Summary: Elrond thinks about his sons as he stands on his balcony, waiting once more. Will the twins' eyes ever be opened to their father's agony?

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, only the plot. Everything else is Tolkien's.

A/N: Well, we all have to start somewhere, and this story is apparently where I'm starting. I won't speak the stereotypical words of a new writer "please, take an easy on me! It's my first!" or something like that. While I hope to garner positive reviews, I am open to any advice you may have to offer. But mainly, I hope you enjoy the story! I know this certainly won't be my best story – I may even despise it should I come back a year later to read it. But all the same, let's hope it works.

One last thing. Glorfindel plays a significant part in this story, and while I believe that he was born in Aman during the Years of the Trees, I have him being born significantly before that. I know it pushes on AU with such a concept, but at least it doesn't violate canon. But for the purpose of the story, I have him born quite a lot sooner.

Additional A/N: This story will be undergoing heavy revision and will be rewritten in its entirety. Looking back to it years later, I can't express my dissatisfaction with it, as it's not at all up to par with what I know I'm capable of. Just letting you all know in case you read it and are as discontented as I am. I don't know when the rewritten version will replace the current chapters, but know that it won't deviate far from the current content (I wouldn't want the reviews given so far to be foreign). Feel free to still read and review, just know that if you find something worthy of complaint, it's probably already been noted. I don't think it's at all a bad story...it could just be told better. :)

Chapter 1

Imladris was considered by the other Elven realms as a glimpse of what Aman would be as. The waterfalls, the gentle wind among the trees, the birds singing and the hospitality of the Noldorin Elves flowing….The valley's long standing peaceful aura in a world of war was a breath of fresh air to all who visited – both Elves and Men alike. Only a handful of people knew that the blessings of Yavanna on the valley were controlled and maintained by Vilya, Elven Ring of Air. And that her bearer, Elrond, was one of the greatest Elves in all of Middle-earth. Where it wasn't common knowledge that he bore Vilya for nearly three millennia, it was known (or rumored by most Men) that he had the gift of foresight. Wisdom was one of the traits the Noldor were known for and Elrond certainly lived up to his ethnicity, offering wisdom and guidance to all who asked. Being Half-elven, the Peredhel was commonly looked to for leadership from both Men and Elves. After the death of High King Gil-galad (whom the son of Eärendil was herald to at the time) Elrond could have rightfully claimed the throne and no one would have batted an eye. He was the descendent of the House of Bëor, the Houses of Olwë and Elwë, and the House of Finwë, first High King of the Noldor. Rightfully, Elrond would have been the next king in line since he and his brother Elros were the descendants of the king's uncle, Turgon, Lord of both Vinyamar and Gondolin. But no – Gil-galad was their last king and he stated that plainly to all who asked.

In normal circumstances, Lord Elrond would have been saddened at the reality that King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm was the last Elvenking to grace Middle-earth. It made the world seem so much smaller and less in glory than it once was.

But these weren't normal circumstances. Not anymore. Elrond, clad in burgundy robes of office, stood on his balcony looking west towards the setting Sun, his vision swarming with the beauty of Imladris. But he couldn't see it. His knuckles were white as they took hold of the balcony in a death grip. His heart and mind, usually weighed down with worry, was doubly so.

My sons…my beloved sons, where are you? He couldn't help but repeat the question in his mind like a mantra. Though he maintained a normal façade of calm in benefit for his people, his heart pounded with fear and worry. Where were they? They had told him that they would return a week ago.

And that was just the thing. During his sons' Orc excursions they never gave a date on when they would return. But now they had, thinking it would lessen their father's worry, but it only increased it since they hadn't returned when they said.

Never had he felt grief like this. It was a different kind of grief. When Elladan and Elrohir had found their mother being tormented in the cave by the Orcs, they had never been the same. Neither had he for that matter. He, the most renown and powerful healer in all of Middle-earth, had been unable to save his beloved Celebrían. She had been passing over the Hithaeglir on her way to Lothlórien to visit her parents when her party had been attack by a hoard of Orcs. His sons, returning from one of their many journeys from Mirkwood, had found and returned her broken and battered body to Imladris. And he had failed. His wife, the one person who needed him more than any other in his life, he had failed. He had healed her body, shedding uncontainable tears on it while he did, but he had been unable to heal her soul. Her fëa had been tormented with cruelty beyond repair. Knowing that she would fade should she remain on this side of the Sea, Elrond and his three children had traveled with her to the Grey Havens where Círdan the Shipwright had prepared a ship for her. Both Imladris and the Golden Wood lamented at her passing over the Sundering Sea.

His family had been torn apart after that. Elrond had fallen into a grief of his own that was concealed to all except those who knew him best. His Chief Counselor, Erestor, who was considered to have a barbed tongue and intimidating exterior, took over most of his work so that he could grieve properly. Glorfindel also came into help whenever he could. The empty feeling from the loss of her soul was all too reminiscent of the loss he experienced when he and his twin had made their choice, severing their bond and later leading to his death. But he didn't fade. For his children, he couldn't fade.

Again, his family had never been torn apart more. Arwen, who had suffered from the memories Celebrían had left in Imladris, left to live in Lothlórien with her grandparents. She didn't visit Rivendell frequently but when she did, it was for a long visit.

His sons though, his beloved twin sons went on a rampage. All Elves had an inborn hatred for Orcs and any other of Morgoth's spawn. But Elladan and Elrohir had gone through a massive change. Gone were the adventurous twins who saw and provided laughter every other minute. Though for years they had been referred to as overgrown children, they were very well trusted and took their responsibilities seriously. But after witnessing what happened to their mother and seeing her depart, they had developed an undying loathing for Orcs. From that day forward, they had deliberately set out to hunt down the Orcs and kill them. Separately, both Elladan and Elrohir were remarkably skilled in both sword and bow. But together, they were unfathomable and unbeatable. And they were never seen apart.

And he, Elrond, who was use to grief, having experienced it one too many times in his life, was experiencing a grief he never had before. And that was watching his sons succumb to their desire for revenge. In all truth, he probably would have joined them in their excursions to kill Orc, but he knew that it would never bring about healing. It would only prolong it. And that was what stayed his hand.

But no matter what he or anyone else said to them, they hunted. Many times they traveled to Mirkwood and aided the Wood-elves in their daily fight against the darkness and rid the world of both Orc and the spawn of Ungoliant. Legolas, who had an unimaginable loyalty to his king, joined them daily in their forests, but only out of a sense of duty, not revenge, even though many lives of the Silvan Elves, his own people, had been claimed by such evil.

And that was how it has been going for centuries. Elladan and Elrohir would come home to Imladris, always injured, and then depart immediately once they were healed. They spent very little time at home and it tore Elrond's heart asunder to watch them succumb to their grief and anger this way. Gone were his laughing twins. Now he was used to watching them sleep in a bed in the healing wing, recovering from one of their many wounds after returning from a hunt.

And that was why the Elf-lord stood on the balcony now. The twins never gave a date on when they would return whenever they left and Elrond couldn't help but experience a constant fear that only a parent could understand that he may never see them again. It was torment to him. Even though they were far past their majority he simply wanted to hold them and never let them go. He loved them beyond imagine. Now, this day, simply seeing them alive was a gift from the Valar. Even if they were wounded, he heart lifted to see them alive.

But were they alive now? They told him that they would return a week ago. Though he knew what they did, he never knew where they went. His heart pounded in his chest as emotions flooded his body. The desire to run to Glorfindel and send out a patrol to search for them was hard to resist. Surely if they were to have returned a week ago, they should be close to the valley, shouldn't they? He closed his eyes and concentrated on slowing his heart. Why did his sons have to suffer like this? He would gladly bear all the pain in the world without complaint if it meant that his children would go on without it. Where were they?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and didn't need to turn to know who it was. Even though centuries had passed, he knew Glorfindel and Erestor constantly looked out for him. From the way the hand squeezed his shoulder, he knew it was Glorfindel.

"My friend, standing on this balcony and watching for their return will not bring them home any sooner," he said in a gentle voice.

"Where are they?" he whispered in a pained voice.

He squeezed the shoulder again. Glorfindel felt for him. Even though he thought he hid his grief well, some people saw it and he and Erestor were the two that saw it the most. The gloom was a constant shroud over their lord and whether or not one looked for it, one could always feel it. His daughter's absence hurt him, but at least he knew she was safe. His sons' actions, however, of dealing with their own grief, tore him apart. The Seneschal could see it. Like everyone else in the Valley, he worried over the twins' safe return. The urge to go out and look for them on his own proved difficult. Many a time he had tried to make them see reason, but no one could make them.

"I know not, Elrond, but you cannot stand here brooding about it," he said. To others he might have sounded insensitive, but he knew Elrond knew him better than that. But this past week he had seen his lord unable to concentrate. His worry for them, which was high most of the time, had risen to an unfathomable level.

Elrond didn't respond to that, so Glorfindel took him by the shoulders and steered him inside.

"Come, Elrond," he said, as he led the distraught Elf-lord to the bed chamber. "You need to rest. Your sons will return home in their time as they always do." Even if it is always injured, was the unspoken thought.

Elrond felt like a manikin being led around. He just wanted his sons to be home. To hold them. To know they were safe and still alive. But alas, once again, he would go to sleep knowing it was not to be.

O = O = O

The insistent banging on his door woke him up. Elrond shot out of bed, alarmed, and ran to his door throwing a robe on at the same time. It was easily past midnight judging from the position of the Moon.

It was Erestor. Much to Elrond's consternation it looked like his advisor was still working since he was dressed in his stately robes of office. He dismissed the thought when he saw the concerned look in Erestor's eye.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Elladan and Elrohir have just arrived," he stated calmly.

Elrond narrowed his brow in concern. "How bad?"

Erestor was saddened at the notion that Elrond didn't even need to ask if his sons were even injured. Every time, they just were. "They are both in the healing wing. Glorfindel and one of the healers are with them. I know not the severity of it, only that they are both unconscious."

Elrond was already running down the hall. He arrived at the healing wing and felt his heart leap to find Glorfindel and one of his senior healers staunching the blood flow on both his sons. His healer mode immediately took over.

The hours were long before it was finally over. Elrond sat down, exhaustion overcoming him. Both his sons lay sleeping in their beds, swathed in bandages. He sat out his vigil, watching them for any sign of need.

He had been told by Glorfindel that Elladan had arrived bearing Elrohir in front of him, who had passed out from the deep poisoned wound caused by an Orc blade. Elladan, shortly after arriving, had passed out from the heavy loss of blood. He sat between his sons in silence, relief flooding him once again that they were alive.

Glorfindel stood watching from the doorway. When the twins woke he would have Erestor distract Elrond with something and then he would be having a talk with the twins. He needed to know if they were blind to the pain they were causing their father. Witnessing it himself was heartbreaking. He didn't undermine the grief the twins were experiencing, but he couldn't watch Elrond go on like this a day longer. Something needed to be done.

Elrond sat there, each hand holding one of his sons', pouring his healing strength into their battered bodies every now and then. When they woke he would speak to them about their Orc sightings, or if they were in Mirkwood, news of that realm. But once they had healed, he knew they would be off once more. Therefore, he took every second he could right now to spend time with them, for very soon worry would engulf him once more as he waited once again.

To be continued...

Hithaeglir – Sindarin for the Misty Mountains
fëa - soul

A/N: This small piece was meant to stand alone, but thanks to the reviews, there is now a chapter two on its way! If you have any critiques or advice or input you want to give me, let me know! I'm all ears.