse still, Glorfindel and Elrohir proceeded to gently lift 
him off the ground.

"Get on," instructed the blond with a jerk of his head towards the 
horse. "His pelvis will not support him otherwise."

Elrohir did as commanded, getting to his feet and moving to mount. 
Although holding the torso of his injured lover off the ground, 
Glorfindel did not fail to mark the younger twin's heavy limp or the 
blood staining his leggings.

"You are injured too," he stated tersely. Elrohir glared at him to be 
quiet and instead held out his arms for his brother. Carefully, 
Glorfindel and another guard eked Elladan off the ground and raised 
him up towards the saddle. A pained noise escaped the twin's lips as 
his abdomen and leg were jostled, but Glorfindel had no choice but to 
ignore it as he eased his lover in front of Elrohir. A cloak was used 
to support his hips as much as possible, but it was still clear from 
the way that he bit on his lip and hid his face in Elrohir's neck 
that he was in sheer agony.

Glorfindel now slapped the rump of Elrohir's horse. "Ride!" he 
ordered. "I will catch you up." Elrohir nodded grimly, then gripped 
his brother tightly to him and spurred his horse to a canter.

"Is anyone else injured?" the captain now asked, turning towards his 
sombre troop. Various answers sounded around the group, but there 
seemed to be nothing more than the odd gash to a bicep or 
thigh. "Good - I am going to ride back with Elladan and Elrohir, lest 
more ill befall them on the way. Anyone too severely injured may come 
back with me, but I wish the rest of you to burn the bodies before 
you ride back to the manor." He turned away, then remembered 
something. "Burn Rhossûl separately - bury him if you can. I will not 
have his body defiled by cremation with these beasts. The Orcs will 
not return this day."

The men all nodded, waiting until their leader had cut a lock of 
Rhossûl's tail, tucked it inside the pouch at his belt and mounted 
his own horse before starting their duties. There was a grim feeling 
all around as their leader galloped towards home.

~~~

In some respects it was fortunate that the patrol had only been less 
than an hour's ride from the manor. The ride had weakened Elladan 
even further, who stirred feebly and groaned as he was taken gently 
into the arms of his dismounted lover. Arms now free, Elrohir too 
leapt from his horse, ignoring the biting pain in his thigh on impact 
with the ground, and tried to take his twin from the blond again.

"You are injured," stated Glorfindel shortly, already striding 
briskly from the courtyard.

"I can cope," snarled back Elrohir. Glorfindel cast him a sideways 
look, deliberately taking in the way in which the younger twin was 
limping heavily to keep up with their swift pace. Elrohir grimaced 
again but this time said nothing, and instead allowed Glorfindel to 
yell for Elrond as they entered the house.

Halfway en-route to the healing wing, a son of Eärendil appeared at 
their side.

"He will meet you there," announced the Peredhel, showing himself to 
be Elros. Elrohir saw his uncle's eyes sweep over Elladan's prone and 
bloody form and his face pale visibly.

"'Tis grave," he whispered, voice hoarse. Glorfindel gave a curt nod 
in way of reply, the only words leaving his lips meant as comfort to 
his injured lover.

"Almost there, melme," he murmured with a great deal more conviction 
than he felt. "Your Adar will sort you out."

"Tell me off... for being so... stupid... get myself... killed," 
wheezed Elladan, then coughed harshly. Glorfindel had to fight hard 
to keep his face from twisting and instead forced what he hoped was a 
comforting smile.

"You're not going to die," Elros told him firmly as they finally 
entered the healing houses. Elladan opened his mouth to speak, but 
Elros shushed him instead.

The four of them entered the main ward to see Elrond already 
preparing the basics: hot water, clean towels and bandages, his 
surgical tools. Poorly disguised shock crossed his blanched features 
at the sight of his firstborn in Glorfindel's arms, but he waited 
stoically by the bed until his captain had laid Elladan upon it.

"What happened?" he demanded brusquely as he instantly set to work, 
his expression now expertly schooled to clinical detachment. 

"Orcs," responded Glorfindel, equally as shortly. "His horse fell on 
him, broke his left leg and hip. It also drove the arrow in deeper - 
the wound is poisoned, but it was too dangerous to remove the head." 
He quickly cleaned his hands, watching as Elrond cut away the shirt 
and tunic from Elladan's torso to reveal the horrific wound to his 
abdomen.

"Surrounded us... All dead," Elladan forced out before another 
rattling cough shook his frame. Pain whipped through his battered 
body, from his ankle to his pelvis, through his torso and into his 
pounding head. A convulsion swiftly followed, enough to wring a 
whimper from his trembling lips, and he clutched at Elrohir's offered 
arm for support.

Elrohir soothed him as best he could, told him to relax, not to 
speak, whilst encouraging him to drink the serum that his father had 
pressed into his hands. Almost totally disabled by the excruciating 
spasm, Elladan could do little more than concentrate on regaining his 
breath and barely noticed as his twin dribbled the antidote between 
his lips. 

Elrond, meanwhile, threw a wild look over his shoulder at 
Glorfindel. "We need to get the rest of this arrow out!" he 
instructed, before diverting his attention to his suffering son. "I 
cannot give you aught for the pain, gweniaur," he said, now more 
gently. "The wound is poisoned and your nervous system needs to be as 
awake as possible to fight it."

Elladan nodded once, teeth grit. "Can take it," he hissed. Elrond 
smiled at him proudly and patted him on the shoulder, then turned 
away and picked up his scalpel.

"What do you need us to do?" asked Elros as he moved to the other 
side of the bed, joined by Glorfindel. 

"Hold him still," Elrond replied. "I will have to cut out the rest of 
the arrow; it's barbed." They both nodded and, when Elros had taken 
hold of Elladan's waist and Glorfindel the other shoulder to Elrohir, 
Elrond set to work.

Slowly, painstakingly, Elrond sliced through the poisoned flesh. The 
first cut widened the wound, and the second; the third and fourth 
penetrated down around the side of the arrowhead. Elrond cut 
carefully, for it had been driven deep, his brow knit in 
concentration for many tense minutes.

Elladan remained admirably still throughout, though it may have been 
a different matter without his Elven restraints. His wheezing, 
grating breaths were all that could be heard in the taut silence of 
the ward, the occasional hitch all that betrayed the utter agony he 
was feeling.

At last, though, his steel resolve shattered after Elrond laid down 
his scalpel and picked up his forceps. Taking hold of the loosened 
arrowhead between them, the half-Elf gently re-opened the edges of 
the wound with his fingers and began to eke out the metal. For a 
moment Elladan's breathing quickened, before his chapped lips parted 
and a curt, keening cry split the semi-silence.

Elrond forced himself to continue removing the arrowhead, however 
much the agonised cries burrowed into his heart like stinging arrows 
themselves. Elros, Elrohir and Glorfindel held Elladan down as he 
instinctively arched and twisted away. The latter of the two murmured 
calmingly to him, even though yet more cries escaped him from the 
pressure Elros had placed on his broken pelvis.

"Mind the hips!" Glorfindel snapped at Elros, then brushed his lips 
over his lover's cold, clammy forehead. 

Elladan trembled gratefully at the contact, his other hand returning 
a now weakening grip on Elrohir's hand. His entire body hurt to the 
point of numbness and the world around him was becoming hazy, despite 
the lack of sedative. The excruciating throb of his leg and the 
cutting pain through his belly seemed to be receding now; Elladan 
barely registered when his father finally extracted the arrowhead and 
discarded it with an ill-hidden sneer. He hardly registered the 
sudden shout for padding to staunch the bleeding - //where was all 
this blood coming from all of a sudden?// he blearily wondered. He 
could see his father - two fathers - doing something with wads of 
white, their hands dripping red, but it could not be him bleeding. He 
didn't hurt anymore. It was pleasant, now, he liked this: his limbs 
comfortably, painlessly heavy, Elrohir speaking words into his ear 
that he couldn't quite make out. A shroud of calm seemed to have 
descended over his entire being, lulling him away from this agony.

His twin's pleas to hold on did nothing as Elladan finally succumbed 
to unconsciousness. 


Part X

"Elladan! Elladan!" Elrohir desperately called his twin's name, 
patting his cheeks in a futile attempt to rouse him again, whilst 
Elrond, Elros and Glorfindel laboured to stem the extensive 
haemorrhage. He knew that the poison was deep within Elladan's system 
by this point and may well have taken effect despite the antidote. 
The heavy abdominal bleeding was caused by the removal of the 
arrowhead, which had more than likely pierced an organ. Elrohir began 
to grow panicked; fate was not on his brother's side at present.

"Eddan... Adar, he's stopped breathing!"

Elrond glanced up, his face strained and ashen and his forearms 
bloody to the elbow. "Then breathe for him!" he snapped, returning 
immediately to work on the mutilated abdomen. Elrohir instantly did 
as he was told: he pinched Elladan's nose closed, tilted his head 
back, and exhaled between the cold blue lips once... three... five... 
Twice... three... five...

A rhythm soon developed, which Elrohir willingly lost himself in; 
breathing for his twin in the pattern of ones, threes and fives, 
everything seemed at a distance. He vaguely registered when 
Glorfindel started pressing on Elladan's chest to pump the blood 
through his heart, and when Arwen and Erestor entered together but 
were too shocked to do little more than cling to each other in the 
doorway. Yet everything -- the panic to his left; the lack of 
response from Elladan -- did not seem to be really happening... that 
was, until Elrohir felt his father lay a hand gently on his arm.

"Elrohir..." he murmured, pulling his younger son away from his 
elder. "Stop."

Elrohir looked up, eyes wide and lips parted in disbelief, to see 
that everyone around Elladan had stopped what they were doing. He 
looked down at his brother's cold, broken form and then back to his 
father. Elrond's face was blank, his eyes glassy. There was 
absolutely nothing there, save the single tear trail down one cheek.

"He's not coming back, Elrohir."

Reality hit like an Oliphaunt. Elrohir's breath hitched; a sob 
escaped his throat unwilling. His breathing sped; his heart raced to 
match it. His eyes blurred; his ears rang. He turned on his heel and 
fled.

Glorfindel closed his eyes and hung his head. In the corner, Arwen 
hid her face in proud Erestor's shoulder and wept. Elrond stared 
blankly at the lifeless form of his eldest. But Elros would not have 
it.

"Come with me, Elrond," he hissed as he grabbed his brother's 
arm. "Now." There was no response from Elrond, so Elros, face stern 
and resolute, dragged him away from Elladan's deathbed and into a 
room off to one side.

"Elrond, listen to me," he muttered to his twin. Their faces were 
only inches apart, yet Elrond seemed too shell-shocked to 
respond. "Elrond!" Still no response. Elros tried roughly shaking his 
shoulders, but when that failed he was left with no option but to 
deliver a stinging slap to his brother's face. "*Elrond!*"

This worked. Elrond's eyes focused and instantly filled with tears; 
his body began to shake.

"No. Stop that," Elros told him firmly, now taking hold of both of 
his brother's shoulders. "There is still something you can do -- 
Elrond!" He gave his twin another shake as grief started to get the 
better of him. "Listen to me, this is important! There is still 
something you can do!"

Visibly trembling, Elrond could do nothing but nod.

"There //was// a reason that I was remade, Elrond," the elder 
Peredhel began. "The Valar had foreseen this, yet this was the only 
way they could intervene -- Elladan does not belong with them yet."

"W-what are you s-saying?" whispered Elrond fearfully. Elros inclined 
his head and smiled sadly, regarding his brother intently.

"You were never able to let go of me," he murmured back. "Now is your 
chance. Let go of me and you shall have him back."

A cry left Elrond's lips before he could stifle it. "No..." he 
moaned. "You have only just returned! Ai, Elros, don't make me do 
this!"

It almost broke Elros' heart to see the despair on his brother's 
face. Yet he still continued. "You must, Elrond -- 'tis one or the 
other. If you fail to let go of me then Elladan is lost. But do what 
you have been unable to all these millennia and you shall have him 
back. It's up to you, brother. It's one of us."

Elrond shook his head vehemently; he was close to weeping, but was 
doing his utmost to hold it back. His wet grey eyes were wide and 
fixed solely on Elros. "I could never let you go, I could never say 
goodbye! I love you, Elros -- I love you! I can't do it!"

"Yes you can, Elrond, you can," Elros reassured him. One of his hands 
came up to cup Elrond's damp cheek, whilst his other smoothed gently 
over the disordered raven hair. "It's me or him: whose place is it to 
go?"

"You cannot ask me that! How am I supposed to choose?"

"You know the answer, brother -- really, you do." Elrond closed his 
eyes and nuzzled into the touch of Elros' hand as his brother spoke 
calmly to him. "Once already have I left you, yet you would not admit 
it to yourself. The turmoil inside you was too great: your guilt, 
your anger, your misery. Let go of it, Elrond, let go of //me//. For 
yourself. For him."

"F-for him," Elrond whispered, voice tremulous. "L-love you..."

"And I love you too, quildëquén," Elros murmured back. Elrond opened 
his eyes again, and in that moment Elros leaned forward and pressed 
their lips together. Elrond inhaled sharply; his eyes slipped closed; 
he opened his mouth and drank of his twin, whilst Elros kissed him 
deeply, sweetly. For many long moments they stood locked together, 
lip-bound and limb-entwined; and as they kissed, Elrond felt 
something inside of him gently loosen and drift away from his being, 
so that his fëa felt lighter and stronger than before.

His hands drifted to Elros' cheeks, cupped the golden flesh 
reverently, thumbs caressing cheekbones. Gradually, so that he was 
barely aware, the flesh beneath his fingertips grew softer, lighter, 
thinner, somehow. And then the airy words reached his ears: "Say 
goodbye". When he opened his eyes, Elros was gone.

"Goodbye," he whispered to the room, empty as he now felt inside. 
Tears flooded his eyes again as fingertips came up to touch his lips 
in disbelief. The pounding that came then at the door almost startled 
him out of his wits.

"Elrond! He's breathing -- come quickly! He's alive again!"

Elrond drew a deep breath. Of course Elladan was alive again -- this 
was his gift. And he had to treasure it. Using the sleeve of his 
robe, he wiped away the dampness from his face and raked a hand 
through his hair. Then, head held high and shoulders straightened, he 
opened the door and strode back into the main ward.

The face of Glorfindel that met him was lit with a wary hope, if 
somewhat tired. At this moment it was hope or despair. "I couldn't 
believe -- he just started -- Elrond?" The blond paused, glanced over 
his shoulder into the vacant room. "Where is Elros?"

Elrond merely looked at his friend and smiled faintly, wistfully. 
Glorfindel's brow furrowed in concern, but he wisely made no further 
comment and instead followed the half-Elf over to Elladan's bedside. 

Arwen was sitting on the edge of the bed and looked up with wide, 
expectant silver eyes. The face of her injured brother was ghastly 
pale and his skin almost transparent; his eyes were closed and his 
cracked lips were slightly parted. The breath that passed between 
them would hardly have disturbed a feather, though every shallow rise 
and fall of the chest was accompanied by a soft rasping sound. The 
covers had been pulled up to his sternum, hiding the deep, as-yet-
unstitched wound in his belly and the horribly mangled leg and 
pelvis. For a moment, Elrond simply stood over Elladan, staring at 
him as though in a trance. Then he stooped and half-heartedly checked 
the pulse at the throat.

"He will live," the Peredhel announced. His voice held little 
emotion; he already knew the outcome. A sob of relief escaped Arwen, 
mirrored by a happy exhalation from Glorfindel. But Elrond looked up 
sharply.

"Where is Elrohir?" he asked.

"He ran off, my lord," Glorfindel replied, shifting a little 
uneasily. "Arwen..."

"I will fetch him," she answered, wiping her eyes as she got to her 
feet. Soft, full lips were brushed over her elder brother's brow and 
a bright but teary smile spared for her father before she left.

"I hope he has done nothing stupid," muttered Elrond, his eyes still 
transfixed on Elladan's face, lax in the oblivion of unconsciousness.

"He won't have," Glorfindel assured him, stepping up behind his 
friend and resting a strong hand on a slumped shoulder.

Elrond released a long sigh, one that seemed to shake him from the 
soul outwards. "No," he said with a resolute shake of his head. "He 
won't have. Come, Glorfindel, we must close this wound and set these 
bones."

The blond nodded and the two Elven-lords set to work. Glorfindel 
assisted Elrond in the painstaking task of closing the hole in 
Elladan's stomach, the half-Elven healer calling on his inherent 
powers and the resources around him to encourage the wound to begin 
healing. New growth was promoted at the cut edges of the deep organs, 
the pus and remnants of poison having previously been thoroughly 
washed away. Another dose of the antidote was administered to the 
unconscious Elf, along with a small amount of miruvor to help 
strengthen and warm him.

At some point throughout the procedure, Arwen re-entered the room 
with a very sober Elrohir in tow. She watched with grave eyes as 
Elrohir rushed to his twin's side and knelt, took one limp hand 
within both of his and pressed it to his lips. No tears escaped his 
grey eyes, but he had them screwed tightly closed as he first rubbed 
his cheek against Elladan's hand, then released it with one of his 
own to run fingertips reverently over the still, pallid features. 
Elrond's stiff, silver regard flicked over him once, then returned to 
the channelling of his healing powers; he would not have known. 
Elrohir and Arwen had sworn not to tell him that the Evenstar had 
found her brother with his dagger point to his breast.

Eventually, Elrond stood up straight again. The re-firing of tissue 
growth within his son's body had drained most of his energy, but 
Elladan would now be healing inside. A line of neat stitches showed 
all that was to be seen of the wound that had killed him.

"The bones," he said tiredly to Glorfindel. "The leg is easy, but the 
pelvis may develop complications."

The blond nodded, moved the blankets away from Elladan's lower body 
and then carefully cut away the leggings so that Elrond could conduct 
a full assessment. Elegant, knowing fingers tenderly felt around the 
broken hip, feeling where the bone was fractured or split. A look of 
intense concentration crossed his face as he encountered a fragment 
that was out of place, and gently he manipulated it into the correct 
position once more. He continued until he was certain that there was 
no further, more serious damage, then, with the help of Glorfindel, 
splinted and set the left leg. Finally, they packed more pillows 
firmly around Elladan so that he was largely immobile, his forearms 
also propped up, and covered him warmly.

Now that Elladan was finally as mended as was possible at present, 
Elrond found himself able to do little more than stand, exhausted, by 
the bed. He had worked on his son for hours and channelling that 
energy for so long had depleted most of his resources. From the 
corner of his eye he saw Glorfindel moving around the room; then the 
next thing he knew, the blond was beside him with a steady arm around 
his shoulders and pressing a cool glass into his hands.

"Drink this," he encouraged softly.

Elrond looked down at the miruvor in the glass, up at Glorfindel and 
then over to Arwen and Elrohir. Then he looked away.

"Leave," he commanded, in little more than a whisper. Glorfindel 
looked at his friend, whilst Arwen and Elrohir both opened their 
mouths to protest. Without warning, Elrond's eyes flew wide and his 
head snapped up. All jumped as he hurled his glass across the room, 
to smash onto the hard floor some distance away. This time his voice 
was louder, menacing.

"//I said leave!//"

Glorfindel, who had withdrawn a short distance, moved respectfully 
away and motioned to Arwen and Elrohir. One of Arwen's hands flew up 
to cover her mouth and she dashed around the bed to be comforted by 
the Elda and led from the room. Elrohir, however, stared defiantly at 
his father, until Glorfindel hissed at him from the doorway. The 
younger twin simply pursed his lips and stalked from the room, 
ignoring his father and pushing past his sister and his captain. 
Elrond's eyes did not move from where Elrohir had been standing.

When the door finally closed, the Peredhel shuffled up to the head of 
the bed and stood gazing down on his eldest son. The emotions that he 
had pushed aside whilst he worked now took full advantage of his 
weakened state; they came crashing down upon Elrond so hard that he 
fell to his knees by Elladan's head. For a long time, the only sound 
to be heard in the healing wing was that of a father sobbing on the 
shoulder of his unconscious son, until even that faded to a heavy, 
somnolent silence.



Part XI

Three days later, Elladan started to awaken. Glorfindel was the only 
one up. It was early morning and Arwen and Elrond were still asleep 
in nearby side-rooms. Elrohir, who had refused to leave his brother's 
side, was also asleep in his chair, though he had leant forward so 
his head rested on the bed next to Elladan, their fingers entwined.

With a wince at what could not be a comfortable position for the 
younger twin, Glorfindel pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and 
waited. After a while, Elladan's eyelids began to flutter and his 
face took on an expression of discomfort. Then, slowly, his eyes 
opened, pain-glazed, and merely stared blankly at the ceiling for 
several moments.

Glorfindel remained quiet whilst Elladan reacquainted himself with 
the realm of the living and conscious -- he was well aware that it 
took a while to grow used to again. Eventually Elladan managed to 
focus on the ceiling, then at last let his head loll slightly to the 
side in order to take in what was around him.

The first thing on which his eyes alighted was Glorfindel. A feeble 
smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he took in the sight of his 
lover. The blond smiled brilliantly back and leaned forwards in his 
chair, one hand coming to find Elladan's whilst the other went to 
smooth the cold, pale forehead.

"Good morning," he said gently.

Elladan smiled a little wider but did not reply. Instead his head 
rolled to the other side, where Elrohir was sleeping at his shoulder. 
Glorfindel marked the fondness in Elladan's tired grey eyes as he 
regarded his twin.

"He hasn't left your side these past three days," he told 
Elladan. "'Tis the first time he's slept since it happened."

Elladan managed a small nod, his expression soft as he then loosened 
his other hand from beneath the multitude of bedcovers and shakily 
moved it so he could rest his fingers against Elrohir's upturned 
cheek. So exhausted was Elrohir that this did not even cause him to 
stir.

"Where's Ada?" Elladan croaked at length. His head rolled back again 
on the pillow so he was looking at Glorfindel again.

"He's asleep," the blond replied. "It's only early, and he has 
exhausted himself these past few days."

"Elros?" was the next rasped question.

Glorfindel was lost for words for a heartbeat. "I don't know," he 
then murmured. "He's gone." Elladan blinked and his brow furrowed, 
but he did not follow up that remark.

"Are you in much pain?" Glorfindel tried changing the subject.

The twin gave a curdled smile. "Some." It was a horrendous 
understatement; his entire body throbbed and screamed in agony from 
the waist down.

"I will get you something to help." Glorfindel bent to give his lover 
a brief kiss, innocent but loving and gratefully received, then rose 
to prepare an analgesic tea. He moved quietly around the room, 
pouring a cup of hot water from the tank always kept heated in the 
healing wing.

Elladan watched him. "What's the damage?" He sounded like he did not 
really want to know.

"Your left leg is broken in three places." Glorfindel popped several 
strips of willow bark, some yarrow, as well as sundry other herbs, 
into the cup to steep. "Your hip is also broken -- we have tried to 
immobilise you as much as possible with the pillows so the bones can 
start to fuse. At the moment you probably won't want to anyway, but 
you must try not to move for a while. And that scratch on your 
stomach - you have lost a lot of blood from it."

A smile touched Elladan's pale lips again; he preferred it when 
Glorfindel was the one to tend to him. His light-hearted yet 
efficient manner of talking about even the gravest of wounds to the 
patients always made Elladan less gruff and dismal when compared to 
Elrond's worrisome fussing over his sons. And although he would never 
admit it, Elladan also preferred the fact that Glorfindel put honey 
into the otherwise bitter analgesic tea.

True to Elladan's expectations, the Elda did slip a generous spoonful 
of honey into the brew before carrying it back over to the bed. 
Elladan clumsily shifted his upper body a little, and in the process 
brushed his right hand across Elrohir's cheek. This time the younger 
twin did stir, his eyes focusing slowly before he lifted his head. He 
grimaced and rubbed his stiff neck, then looked about to see what had 
woken him.

Elladan smiled at his twin, who uttered an unintelligible noise 
before veritably leaping from the chair to the side of the bed. 
Glorfindel's scowl went unnoticed as Elrohir jostled the bed in the 
process, but Elladan did not seem to mind. Elrohir had leant forward 
so as to embrace his twin, who stiffly brought his arms up around 
Elrohir's back in turn. For a moment they simply clutched at each 
other, Elrohir with his face buried in Elladan's neck and Elladan 
with his cheek pressed to Elrohir's hair, eyes closed tightly. 
Eventually, though, Elrohir moved his head so he could press a kiss 
to Elladan's face. His eyes were blurred with tears.

"Eddan... I thought you weren't coming back," he whispered. "I was so 
scared..."

Elladan nuzzled at his distraught twin's cheek. "Don't cry," he 
murmured back, tasting salt and bitterness and pain. "I'm here now, 
aren't I?"

A soft sniff and a grateful nod ensued. "I... I nearly did something 
stupid, Eddan," Elrohir then murmured. "I didn't know what I would do 
without you."

Elladan visibly flinched at the words but said nothing, instead 
settling for stroking his twin's hair. There was silence for a 
moment; standing near the foot of the bed, Glorfindel could not help 
but feel somewhat useless with nothing to hold but a mug of tea as 
the twins embraced. Eventually, though, Elladan started to shift in 
discomfort beneath the weight of his twin.

"Ellir," he said softly, "I could really do with that tea."

Elrohir instantly pulled away from Elladan, worry lighting his eyes. 
A soft reassurance from his brother was all it took to assuage that, 
however, causing Elrohir to smile for the first time in days as he 
held out his hand expectantly for the tea Glorfindel was holding.

Glorfindel tried not to feel put-out, and certainly hid the 
expression masterfully; after all, Elrohir was closest to Elladan and 
came before all others. He knew what the bonds of twins were like. He 
gave an encouraging smile as he handed over the tea, and though it 
did not quite reach his eyes, neither of the twins noticed this for 
they were too focused on each other. For a moment, he watched whilst 
Elrohir manipulated Elladan in a position to drink the analgesic, but 
then some strange emotion cinched his stomach and caused him to turn 
away.

"I shall fetch your father," he murmured, moving from the room. He 
was not certain that either brother heard him.

~~~

Elrond walked into Elladan's room wearing the robes in which he had 
fallen asleep the night before. He was neither hurrying nor dragging 
his feet, but walked with the sedate pace of one ready to meet an 
unpleasant inevitability.

His eyes were soft and bright, but no smile touched his features as 
he settled on the edge of Elladan's bed. Gentle fingers stroked his 
son's pale cheek; dry lips kissed his forehead; knowing hands checked 
vital signs. Yet Elrond said nothing.

"Adar," began Elladan quietly after several moments of this 
overwrought silence, "Are you all right?" The only reaction he 
received was a tense half-smile. "What happened?"

Elrond looked at him, and suddenly the expression in his eyes changed 
from affectionate to regretful.

"With Elros," Elladan prompted further.

"I... I don't think I can talk about it," Elrond said at length, then 
stood up quickly and turned away. Elladan reached in vain for his 
father, whilst Elrohir's eyes suddenly fired and he too got to his 
feet.

"You have been like this for three days, Adar!" he said 
heatedly. "Surely Elladan deserves to know what happened, even if you 
won't tell the rest of us?"

Elrond turned around slowly until his body was oblique to Elrohir, 
grey eyes watching his son askance. "Aye, he does deserve to know," 
came the tired reply. "And he shall - when I can speak of it without 
feeling as though I have been torn in two."

"Whatever happened with Elros," hissed Elrohir through gritted 
teeth, "Elladan owes his life to it. The least you could do is tell 
him --"

"Would you mind not talking across me as though I weren't here?" 
Elladan cut in. His voice was soft, but his eyes glimmered 
dangerously. "Ellir, Glorfindel - would you mind..."

He tailed off with a meaningful glance towards the door. Elrohir 
glanced from his brother to his father, but did not bother to argue 
this time. Instead he simply heaved a heavy sigh of exasperation and 
left, closely tailed by Glorfindel.

"Sit down, Ada," Elladan said; he could see the tension in his 
father's shoulders and knew that it would not be long before he 
started to pace. "Talk to me."

Elrond hesitated for a spell, then perched himself on the edge of the 
bed. Elladan rested a limp hand on his forearm in support, yet still 
Elrond said nothing.

"Please, Ada, talk to me!" he implored after yet more silence. "What 
is this, that I owe Elros my life? For the sake of the Valar, tell 
me //something//! Is it true?"

"Yes, it is true." The half-Elf gave a shuddering sigh and glanced 
down at the bedclothes before meeting his son's shock-rimmed 
eyes. "Elros is... unmade."

"But... Why?" gasped Elladan. "I don't... Oh. This was why he was 
remade, wasn't he?"

Blinking sadly, Elrond nodded. "A Valarin intervention. You do not 
belong with them yet... I had to let go of him." He saw the confusion 
on Elladan's face and shook his head. "There is much that has passed 
between us, gweniaur. He... I never accepted his death - here," he 
rested his hand over his heart, "I could not let go of him all these 
years. I blamed myself for his choice... I loved him, Elladan. I 
loved him like a brother never should."

Stupefied, Elladan regarded his father in abject bewilderment. "So 
you chose --"

"I could have chosen differently." Elrond cut in, scraping quickly at 
his eyes with his sleeve. "He could have stayed; you had already 
been..." His voice hitched, but he forced himself to say the 
word, "... dead... for some time. He would have been with me, and he 
would have done all that Elrohir does for you: supported me, 
comforted me, loved me. But he is not, and..." A heavy sigh; Elrond 
paused for a moment. 

"Ai, yes, I am glad to have you back," he eventually 
continued. "Elros pushed me to let him go, do you know that? It was 
the right choice; I know that I made the right choice. But you are 
just so alike -- I cannot look at you right now and not see him. How 
does it feel to be resented, Elladan?"

Elladan's hand dropped away from his father's arm as Elrond stood up 
abruptly. The younger Elf's eyes showed the stinging pain that those 
words had delivered and he bit his lip, looked away. Burying his face 
in his pillow, he heard rather than saw his father leave; yet it did 
not interest him. He was too busy trying to fight back the tears.



Part XII

Elladan appeared to have fallen into a fitful sleep when Elrohir and 
Glorfindel finally dared to re-enter his rooms, but Elrond was 
nowhere to be seen. Arwen had awoken by this point and, though 
overjoyed to learn that her brother had regained consciousness, 
elected to search for her father instead of waiting by Elladan's 
bedside. She was always better at tempering Elrond's moods than her 
brothers or Glorfindel, and it was clear that something unpleasant 
had passed between father and son.

"What do you suppose happened?" pondered Elrohir aloud as he settled 
into the chair at Elladan's head once more. There was a distinct note 
of protectiveness in his voice that showed he would not be pleased if 
Elladan had been upset.

Glorfindel shrugged. "I am in the same position as you: I still don't 
know the full story of what happened with Elros, either," he said, 
taking a seat on the other side of the bed. "Though your father is 
clearly still hurting from it... I don't know."

"It would seem that Adar cannot currently see past the end of his 
nose." This time it was not Elrohir who spoke, but Elladan; although 
his eyes were blankly directed towards the ceiling, the occasional 
blink showed that he was now conscious. "At present he cannot see me 
for his beloved Elros."

Elrohir, taken aback not only by finding his brother awake, but also 
by the bitterness in his voice and the void in his eyes, leaned 
forward and caressed Elladan's cheek.  "What did he say?" he coaxed 
as he gently turned his twin's face towards him.

"He had a choice - me or Elros." Elladan looked into his brother's 
eyes for a moment, then glanced away. "His feelings were made 
perfectly clear."

Elrohir's voice dropped to a near-growl. "And they were?"

"A good deal of resentment, I should imagine," offered Glorfindel 
when Elladan did not speak for a moment. "No matter whether he 
intends it or not."

Elladan nodded. "Guilt - there is a long history that he only hinted 
at. He hurts... and I am the reason why he hurts. My own Adar resents 
my very existence; he does not see me. He sees... //him//."

"He does not resent your existence, Elladan," Glorfindel 
reasoned. "It must --"

"Then why did he say exactly that?" interrupted the elder twin in a 
tone partway between anguish and anger.

"It must," the blond continued calmly, "Have been one of the hardest 
decisions he has ever had to make. Just you imagine choosing between 
your brother and your son."

"I would choose my brother," came the staunch reply at once.

"You only say that," said Glorfindel, "Because you have no son."

With one hand laid protectively on his brother's shoulder, Elrohir 
lifted his chin and regarded Glorfindel with no small amount of 
disdain. "I see not why you are siding with Adar after he has said 
what he has," he scorned. "This is hardly Elladan's fault!"

"I am not 'siding' with anyone, Elrohir." Glorfindel inclined his 
head. "It is not your father's fault, either, and I hardly think it 
fair that you two should leap to attack him without considering his 
perspective."

Elrohir hissed. "From Adar's perspective, he very well implied that 
he wished he had chosen differently - he wished his own son dead! I 
will not have //anyone// speak of my brother like that, be he my 
father or no!"

"Elrohir," Glorfindel cautioned. "Watch your tongue. Need I remind 
you that you are not the only one here who cares for Elladan?"

The younger twin was about to make a cutting remark in response, but 
Elladan held up his hand between his bickering twin and lover.

"Peace!" he exclaimed, the one word conveying a well of 
exhaustion. "Argue my honour against Adar's in the corridor if you 
will, but do not do it across me when I just wish to sleep and 
forget."

"Very well." Glorfindel straightened in his chair. "Would you like 
something to help?"

"I would like some peace and quiet," Elladan responded as his eyes 
slipped heavily closed for a moment. "Why don't you go and sort out 
my father, Glorfindel?"

The blond looked from Elladan's strained, tired face to Elrohir's 
eyes: hard-set stones in a cold marble facade. "As you wish," he 
replied with a proud lift of his chin, and bent forward to kiss his 
lover's forehead. Elladan barely stopped himself from recoiling, at 
which Glorfindel lifted an eyebrow. "You are not the only one with 
feelings, Elladan," he muttered disapprovingly, before rising and 
briskly striding from the room.

A whole mixture of emotions welled up inside Elladan at this and, 
childish as it was, he would have thrown something at the retreating 
form had he had the energy. Instead he simply scrunched his eyes 
closed; tears leaked through, but he did not allow the first sob to 
escape until Glorfindel had closed the door and retreated along the 
corridor.

Elrohir's heart broke. He could not recall ever seeing his brother 
cry - at least, not since they had reached their majority. Even when 
their mother had left, the elder twin had merely remained detached 
and quiet, never shedding a tear. But now, to see the hot, salty 
crystals of misery decorating the eyelashes and cheeks of this 
fierce, proud warrior... It was too much to bear. Elrohir dislodged 
the pillows from around his brother's lesser-injured right side and 
crawled up next to him on the bed. Gently, so as not to shake the bed 
too much, he crept beneath the heap of bedcovers and wrapped one arm 
around Elladan's torso as tightly as he dared. With the other, he 
pressed Elladan's head towards his shoulder and stroked his hair. 
Elladan hid his face gratefully in the hollow of his brother's throat 
as he cried, drained to the dregs from all that had happened these 
past days and taking comfort from what seemed to be his only source 
at present. Elrohir curled his warm body around his brother's and 
held him until he slept.

~~~

It was Arwen who answered the door to Elrond's chambers when 
Glorfindel knocked; not that he was surprised. 

"I need to speak to him," he said quietly to her. Arwen regarded him 
for a moment, then nodded and moved aside to let him enter. She 
looked meaningfully over her shoulder to the huddled figure in the 
window seat and closed the door, but did not leave. Instead she 
remained standing by the door as Glorfindel stepped into the middle 
of the room.

"You should not have said what you did," the blond said with no small 
measure of disapproval in his voice.

Elrond sighed, but continued to stare out of the window. "I know, 
Glorfindel." He dismissed the statement with a tired wave of his 
hand. "If you have come here to chastise me then you may save your 
breath."

"Chastise you I will not, Elrond, but you may wish to consider how 
you speak to Elladan next time," Glorfindel answered. "It is 
understandable that you hurt at the moment, but those words were 
harsh - no son needs to hear that from their father. I have tried to 
explain to both Elladan and Elrohir, but --"

"Well thank you for interfering." Slowly, Elrond turned to face his 
captain. "Anybody would have thought that I was incapable of dealing 
with my own children."

"Believe it or not, my lord, I am starting to gain that impression." 
Standing with his hands behind his back and his feet apart, 
Glorfindel drew himself up to his full, impressive height and raised 
an eyebrow at the Peredhel in expectation. "I am certain I need not 
tell you that Elrohir is not best pleased with you."

Elrond spoke through gritted teeth as he turned around 
again. "I //know// that, Glorfindel. I don't wish to discuss this."

"Well, I will not go away," declared the blond stubbornly. "Not until 
you have recognised that you cannot act like this. I appreciate that 
it was a horrible decision to make, but you cannot vent your grief 
and guilt in such a manner. You will destroy your family if you do."

To this Elrond made no reply. Glorfindel waited, but when it was 
clear that all he would receive was silence, he crossed the room and 
seated himself next to his lord. Elrond looked sadly up at him, 
silvered eyes the epitome of sorrow. "Does he hate me?" he murmured 
at last.

"I don't think he could ever hate you, meldir, but your words upset 
him, no matter how much he tries to hide it."

The half-Elf passed his hands over his face in frustration. "I can't 
believe I said something so stupid to my own son."

"You are not the only one," said Glorfindel quietly, leaning back 
against the window in his seat. There was no malice in his voice, 
only the frank admission of one with a clear view of both sides of 
the argument.

"I miss Elros so much," Elrond sighed.

"I know you do," came the sympathetic answer.

"But I'm lucky to have Elladan back."

"I know."

"I vented on the wrong person."

"I know."

"Why am I telling you this?"

"Because Elladan is asleep -- thereby giving you both chance to calm 
down out before you apologise to him."

Though it did not quite meet his eyes, Elrond managed a small, wry 
smirk. "I have had three days to think about this, and yet I still 
failed to show nothing but joy when he needed the most support. What 
sort of a father am I?"

"One who has perhaps been a little overwhelmed by the event of the 
past few days," Glorfindel offered in way of consolation. "One might 
even call it cruel of the Valar, had the outcome not been so 
successful. You know of what I speak -- your heart is in the right 
place, but three days of brooding and speaking to no one has done you 
no favours."

"Bless you and your sugar-coated tongue, toger," Elrond remarked 
dryly. "Now, can I yet persuade you to leave me be, or must I resort 
to other means of finding peace?"

"Nay, my lord, I shall go," the blond acquiesced. "I daresay you have 
something //other// to reflect upon now."

Apart from a snort, Elrond refused to rise to the bait and waved his 
captain away. Glorfindel bobbed his head in respect and turned 
towards the door, but paused in front of Arwen, who had stood quietly 
through the whole conversation.

"Could I prevail upon you to fetch him some food and miruvor and 
force it down his throat?" he whispered conspiratorially to her.

A faint smirk touched Arwen's lips. "Only provided I can point my 
finger at you when I try," she whispered back.

Glorfindel smiled and touched her cheek fondly. "Thank you, gwathel. 
I doubt he will protest too strongly, though - he has some sense in 
him somewhere!"

"I heard that," growled Elrond from the window seat.
 
Glorfindel grinned as he closed the door. "I know!"

To be continued...

Elvish Translations
Meldir - friend
Toger - lit. "leader"; here, "captain"
Gwathel - sister, in the sense of a sworn associate rather than by 
blood.


Title: One of Us
Author: Ilye (ilye_elf@yahoo.co.uk)
Website: www.wozupdoc.net/~talesfromthe

Pairing: Undertones of Elrond/Elros and Elladan/Glorfindel.
Rating: Probably nothing over R, for violence.

Please see part I for warnings, disclaimers and notes. Thanks to
Maybe for the beta, Eveiya for her thoughts, and Nellas for her 
excellent psychological
analysis :)

Part XIII

The day outside was darkening to the dull dusk of a cloudy winter 
when Elladan awoke some time later. He could hear soft clinking and 
bustling noises towards the far end of the room, accompanied by a 
soft, light-hearted humming that could only be Arwen's voice. Elrohir 
was still curled around his side, slumbering quietly; he looked 
tired, and Elladan recalled Glorfindel saying that his twin had not 
slept properly since the Orc attack. He regarded his brother fondly 
for a moment, then shifted his aching form and lifted his head.

Arwen's sharp senses caught the movement and she turned around, a 
bright smile upon her beautiful face. "I was beginning to wonder when 
you would wake," she said as she moved to his side. Elladan reached 
out a hand to her, which she caught and clasped, bending to kiss his 
cheek. Chafing some warmth into his icy fingers with her own, she 
continued, "You are cold -- could you eat something?"

"A little something, yes," he replied, then glanced down at his 
sleeping brother. "Though not yet. I do not want to wake him."

Arwen tsked. "He will be far more concerned that you eat than at 
having his sleep disturbed," she admonished. "Come on; I need to 
check your wounds, anyway."

Elladan felt slightly relieved that it would be Arwen to assess him 
this time. She had learned some healing and nursing skills from their 
father, so was perfectly qualified to do so -- and, in Elladan's 
opinion, her company was preferable to both Elrond and Glorfindel's 
at present. He felt far more at ease in the presence of his siblings, 
and the incident of several hours past did not seem quite so painful.

Whilst Arwen left to see about some food, Elladan set about gently 
waking his brother. "Ellir," he murmured softly, and pressed his lips 
to Elrohir's forehead. "Tôren, wake up."

Next to him Elrohir stirred, but merely uttered a discontented grunt 
and turned his face into Elladan's shoulder. "Elrohir," Elladan said, 
now a little louder and with his smile showing in his voice, "Arwen 
needs to change my dressing. Get up!"

The younger twin groaned, then sat up. He stretched out his limbs, 
shrugged his shoulders and rolled his neck, before he settled down 
next to Elladan once more, intending to make the most of it before 
Arwen ordered him out of the bed. Two pairs of silver eyes met across 
the pillow, and Elrohir reached up to brush the dark hair out of his 
brother's face.

"All right?" he questioned quietly. 

Elladan smiled faintly, nodded. "All right now," he whispered back. 
Elrohir was unsure what, exactly, Elladan intended by that, but Arwen 
reappeared at that point and shooed him out of the bed.

"Your dinner will be here shortly," she said as she stripped the 
heaps of bedclothes away from her brother's body. Elladan flinched 
slightly as the cool air touched his still-cold skin, for he was 
wearing nothing save his bandages beneath the blankets. He was 
thankful when his sister tucked the sheets over his good leg and 
around the right side of his pelvis, preserving at least some of what 
little dignity he had left. 

Both twins said little whilst Arwen worked, cutting away the bandages 
from Elladan's abdomen and bathing the wound with herb-infused water. 
The elder twin answered all her questions: no, the water is not too 
cold; yes, it hurts there; it stings a little, nothing more. The leg 
aches; foot is itchy -- left a bit... ooh, yes, there! 

The blissful expression on his brother's face made Elrohir chuckle 
softly as he rose to help Arwen redress the wound. It appeared to be 
healing quite well, though Elladan was still weak from the blood loss 
and recovering from the damage done to his system by the poison. The 
edges were clean now and starting to knit -- thanks, Elrohir thought 
somewhat bitterly, to their father's healing touch. But at least 
Elladan was here and alive. Whatever it had cost.

By the time Elrohir had helped Arwen to rebind Elladan's stomach and 
carry out some gentle, therapeutic manipulations of his good leg, the 
requested food had arrived. Elrohir helped his brother into a more 
upright position whilst Arwen fetched the tray, then sat in a 
comfortable silence whilst Elladan picked sparingly at the offerings 
before him. Though Elrohir kept an eye on him, he did not comment on 
the small amount that his twin did eat, knowing that his stomach 
would be tender and intolerant at the moment. 

Arwen kept Elrohir involved in a casual conversation whilst Elladan 
ate, until the elder twin pushed away the tray and settled back into 
the pillows with what could almost be called a contented sigh.

"Is that all you're going to eat?" Arwen asked. Elladan glanced 
sharply at her, but seeing that she was neither criticising nor 
pushing him to eat more, he forced a smile and nod and allowed her to 
take the tray.

"Do you want more of this painkiller in here?" she called back as she 
walked into the adjoining room. 

Elladan opened his mouth to decline, but before he could do so 
Elrohir called back the affirmative. 

"I thought he might!" Arwen continued with a grin; she was one of the 
few who could tell the difference between her brothers' voices, even 
if now it was purely because Elrohir's was less pained and hoarse.

It was typical of Elladan to deny that he needed assistance of any 
kind, she thought, placing the tray to one side and taking a mug from 
a cupboard. He had always been fiercely protective over both Elrohir 
and herself, which inadvertently meant that he would constantly feel 
the need to appear strong. He was independent and self-sufficient, 
though only slightly more so than Elrohir, for neither twin was 
dependent upon the other. Yet Arwen knew that the death of one would 
be the death of both: that much had already been made clear to her. 
Why, she was unsure, but the bond between her brothers was made of 
stronger stuff than that between her father and Elros. And for that 
she was glad. Only the Valar could know what would have happened, had 
Elrond and Elros been bound as close as Elrohir and Elladan. If 
nothing else, then Elrond would not have survived the //second// loss 
of his twin. 

Arwen leaned against the cupboard and sighed as she left the tea to 
steep. Elros' most recent unmaking had cut her father deep. He had 
shared with her and her alone what had transpired between himself and 
Elladan earlier that day, in a shaky voice and with remorse-laden 
eyes, whilst she held his trembling hands. Those words had not been 
intended for Elladan... They had been intended for no one. But Arwen 
could see why they had been spoken. Her father was depressed and 
hurting; for the three days whilst Elladan slept, he had said no more 
than a handful of words to anyone. But a push -- a push was all it 
took to release the anger and frustration and grief, directed at the 
wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

She could not truly see any purpose to what Eru had orchestrated. 
Grateful as she was, where was the point in recreating and 
sacrificing one life to save another, if it caused this much sorrow 
in its wake? Yet the Valar worked in mysterious ways: meaning would 
come in its own time.

"It will get cold."

Arwen looked up, blinking, to see her father standing in the doorway. 
He nodded at the tea on the counter when she looked at him in 
confusion.

"Ah, I was lost in thought," she offered, with a tense smile. That 
much had been clear; Elrond gave her a sad smile back as she turned 
to strain the herbs and strips of willow bark from the tea.

"Put some honey into it for him," he said. Arwen raised an eyebrow, 
and he clasped his hands behind his back and looked at the 
floor. "It's the least I can do."

She did as instructed, stirred it, then held the mug out to him. "Why 
don't you take it to him?" she suggested. Elrond looked at it for a 
moment; hesitated.

"I'm not sure..." he began at length.

"You have to talk to him, Ada," Arwen coaxed. He did not resist when 
she tugged his hands from behind his back and curled them around the 
mug, but continued to stare ineffectually at it. "You would not be 
here if you were not intending to."

He sighed. "No," came the reluctant confession. "I would not." Arwen 
gave him an encouraging smile, cupped one cheek with her hand and 
kissed the other. Elrond clasped her hand tightly before walking into 
the next room.

Elladan and Elrohir were talking softly to each other, and Elrond's 
movements were so quiet that they did not notice his presence until 
his shadow fell across the bed. Thinking that it was Arwen, they both 
looked up with smiles on their faces, but upon seeing that it was 
their father their faces hardened and their eyes grew cold. Elladan 
looked away.

"I hope you have come to apologise," Elrohir said shortly, lifting 
his chin in defiance.

"An apology would be useless," Elrond replied, his voice quiet. "I 
have come to talk." He moved closer to the bed and extended the tea 
to Elladan. 

The elder twin regarded the mug with suspicion for several heartbeats 
before he took it, wrapped his fingers around it and simply rested it 
in his lap, staring at the bedclothes. "There is nothing to talk 
about."

Behind his back, Elrond's hands were clasped bloodlessly tight. "I... 
I shouldn't have said that to you."

Elladan's face remained impassive and he did not alter his stony 
focus. "No, you shouldn't have," came the blank reply.

Elrond swallowed hard. Although Elladan's eyes were resolute upon the 
sheets, Elrohir's bored into him like twin Dwarven drills. "It was 
not what I meant -- those words held no truth, I --"

"Then why say it?" Elrohir interjected in a cold, dangerous 
tone. "You are an intelligent diplomat, father. Words are your 
speciality."

"I expect no sympathy." Elrond gave a sad shrug. "I deserve none. I 
resent having been put in this position; it is not Elladan's fault 
and I cannot resent //him// for all of this. I did not think before I 
spoke."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. "Do you still see him when you 
look at me?" He tried to hide it, but there was a touch of anguish to 
Elladan's strained voice nonetheless. "Do you see Elladan, or Elros?"

Elrond closed his eyes for a moment. "I see Elladan," he said 
firmly. "I always have. It was the right choice, gweniaur; I could 
not do without you and I love you. The similarities between you and 
my brother, or the fact that I miss him so, will never change that." 
The half-Elf paused for a moment, in which time neither of his sons 
spoke. "That is the truth; it is all I have to say," he 
admitted. "Nothing I have done has merited it, but I hope you might 
forgive me eventually." With that, he turned and left the room.

There was silence in the room. Elrohir glanced over at his brother, 
who was still sitting with the mug in his lap, looking at the 
bed. "Drink your tea," he murmured with a gentle touch to Elladan's 
shoulder.

The elder twin nodded. His brow furrowed and his eyes glistened as he 
took a sip and stared into the mug. "He put honey in it."

Elvish Translations:
Tôren - my brother

Title: One of Us
Author: Ilye (ilye_elf@yahoo.co.uk)
Website: www.wozupdoc.net/~talesfromthe

Pairing: Undertones of Elrond/Elros and Elladan/Glorfindel.
Rating: Probably nothing over R, for violence.

Please see part I for warnings, disclaimers and notes. Thanks to 
Maybe for the beta and Nellas for her comments :-) Oh, and all you 
lot for your feedback!

Part XIV

Elrohir spent the rest of the evening with Elladan, talking with him 
or simply sitting in quiet contemplation when the elder twin slipped 
in and out of reverie. It had been dark for several hours when 
Elladan finally insisted that his brother should find a bed and take 
some decent rest. Although Elrohir protested at first, he finally 
acquiesced and left after checking Elladan over once more and 
snuffing out the candles.

Elladan had refused all offers of a sedative and, after slumbering 
all day, he was only in a light reverie when a dark figure entered 
the room. He awoke but remained still and quiet, waiting whilst the 
person moved across to the bed. There was no sound save the sigh of 
silk in the midnight hush, nothing that would give the intruder away, 
until he stepped through a splash of moonlight that spilled between 
the drapes and a glint of golden hair was revealed.

Glorfindel reached the foot of the bed and remained there. His elbows 
were clamped at his sides, forearms folded across his stomach and 
hands clutching his hips: it was almost a shielding posture. The 
usually straight shoulders seemed slumped and tired, pale hair 
falling unbound around them, noble head slightly inclined and the 
shadowed eyes gazing at Elladan.

"Are you going to stare at me all night?" asked the twin after 
several long moments had passed.

Glorfindel started. "I did not realise you were awake," he murmured 
back.

Elladan was surprised; it was unusual for his lover to miss such a 
thing. "What are you doing here?" he said, not unkindly, for it was 
the middle of the night.

The blond untucked one arm from his waist, opened his hand and looked 
down at his palm. "I wanted to give you something."

Elladan refrained from asking what Glorfindel would have done had he 
not been awake. The blond was uncharacteristically troubled by 
something, for although he was wearing a silken dressing gown over 
his sleeping trousers, it was clear that he had not been to bed yet 
this night. Elladan did not have the heart to send him away; despite 
their disagreement earlier, he could find little fault with 
Glorfindel's words after several hours of solitary thought. Emotions 
had been painfully high and tempers perilously short -- though it 
wounded his pride to admit it, he and Elrohir were as much to blame 
as Glorfindel.

Elladan waited until Glorfindel eventually made up his mind and 
walked from the foot to the head of the bed. The blond knelt, still 
apparently uncertain whether his lover would accept this or not, and 
reached for Elladan's hand. The dark-haired Elf watched in curiosity 
as he felt something stiff being tied loosely around his wrist, then 
held it up to examine it in the darkness and feel with the fingers of 
his other hand.

"I cut a lock of Rhossûl's tail," the Elda said simply. His melodic 
voice was low and sad.

Elladan bit his lip. "I will miss him," he whispered, running his 
fingertips over the braided horsehair bracelet. "He was a good horse."

Glorfindel nodded once, but said nothing. Both knew that there was 
nothing else to be done for the poor animal.

"If I were a horse, I suppose they would have done the same," Elladan 
murmured after a moment, his voice somewhere between jest and deep 
thought. "A broken leg and an arrow through me -- I will be lame, if 
nothing else."

Hiding a wince, for he knew Elladan's blunt way with words, 
Glorfindel instead gave a short, if forced, laugh. "Your Ada has said 
that will not be so," he placated his lover, realising that beneath 
the thin nonchalant exterior there lay an ocean of insecurity. "You 
will eventually be just as able as you were."

Elladan's smile reached his haunted eyes. "I look forward to it," he 
whispered, then reached out and pulled his lover towards him. 
Glorfindel's eyes slipped closed as their lips met and his hands 
moved to cradle Elladan's face. The darker Elf's hand slipped to the 
blond's shoulder and then down, coming to rest just inside the open 
neck of the dressing robe Glorfindel was wearing. For long moments 
they kissed, first slowly and then with more passion, before finally 
they drew apart, sighing.

"Thank you, melethen," the twin smiled. 

Glorfindel laid his head upon his lover's chest, kissing a bare wrist 
when a hand slid to twine in his hair. "Not at all," he replied, glad 
that his lover seemed to have found some sort of peace for the 
moment -- and, the blond could not help thinking selfishly, that 
Elladan had not pushed him away after this afternoon. "I'm glad 
you're here."

Discussion could wait, he decided.

~~~

"So did you have trouble sleeping last night, then?" asked Elladan 
with as much tact as he could muster first thing in the morning. 
Glorfindel had stayed with him all night, kneeling at his side, then 
moved to the chair when Elladan fell asleep. 

"Various thoughts kept me awake," he replied. He moved to help 
Elladan sit up when the twin attempted it himself, then passed him a 
glass of water. "How's the pain?"

"Tolerable. What is on your mind?"

Glorfindel settled onto the side of the bed, his lips quirking with a 
touch of humour. "Just the musings of a jaded old Elf -- nothing you 
need concern yourself with." 

"You can talk to me," Elladan pushed gently. 

Glorfindel gave him a funny smile. "You have enough to worry about."

That diverted Elladan's attention sufficiently. "Aye. Ada came to see 
me again last night," he said, his expression growing suddenly 
pensive.

//I should hope so!// thought Glorfindel, but kept quiet. However, 
when Elladan did not speak for a spell, the blond took his lover's 
hand in his. "'Tis something you need to think about alone," he said. 

Elladan gave a sombre nod, though his did mood lighten when 
Glorfindel leaned forward to kiss him. The twin opened willingly to 
the succour of his lover's kisses -- yet it seemed that no sooner had 
their lips met than someone entered the room and they separated 
again. With a soft sigh of irritation, he looked round to see who it 
was.

"Good morning, Glorfindel," Elrohir said. One eyebrow was pointedly 
raised as he then looked at his twin. "Elladan. I hope you have not 
been subjecting your hip to any excessive movements, brother." 
Rigidity edged his frame as he stood tall, eyeing Glorfindel's state 
of dress.

The blond ignored the bait and instead pressed another kiss to his 
lover's mouth. "I shall be back later, melme," he murmured before he 
rose and left, tying his silk robe more tightly closed as he went.

"He was here early."

Elladan was only mildly surprised when Elrohir climbed onto the bed 
again and moulded himself to his twin's less injured right side. "He 
couldn't sleep last night and came to see me -- I think something 
upset him." Taking cautious note of Elrohir's dour countenance, he 
lightly touched his brother's cheek. "What's the matter?"

"You two seem to have made up very quickly."

"There was not much to make up." Elladan could see now that Elrohir 
was simply agitated by Glorfindel's presence: understandable, given 
how protective the younger twin had been these past days. "He said 
nothing wrong."

"Attitude often counts for much more than words, Elladan," came the 
younger twin's almost tart reply.

Elladan sighed. "Please understand, Elrohir: I don't want to be at 
odds with my lover. I am already at odds with my father, but there is 
no good reason why I should be angry with Glorfindel as I was 
yesterday and I am not going to try to find one."

"Very profound," Elrohir remarked with a blink.

Elladan gave a sheepish smirk. "I had a lot of time to think last 
night," he admitted. "Come, tôren -- I love him. I don't want you to 
chase him away on my behalf, simply because I was acting like an 
overemotional maiden yesterday."

"And *I* don't want you to get hurt again."

"But when has he ever hurt me, Ellir? It was not his fault last 
night; I hurt myself."

For a moment Elrohir seemed to consider this. He licked his lips, 
glanced downwards, then eyed his brother askance. "I am still not 
sure that I trust you both to let your hip mend fully before you 
couple again," he muttered at last, the swift subject change as good 
as a submission.

"Ai, Elrohir!" Elladan could not help laughing aloud. "You think so 
highly of me! Does it not suffice that I am bound from ankle to 
waist? He could not get near me if he tried -- and it hurts too much 
for me to want that at present, anyway."

With a huff of exasperation and a roll of his eyes, Elrohir got to 
his feet. He said nothing as he went to fetch the analgesic, leaving 
Elladan still snickering quietly to himself.

~~~

It was not much later when Glorfindel returned, fully dressed and 
bearing gifts. Hungry as he was, Elladan nudged Elrohir off the bed 
to accept the tray of breakfast, forcing the younger twin to take a 
seat on Elladan's right.

"Arwen should be up soon," Elrohir remarked idly as he filched a 
handful of berries from the tray. 

"And Ada," Elladan added quietly.

"No, your father will not be awake for quite some time."

Both twins looked to where Glorfindel was sitting in the chair to 
Elladan's left, smirking, and raised identical eyebrows in question.

"I sat up with him late last night," the blond revealed. "He was 
overtired and overwrought -- and therefore not himself. He needed a 
good night's sleep."

Elrohir paused with one hand halfway to his mouth, berry between his 
fingers. "You sedated him?" he asked in amused disbelief.

Glorfindel's grin grew. "Thoroughly. There was nothing else for it," 
he dismissed with a shrug. "His imagination was playing tricks on 
him: making him think that you two would hate him for the rest of 
eternity because of a few misplaced words -- even that it would 
affect your choice over which path to follow." He paused, noting with 
a self-satisfied sideways glance that his well-aimed comment had hit 
its mark. "Either way," he continued, feigning nonchalance, "//He// 
will hate //me// when he finally awakens; that stuff takes hours to 
wear off!"

Though Glorfindel's remark had struck home with Elladan, the elder 
twin refrained from commenting. "And I thought it was //your// 
worries that had kept you awake," he muttered instead, breakfast all 
but forgotten.

Glorfindel shrugged again. "Well, I will not deny that some things he 
said made me think," came the more sober admission. "I meant what I 
told you."

"I don't know how to feel towards him."

The blond cocked his head and eyed his lover. "You feel as you feel, 
Elladan," he said. "'Tis not something that changes easily or at 
will." 

"Yes, that is probably why my head is at odds with my heart." 
Elladan's retort carried more than a touch of irritability, but a 
raised eyebrow from Glorfindel caused him to glance down in a gesture 
of submission, his own form of apology. He sighed. "I want to," he 
continued, now more calmly, "I really do. But I can't quite bring 
myself to let him back in yet. Elros' presence is still too fresh... 
I can't help thinking that I am being compared to him."

"It's a start," Glorfindel said with a gentle smile. "Your heart will 
concede in time."

"He hurt you, Elladan," Elrohir added. He had drawn himself up in the 
chair so that he was hugging his knees, watching his twin over the 
top of them with fierce, argent eyes. "'Tis not something that can be 
quickly forgotten."

Elladan sighed. "This family needs no more rifts between it, tôren. 
We are broken enough already."

"That could have been helped with but a little thought before the 
words left his mouth," Elrohir muttered darkly.

Elladan hesitated for a moment before he spoke. "Ada loved Elros, 
Elrohir," he revealed after a moment. "His love was deeper than that 
of brothers should run -- there has been a great weight on his 
shoulders since Elros chose mortality, and I know not how he has 
coped with it. Yes, he hurt me -- deeply. Yet the circumstances call 
for forgiveness. Ada does not deserve that much pain."

Glancing over at his brother, Elladan saw that Elrohir had drawn into 
himself and knew that he would say nothing further on the subject.

"You are brave."

Elladan glanced to his left to see Glorfindel sitting forwards in his 
chair, arms braced on his knees and blue eyes fixed upon him. He had 
almost forgotten that the Elda was there, even in this short space of 
time, so entangled was he in the emotions of his brother and himself.

"It's not easy."

"No, it won't be," Glorfindel agreed. He leaned forwards further to 
kiss Elladan's cheek. "But you are still brave. Come, Elrohir," he 
then said, getting to his feet and taking the abandoned tray from his 
lover's lap. "Your brother needs to think."

Elvish Translations:
Melethen - my love
Tôren - my brother

Title: One of Us

Author: Ilye (ilye_elf@yahoo.co.uk)

Website: www.wozupdoc.net/~talesfromthe

Pairing: Undertones of Elrond/Elros and Elladan/Glorfindel.

Rating: Probably nothing over R, for violence.

Please see part I for warnings, disclaimers and notes.

A/N: Yes, you read that right - this is the last chapter. I didn't 
really foresee it coming myself, though I apologise for not warning 
you and also for the delay between postings. I know this will get 
mixed reactions - but then, that is what I was hoping for!

Big, big thanks to:
Maybe for the beta job and unholy encouragament <grin>
Nellas - Elrond's personal shrink!
Morgana for giving me the damned idea in the first place :P
Everyone who has sent feedback and encouragement. It is, as always, 
very much appreciated <hugs>

Part XV

Elrond was sitting in his chambers several days later when someone 
knocked on the door. Puzzled at the prospect of a visitor at this 
late hour of the evening, he laid his book across the wing of his 
armchair and rose to answer it.

He was more than mildly surprised to find Elladan leaning against the 
doorframe on the other side. "Elladan! What --"

Elladan cut him off with a shake of his head, glanced over his 
shoulder, then pushed away from the doorframe and used his crutches 
to move into his father's bedroom. Elrond stepped aside to let him 
enter, closed the door and followed him in.

"What can I do for you?" he asked cautiously. 

"Elrohir is fussing again," Elladan grumbled. He glanced across to 
the chairs before the fireplace. "Can I sit down?"

"Oh -- of course!" Taken aback, Elrond motioned for Elladan to sit in 
the chair that he had just vacated and fetched a small stool and 
cushion upon which to prop his leg.

The twin sank down into the chair with a sigh. "He just will not 
stop," he continued as he allowed his father to lift his broken leg 
up. "I grew so tired of it that I ran away when he went to fetch 
something."

Elrond raised an eyebrow. "You //ran// away?"

"Fine, I limped away. Hobbled. Dragged my crippled carcass." There 
was no ill feeling in Elladan's voice, merely a touch of exasperated 
sarcasm that caused Elrond to snort quietly with laughter.

"Your crippled carcass is going to cause poor Glorfindel a bad 
night's sleep once Elrohir goes banging on his door," he said. He 
poured two glasses of wine, handing one to his son and seating 
himself in the opposite chair.

Elladan took a sip of his wine and gave a dismissive wave of his 
hand. "That Elf sleeps like the dead; he will have no trouble falling 
back into dreams."

Elrond gave a quiet chuckle, raised his glass to Elladan, then took a 
sip. Silence settled for a spell.

"I had a dream last night," said Elladan, some moments later.

"Oh?" Elrond tried not to look as intrigued or excited as he felt. 
This was the most open that Elladan had been with him since the Orc 
attack and, although his attitude towards his father had grown 
warmer, now was the first time that his behaviour could be called 
friendly. In fact, it had been years since either of his sons had 
come to talk with him like this. Elrond could barely believe it.

Elladan nodded, his brow thought-creased. "It was most strange," he 
began, rather hesitant. "I... think I was you."

Elrond's eyebrows drew together and he pursed his lips, but he 
remained silent and merely leaned forward in his chair.

"I was chasing someone," Elladan continued. "I was in a palace of 
some sort, though I did not recognise it. It was huge. And there were 
tapestries all along the walls of the corridors, showing battles and 
Elves and monsters that I felt I ought to know, but didn't. Perhaps 
it was because you knew them." He paused. His eyes were fixed on his 
glass, glazed as he tried to recall the elusive details of the dream. 
One finger was absently running around the rim of the glass, wet with 
wine; a sudden resonant note from it made him start and he looked up 
at his father, blinking.

"I never saw who I was chasing. I think he may have had dark hair, 
but I only ever caught a glimpse of his back as he vanished around a 
corner. Mostly I was just following the sound of footsteps; there was 
nobody else around. It felt as though I was running for ages -- you 
know how everything is warped in a dream? I don't mean hours, or even 
days: it seemed like //centuries//.

"Eventually the footsteps got further and further away, and I grew 
tired... Not physically tired -- I wasn't even out of breath from the 
running -- but a kind of bone-deep exhaustion that weighs you down 
like a fog. So I stopped... And then the footsteps came back again. 
This time they were coming towards me, but I decided to just stand 
and wait for the person to reach me. When he finally did emerge, it 
was from one of the rooms off to the side of the corridor, rather 
than straight ahead where he had disappeared. And it was... me."

Elrond shifted in his chair. "You as in Elladan?" His son 
nodded. "Aye, that was a very strange dream. What makes you think 
that you were me?"

Elladan shrugged. "It was just an instinctual feeling I had, just as 
I knew it was me -- Elladan -- who came out of that room, rather than 
Elrohir."

"And was that the end of the dream?"

"I cannot recall anything else if there was," Elladan said. "But I 
confess I cannot see much relevant meaning in this, and nor can I be 
bothered to delve for it at present. I merely felt the need to tell 
someone about it."

Elrond could think of several important points in the dream that 
screamed directly at him, but he was reluctant to broach such a 
difficult topic when Elladan was being so amiable. So instead he 
smiled, made himself lean back in his chair, and said, "I expect you 
might find meaning if you wished -- but it is far too late for that 
sort of thing at the moment, anyway. Often it is best not to think 
too deeply on Lórien's designs."

To Elrond's surprise, Elladan gave him a genuine smile before he took 
a long draught of his wine and relaxed back into the comfortable 
chair with his eyes closed. The half-Elf took advantage of the moment 
to watch his son: at ease in the chair, Elladan cut a rather comical 
figure. He was garbed in an old shirt that was unbuttoned to halfway 
down his chest and his hair was tied back in a tail, which served to 
emphasise his slender upper body. In thundering contradiction, 
however, was a pair of leggings that were yards too big for him in 
order to accommodate the thick dressings around his pelvis and 
abdomen. The left leg had been hacked off the trousers altogether, 
for there was no other way that they would fit over the splint that 
stretched from Elladan's foot to his lower thigh. Completing the 
ensemble was the belt around his waist, which gathered the too-big 
trousers together to prevent them from falling down.

In all honesty, Elrond suspected that Elladan had indeed spent some 
time reading between the layers of the dream. It was the only thing 
he could think of that would have caused such a turnaround in his 
son's attitude -- well, that and the absence of Elrohir's still-
overprotective behaviour. His sons may have become unpredictable at 
times, but Elrond still knew them well. Elladan's pride was second to 
none; the only form of apology or sign of submission that anyone was 
ever likely to receive from him was a minute shift in his body 
language. Elrond could only surmise that this lack of hostility was 
his own way of showing forgiveness.

Both Elrond's musings and the peace of the room were shattered a 
moment later, however, by another pounding on the door. "Elladan!" 
called the person outside. Elrohir.

Elladan's eyes flashed open and he threw a wild glance at his 
father. "Hide me!" he begged. "I can't take much more coddling!"

Elrond snorted, stood up and quickly hauled Elladan out of his chair. 
He helped him over to the bathroom and pulled the door to, before he 
returned to answer the outer door, hiding the crutches under the bed 
as he went.

"I know he's in there with you, Adar!"

Affecting his best stern expression, Elrond drew a deep breath and 
opened the door. "What on Arda are you causing such a fuss about, 
Elrohir?" he growled.

Recognising that expression, Elrohir instinctively took a step 
backwards and tucked his hands behind his back. "I am looking for 
Elladan," he explained, now more quietly.

"Well, I have not seen him all evening! Why in Elbereth's name would 
you come banging on //my// door to look for him?"

"He was not anywhere else I have looked!" Elrohir was trying his best 
to make subtle glances over his father's shoulder and into the room 
behind; he clearly did not believe that Elladan was not there.

Elrond sighed and moved aside. "Have a look if you will," he 
offered, "Though you will not find him." He watched as Elrohir 
stepped over the threshold and scanned the room, thanking the Valar 
that he had set his glass on the other side of his chair, out of 
sight. Other than the footstool and the second glass of wine that was 
in full view, there was no sign that Elladan had been there -- yet 
Elrohir was still not satisfied. He eyed his father askance for a 
moment, then strode over to the bathroom door.

"You will not find him in there, either," said Elrond, subtly raising 
his voice a touch. He hoped that his elder son had had the sense to 
hide himself properly.

Elrohir pushed the door open, and Elrond held his breath whilst he 
scanned the inside of the bathroom. After a moment, though, the 
younger twin sighed heavily in irritation and turned away.

"Perhaps if you fussed over him less he would be more inclined to 
stay put," Elrond offered, a smirk barely touching his lips. "He is 
well enough to move around by himself now." Elrohir glared at him and 
stalked towards the door.

"Oh, come now," the Peredhel continued, now grinning more widely, "He 
is on crutches! He cannot have got far!"

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" huffed Elrohir, exasperated, 
and left the room. Elrond waited for him to travel a safe distance 
along the corridor before he closed the door and hurried back into 
the bathroom. Elladan was not to be seen, but a snicker caught 
Elrond's attention. He closed the bathroom door, revealing his eldest 
son behind it.

Elladan took one look at his father's face and burst out laughing. 
Elrond smiled and chuckled himself, pleased to see his son in such 
high spirits -- even if it was at Elrohir's expense.

"That was cruel," the half-Elf said, though there was more laughter 
than reproach in his voice. 

Elladan gave his co-conspirator a broad grin. "That 
was //priceless//!" he corrected, holding out his arm so that Elrond 
could help him back into the bedroom. Elrond rolled his eyes 
indulgently, but could not help smirking nonetheless.

They stopped by the bed to retrieve the crutches, whereupon Elladan 
announced that it would be even more amusing if he were to return to 
his bed before Elrohir got there. Elrond raised an eyebrow.

"I have played my part in this, Elladan. I refuse to have any more to 
do with tormenting your brother."

The twin shrugged and took up his crutches. "I shall see you in the 
morning, then," he replied, but paused. "Thank you, Ada," he added 
after a moment's thought, and turned to leave.

Elrond was so touched that his son had reached the door by the time 
he managed to work his tongue again. "Elladan," he called. Elladan 
stopped and half-turned. "This was very much appreciated, gweniaur."

For an instant Elladan looked almost embarrassed, though it could 
have been Elrond's imagination. The younger Elf said nothing in 
return, but simply smiled, glanced away, and then continued back to 
his rooms.

With a smile of his own, the half-Elf readied himself for bed. He was 
so elated by this turn of events that he could have sung; whether 
Elladan was cold with him in Elrohir's presence the next day or not. 
This was behaviour from his eldest son that could not be feigned. The 
last thing he did before slipping into bed was to snuff out the 
candles, so he did not notice Lórien hiding in the shadows as he 
slipped into reverie. 

The Vala unseamed himself from the night in the corner of the room 
and drifted over to the bed, as though on the air currents. He 
hovered soundlessly for a moment, then held one intangible hand palm-
down above Elrond's brow. A shower of sparks, golden and red and 
white, like stardust, suddenly burst from Lórien's fingertips and 
rained down upon the slumbering half-Elf. Elrond shifted slightly, 
but Lórien had already retracted his hand and withdrawn, leaving him 
to his dreams. 

//He was standing in a corridor that stretched out to the horizon. 
There were doors on either side, some open, some closed. Tapestries 
hung from the walls, depicting scenes both familiar and not so: to 
his left was a blond Elf standing on a balcony at night; slightly 
behind him was depicted a host of Orcs battling a group of Elves; 
just ahead could be seen two dark-haired figures in a tight embrace. 
It was silent here.

Suddenly there came the sound of soft footsteps in one of the rooms 
to the right. Elrond gained the impression that this was unexpected; 
that the object of his focus should lie straight ahead along the 
corridor. They were coming closer to the door, so he turned towards 
them and waited.

There were no windows in the passageway, yet it was brightly lit. 
Through the open door, however, was darkness. Slowly, a shadow 
emerged from inside the room, but did not cross the threshold. Elrond 
could not make out the features of the figure, yet somehow he knew 
whom it was.

"Elros?"

He sensed the figure smile, but could not see it. "Elrond! Are you 
coming in to see me?"

Elrond did not know why he refused. "Nay -- you come out here." He 
felt his brother frown.

"I cannot come out, quildëquén," came the soft reply. "My place is in 
here."

Elrond thought for a moment; the sudden feeling that he had already 
been in this corridor washed over him, and he asked in 
confusion, "But was it not you I was chasing?"

"Aye, it was." Elros sounded sad. "Why did you stop?"

"Because I was getting no nearer!" exclaimed Elrond, taking a step 
closer to the door. "Why can you not come out?"

"My place is in here, Elrond. I have told you that."

Elrond took another step and held out his hand. "I know... But I have 
missed you so much, quetequén. Would you not let me see you once 
more?"

"Brother, no, I..." Elros had no time to finish, for in that moment 
Elrond reached through the doorway. Elros jumped quickly backwards, 
disappearing completely into the darkness, but Elrond managed to 
grasp a wrist and held on.

"Please, come out," he appealed as he applied light pressure to his 
brother's arm. At first there was silence, but then Elros started to 
move slowly towards the light of the corridor.

Elrond held his breath as he stepped backwards, encouraging the 
figure inside to follow him. The shadow appeared on the threshold 
once more, hesitated, and then finally took one more step into the 
light of the passageway.

A gasp left Elrond's lips as the features of his brother were 
illuminated and he instantly dropped the wrist. His brother stood 
tall, proud, unsmiling, grey eyes soft and limpid. Elrond knew that 
this was his twin; he had known just from the very presence of the 
shadowed form. But this was not his face.

This was Elladan.//

The End

Elvish Translations:
Quildëquén - Quiet One (Quenya)
Quetequén - lit. "Talking person", can be taken as "chatterbox", a 
pet name for Elros.