Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places
thereof.
*****
Elrohir and Celebrian shared an uncertain glance. They could both see what was coming, and wished they could not. Elrohir tried to send his brother signals to calm down, just be steady and even, but to no avail. Elladan continued to chew his supper with spiteful force, his muscles taut with anger. The only person unaware of this seemed to be Elrond, who sat calmly and did not even glance at Elladan once.
"Elrohir--" Elrond began, but this time Elladan did not let him.
"Just leave him alone, all right?" Elladan said suddenly. Elrohir was their father's favourite, and everybody knew it. Elrond was civil and loving to both sons, but Elrohir was a diplomat, and that was a skill Elrond nurtured. By the same path he was slightly harder in judgment with Elrohir, but with only the best of intentions. Elladan was a natural born warrior: his diplomacy involved a sword and bow. At thirty-four years, he had progressed to a hand-and-a-half sword, and was nearly ready for a longbow. Both twins excelled at something, both had great strengths. And both had their weaknesses.
"Excuse me, Elladan, I was not addressing you," Elrond said calmly, but clearly displeased.
"So what?" Elladan spat back. "Look, Elrohir does his best, why can you not be satisfied with this? Everybody knows you love him and not me!" Elladan was on his feet now, shaking, whether from anger or from hurt it was hard to tell. "If you only love one of us, at least be easier in judging him!"
"Elladan!" Elrond exclaimed.
"Elladan, dear, please," Celebrian pleaded quietly. She could see what was going to happen, she had known since Elrond began antagonizing Elrohir.
"I'm sorry, Mother," Elladan muttered, and perhaps he would have sat back down and things could have gone on normally, had Elrond not decided to state his opinion of the matter.
"As a child, Elladan, such things are not yours to say."
Elladan froze, halfway between sitting and standing. He straightened, a bit too straight, and strode angrily from the room. He let the door slam shut behind him and kept on going, out into the cold evening air. His cheeks felt pinched at once with the bitter chill of the evening air. The wind blew his hair back, as much of it as was free from the loose tail it was tied in at the base of his neck. Elladan had come to be rather content with his body, different shades of grey save the tan of his skin, and plenty strong enough for a warrior. As the wind played over him, Elladan grabbed his arms for warmth and shuddered.
Maybe he liked who he was on the outside. Not so on the inside. Fires burned inside of Elladan. Rage simmered, and he was learning to channel that rage for a physical fight, but at the same time there was too much of it to get rid of in an hour with a sword in his hands.
Elladan meditated on this as he looked on the panorama before him. The sky was clouded over and grey, but a pink tint was cast over it from the setting sun. There were woods bordering Imladris, but straight ahead was an open meadow, the grasses growing wild as it always was. The twins used to be small enough to get lost in those grasses, and Elladan could faintly hear an echo on the wind, of his brother calling his name. . .
"By Iluvatar, Elladan."
He turned to see his twin standing in the doorway. Elrohir was not as solid as Elladan, not nearly as muscular, and far paler. He kept his hair cut short, about even with his chin. As children, the boys had confused their parents as to which was which. Now it was easy to tell. By Elrohir's posture, he was angry.
"Why do you have to do that?" Elrohir demanded. "Huh? Why can you let nothing go? He does the best he can, Elladan."
"Really? After thirty-four years, that is the best he can do?"
"There is no need to raise your voice at me."
"I know. Sorry. I just--" Elladan had not the words to finish, but he motioned angrily. "Does he think we are children?"
"Yes," Elrohir replied calmly. Elladan made a feral sound and hit the wall hard, his arm flat against it, then rested his head on the wall as tears slid from his eyes. Elrohir placed a hand on his brother's back. "What is it?"
"I. . .I. . ." Elladan rubbed his eyes angrily.
"He loves you," Elrohir said gently. Elladan's tears came harder. "You only need to stop antagonizing him--"
"How can you side with him?" Elladan asked angrily.
"He suffers as you suffer!" Elrohir shouted.
Elladan was taken aback. Elrohir was usually so calm. . .but this was a fight, nevertheless. "He has no emotions with which to know suffrage!"
"He has more emotion than you!"
Elladan hit his brother. He did it before thinking or knowing what he was doing, but he did it. Elrohir recoiled, not prepared for the hit, as Elladan's heart raced. Blood dripped from Elrohir's jaw, and he stared at his brother in shock. Elladan turned and, with a stunning lack of emotion, walked away.
*****
.
.
.
.
.
.
No, that was not the end! More to come!
*****
Elrohir and Celebrian shared an uncertain glance. They could both see what was coming, and wished they could not. Elrohir tried to send his brother signals to calm down, just be steady and even, but to no avail. Elladan continued to chew his supper with spiteful force, his muscles taut with anger. The only person unaware of this seemed to be Elrond, who sat calmly and did not even glance at Elladan once.
"Elrohir--" Elrond began, but this time Elladan did not let him.
"Just leave him alone, all right?" Elladan said suddenly. Elrohir was their father's favourite, and everybody knew it. Elrond was civil and loving to both sons, but Elrohir was a diplomat, and that was a skill Elrond nurtured. By the same path he was slightly harder in judgment with Elrohir, but with only the best of intentions. Elladan was a natural born warrior: his diplomacy involved a sword and bow. At thirty-four years, he had progressed to a hand-and-a-half sword, and was nearly ready for a longbow. Both twins excelled at something, both had great strengths. And both had their weaknesses.
"Excuse me, Elladan, I was not addressing you," Elrond said calmly, but clearly displeased.
"So what?" Elladan spat back. "Look, Elrohir does his best, why can you not be satisfied with this? Everybody knows you love him and not me!" Elladan was on his feet now, shaking, whether from anger or from hurt it was hard to tell. "If you only love one of us, at least be easier in judging him!"
"Elladan!" Elrond exclaimed.
"Elladan, dear, please," Celebrian pleaded quietly. She could see what was going to happen, she had known since Elrond began antagonizing Elrohir.
"I'm sorry, Mother," Elladan muttered, and perhaps he would have sat back down and things could have gone on normally, had Elrond not decided to state his opinion of the matter.
"As a child, Elladan, such things are not yours to say."
Elladan froze, halfway between sitting and standing. He straightened, a bit too straight, and strode angrily from the room. He let the door slam shut behind him and kept on going, out into the cold evening air. His cheeks felt pinched at once with the bitter chill of the evening air. The wind blew his hair back, as much of it as was free from the loose tail it was tied in at the base of his neck. Elladan had come to be rather content with his body, different shades of grey save the tan of his skin, and plenty strong enough for a warrior. As the wind played over him, Elladan grabbed his arms for warmth and shuddered.
Maybe he liked who he was on the outside. Not so on the inside. Fires burned inside of Elladan. Rage simmered, and he was learning to channel that rage for a physical fight, but at the same time there was too much of it to get rid of in an hour with a sword in his hands.
Elladan meditated on this as he looked on the panorama before him. The sky was clouded over and grey, but a pink tint was cast over it from the setting sun. There were woods bordering Imladris, but straight ahead was an open meadow, the grasses growing wild as it always was. The twins used to be small enough to get lost in those grasses, and Elladan could faintly hear an echo on the wind, of his brother calling his name. . .
"By Iluvatar, Elladan."
He turned to see his twin standing in the doorway. Elrohir was not as solid as Elladan, not nearly as muscular, and far paler. He kept his hair cut short, about even with his chin. As children, the boys had confused their parents as to which was which. Now it was easy to tell. By Elrohir's posture, he was angry.
"Why do you have to do that?" Elrohir demanded. "Huh? Why can you let nothing go? He does the best he can, Elladan."
"Really? After thirty-four years, that is the best he can do?"
"There is no need to raise your voice at me."
"I know. Sorry. I just--" Elladan had not the words to finish, but he motioned angrily. "Does he think we are children?"
"Yes," Elrohir replied calmly. Elladan made a feral sound and hit the wall hard, his arm flat against it, then rested his head on the wall as tears slid from his eyes. Elrohir placed a hand on his brother's back. "What is it?"
"I. . .I. . ." Elladan rubbed his eyes angrily.
"He loves you," Elrohir said gently. Elladan's tears came harder. "You only need to stop antagonizing him--"
"How can you side with him?" Elladan asked angrily.
"He suffers as you suffer!" Elrohir shouted.
Elladan was taken aback. Elrohir was usually so calm. . .but this was a fight, nevertheless. "He has no emotions with which to know suffrage!"
"He has more emotion than you!"
Elladan hit his brother. He did it before thinking or knowing what he was doing, but he did it. Elrohir recoiled, not prepared for the hit, as Elladan's heart raced. Blood dripped from Elrohir's jaw, and he stared at his brother in shock. Elladan turned and, with a stunning lack of emotion, walked away.
*****
.
.
.
.
.
.
No, that was not the end! More to come!