The prompt is from Ariana and the story is for her. Happy Birthday, Ariana! May this coming year bring hope, not sadness, challenges that lift you up and make you grow, and may your days grow brighter.

Also, happy birthday to Lydwina Marie!

Home. It's not about being there or not. It's about knowing that when the world crashes on you, you still have a place to return to, to run away and hide and be safe. Wherever it is.

"Elrond?" The scratching at the tent door could only be Glorfindel, who always asked before entering. Círdan and Gil-galad just pushed aside the flaps and walked in as if... Elrond swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.

Gil-galad. Elrond's mind flashed back to the moment he had looked down upon what was left of Erenion Gil-galad, the charred, still-smoking carcass, imprint of one bloody hand on his cheek, still horribly vivid. It had been surreal, that moment. He had seen many dead bodies, more in the past seven years that he had ever wanted to see in his entire life.

And he was no stranger to death.

"I wish I could forget."

"Elrond?"

He noted there was a concerned tone in the voice now, but he felt too heavy to stand and bid his friend enter. Instead he, scowled. "Cannot I be alone for more than a candle mark without someone needing me?" It was a petty thing to say, and yet... He felt as though a bit of pettiness was allowed at this point. Well beyond, actually.

"Elrond."

He snorted at the calm tone of voice. Damn the Vanya for being so conveniently capable and willing to stand insult on his behalf. Even when it was Elrond himself insulting him. "Go away." He lowered his head to hands he raised, and rubbed his face. It was gritty and likely spattered with blood and other gore. The entire damned land of Mordor was nothing but blood and volcanic grit that got everywhere. "Leave me!" He added, in a low, bitter mutter, "Like everyone else."

"I am not leaving."

He startled badly as the words were spoken softly right in front of him. Elrond bolted to his feet, instantly furious, hands coming up to shove the other elf back.

Glorfindel allowed one startled step back, surprise sharp on his face, then stood to face the storm raging before him.

"I am sick to death of people leaving me! Whether because they had a destiny or they thought it would be best for me if they simply could never return, I am..." Elrond realized he was nearly sobbing, shoulders heaving as he breathed in huge, gulping breaths, and he sat on the cot before his legs gave out. Hands between his knees, back bent, he shook his head for several minutes before words could be formed out of the rage and horror that had risen in his heart. "I am weary beyond any strength I ever thought I possessed, Glorfindel. And I do not see an end to it."

At the last sentence, the golden warrior went to one knee before him. His voice was quiet as he spoke; tents were notoriously thin and he was viciously protective of Elrond's privacy. "I did not come with any request, my lord."

But Elrond knew they were there, awaiting his attention. Círdan was arranging to have Gil-galad's remains (his mind skittered away from the details) returned to Lindon for a proper ceremony, and had endless questions for Elrond, who wanted to deal with none of them. Head still down, Elrond leaned his forearms on his thighs. "Have they lit the burial pyres again today?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Glorfindel answered, the slightest swift intake of a breath. "The men have, yes."

He sighed, knowing that what was not said was that someone was likely waiting for his approval. Elrond looked up, and met Glorfindel's gaze. "And what of our dead?"

The tensing at the corner of the blue eyes was slight but it was an indication of distaste. Glorfindel had long ago learned not to show his own opinions in front of a commanding officer.

Or a king.

"Elrond...it is not our way." He blinked at the snort of derision.

"Is it then our way to allow bodies to bloat and rot, inviting disease and vermin? In this heat, they will not last long and then we will be dealing with more than a dead shell. We will have bodies bursting, and internal fluids and intestines-"

"I will tell them to begin burning the bodies."

Elrond almost laughed at the distaste on his friend's face, but stopped the unkind thought. When had he become so embittered that he mocked another being? "I am sorry, my friend." He straightened, grimacing at the pain in his back as he did so. A lucky strike by an Orc right before he'd killed it.

That was where his anger belonged. In battle.

The battle was over.

He still had so much anger.

But not against his friend. He sighed. "I want to go home."

A childish sounding wish, but his spirit resonated with the longing, and a wry smile graced his mouth when he saw it echoed in the eyes of his friend. "You as well."

"Of course." Glorfindel nodded. "Thranduil is already gone, and Círdan is planning on leading his forces and Gil-galad's back in the next day or two."

Elrond nodded and felt the obligation of duty fall upon his shoulders. "Isildur will go to Gondor." Someone had to remain to oversee the disposal of the bodies. They could not be left to the sun and elements. "If you wish to travel with Círdan you have my leave."

Golden brows drew together over darkening blue eyes. "And leave you here."

"I am capable."

Spoken mildly, it nevertheless brought Glorfindel's chin up. This was an old argument, one neither would likely ever win. "Why don't you go to Lindon and I will remain to oversee the breaking of camp and disposal of bodies."

Here was one who would not treat him as a soul ready to break apart, though he certainly had felt like it in the past few days. Elrond grimaced. "And be trapped again in a conversation with Círdan and Celeborn about who is to take the mantle of High King?"

"You told them no."

"I did." Elrond's smile was not quite grim but it was a near thing. "Quite rudely at one point."

Now a smile graced Glorfindel's face, lighting his eyes, and he nodded. "Good for you."

"Don't encourage me, old friend." Elrond rubbed the back of his neck. "We must be there for the burial."

Another hesitation, and Glorfindel looked at Elrond with apologetic understanding. "Círdan wishes to send his body to Aman."

"What?" Was the world gone mad? Elrond threw himself back on his cot and huffed. "And what does he think that will accomplish? I sincerely doubt even Lórien himself could heal Ereinion now."

Curbing the smile at the sarcastic bite in what was usually an even voice, Glorfindel shook his head. "He did not take me into his council."

"Madness." Elrond turned his head. "Are you certain he said Aman?" Círdan's accent, usually not overly noticeable, became thicker when he was angry or upset. "It would make more sense to me if he was going to commit the body to the sea."

Glorfindel blinked once and stilled as he cast his mind back to the conversation. He cocked his head, considering. "It is possible I misheard." Even after all this time, his mind was more familiar with ancient accents, now mostly long dead and rarely spoken.

"Find out for me, will you?" Elrond felt sleep tugging at his mind, trying to pull him down with weight that made his body feel filled with sand. "We will go to a burial at sea." He yawned, struggling to keep his eyes open. "And then home."

The last words were slurred as Elrond finally succumbed to sleep.

Glorfindel stood and covered his friend with a blanket before exiting the tent. Home. He could almost see and smell the waterfalls, hear the blessed sound of the water roaring over the rocks. It made for a much better image than that of elven bodies piled for burning. Steeling himself, he stood before the bodies and reminded himself they were empty shells; the spirits had fled and were likely now in the keeping of Námo.

He took the torch offered him and, hand to his heart, head bowed, spoke a prayer often said on battlefields, commending the spirits to gentle rest and healing.

Eyes blurring with memories and sorrow, Glorfindel tossed his torch on the bodies, and watched as others around the ring did the same, before stepping back, a prayer on his lips. "Elentári, Star-kindler and Manwë Súlimo, send mercy and speed our way home."

In another Age, another pair of brothers, this time of blood...

"Because I don't want to."

"Oh, well...that just settles everything."

Mirror images, alike in nearly every way possible, the two elves glared at one another across a fire. They had shared a womb, and it was possible they shared a soul, but they did not share every opinion.

"Don't be a sarcastic orc turd, Elrohir." Elladan kicked a log in the fire and shrugged as it fell into the coals, sending up a cloud of sparks and smoke that sent his brother up and away, coughing and waving his hands, eyes watering.

Ignoring the jibe, Elrohir, composed again, turned, and crossed his arms. "What would you have us do? Remain out here all winter? We'll freeze!"

"Our ancestors did not freeze crossing the Helcaraxë."

"Our ancestors were elves of Aman who had no human blood in their veins!"

"No Maiar blood either."

"Fine." Elrohir sat again and watched the fire to see if the log would catch or continue to send billows of smoke at him. "When your toes freeze off you can sing them back on, all right?"

Elladan snorted and was silent for a while. "Finrod sang songs of power and he had no Maiar blood."

Rolling his eyes, Elrohir tugged his cloak tighter. "You do recall how that particular story ends, right? Werewolves. Finrod dead."

"I remember."

The surly tone of voice just brought a smirk to Elrohir's mouth. His gaze rose to his brother and he studied him for a long while. With a sigh, he relented. "All right. At least tell me why I'm going to freeze my butt off all winter rather than lounging in the Hall of Fire enjoying mulled wine and the company of beautiful ladies."

Elladan scrunched down more, and the surly look became the grim one that more often graced his face those days. "I can't go home yet."

This again.

Still.

"I miss her as well."

"It's not just that!"

Blinking at the vehemence in his brother's voice, Elrohir drew in a deep breath before answering. "All right. What is it?"

Elladan twitched once and then again. "SHE is there."

Though many females who could be called 'she' came to mind, Elrohir could match none of them with anything that had overtly annoyed his brother. "Arwen?"

The look leveled on Elrohir should have made him burst into flames. Instead the cheeky buzzard just grinned. "Why would I want to avoid Arwen?"

"Mm." Elrohir tried to hide his grin, and curled his toes inside his boots. This had been a favorite game of his as a child. Pull Information Out Of Elladan by asking the most inane questions possible until he was so annoyed he forgot he didn't want to share whatever was festering in his over-analytical mind. "Lindir make up another song about-"

"NO!"

Swiftly defensive and the way Elladan scrunched even lower told Elrohir he was getting warm. "Hmm..." He pretended to have to think hard, earning another annoyed look. "Did Gofi promise to put you on Dúnadan heir watch again? I know you would rather pretend they don't exist. Especially when they're at that pesky stage where they want to follow us around and know every, little, blessed detail of 'why did you do that, Elrohir? Why did Elladan say that? Is he mad? Is he-'"

Another snort. "Glorfindel knew better than to set Arahad after me."

"True." Elrohir rubbed at his ear. "But I meant Arahad the second, and he did ask a lot of questions."

"And Glorf..." Understanding dawned and Elladan pitched a pinecone at his brother. "You?"

Easily deflecting it back at Elladan, Elrohir chuckled. "Arahad was forever confused on which of us was which."

"He was confused, period." Tossing the pinecone in the fire where it set to burning merrily, he eyed his brother. "Why are you so eager to go home?"

"I prefer my toes and fingers attached and not black with frostbite." Wiggling said fingers, Elrohir offered a cheeky grin. "The ladies like that too, you know. Especially if you clean the grime under your fingernails and-"

"Enough." Pinching the bridge of his nose, and making a mental note to pay back his pesty brother, Elladan blew out a long breath. "She came in Arwen's entourage from Lothlórien."

"Ooohoo..." Elrohir rubbed his hands together. "This is getting good." He leaned forward. "What else?"

"What do you mean what else?"

Elrohir dropped from the log to the ground and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee, wiggling his toes. "Well, from the way you're attempting to keep me from knowing, I have to assume that there is something amiss with this maiden." He paused and widened his eyes. "She is a maiden, yes?"

"Elrohir," his brother growled. "Your sense of humor is as warped as a warg's-"

"Right. Is she cross-eyed? Toothless? Oh!" He dropped his foot to the ground to lean forward. "Her hair is not so glorious!" The last word was followed quickly by, "OOof!" as he was tackled and pinned against the log by an irate twin. "Did I guess right?"

"You're an idiot!"

Elrohir grinned. "We're identical twins."

It was difficult to maintain a temper in the face of fearless cheerfulness. Elladan knew from years of trying. He made a disgusted noise and looked at his brother. "I think you were stuck too long in the birth canal."

Elrohir grimaced. "You were born only several minutes before me."

"And look what a difference it made." He stood and grinned, offering his brother a hand up. Pulling Elrohir to his feet, still bare, Elladan patted his face and laughed when his hand was struck aside. "Don't be jealous, Elrohir..."

Elrohir scoffed. "Stop trying to lead me away from the subject." He frowned as Elladan looked away and gripped his shoulder. "Adi. Does she feel the same way?"

Still looking away, Elladan shook his head slowly. "I don't believe she does."

"Is she stupid?" Hands up, backing away from the sudden fire in his brother's grey eyes, Elrohir's legs hit the back of a log and he sat. "Peace, peace! I only mean...is there someone else? You're not exactly unpopular with the maidens in Imladris. Any one of them would be happy to be yours."

"Any but her, apparently." Elladan sat next to his brother, shoulders touching as they both looked at the fire.

"Maybe she just...hasn't known you long enough. Arwen came home just a year ago and we've been gone since spring."

"I knew the moment I saw her, Elrohir." Elladan pushed a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up over one ear. "Just like Adar with Naneth."

Elrohir nodded. They were both very familiar with the tale their parents were fond of telling... No. Had been fond of telling. Now his father rarely spoke of Celebrían and the household followed his lead, respectful of their lord's unspoken wishes. For a moment the desire to be home, the home of his childhood where his mother was still beautiful and laughing, was so achingly strong that Elrohir sucked in a breath at the pain.

Elladan, fierce, protective Elladan, caught the echo of pain and put his arm around his brother's shoulders. Leaning his head against Elrohir's, Elladan sighed. "We should go home. I need to face her and see ...if it's just me who feels this way or..."

With a nod, Elrohir willed the pain of his mother's loss into the smoke that rose above the fire, floating higher and higher, towards the dark sky and the stars. "Home then. I'm glad it's there." He elbowed his brother. "Even if I have to put up with you all winter."

"That's right." Elladan reached over to put his brother's head in an armlock. "And I will never let you forget I'm older!"

And, in even later years...a pair of sisters, not of blood but by shared hardship and hard-won victories

"It's beautiful, Éowyn." Arwen looked around the grounds, at the gardens and at the baby toddling around, curious about everything he could touch (and try to eat). "You have a very good eye for design." She slanted a look at the fair haired woman and let the silence fall again between them. It was not as uneasy as it had been in years prior, but neither was it entirely comfortable.

"It's not home." Éowyn spoke rapidly, decisively. "Not yet."

"Give it time."

One last look to make sure the baby was not eating dirt or an unfortunate flower, and Éowyn faced her queen. "Yes? Has time made it any easier for you?"

It was almost too personal a question, and Arwen controlled the flinch. She reminded herself the Rohirrm were direct people who did not bide with lies and comfortable platitudes. How different from her own people they were! Elves did not lie, but neither did they speak directly. "A bit," Arwen admitted. Not enough, her heart responded.

Éowyn made a dismissive noise and stood to walk to the toddler and pick him up. He yowled his displeasure and kicked as she removed a large bug from his hand, then sulked and sucked on two fingers when she sat again with him in her lap. "Bah!"

"No, you cannot have the bug."

"How like you he looks." Arwen tried to distract the baby, but had no luck. "He has his mother's determination as well, I see!"

"If that is a kind way to say stubbornness, then yes."

The smile was slight, but it was a smile and it encouraged Arwen to keep trying to reach out to this lonely woman. "It is very hard right now to be honest."

"Why?"

Arwen gracefully shrugged, a thing that her father would have tsk'd at; a human habit she had adopted and liked. It was an answer without answering. "My brothers are away, and ..." To her horror she choked up and felt tears make her vision swim. Still, she pushed to answer. "I miss them. I miss..." Her father. Her mother. Her grandmother and so many others. Now forever out of reach.

"You are fortunate."

Feeling a no small amount of dismay for the answer, Arwen turned to look at Éowyn.

Shaking her head, flaxen hair catching the baby's attention, Éowyn easily caught his hand and kissed it, making him laugh. "You had a home you loved. A home where you were protected and sheltered. Adored."

Oh. Arwen bowed her head under the weight of that pronouncement. "Yes. I did."

"I do not miss my childhood home." Éowyn set the baby down and nodded as one of the young girls that attended her came and walked with the toddler. "I miss my brother, though he was often away." She tilted her head, thinking. "I miss the grasslands and the way the wind would blow and make it look as if it were an ocean. I miss the horses and the spring gathers when we brought in all the foals and tamed them to hand." Her gaze was distant, and a smile had begun to curl her mouth. "I miss the rough honesty of my people and the singing in the hall at night."

Watching her, Arwen could almost see the things Éowyn was speaking about, so strong were the emotions behind them.

Hands in her lap, Éowyn dropped her gaze. "I do not miss Wormtongue and his deceit, or my uncle's illness." She raised her head and in her pale eyes there flickered a fierce light. "But I remember the good, and hold to that on the dark days." Looking around her garden, she gestured. "I come out here and see how good my life is now, and remember how much one man loves me." Smiling warmly as her baby giggled at a butterfly, Éowyn nodded. "And that one. He is my sunshine. I cannot imagine not having him in my life now."

She looked again at Arwen. "This is becoming home. The home I want and the home I make it to be. No one can make me do what I do not wish here." Éowyn nodded. "And that makes me content."

Arwen nodded and kept nodding as Éowyn reached out to take her hand. "You speak truth."

"Of course." She laughed, a light sound that brightened the garden. "Oh...here, Arwen." Handing her queen a handkerchief of light linen, Éowyn squeezed her hand. "Not all tears all evil. Gandalf said that and I have not forgotten, though I confess I hate crying."

"As do I!"

"Ah..." Éowyn shook her head. "But your eyes don't turn red and your nose doesn't get stuffy with snot."

A burbling laugh burst from Arwen at that. "No...no, they don't."

"See? That is a good thing."

Arwen nodded and drew in a deep breath. She felt lighter than she had since her brother's departures, happier than she had in a long while. "I keep telling myself to stop missing what I had and to appreciate what I have now."

The snort was little, and Éowyn met her gaze. "You cannot tell yourself to not feel something that you feel."

"No. I suppose not." Arwen shook her head. "It is a trait of my people, to look back and regret."

"Well then." Éowyn squeezed her hand once more and stood, pulling Arwen up with her. "You will have to learn a new trait or two from your new people." Standing near enough to touch shoulders, Éowyn gestured. "Look at the beauty here. Look at the baby and how careless and happy he is, how joyful. Look forward to having your own babies and think of how to make your home as you wish it to be. Forget those stuffy Gondorian dames and their advice!" She faced Arwen. "You know what you want. You waited for how long because you knew what you wanted, despite what everyone said?"

Arwen nodded. "A long time." Even for an elf. "It was worth it. Is worth it."

"Then you should not have any problems." Éowyn grinned.

"Perhaps if I do..." Arwen hesitated, then reminded herself to be bold. "I shall just reach out to you and you can remind me."

Eowyn nodded. "Happily."

A/N: Thank you for reading! I reply to all comments, good or bad and always love hearing what you thought.