Sons of Elrond

You know I don't own the characters that are directly out of LOTR, but I do own the ones you don't know. (Mwa ha ha ha, they are all MINE!)

Elrohir sighed – Elladan was late, again, for watch duty.

His truant twin was most likely warming his sheets with some chamber maid, as usual.

If their mother had known what kind of psychological damage her leaving had done to her eldest son would she have chosen pain and despair in Middle Earth over the peace and healing they were told she had found in the Undying lands?

Elrohir was unsure – as children of a noble household, they had been raised by nannies, tutors and servants with limited contact with their own parents – they had hardly known their mother, yet her torment still burned their blood and they hunted and killed any and all of the terrible creatures that had caused Celebrain's pain.

Elladan had been more connected to their mother than had his twin, and the loss of her haunted him – he vainly attempted to fill the gap left in his heart by her departure with elleths, chamber maids and any pretty face that would open her chamber doors to him or enter into his.

Elrohir shook his dark head sadly, but was still mad at his fraternal twin.

The two young elves, though to the untrained eye, appeared to be identical, were quite different from one another once you got to know them; Elladan, the elder, was very possessive of material goods and kept only loose relationships with others. He was tall and deadly with both sword and bow, and his dark green eyes shone with a creepy light that seemed to pierce the pour soul he let loose his gaze unto.

The elder Elrondion spoke loud and often, enjoying the sound of his own voice, while his younger brother was quieter and more soft-spoken, he listened more and only occasionally made a comment or pointed something out that someone had missed.

Elrohir, though he didn't know it, resembled his father in behavior, where Elladan took Elrond's stately appearance.

Elrohir's face was fairer than his twin's and his eyes were a grey, misty blue with such depth and animation that made his father often think of his wife whenever he looked into his son's puppy-like eyes.

Both elves were deadly and efficient with their weapons, were expert trackers, and skilled healers; a trait many found amusing considering how the most of their talent appeared to be in their amazing warrior skills.

But this was all irrelevant to Elrohir – he wanted his brother to, for once, make it on time for their watch and not wander in half-way though lacing up his leggings with that maddeningly wide grin on his face that covered his hollow, depressed eyes.

A nearly undetectable sound caused his mind to shoot back to the present – the soft sound of a bare foot touching down and dragging lightly to the side.

"Elladan, you're late again for the five thousand, three hundred and fifty second time! Will you ever come on time," Elrohir admonished his twin without even turning to confirm that that indeed was who was behind him, "or do you plan on crawling in here two hours in every night?"

Elladan shrugged, not trying to be silent anymore, and dropped his boots to the ground beside his brother and proceeded in wedging them onto his feet.

"Really, it's not like it's a problem, 'Ro, nothing ever happens around here anyways. I only wonder why, in Eru's name, we were both posted here in this monotonous little spit of civilization? We are both the son's of Elrond," the incredibly bored looking elf complained, "and the descendants of Elwing and Earnur, of Dior and of Beren and Luthien. We carry the blood of Turor and Idril, why are we simple guardsmen in the middle of no-where instead of commanding our father's battlements and troops?"

Elrohir snorted, "Do your constant attempts at getting in trouble and sleeping with all the maidens in Imladris help? We were sent here, my dear brother, because there's nothing here for you to destroy and they assume that I can control you, hence why we are here together in the middle of no-where."

Elladan shrugged again and leaned heavily against the stone wall.

"Too bad Arwen isn't here – she'd liven the place up."

Elrohir let out a chuckle; while both loved their younger sister like nothing else in the world, Elladan found her to be far too dry and melodramatic. He tried to teach her to fight and curse like a soldier, to the abhoration of her old nurse Ellen when she saw the scratches and bruises the young elf lady had received in a sparring match and the less-than flowery language her young mistress had picked up.

Elrohir shook his head again and sighed, maybe that was another reason they had been sent away. Ellen most likely had complained to their father that they were a negative influence upon their younger sister and they should be removed from her presence.

A smile drifted across his quiet face – Arwen had left for Lothlorien not long after their departure.

And in Lothlorien... Elrohir immediately changed subject's mid-thought.

Long ago when he and his mother had gone to the Golden Wood to visit his grandparents Elrohir had met a beautiful young elleth, a daughter of a kinsman of Celeborn.

They had kept in correspondence for many long years and countless fallings of snow until, one day without warning, her father decided to leave Middle Earth and take his household with him.

She left the shores of Arda without so much as a goodbye to Elrohir, and the young elf's heart had never mended itself.

Sad. That is the only way to describe the two sons of Elrond.

Rich, handsome, intelligent, gifted, privileged, and hopelessly sad and lonely.

Little did either know how soon that was soon to change.

Thanks for all the reviews – I checked my e-mail and POW! I've never had such a reaction to any of my stories. This is highly cool, so thanks everyone who reviewed:

Dragon Confused, Ellfine, Grumpy, and Baralach.