I went way over the word count but I have no regrets. They wanted to speak and I didn't have the heart to stop them.

Prompt: Threads

"May I join you?"

Elladan barely nodded his head, gaze locked on something only he could see on the horizon. Seated on the warm sand, knees drawn up, his arms were looped around his legs, hands clasped. Closed off and not welcoming.

It wasn't the first time Tuor had been met with opposition. "Adjusting to life here can be difficult." He shook his head as the wind caught grey-blond strands of hair and drew in a deep breath of sea air. "Not only because of those who have never lived anywhere but Aman and can't imagine why anyone would want to, but having those same people regard you like some sample of a unique life form, to be examined and studied. Discussed."

He didn't push when no answer came. Long years had given him insight into his wife's people and he knew some thoughts just took time to play out. And truthfully, he just wasn't used to this. Family had never played a huge part in his life. Not since Gondolin.

Funny how, despite that, his family had become common household names. Everyone knew his story, some version of it, and seemed to think that gave them a right to comment on it.

"You got to live."

He turned his head and was pleasantly surprised to find his companion had turned that gaze upon him. It was an ageless face of course, graced with the beauty of the Eldar, but there was something fierce and untamed in the grey eyes. Pain, he belatedly realized. And anger. "To my great surprise, yes."

A frown and the tone became bitter. "And yet my sister was granted no such boon."

Tuor recognized the signs of a squall brewing and wisely said nothing. What could he say? That the Valar had allowed Idril and himself passage was beyond expectation. He had fully expected to die like any mortal man. Had made peace with that...

Ah, but it had meant being parted for all time from his wife, and that. That had cut to the quick.

A sigh, and Tuor shifted to sit cross-legged. "It's hard to understand why they do the things they do." He shook his head. "My son is lauded for his heroic acts even as his wife is reviled for being a coward. Yet if Elwing had not brought the Silmaril to Eärendil..." Tuor slanted a look at his great-grandson. "You and I would not be sitting here."

"My father has no ill-will towards her."

Nor any great love, but Tuor kept his mouth shut. It was hard to argue against a child who had been abandoned not only by his parents but by his twin. "Maybe I owe you an apology." He turned to look at the young man, searching for something familiar. Some hint of the woman who slept at his side every night, and lightened his days with her smile and wit. The arch of the eyebrows? Not the hair. Elladan's hair was so brown as to be nearly black. But when he turned his head to look at Tuor, the man's breath caught. There, in the high cheekbones and the determined set of the chin. It was impossible to pin down, but for a moment he had seen something that called forth a memory of Turgon, standing on a turret, high above Gondolin.

It brought a lump to his throat and he swallowed hard.

"For what?"

So many scenarios played though his mind, familiar things that he wrestled with in all of the years he had lived in Aman. Granted the long life of the Eldar, his mind was still that of a man, and his thoughts sometimes betrayed his past. "That maybe," he began, voice hoarse, choked still by memories and regrets, "if I'd been more content, and not so restless, maybe if we'd stayed..." Tuor stopped for a moment to clear his throat. "We might have been there when they came to Avernion."

Elladan shook his head, and said without hesitation, "They would have killed you." The look was not quite pity, but not so far from it. "You would have been too old by then, and Idril would have lost you for all time."

Old. He had been getting old even when they sailed. "Idril might have talked them down. They knew her as a child."

Now there was pity in the grey eyes. "The Oath drove them, Tuor. I would like to think they wouldn't hurt their cousin, and I've heard Adar tell of the kindness he and Elros were shown by the brothers, but I know what it is to be driven to an act. I know how it feels to try and purge yourself of it, to live as others do around you, and yet the memory of the thing will not let you rest." Elladan shook his head. "They could not rest until they had the Silmarils."

"Nor could they rest once they had them." Tuor spoke softly, quietly. Any anger he felt for the Fëanorians had long ago been quenched by pity. He would not blame those, like Elwing, who even still flew into anger at what had been done to her and her family, but he felt only sadness that such brilliant lives had ended so tragically.

"And yet," Elladan faced the sea again, absently pushing back a braid as the wind tugged it across his face, "I now see my mother whole and healed, the very thing I wished for." He shook his head. "And I am still discontent."

Tuor considered for a long moment what to say. He had found it far easier to connect with the younger of the twin sons of Elrond. Not to say that Elrohir mourned the loss of their sister any less, but Elladan seemed to take it as an affront to his family. Something not to be borne. "Have you ever been in love?" He couldn't help it; his mouth crooked into a wry smile at the surprised look shot at him.

Elladan snorted. "I've yet to meet anyone who takes my breath away and keeps me staring at her as time swirls past."

A low chuckle and Tuor shook his head. "It's not always a bolt out of the blue, lad. Sometimes it's the slow realization that you don't want to live without that person in your life. That you'll do whatever it takes to stand by her side, even in the face of the overwhelming truth that you..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "That you're just not what anyone had in mind for their little girl, and you're truly not good enough."

"He was a good man." Elladan looked east again. "The best I knew."

Tuor waited, knowing by long association with elves that there was more; words, slowly filtering through strong emotion to form into what could be spoken.

"It wasn't until the end." Elladan's hands fisted and he drew in a sharp breath, holding it for a long moment. "After Aragorn died. It became real then. Arwen..." He shook his head, mouth open but eyes lost in memory. "She just...diminished. I don't know how else to say it."

Tuor nodded. How often had he seen Idril watching him, brow furrowed and eyes worried in a way that should never touch the beautiful face. All for him. His mortality. "I am sorry."

"For what?"

"Lad..." A sigh and Tuor shook his head. "Sometimes I think maybe Idril would have been better off for never having met me, but then I see Eärendil and all that he did for both Elves and Men. I see your father and you and Elrohir. Valar forgive me, but I cannot be sorry for what came of loving Idril, even if I had died a mortal man."

"What will come of Arwen and Aragorn's love though?" Elladan scowled. "Most of the Elves have sailed and men have short lives and shorter memories. In a generation or two who will remember them and what they accomplished?"

The bitterness in the voice hurt to hear. "Idril knew nothing of what was to come from loving me. Aye, she has foresight but all she saw in me was a man. Not some distant future where our son would sail the heavens and his children become mighty among both kindred." Tuor stood and met his great-grandson's gaze. "Can you truly believe nothing good will come from them, Elladan? Arwen and Aragorn were courageous, patient beyond what most are made to endure, and faithful not only to one another but to their people. How can that not affect those who come after?" Greatly daring, Tuor bent and squeezed the strong shoulder with his weathered hand, marked by life and time in a way the younger man would never face. "Including you, lad."

Grey eyes flashed as Elladan looked up and held his gaze and for a moment Tuor held his breath, waiting for the flare of temper that had bred true down this line. But Elladan only frowned and looked away. "I will think on it."

Ah, well. Better than he expected, really. He could now tell Idril with a clear conscience that he had tried. Tuor began to walk back up the beach.

"Daeradar."

For a moment he thought it was a trick of the sea and his non-elvish hearing. Damn conches of Ulmo still haunted his dreams. Tuor turned.

Elladan inclined his head in a regal way that called forth a long-lost kingdom and its ruler yet again. "Thank you."

Tuor smiled and gave a nod before heading for home, his steps lighter than before.

If you're reading this, thank you! Tuor is actually Elladan's great-grandfather, and yes, I do choose to believe he was granted the longevity of the Eldar, and allowed to live in Aman with Idril. One of the great love stories in Tolkien's works, and one of my favorites. Happy Valentine's Day.