Authors Note: sorry about how long it's been since I updated! But I am in the groove with this story again now so the next update should be quicker.

To my lovely guest reviewer...so glad you like Glorfindel. Especially his softer side! A bit more of that here. Thanks so much for your reviews : )

Elladan

I am lost and I cannot find myself. Where is Elladan?

I am the sensible twin. The calm one. The quiet shy brother, content to sit back while my younger, more volatile twin deals with all the excitement. I am the boring one.

"Elladan—" they say, "well he is very peaceable. He is nice enough." There is nothing dramatic about me at all. I am overlooked in the brightness of my brother's light for Elrohir shines so brightly he lights us all on fire. I am included only because no-one can resist being close to Elrohir and we are a package deal. My entire childhood was like that.

But now quiet, shy Elladan has disappeared and in his place is a turmoil of emotion and I do not know how to deal with it. Instead of the soft, ever present churn of anxiety that is my usual state I am overwhelmed with feelings. Rage, fear, burning excitement surge through my brain.

What is this?

I hide myself away. They all hate me anyway, I have seen it in their eyes. My brothers, my sister, my lover. They look at me with distaste. And why not...I even despise myself.

How could I have done that to Legolas? What drove me? Am I insane? It certainly feels like it.

And above it all is the roar of the sea.

So I shut myself in my room, shut out the light and wish myself out of existence.

It is Arwen who finds me there. I do not even hear her enter, I am unaware of her presence until she draws back the closed curtains, drowning me in a rush of light that sears my soul.

"Brother." she says kneeling beside me, stroking the hair gently clear of my eyes. "Oh my poor brother."

Her voice is gentle and full of love but it confuses me. How can she still love me? But she holds me tight and I feel the touch of her mind caress against my own. Normally I would fight her intrusion, slam down my walls and shut her out for I hate when she helps herself to my feelings. Now though, it is a comfort, the gentle presence of Arwen and so I let her in. I let her see me...if she can even find me amongst the chaos. Perhaps she can make sense of it for me.

She leans back eventually and holds me at arms length looking at me critically.

"Elladan, where are you?" she asks.

"I am here." It is an effort to speak and my voice sounds as numb as I feel.

She shakes her head, her face creased with a frown as she leans forwards and cups my cheek gently in her hand.

"You are drowning in the sea, I think."

She is right, the sea is there as always pounding at my sanity but it is more than that and I try to explain.

"I have lost myself," I say. "I no longer know who I am. It is frightening, Arwen, how I lost control. I am so . . ." I run out of words to say what it is I am trying to communicate to her.

She pulls me tight against her then as if she clings to me, as if she does not wish to lose me.

"You feel ...wild," she says. It is the last adjective I ever thought I would hear anyone use to describe me. Elrohir maybe, but not me.

"How you must despise me," I whisper, for she must, she must, they all must.

"I love you," she says it emphatically as if challenging me to deny it.

"They all hate me. Estel...Glorfindel...I do not blame them. I hate myself."

"Estel will get over it. He is angry, certainly, and frightened. But he is insightful and wise also and he loves you. He will see past this. And Glorfindel—his love for you shines like a beacon, Elladan, even now. Do not mistake confusion and disappointment for hate."

I cannot be so sure of their love for me as she is.

"Elrohir will never forgive me this."

She smiles then.

"Elrohir has already forgiven you. He struggles to understand, but he forgives."

I cannot think on it any longer. It is too tangled, too confusing. Instead I lean against her and close my eyes. I wish I could shut out the world. She strokes my hair and begins to sing. A lullaby from our childhood. I have heard her sing it to Eldarion when he needs comfort and I see why. It reminds me of our mother and the knots inside me begin to unravel.

Slowly I fall asleep.

At first I dream of home, of my mother and my childhood, of adventures with Elrohir in those days when all was simple and good but then my dreams change. They become strange and alien. I am running in the trees, laughing, it feels so free. But I have never done this, even in Lothlorien when we visited our Grandparents I did not. Always too afraid, too tense, too scared I would fall, and what would people think. Elrohir did, he cavorted in the trees with the Silvans and I stood and watched. Why do I walk dream paths about something I have never done?

When I rouse from sleep I realise I am in a bed. Someone has moved me here and it is warm and comforting. A hand rests over mine, not Arwens, for this hand is firm and solid not small and slender. When I open my eyes it is Glorfindel looking back at me. Blue eyes solemn and grieving.

"Elladan," he says gently, and he smiles. I thought I would never see him smile at me again. "So you are awake finally!"

I am confused. Why is he here? Why is he not angry? I push away his hand, although it gives me comfort and sit up. Shaking my head to rid myself of the last vestiges of the strange dream.

"Why are you here? How can you bear to be with me?" I ask because I have to know. What has happened to drain all that anger away?

"Because I love you." He takes back my hand, "and you are suffering. That much is obvious."

I am filled with a rush of self loathing. Why is he so understanding? I do not deserve it. I do not deserve this from anyone, least of all him.

"You should not love me!" I cry, "What is there to love. What about me is worthy of you. I am nothing. I have no talent, there is nothing special about me. I am just quiet Elladan, hiding in the shadows until some of my Brothers charisma shines itself upon me. There is nothing about me that deserves you, for you are Glorfindel! You deserve better."

He frowns, for he is cross with me now.

"Never say that again," he snaps. "Never speak of yourself thus to me. You are my Elladan, full of love, compassion, empathy. You shine with a light so few of us have. You are special beyond all measure. Do not tell me how I should love, or who I should love. There is nothing special about Glorfindel, except my love for you."

It is hard to hear and even harder to accept.

"You should be with Erestor!" For he should, he has always yearned for him.

"Erestor was a stepping stone which has led me to you." He breathes. "No one can replace you."

I have nothing to say, and so I simply stare. I do not believe him. I do not believe myself worthy of him, but he will not listen. Instead I change the subject, to one that is, if possible, even harder but I must know.

"How is Legolas?"

Glorfindel's face falls.

"Not good," he says. "It is strange. Estel has done all he can but he is at an impasse. The injuries Legolas has seem to bear no relation to how ill he is." I wince at that for those injuries—for the most part—were caused by me. "He hit his head when he fell," Glorfindel continues, "and he will not wake. But the injury does not warrant such a long period of unconsciousness. Estel cannot reach him and Arwen has tried but she says he is...blank."

"Blank?" What does my sister mean by that.

"She says it as if he is not there...he is empty, devoid of Legolas." Glorfindel squeezes my hand then. The hand he has not let go of. "I think you should see him, see if you can help."

"Me?" I am horrified at that suggestion. "Me! How can you trust me to see him. I cannot help him! I am the last person who can."

"You are a gifted healer Elladan. You may deny it but you know it is true. You surpass Estel in this. You are your father's son, and you are elven. You can reach Legolas as Estel cannot."

"And what damage would I do when I reach him?"

"There is that risk," Glorfindel says solomnly, "But I would be there, and Estel. Think on it Elladan, please." He stands then and finally lets go of my hand. "I will bring you food and when you have eaten maybe you will see things differently."

I do not think I will, but I do consider his words when he has gone. Eventually I get up, I ease myself out of the bed and dress. Before I do anything, go anywhere, there is one person I must see and that is my brother.

When I first enter Elrohir's room I think he is sleeping. He lies there pale and still, face drained of blood and of life and I catch my breath. But he hears me and his eyes open. For a long while we stare at each other. He strips me bare with his gaze and says nothing.

"Shall I leave?" I ask eventually, for I do not wish to be where I am not welcome.

"No." His voice is soft, quiet, unElrohir like, for Elrohir is always loud and energetic. It is unnerving to see him so still and quiet. "I am glad you are here, I wish to speak to you." He says and so I sit, on the chair beside him, awkward and ill at ease.

"Explain what happened. I need to understand this." He is not asking me. He is demanding it and I guess he has that right for I have hurt the one he loves.

"I do not think I can Elrohir. I thought you were dying. I believed that...I was..." I cannot continue, my voice chokes up with tears as the horror of those hours returns full force in my mind. But I must get this out. "It sent me mad I think, I would not have hurt him otherwise...if I could take it back. I have lost myself Elrohir!"

He reaches towards me with a grimace of pain and clasps my hand.

"You have not lost me brother." He says firmly, as firmly as he is able. "But I feel I have lost you."

I do not know what he means and it obviously shows on my face for he attempts to explain.

"You feel wrong" he says. "When I first woke, and all was dark and confusing...and pain...I felt you. I felt your hand upon my forehead and your soul beside me but at first—at first I thought you were Legolas."

"You obviously wished for him." I say sadly, because of course he would but he shakes his head.

"No! You felt like Legolas. Legolas is tumultuous and erratic. He is a riot of emotions, whether it be joy or sorrow. He is wild and free and chaotic. That is how Legolas feels to me. You, you are calm and tranquil. A soothing balm upon my soul. Always, even when we fight you are peace itself Elladan. But when I woke you were Legolas. I cannot explain it better. You were wild."

It is the same thing Arwen said to me and yet I am the least wild elf imaginable. Why do they insist on saying this?

Suddenly, as I sit there frowning in consternation, it falls into place. My strange dream of running in the trees. Elrohir's words, 'You were Legolas' Arwen telling Glorfindel all she felt in Legolas was blankness. Like fitting the final piece to a puzzle it all lines up and makes complete and utter sense to me.

I know what is wrong, with both Legolas and myself.

I know what I have to do.