Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof

Author's Note: There is one story about Elrond's name, saying that it means "Elf-of-the-cave". Tolkien later rejected that, but. . .here is my theory on how that name came to be. As for elven aging, I figure about two and a half mortal years to one elven year.

Author's Note the Second: This story may be taken down in a while to be added in to another. If and when that happens, I'll post a note to let everyone know were it's gone to.

Oh, and I know this may not be perfectly in line with canon. It was the best I could do with the research materials at hand, please tell me exactly what it is that's wrong if it's off-canon and I'll try to fix it.

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. . .stupid oath! It was all because of the Oath. If those. . .those. . .those cowards had not spoken such folly, Mother would still be alive! She left us here, left us all alone. . .but it was not her fault, she had to protect the stone, had to for the sake of her dignity, of her family and their honour. . .Nay! It was only for PRIDE!

Elros heard a shout, and the sound of a stone being thrown against stone, then heavy sobs. "Brother?" he called warily. It had been just the two of them ever since Maglor set them free, and though they were yet young they managed well enough on their own. It had been but two weeks, and Elros had protected his elder brother all this time, for he had lost hope.

Many nights, when the twins were still servants of Maglor and when they had been in the keeping of Meadhros even more so, they had spent hours lying in each other's arms, frightened, lonely, and cold. It was in this time that Elros decided he must protect his brother, for no one else would look out for them. Though Elros, was younger, he was the stronger, it seemed. Perhaps it was because, on that first might, he had been slowest to tears. As soon as his brother began to cry, Elros steeled himself. After that, he shed not a tear, and slept only after his brother's breathing was deep and regular, betraying sleep.

They slew her brothers and her parents. Who would not have wished revenge? I certainly would have. Nay, again, nay! For I am weak, and naught would happen to Elros that would be survived by me. She made every sacrifice possible to honour her dead family. Only she thought naught for those yet alive. Elros and I were left alone.

Then the Terrible Time had come. Elros thought of it was that--the Terrible Time. Five long years, or had it been more, the brothers were separated. No one spoke their names, and Elros found his slipping away. Elros, I am Elros, he would think angrily as he worked, never letting himself forget. His conditions were such that he forgot all else. It was all he could do to think of survival. All day he worked, and at night he slept. Not once did Elros weep, or allow his thoughts to wander at all. He thought solely of food. At night he was too tired to think of the cold.

Placed in the custody of Maglor, the twins were reunited. It was then that Elros realized he had not expected his brother to make it. Indeed, he looked as though his life had nearly come to a halt, pale and listless, emaciated. He had forgotten his name. So had Elros.

And so, reflected Elros, it has gone as such, since Mother left us: two weeks in a dungeon, three months as servants together, five years apart under Meadhros. . .eight years together with Maglor. That made them just over thirty-two, if Elros had his figures correct.

The young Elf went to kneel by the shore of the lake. The waterfall sang gently, serving very little to muffle his brother's sobs, but if he wished to be left alone--and from his shouts of "Leave me be!" he did--then Elros would leave him alone. He had gone into the cave, once, and his brother had thrown him out. Now Elros ignored the sobs, knowing there was nothing he could do, and knelt by the water to watch his reflection.

He looked older than he actually was. His hair escaped from the tail he had tied it back into. His eyes showed eternities. His face was weathered, his mouth slow to express emotion. The boy sighed. He would not have forgotten how to show emotion, but for the slaps and kicks so eager to remind him. Had this happened to his brother? He spoke little of what he had undergone, and Elros had not the heart to say what had happened to him.

Without Elros by my side, I allowed anyone to push me around. . .but then, I knew better. There was that awful time, the time he argued for my sake and then they. . .then they hit me. Why did they hit me, when Elros spoke up? I cried when they did, but Elros refused. His eyes showed no emotion. He only watched, as if in complete observance of a scene from which he was removed. Though some times they would hit us both, and always I would cry and scream and beg for them to stop. How did my brother remain silent throughout? I shall never forget the feeling, I suppose, of a leather strap biting into my flesh, the warm blood oozing from new incisions. . .

Without his weaker sibling to protect, Elros had stood up for every injustice done to him. He dared not speak for others, for this would only earn them injury. Instead he spoke for himself, shouted and argued until he could shout and argue no more. He slipped his tongue into the slot where that tooth had been knocked out, and would never grow back.

Elros sat back, wrapping his arms around his knees and still watching the water. This dissatisfied him, and so he moved again, carefully unlacing and removing his boots and shoving his peeled-off socks into them. Elros reached up to smooth his hair, and felt dirt and oils. With a shake of his head, he checked to see if anyone else was around. No one was, of course, so Elros stripped off his clothing, loosed his hair, and dived into the lake. The cold water refreshed him, and he swam a quick lap. Breaking the surface, he shook out his hair and sighed deeply.

"Come and swim with me!" he called to his brother. As expected, there was no reply. The sun beat down hotly, and so Elros, after climbing from the lake, had to lie for only minutes in the sun until he was pleasantly enough dry, and donned his clothing once more. The sobs had stopped, and Elros ventured across the small walkway into the cave. It was an enjoyable journey: sidling across a ledge of perhaps six inches, with a wall of stone on one side and a wall of water on the other, until he reached the darkened opening and entered.

They slept in the cave, and otherwise Elros spent all his time outside while his brother stayed in. Near the back of the cave, where no water ever reached, was their ragged blanket and what passed for a store of food. Two rough spears leaned against the wall. A lanky, dark-haired boy leaned against the cave wall near to the water.

"We are all right for food," Elros observed. "Brother. . .you should, perhaps, leave this cave. See the sunlight. Perhaps we could hunt together on the morrow."

"No," said the elder Elf. Elros had expected as much, and little more. Having no further business, he turned and slipped back to the lake.

I cannot return with my brother, like my brother, to the outside world. They have hurt me so. I know not how to face them. Not without anger, and not without fear. How does Elros so easily shrug off the years spent in such a life of torture? Was it not as awful for him? Did they strike him as they did me, starve him as they did me, keep him for days in darkness as they did me? These years will lie forever with me, heavily. I cannot forget nor ignore them. They are ever by my side.

Hours later, hugging his knees and watching the water, Elros looked up to see a group of Elves standing nearby, watching him, weapons at ready but not aimed. The Elfling stood, and said, "Hello."

"Who are you, and what business have you here?" asked the Elf who appeared to be the leader of the group.

"My name is Elros, son of Eärendil and Elwing." It felt good to announce himself as such. "Recently released from the servitude of Maglor." He raised his chin, feeling once more the pride pumping through his veins.

"Son of Eärendil? Have you naught else to go?"

"Nowhere. We are alone."

"Then you have the offer to accompany me and my band back to our home Lindon. Would you come?"

Elros did not reply, but tilted his head and said, "My brother is behind the waterfall." Even was unsure of what he meant by this, and the words had seemed right, but coming from his mouth they seemed to be quite wrong and awkward. He added, hoping to improve his speech, "He shall decide, if you go and fetch him."

The Elven leader nodded, then--on Elros's direction--took the secret passage into the cave. As soon as he entered a young Elf scurried to his feet, standing, trembling, staring at the ground. "Brother of Elros?"

"A-aye, sir."

"You and your brother have been offered a home in Lindon. Would you accept?"

"I would, sir, but wish not to serve any longer."

"Aye, my young friend, you would be not a servant."

"Then," said the younger Elf with more hope than he had felt in years, "I would accept."

"Most excellent! Come, gather your things." It took only a moment, for they had only the spears and blanket to take. On the young Elf's wrist he had his last tie to his mother, a leather bracelet she had slipped around his wrist when the Sack of Sirion began. It was the only possession he valued for anything but survival. The elder led the younger from the cave, then stopped and said, "Have you a name, Cave-dweller?"

"I did, once." Tears sprang to his eyes. "I have not one now. Have you one I may take?"

"Aye, the perfect name for you."

"And it is?"

"Elrond. Elf of the Cave."