Disclaimer:

The characters, places, and events are creations of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit was or will be made from this story. It was written solely for entertainment.

Author’s note:

As always many, many thanks to Erulisse and to Selene Aduial for beta reading this story for me. Thank you so much for your help and constant encouragement.

Summary:

After 300 year of hunting down orcs, the Lord of Rivendell dreads a revelation his sons want to make....

Confession:

“Are you in pain?” the Lord of Rivendell asked alarmed when he rushed to his son’s bedside. The healer had been alarmed by hearing silent crying while he was passing his son’s room.

With a clinical eye he regarded the pale figure on the bed. Tears were running down the older twin’s cheeks. He had thought him drugged enough to make the pain bearable, yet when Elladan closed his eyes and turned his head away from his searching gaze Elrond frowned. After his last check not long ago Elladan seemed content enough to find some rest.

Yet, where Elrohir had been spared after the twins’ last encounter with a band of orcs, Elladan was wounded badly; severely enough this time to drive the healer to the limits of his skills.

Elladan always did play down his feelings but that he was hurting was plain to see and a simple nod would have been sufficient.

Elrond’s heart nearly missed a beat when Elladan started sobbing again, despite his best efforts to suppress it. Sitting on the edge of the bed and grasping his son’s hand he tried to locate the source of pain. To his surprise he could detect no overwhelming pain which would warrant such a strong reaction.

Elladan´s pain-level was high, as Elrond knew all too well from past experiences and he could clearly feel that the limit was far from reached. But why was Elladan crying so hard and avoiding his gaze?

His relationship with his sons was strained of late but he had not considered it strained to such a degree that they would avoid him, even when injured.

His frown deepening Elrond looked up to seek council in the face of the younger twin, also perching on the bed next to his brother’s head. He raised an eyebrow in annoyance when he saw the same tear stains on Elrohir´s face.

What was going on here? Normally the brothers supported each other in bearing the other’s pain. Now, however, Elrohir seemed as distressed as his brother. It had been a long time since Elrond had seen one of his sons cry, much less both of them. He wondered if the pain was mental rather than physical in nature? Had he lost his empathic abilities to tell what was ailing his sons?

Searching the bond with his oldest he realized that his assumption had to be right. This pain came straight from the heart, not the body.

His own heart nearly tore apart just seeing so much anguish, Elrond gently turned Elladan´s head toward him with his hand and waited patiently until his son opened his eyes.

“What is it?" he asked swallowing the lump rising up his throat. How much was their bond damaged? Could his sons no longer come to him? Many heated discussion of late and many nights of fearful waiting had left his fëa sore.

After a few more sobs and a steadying hand from Elrohir on his shoulder Elladan calmed down and finally met his father’s worried gaze.

“We have something to tell you, Ada“, Elladan said with calmness in his voice that disturbed the Elf-lord more then the displayed sorrow from before.

Taking a deep breath Elrond closed his eyes briefly. Now the moment had come. His sons would tell him that they would leave their home forever their souls lost to hatred and revenge.

For more than three hundred years they had ridden to slay every orc they could get their hands on to avenge what the foul creatures had done to their mother and to gain forgiveness which was neither required nor requested. Of late it had been increasingly difficult to persuade them to stay at home for any length of time. They could no longer gain solace within the hidden valley. Elrond had observed, and still did with growing despair, how the once gentle souls of his sons had transferred into something dark and sinister.

Long had he feared that they would one day cease the visits home and devote their time solely to slaughtering orcs.

The light of his life which was already greatly dimmed since the departure of his wife would be snuffed out if his sons left too. He had never expressed his fears to anyone; he did not want to add to their burden. He had always nurtured the hope that they would see reason.

The moment he had dreaded so long had now arrived. He was unable to give an answer. The memory of four days past was suddenly overwhelming.

Four days earlier………….

The Master of Rivendell was just about to extinguish the low burning candle on his desk when the sound of hurried hoof beats sounded up through the open balcony door.

Elrond frowned at the lateness of the hour, however, an icy fist clenched around his heart when a second later a panicked cry for him from his youngest son echoed through the still courtyard.

Without bothering to look outside he gathered his long robes up and hurried down the many steps, traversed the entry hall and pulled the great front door open.

No inhabitant of the Last Homely House had been in the corridors, yet due to the commotion and the loud cry many doors opened revealing irritated looking elves. The Lord of Rivendell did not bother to acknowledge the inquiring gazes while he descended the great entry stair into the courtyard.

He momentarily faltered in his steps at the sight that greeted him. His worst nightmare has just materialized in front of him. Elrohir was standing at the base of the stair, the limp body of his brother in his arms. To his horror Elrond saw blood constantly dripping on the floor.

It was the very scene he had always dreaded seeing. He could not even determine if Elladan was still alive. When he reached his children, Elrohir knees gave in and he sank to the ground his brother still clutched tightly to his chest.

Elrond quickly knelt next to his sons and looked quickly over the hunched form of his youngest son. Due to a great deal of filth and grime covering both cloth and skin Elrond could not make out any possible injury, a quick check through their bond told him that at least Elrohir was not physically hurt.

Not so with Elladan. The healer paled when he perceived his eldest son’s rapidly fading fëa.

“Ai!” he cried with dread when he lifted the bloodied cloak wrapped around the limp body. The darkness in the courtyard, only illuminated by a few torches did not reveal much but it was enough to make the healer reel. Elrond looked up shocked but Elrohir had lowered his eyes.

A blade had gone right through the body of the young elf and had left behind a mess that the healer doubted could ever possibly be repaired. His skills were formidable but had their limits and this time he feared that limit had been already overstepped.

Elrond sensed the appearance of Glorfindel and Erestor behind him. As expected Glorfindel only took a quick look before turning and heading back into the house. All would be prepared for Elrond to start treating his wounded son.

The Elf-lord gathered the still body into his arms, rose and headed back into the house. Too much time had already been lost. Erestor wrapped a woollen cloak around Elrohir´s shoulders. After some urging the younger twin rose and followed Erestor inside.

The courtyard was as deserted as before apart from a few elves still standing there in shock and praying that their Lord would again be successful in rescuing the life of one of his sons.

Elrond had indeed laboured long hours until morning arrived to snatch his son back from the brink of death. He had strained his strength to near self-destruction. During a brief rest he had wondered how many times this scenario would repeat itself? Until his sons were unable to reach home in time....until his skills would not be sufficient.....

Back in the present…………….

Still concentrated on guarding his emotions Elrond directed a blank gaze at his wounded child. He felt so tired and drained and he was not sure if he would be able to go through this hell again.

He had no strength left. For too long he had pleaded with his sons not to ride out, had tried to talk to them to overcome their grief. He had yelled at them that their mother hadn’t wanted for them to live the life they lived now but to no avail.

They had not listened. Their souls had been imprisoned in a circle of rage and despair. They had left the path of light more and more with every departure from home.

If they now proposed that they would leave for good, he would, indeed, he could, no longer ask them not to. He had never managed to stop them anyway.

“Ada?"

The silent request let his gaze focus again and to his surprise both of his sons were looking at him with worry, not the hounded and resigned look he had grown accustomed to. Out of a sad routine he closely guarded his features, his soul too sore to receive another blow. The last days had been enough to push him to the edge of his endurance.

He shuddered when a warm hand grabbed his own. Startled he looked up into the concerned face of his youngest son. What had happened to him? Was his soul already so deprived of affection that he had difficulty tolerating touch? For three hundred years he had longed to embrace his children - to caress a cheek, to reassure with a touch - actions natural to all elves, but his sons had distanced themselves from such emotional displays, and over time his attempts had become sparse and far between.

Finally he had ceased all attempts apart from the times when they had arrived home more dead then alive and a caress or touch was necessary during a healing process.

Elrohir´s expression suddenly changed from concerned to horrified.

Elrond had never wanted to burden his sons with his anguish and he would surely not start now, but somehow a hint of his hurting had obviously slipped his guard.

Now it was Elrohir who could not suppress a sob and he quickly rose. With a quick step he leaned forward and took his father into a tight embrace. Elrond stiffened, yet his longing overwhelmed him and he returned the embrace savouring the scent of his child and the nearness he had missed so much. Elladan, unable to rise placed his hand on his father’s thigh sending comfort through their bond.

“Ada, we are so sorry,” Elrohir whispered, burying his head in his father’s shoulder.

Elrond was at a loss. He clearly felt the heartbroken anguish of his son, yet he was still reluctant to fully open the bond. What were they feeling sorry for? Were they going to leave now?

Yet when he felt the son in his arms shaking with sorrow he reacted as every parent would. He pored out his love and sent comfort with his only wish to take away the pain.

Still deep in his heart he could not deny the fear that still tore his insides apart.

Suddenly Elrohir drew away and Elladan struggled into a sitting position. When Elrond looked at his oldest, Elladan grabbed his hand and gazed intently into his father’s grey eyes.

Elrond started. Something had changed in those eyes. All of a sudden they had lost their unrelenting and hard glare. He nearly believed he was seeing a glimmer of his beloved son as he once had been.

“Ada”, Elrohir continued when Elf-lord did not react. “We can never right what these foul creatures wrought. We’ve seen this now. Elladan nearly died and we do not want to be separated...nor do we want to be separated from you.”

Before the Elf-lord had any chance to digest these words Elladan continued.

“Ada, we want to ask for your forgiveness. We’ve just realized how much grief we have caused you. We were selfish in our blind rage and never considered that you were hurting as much. We cannot unmake the many years we pushed you away and denied that anyone beside us was grieving too, but we hope you can forgive us. We are tired of slaying orcs. We are losing ourselves. We want to stay at home, to be with you and the rest of our family.”

Elrond swallowed convulsively. He had to blink hoping that the words he had just heard were not wishful thinking. Elladan had just uttered the very words he had so longed to hear. Could it be true that his sons wanted to turn from their destructive path?

When Elrond did still not react to any of their words Elrohir lowered his gaze. “If you still want us around,” he whispered tears again coming to his eyes.

When Elladan´s hand slid limply from his grip Elrond was shaken out of his stupor. Why was he unable to answer? His sons had returned to him; the one thing he had wished for during so many sleepless nights.

With a sigh that sounded rather like a sob the wall he had erected around his soul suddenly burst and he leaned forward embracing both of his sons at once.

“Of course I want you around and of course you are forgiven. I’m so glad you found the strength to turn from that dark path. I’m so proud of you. You do not know what this means to me.”

More words were not necessary. Father and sons sat there for long moments establishing anew their familiarity – not broken, only buried.

On this night the Master of Imladris slept deeply and contentedly. He even walked the path of dreams which he had not done for a long time. His wife awaited him there and he told her with indescribable joy that their sons had returned to their home.

The End