“There.” Elrond pointed into the darkening sky, where the brightest star was shining somewhere over the Misty Mountains. “That is my father.”

The twins' eyes followed their father's finger, and they gazed at the speck of bright light with unconcealed surprise. Elladan's mouth dropped slightly open and his brow furrowed with puzzlement. Standing sturdily with his feet wide apart, and his fists digging into his thighs, he turned to his father with an expression that demanded further explanation. Elrond smiled briefly at him, and turned to look at Elrohir who was sucking his left middle finger with a far off look in his eyes.

“Ada.” Elrohir said at last, leaning his head back into his father's shoulder. “I do not understand.”

“Neither do I!” Elladan burst out, relieved that he could admit his ignorance without looking stupid. “Why is your Adar a star?”

Disbelief rang loud in Elladan's voice, and the twins exchanged a doubtful look.

“I do not understand, Ada.” Elrohir repeated slowly. “If your Adar is a star, then you would be a star, and we would be twin stars.”

“Half-star.” Elladan broke in. “Ammë is not a star, so we would be half-star.”

“Half-star then!” Elrohir gave his brother an impatient look and spun around to face his father. “Horses have foals, and rabbits have baby rabbits. Why are we not stars?”

Elrond nearly laughed and tightened his grip on his sons' shoulders bringing them in to lean against his body.

“My Adar is not the star. The light you see comes from the jewel he wears on his brow.”

“That is the Silmaril?” Elrohir queried.

Elrond gave his son a quick look. He had not meant to bring the Silmarils into this, but Elrohir had clearly read more than he was yet able to understand.

“Yes, that is the Silmaril.” Elrond said calmly and ruffled his youngest son's hair.

Elrohir gave himself a small smile and patted his father's thigh. “Then. . . why is he up there? Will he come down here to visit us?”

He would like to have another grandfather. Grandfathers had time to do things with you when your Ada was busy, and made you feel all special.

“Well he cannot, can he Ada?” Elladan said a little too quickly and anxiously. He had no desire to suddenly be landed with another grandfather. Even if he had been feeling a little warmer towards Celeborn as late, the last thing he needed was his Ada's Adar prancing into Imladris and pointing out how useless he was with the bow. “Not if he is stuck up there.”

This time Elrond did laugh - if a little ruefully - and cuddled the elder twin tightly, tickling his ribs to make him giggle.

“Do not worry, my son. My Adar will not be coming to criticise you any time soon. He lives far west, over the sea.”

Elladan blushed, but looked extremely relieved.

“Then why can we see him?” Elrohir persisted, pointing at the star and bobbing up and down on his toes. “Can he see us?”

“Well,” Elrond paused slightly and considered how much to tell. “He sails the skies in his ship, making sure that Morgoth never comes back. You can see him in the morning and evening when he is setting off and coming back.”

The twins fell silent for a moment as they considered this, giving Elrond a chance to add quickly, “And I am sure he is watching over you whenever he can. He would love you very much.”

Elladan bit his lip slightly, hoping that Eärendil had been watching during the times when he had beaten Elrohir in fencing, rather than when he had been pummeled by Culrómen, or when he had to try so hard just to hit the target in archery.

“He is watching over you too, Ada.” Elrohir said a little uncertainly. “Is he not?”

“Of course,” Elrond got to his feet and picked up his younger son, “he is watching over me, just as I will always watch over you.”

Elladan grabbed his father's free hand and skipped eagerly forwards, dragging his father along behind him.

“And he is watching over Uncle Elros too!” Elladan shouted joyfully, meaning to run to his bath, but the sudden silence made him stop and release his father's hand. “He is not watching over Uncle Elros?”

A small neck craned backwards as Elladan looked up at his father. “Did he not like Elros?”

There was a faint wobble in Elladan's voice. Although he knew that Celeborn did not like him, he could not imagine anyone simply not caring. And if it had been his own Ada. . .

Elrond shook his head slightly. “No, no, I am sure that he loves Elros very much.”

“Then why. . .” Elladan's voice rose inquisitively.

Elrond could feel Elrohir observing him closely, almost as if trying to read his mind.

“It is a long story, my Elladan.” Elrond placed an arm around the child's shoulders and began steering him indoors. “It all happened so long ago.”

“But Uncle Elros. . .” Elladan's voice drifted into silence as they passed back into the warmth of the library.

Elrond sighed. Elladan clearly had no intention of letting this slip by, and Elrohir was tugging eagerly on his sleeve.

“After your bath.” The Lord of Imladris said at last. “Come to me after your bath, and instead of your Book of Tales, I shall tell you a tale of your Uncle Elros.”

Elladan was off in a flash, light footsteps pattering along the corridor as he ran to be first in the tub. Elrohir wriggled until his father put him down, and then, as if sensing his father's inner turmoil, gave him a quick hug around his waist before chasing after his brother.

Elrond smiled at his sons as two warm little bodies bounded onto the bed on either side of him, and snuggled up against his robes.

“Tell us about Uncle Elros!” Elrohir begged, placing his wet head against his father's shoulder, heedless of the discomfort it would cause him.

Elladan nodded vigorously as he bounced a few times on the protesting mattress, supporting his weight on his palms. “An interesting story!”

Elrond chuckled and wrapped an arm around his eldest son, drawing him in closer and calming his bedtime acrobatics.

“It is a long story little ones.” Elrond reached under his pillow to draw out a book he had placed under there earlier. It was lavishly illustrated with pictures of the times of his youth, and he had felt that it would add focus to his tale. “But an interesting one.”

The twins smiled and cheered at this, and lay calmly waiting for their father to start. Elrohir tended to curl up rather more than his brother, while Elladan stretched out like a basking cat.

“Now this story begins not with Elros and me, but with my parents.” Elrond turned to a brightly coloured picture of Eärendil and Elwing, and showed it to each child in turn. “My father loved the sea, and he would often go on long journeys into the west. We were very small at the time, too young to understand why Naneth was so sad. I do not remember much of my father, and that that I do remember has been confused with that which I know.”

Elladan looked puzzled at this, so Elrond touched his cheek to draw his attention. “Think of a tale of your babyhood, Elladan.”

Elladan wrinkled his nose, thinking of the tales he had been told and wondering which to pick. “My first word was Elrohir. I was in the garden and I wanted ‘Ro.”

The twins glanced across Elrond's chest and smiled at each other.

“But do you remember that, Elladan?” Elrond asked, raising a brow inquisitively. Elladan opened his mouth to reply in the affirmative, but his father continued speaking. “Or is it the tales we have told you that you remember?”

Elladan scowled, his brow wrinkling in thought. “I think I remember. . . I think I do.”

Elrond smiled at him. “But you cannot be sure. And neither can I. And since both Elros and I were so small, and we did not see our parents again, many of the memories have been lost from this world. I know that my father was tall and fair of face, and I know of his childhood. But I know not whether he came in to kiss us goodnight whilst he was at home, or what he liked to do when he had a moment spare. My mother, I remember a little better. But one day, whilst my father was away at sea, our home was attacked and she fled to him in the form of a gull. My brother and I were left alone. ”

“A gull?” Elrohir's thin eyebrows shot up in surprise. “A bird?”

“Nasty orcs.” Elladan kicked the bed angrily. “You should have killed them Ada.”

Elrond providently ignored Elladan's comment, and turned to Elrohir.

“Indeed, a bird. That is what the tales tell. She flew to him and they sailed west together.”

Elrohir's eyes widened in astonishment and he cocked his head as he looked at his father. “Did you turn into a gull, Ada? Can we?”

Elrond grinned ruefully at the thought of the trouble the twins could get into if they were able to sprout wings and fly, and with considerable relief said, “No, my Elrohir. Elros and I were chased into the marshes at the start of the battle. There were tall reeds, and since we were very small we could crawl among them without being noticed. I remember being in those reeds. The mud was not deep, but when on hands and knees it came up to our chests. Normally I would have enjoyed such a chance to play, but that day the mud was miserable and cold. The reeds screened us from seeing what was happening, and muffled the sounds somewhat. I know not how long we sat there, huddled together in the dirt, but it seemed like an age.

Eventually, as the sky - which was all we could see from our hiding place - turned grey, the noises began to cease and everything went quiet. I had never heard Sirion so silent and I was afraid, but we did not dare to come out as yet. Had it not been for the rising tide I do not think that we would have ever left that place. The water was not deep enough to bother a full grown elf, but it came up to our faces and made the mud soft.

We crept among the reeds until we were underneath the jetty that ran out into the marsh. Although we held onto the slimy wooden planks the mud was softer here, and soon we had sunk in too deeply to move easily. Eventually Elros wiped his face with his muddy hand and declared that he was stuck.”

The twins giggled appreciatively at this. They too had once become stuck in the mud down by a drying pond, and they had had to leave their moccasins behind in the dirt. Ammë had not been very happy about that.

Elrond smiled at their happy faces and continued. “I tried to tug my brother out, but it did little good, indeed I think that we were sinking deeper. The water continued to rise, and I was afraid that we might drown. Although Naneth had told us not to make a sound, we looked at each other and decided that we would rather have Naneth cross with us than wait here any longer. We called for her as loudly as we could, and when she did not come we called for our housekeeper, the cook, Curufin the horse master and any other of the townspeople we knew. Eventually when we did not truly believe that anyone would come, we called for Adar, begging for him to return and save us.

We had been shouting so loudly that we had not heard the hollow footsteps along the jetty behind us, and we knew not that there was someone there until I felt a hand grasp me by the back of my tunic and I was dragged clear of the mud. I was placed on the ground, and soon Elros plopped down beside me. We were both very muddy and I was afraid that that would make our saviour angry, for I saw him wipe his hand on his tunic with an expression that I did not understand.

I remember looking up, and seeing them for the first time - for we had two saviours, and they were not who we had called for. In fact we had never seen them before, and they appeared somewhat different from the others we had met during our short lives. They were both very tall, and held themselves straight and proud. They wore their hair loose and wild, and it blew in the salty evening breeze that came in off the sea. We did not know their faces, or recognise the colours that they wore, but they were not monsters nor did they appear evil, so we did not try to hide.”

“Who were they, Ada?” Elladan asked eagerly. “Was it Gil-galad and. . . and. . .”

The effort to think up a name both gallant and brave took too long, and Elrohir interrupted him.

“Was it Cirdan, Ada? Did they come and save you?”

“Wait,” Elrond held up a finger for peace. “I will tell you in time. We knew not who these elves were, but we sensed that they were both strong and powerful. We scrambled onto our feet and Elros thanked them for saving us, and I apologised for making them muddy. We both spoke at once, and they could not have understood what it was that we had said, but then suddenly one of them began laughing and soon the other had joined him.

Well, Elros and I did not know what to make of this, and suddenly we felt very alone. I began to cry and Elros just stood stock still, looking down at the muddy footprints he had made on the weathered wood of the jetty. After a while the laughter stopped, and we again fell into silence. They did not ask us what the matter was, or why we cried, or where our Naneth was, or any of the normal questions that people ask when they stumbled across a lost elfling.

Elros was never very patient, and he was cold and tired and hungry, as was I. After a few minutes of silence he raised his eyes to the pair and said in a very small voice, ‘Where is our Naneth?'. They looked at each other for a moment, their eyes dark and troubled, and then one of them asked us who our Naneth was. I answered first, naming her as Elwing, daughter of Dior. I was sure that they would take us home, for everyone in the town knew of Elwing, and all knew where we lived. But they did not.”

Elrond paused and reached over to the small table by the side of the bed to take a drink of water. The twins regarded him impatiently, willing him to finish the glass. They knew better than to ask where they had been taken, or what happened next, for their father would only tap his nose and tell them to wait. However, they did wriggle and squirm as much as they thought they could get away with in their efforts to encourage their father to continue.

“Now, where was I. . .” Elrond pondered to himself, earning anxious looks from the twins. “Ah yes, we were standing damply on the jetty watching the dark silhouettes talk amongst themselves. They had retreated a small distance from us, and we could not hear much of what they said, but occasional phrases drifted across to us.

‘Perhaps a guardian. . .'

‘None that draw breath remain. . .'

‘. . .they would surely be found. . .'

‘I shall not repeat the lessons. . .'

‘. . .be kinder to. . .'

‘Enough blood has been shed tonight. . .'

They spoke for hours, and it grew dark around us so that we no longer could see them talking. Eventually Elros grew tired of standing and slumped to the ground, sitting cross-legged in the mud and grime. I hissed at him to stand, for it was disrespectful to sit without their leave, and somehow we felt them worthy of our respect. He refused, and even through the dark I could tell that he was pouting, for that was what Elros did when he was stubborn and angry.

I tried to pull him to his feet, but the harder I pulled the more he resisted, and eventually I gave him a kick for I was so afraid of what would happen if they noticed that he was seated. He got to his feet after that, and hit me rather harder than I had kicked him. I must have made some noise at that, because before I knew it someone was striding down the jetty towards us, and had grasped my collar before I had even got hold of Elros' hair.”

Both twins dissolved into merry laughter at the thought of their father pulling anyone's hair, and so contagious were their giggles that it was long before Elrond could control himself for long enough to continue the story.

“I was much younger then, and much less wise.” Elrond pressed his finger to his lips, and grinned. “I must not tell my counsellors.”

The twins laughed, each making mental notes to tell Glorfindel tomorrow, and settled down again as Elrond resumed the story.

“One of them, I cannot remember which, but I suspect it was Maglor - for our saviours were none other than Maedhros and Maglor, the sons of Fëanor - crouched down and placed a hand around each of our shoulders. He told us that they did not know where Naneth was, but since there was nowhere else to go, that we should go with them.”

“But Ada!” Elrohir burst out, unable to contain himself any longer. “The book said that the sons of Fëanor were evil! Why did they not leave you to die?”

Elrond sighed, “Did the book really say that they were evil, Elrohir?”

Elrohir closed his eyes to remember, then spoke uncertainly. “It said that they did evil things.”

“Ah, that is right.” Elrond nodded at his perplexed son. “They did many evil things, but they also did many that were brave and just. They were neither wholly good, nor wholly evil. But they were very good to your Uncle Elros and me.

We left the city in the dead of night, so we never saw what was left of our home, but we could smell the burning and other less pleasant things. I was scared, and I wanted Elros badly, but I sat with Maglor, and he sat with Maedhros. I remember how scared he looked, for he was frightened of the stump of Maedhros' hand, and now he was held in by it. I began shaking and thinking I was cold Maglor wrapped his cloak around me, and held me close to him.

We stayed with the sons of Fëanor for many months, and twice did we see winter fall. We became close to Maglor, for he grew to love us, and in time we grew to trust and love him. Maedhros, he remained more distant. He was ever kind when pressed, and never attempted to do us harm, but to look at us seemed to hurt him, and he seldom spoke in our presence.

I remember going on a very long walk, with Maglor one night. I do not think that we even slept, but just continued our journey long after the others halted to rest. Maglor was walking very fast- far too fast for our short legs to keep up. I remember running together with Elros, and the heather scratched our tired legs, but we dared not stop in case we became lost. Eventually Elros stumbled and said that he was too tired to get up. After that Maglor carried us each in turn, although I felt that Elros' turns were longer for he complained more and clung harder.

When morning came we were still walking, but as the sun rose over the hills we reached a waterfall by a roughly worn track. The pool beneath the waterfall was clear and small fishes swum in its depths. I wished to go and play, but Maglor herded us across some rocks and into a crevice that led behind the waterfall. The water came down in a clear sheet, and we could see out, although those on the outside could not see far in. Maglor had us drink a little water, and handed me a small pouch of food, for he knew if he gave it to Elros it would all disappear before I even saw breakfast.

He crouched down and kissed first me, and then Elros, and told us to sit quietly until we saw soldiers with cloaks of blue. He said that they would not be long, and when they came we were to come out of hiding and meet with them. I began to cry then, and I believe that Elros did as well, and I do not think that Maglor was far from tears himself. He told us that our Adar would have wished us to do this, then he walked from the cave and we never saw him again.”

“He left you?” Elrohir's voice was shrill with horror. “All alone?”

“Why, Ada? Why?” Elladan rapped his knuckles softly against his father's stomach.

Elrond took Elladan's tickling hand in his.

“He knew that others would pass there that day. Soldiers of the High-King's army. We could pass into Gil-galad's care.” The Lord of Imladris sighed. He could have spent hours talking of his thoughts and theories about Maglor's motives, but it would be to benefit him, not his boys. “And eventually they did come, at several hours past midday. Elros had been fidgeting all day, and the moment he saw the blue cloaks and the banners with the silver stars, he ran out from hiding and waved to them and splashed his feet at the water's edge to get their attention. I was a little more hesitant, and it took a while for me to summon up the courage to go down and meet them. But I saw how kindly they had greeted Elros, and how they had let him hold one of the banners, so I crept out from behind the waterfall and watched them a little. At first I did not feel wanted, for nobody noticed me, but then someone came and lifted me onto his shoulders and told me that I was safe.”

“What did Gil-galad do?” Elladan asked eagerly. Both boys held great respect for the mighty elf-lord, something that Elrond found rather amusing considering the way they treated Glorfindel. “Was it him who carried you?”

“Oh no.” Elrond shook his head. “We did not meet Gil-galad for a while yet. The soldiers were returning from battle and I believe that it gave them hope to find children that all had presumed lost. We were rather spoilt on our journey to Balar.”

Elrond exchanged conspiratorial grins with his sons as he remembered that time. Attention had been lavished on the children, and the only problem they faced was rather too many hugs and cuddles. They had even got to taste delicacies from their previous life such as sweets and smoked fish.

“When we arrived in Balar it was late, and both Elros and I were rather tired. We had slept little on the boat, being unused to its motion, and it had made us feel quite sick. The harbour was very busy and bustling even at that time of night, and the pale towers and arches were lit up by firelight making them seem even more imposing. We were hustled through the town, and I remember walking up a steep and seemingly endless hill. Elros was complaining that his feet hurt by then, but I was too nervous to pay much attention to my aching muscles.

Eventually we reached the palace, and we were let inside and told to wait in a giant hall while someone went to inform the King. It was very warm in there, for there was a roaring fire at one end and the walls were thick and sturdy. We tiptoed over to the fire, and held our hands out to the blaze, for we had become cold and wet during our journey. We could smell food cooking, and Elros must have been as hungry as I was, for his stomach rumbled loudly. I was about to laugh at this when we heard footsteps behind us, and we turned to find the High King Gil-galad and Cirdan the Shipwright watching us.”

Elrond paused, and the twins wriggled excitedly, their sleepy eyes begging him to continue the story.

“Now, Gil-galad was yet new to his Kingship and he did not yet look quite as imposing as he might. He appeared rather skinny and gangly, with great long legs and arms, and his face did not hold the wisdom of a King. We turned instead to Cirdan, who appeared to us far stronger and wiser for he had a beard and his eyes held the look of one who had seen much pass. We each tried to give him our best smiles, although I fear that mine was rather wobbly, hoping that he would agree to take us in.

Minutes passed and Cirdan said nothing. Just as I was about to despair Gil-galad spoke and said, ‘Welcome to my halls, sons of Eärendil.' I began to feel more hopeful at this, for if we were welcome, surely we could stay. I smiled at Gil -galad, trying to look as happy and helpful as I could, and to my surprise he smiled back.”

“Good,” said Elladan approvingly, “Kings should be nice!”

“Did they let you stay, Ada?” Elrohir asked eagerly. They must have let them stay surely, but he himself could not imagine any King allowing him and his brother into the household. Not if he did not even know them.

“That he did, Elrohir.” Elrond smiled at his son, guessing what the child was thinking. “For while he did not know us, we were kin, and he was fair. Cirdan and Gil-galad began speaking together, too quietly for us to hear, and we waited. Elros and I looked at each other, wondering if we would be allowed to stay, and eventually Elros could stand it no longer. He spoke loudly, interrupting two of the most important elves in Balar, and demanded to know if we could stay there.

Cirdan scowled at him, but Gil-galad smiled and said that yes, we could stay there. For as long as we wished, if it pleased us to do so. I was so relieved that I could not stop smiling, and although I tried to stutter my thanks, my voice had left me. Elros however looked seriously at the King and sucked in his cheeks as he always did when he thought. He bit his lip, looked around the hall and looked the King and Cirdan up and down, as if we truly had a choice of whether to stay or go.”

Elrond chuckled at the memory of his brother's impudence. He had been livid with him, and angry with himself for not having the voice to accept the offer before it was withdrawn.

Sighing for his loss, he looked down into his sons' sleepy little faces and smiled. The story would not go on much longer, for it was well past their bedtime and both twins' faces were turning pink with sleepiness.

“And do you know what Elros did next?” He glanced from face to face, widening his eyes expressively as his sons' shook their heads, smiling in anticipation of the antics of their mischievous uncle. “He looked straight at Gil-galad, and spoke up without a by or leave. And I am sure he spoke as loudly as he could, for everyone turned to look at him. Do you know what he said?”

“What?” Elladan asked sleepily, wriggling into a more comfortable position.

“Well, he looked him straight in the eye and asked him as cheekily as could be, ‘Are you a good King?'. I was sure that we would be plucked up by the back of our tunics and thrown out of his halls!” Elrond grinned at the memory, recalling how angry he had been with his brother, and simultaneously how afraid that he would be punished. “Now, Gil-galad did not say anything for a very long time, and he went rather pink. . .”

“What did Cirdan say?” Elrohir broke in, his voice concerned. “He was not nasty to you was he?”

Elrond glanced down and saw that his younger son had clenched his fists tightly, ready to defend the elflings of the story. Smiling slightly he patted Elrohir's side. “No, he was not nasty. He just looked very stern and grim, and although I know now that he was trying not to laugh, at the time I thought he was very angry. I was so afraid of what would happen that I began to cry, and tried to apologise for my brother.”

Four small arms wrapped themselves around his stomach, and two elflings pressed themselves tightly against his body.

“Poor Ada.”

“They should not have been nasty to you! Kings should be nice!”

“Shh.” Elrond stroked some of Elladan's hair from a warm cheek. “They were very nice. When I started crying Elros stepped in front of me and repeated himself, so that if we were to be punished, he should protect me.”

“He was brave.” Elladan said with admiration in his voice.

“He was.” Elrond agreed, “but he was scared too, for I saw his hands trembling. But then Cirdan smiled at Gil-galad and looked down at Elros and said, ‘He tries'. Both Cirdan and Gil-galad began laughing, and Elros nodded and said ‘That is good' quite seriously. I think I knew then that they were not really angry, and that we would be safe staying here, but suddenly I could not stop crying.”

“Why not?” Elladan asked a little scornfully. “Did Gil-galad not think that you were being a baby?”

“Well,” Elrond paused in his story-telling for a few minutes to pounce a large hand onto Elladan's stomach and tickle him until the child was laughing hysterically. “I think that he understood, for he walked over and knelt down beside me, and put his arms around me until I stopped crying.”

Elrond fell silent, staring up at the arched beams of the ceiling. Looking back at it, he suspected that the young King had been as unsure about giving the hug as he had been about receiving it. He had certainly been all elbows, and had not held him too close.

“In any case, Elladan,” Elrond continued briskly, “If they had not taken us in, we would have had nowhere else to go. We were very tired and very scared, and we did not know anybody.”

Elladan snuggled up to him in silence as he considered being all alone in a strange place, with nobody - no Ada, no Ammë, no Glorfindel - not even people that he did not particularly like, like Erestor and Celeborn.

“I think I might have cried too, Ada.” Elladan's voice was barely a whisper, and he patted his father's chest comfortingly.

Elrond glanced down at his son, and shared a secret smile. “I was very embarrassed about it afterwards, of course. Elves have very long memories.”

Elladan's face lit up with laughter, and Elrond had to hastily put his hand over the small mouth to prevent the giggles disturbing Elrohir who had drifted off to sleep, one arm still draped across his father's stomach.

“What happened next, Ada?” Elladan asked in a loud whisper, walking two fingers across his father's right shoulder.

“Well,” Elrond turned to the elder twin and lowered his voice, “After a little while Gil-galad picked me up, and I saw that Cirdan must have done the same with Elros, for he was already fast asleep in Cirdan's arms. . . Elros was much more trusting than I was and it was weeks before I slept properly, even in my own bed.”

“And you stayed with them?” Elladan asked anxiously, willing with all his might for a happy ending. He did not seem so sleepy any more, and his face looked pale and tense. “Until you were quite grown up, and did not need an Ada or Ammë any more?”

Elrond nodded and sat up, easing Elrohir gently into his arms. “We stayed with them for a long time. Until we were old enough to choose what we wanted to be, and where we wanted to live. I stayed with Gil-galad until I came to Imladris.”

“Oh.” Elladan rolled onto his front and crawled across the soft surface of the bed. “Did Elros come to Imladris with you?”

Elrond shook his head sadly as he got to his feet, moving slowly so not to wake Elrohir. “No, Elladan. Elros never saw Imladris.”

“Why?” Elladan accepted his father's hand, and hopped down from the bed, his bare feet barely making a sound on the floor. “Did you fight?”

“We did fight, just like you and Elrohir.” Elrond ushered Elladan out into the corridor, before following himself. He could remember one occasion when they had tumbled together down the stairs, each shrieking loudly and tugging at the other's hair. “But not on that occasion.”

They had argued about it of course - loudly and angrily. There had been times when they had both attempted to use force to try and change the other's mind. There had been times when he had talked until his mouth was dry and his cheeks were aching. But by the end they had been quite at peace, resigned to their separate fates.

“Was he still sulking then?” Elladan halted for a moment to pick up his cloak from the floor and scramble onto the stool to hang it up, in response to a meaningful look from his father. His tempers with Elrohir had seldom lasted longer than a few days, and he could not even imagine staying in a bad mood for thousands of years. “What did you do to make him so cross?”

The corridor was empty, and had the peacefulness of late evening. The golden light of the candles brought out the colours of the rugs on the wooden floors, the deep reds and yellows contrasting with the calmness of the pale walls and dark beams. Each one of his steps seemed to make a faint whispering echo, and their passing caused the orange-gold flames of the candles to flicker slightly.

“You misunderstand me, Elladan.” Elrond leant against the door to the twins' room to open it, and Elladan scuttled across the room to pull back the sheets on his brother's bed. Elrond nodded at his son with a smile and gently placed Elrohir's sleeping form on the mattress, and pulled the blankets back over him. “I should have explained better.”

Elrond gently kissed Elrohir's forehead and stood back up, and was not surprised to find Elladan still standing by the door, his fair face full of questions.

“Come now, it is time to sleep.” Elrond placed the palm of his hand on Elladan's back and guided him across the room.

“But Ada. . .” Elladan gave his father a betrayed and disappointed look. His Ada had promised to tell him about Uncle Elros, and now he would not even answer his questions. Perhaps Elros had done something so shameful that it should not even be spoken of.

Elrond looked at his son as the child reluctantly got into bed. Not only did his son's face speak of his own failure to keep his promise, there was also a hint of suspicion and doubt. Surely he did not think that there was something to hide. . .

“Come here.” Elrond reached down and let Elladan clamber into his arms. “We must not wake Elrohir.”

Elladan beamed at his father and stretched his left arm as far as he could to retrieve a scrap of torn pale blue blanket from underneath his pillow. Giving his father a small smile, he snuggled the blanket up against his cheek and leant his head against his father's shoulder as they walked from the room.

The Hall of Fire was quiet at this time of night, and only a few other elves were scattered around on the benches that lined its walls. Tempting smells, and sounds of clattering of cutlery and plates drifted in from Elrond's Hall, and there was a peaceful silence - made up of distant and jumbled voices rather than echoing nothingness.

Elladan wriggled in Elrond's arms and looked around with interest as they entered the room. His previous impression of the hall had been formed during festivals and celebrations. Then the floor had been filled with dancing and singing elves, and music was mingled with the sound of many voices. Everything had been bright and colourful and crowded, and the feelings of joy and laughter had been contagious.

Now the hall was so different that it could have been an entirely separate place. With no people to distract his attention, Elladan let his eyes follow the beams and curves of the pale stone up to the arches of the ceiling. The floor seemed so large and empty suddenly, stretching forwards to the fire at the far end, and everything seemed so. . . calm. Not the stifling boring calm of the library, but the endless peace of an ancient place that had seen people come and go for thousands of years without ever feeling the need to change.

Its walls had seen tears and joy, quiet sombre gatherings after funerals and the singing and dancing of wedding parties. Somehow things seemed to matter less here. His worries about training and his grandfather seemed diminished, and he relaxed his taut muscles, slumping into his father.

Elrond patted the child's back gently. He had been aware that his son had not been sleeping well lately, but had been powerless to address what he suspected was the source of the disturbance. He could no more force the mindlessly cruel elflings to accept his son than he could help Celeborn to see the joy in both his grandsons. He could only hope that the unconditional love and support that they offered both their sons would give them the strength to make the right choices.

They crossed the hall, heading not for Elrond's traditional seat, but a short bench set against the wall, half hidden by the woodpile. It was hot and slightly smoky smelling this close to the fire, and Elladan soon began to feel sleepy.

Elrond looked down at his son's drooping lashes and smiled. He would make his story quick.

“You said you wou. . .” Elladan broke off to yawn, wriggling his arm free from around his father's neck to place a hand over his mouth. “Wou. . . would tell me about Elros.”

“So I did.” Elrond teased gently, brushing a finger against the child's cheek to feel the soft peachy skin. “Now where shall I start?”

“At the beginning.” Elladan nuzzled his head into a more comfortable position, and curled his hand around his blanket.

“Very well.” Elrond looked up to the ceiling for a moment, then continued the story. “Do you remember when I told you that I was half-elven? Well, my Naneth and Adar were also half-elven and so was Elros.”

“All the best people.” Elladan said contentedly.

Elrond's eyes crinkled up slightly around the edges as he smiled, “Quite. Now, a long time ago, Iluvatar decided that the half-elven should chose whether to be numbered among men or elves.”

Elladan made a small snorting noise and rubbed his eyes sleepily. “As if any would have chosen to die. Who would want that?”

Elrond closed his eyes briefly and swallowed hard.

“I felt the same way, Elladan. And so did Naneth, and my father chose likewise for her sake. But my brother. . . Elros, he decided that he would instead be a King of Men. His heart was not with the firstborn. He sailed to Númenor and lived there as King until he. . .” Elrond's grip tightened subconsciously, and Elladan wriggled away from him with a reproachful look. “He. . . died. He was awarded a lifespan far beyond that of other men, but it passed in a moment.”

Elladan stared at him, biting his lip in puzzlement.

“But why would he do that, Ada?” The child's brow furrowed as he looked to his father for answers. But it was not an answer that Elrond knew.

“I know not. He told me many a time, explained at length to me. But I never truly understood. Maybe he did not either.”

“But. . .” Elladan struggled into a sitting position, his blanket clenched into a ball in his fist. “But. . . he will be waiting for you, won't he, Ada? When you sail west.”

Elrond shook his head sadly. “No Elladan, the fate of men is separate from that of elves. They will never know Aman.”

“But where. . .”

Elrond shook his head slightly again and shrugged. “We know not. The fate of Men is not foretold.”

“So. . . so. . . you will never see him again?” Elladan looked up at his father and his lower lip began quivering. “Not ever?”

“Not until the end of time.” Elrond cleared his throat and looked to the ceiling. When he spoke, his voice sounded strangely hollow. “I believe that he was happy. I do not think that he regretted his choice.”

He would not have admitted it if he had. Sometimes he wondered if it had been an act of rebellion - a desire to be Elros, not the son of Eärendil and Elwing, and the latest addition to a long list of names that he had meant little to him. But sometimes he felt that it had been a desire beyond explanation, as unquenchable once awakened as sea-longing.

“But. . .” Elladan stared up into his father's face, clearly struggling to understand. “But he was your brother. Did he not think of you?”

Elrond blinked rapidly to dispel a few tears that were gathering in his eyes.

“He thought of me, as I thought of him, Elladan. Just as you would think of Elrohir, and he of you. But twins though we were, we had minds apart.” Elrond wrapped his arms around the child's taut little body once more. “We may have been separated by death, but we shall never truly be apart. I see him in you and Elrohir everyday. I see him in his descendants.”

“Uncle Elros had children?” Elladan's eyes lit up with interest. “Are they my age? Can we play with them?”

Elrond chuckled and ruffled his son's hair. “Elros has many many descendants. Those of your age would be his many-great grandchildren.”

And they resembled men far more than they resembled his brother. Occasionally he thought he saw a faint trace in their bearing, or a certain expression, but there was little there to remind him. The memory had been diluted beyond all trace.

“Oh.” Elladan spent a few moments looking disappointed, then thought back to what had been said. “Ada?”

“Yes.” Elrond noted that the warm sleepiness had gone, leaving behind a pale and tired child. He wished that he had a cloak or robe to wrap around the boy, but he had not thought to fetch one.

“You would follow Ammë, no matter what she chose, would you not?” Elladan sucked on a finger, and looked up at his father with large dark eyes. “Just like your Adar did?”

Elrond nodded and gave his son the first whole-hearted smile of the evening. “When we pledged ourselves to each other, we promised to be ever faithful. Wherever she goes, I will follow.”

Every minute was an hour and every hour was a day when they were apart. While marriage had in no way replaced the twin-shaped hole in his heart, it had given him so much. He could not imagine being apart.

Elladan sucked on his finger, scowling slightly. “I am a half-elf Ada.”

It was a statement of fact, yet held so many questions.

“Yes. As is Elrohir.” Elrond sighed. He could not leave the questions unanswered, but neither did he wish for the forbidden topic to stir a hidden longing in the child's heart. “You too may choose, when you are ready.”

“I am going to be elf when I am older.” Elladan stated as calmly as he had told Glorfindel of his intentions to be a soldier. “So shall Elrohir.”

There was a firmness in that last phrase. Elrohir would be an elf whether he liked it or not, if it pleased Elladan to make him so. Much as Elrond wished that Elladan's declaration would come to pass, he hoped that Elrohir would make that choice himself.

“Will you indeed?” Elrond was smiling suddenly, and got to his feet in a smooth motion, bringing Elladan up against his chest. “I would like that.”

“Me and ‘Ro will be together forever.” Elladan nodded sleepily. “I did not like it when he went away, Ada.”

“No, little one.” Elrond bent his head to kiss the warm forehead. “Neither did I.”

His boys were meant to be together. Two distinct little people though they were, they were also two halves of something stronger than either time or death.

As he had once been.