Author's Note;I am so sorry. Absolutely nothing can excuse how late this is but I hope you will forgive me. Lets just say Real Life has not been kind. I hope you still like this story and are still reading and once again I offer my sincerest apologies for the lateness of the chapter.

Plus the 'd' on my laptop now sometimes doesn't work so if there are any spelling mistakes concerning a lack of a 'd' then please let me know so I can fix it. Thank you.

Please review and I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

Elrond sighed to himself. He had wanted to keep the whole thing behind him, keep it in the past, and certainly keep it away from his beloved sons.

But they had to know.

"Elladan, do you remember that family that I sent you to, about fifteen years ago, to help heal a young boy who was sick? The one that no healers could discover what as wrong with him?"

Elladan frowned, finding it slightly hard to remember.

"I remember …something about an ill boy." Elladan paused, "He had no mother." He said, quietly.

He had always felt sympathy for the boy, understanding how he had never wanted Elladan's help. How he had wanted his own mother to administer the bitter medicine with a soothing word or a gentle hug, not Elladan's distant comforts that brought no relief nor solace.

"Yes," Elrond confirmed, his tone gentle yet cheerless. He paused, unwilling to go on. "Do you remember what happened to him?" Elrond asked.

Elrohir bit his lip. He didn't care for the boy, he never had, he had always seemed too proud, too conceited, for one with nothing to be smug about.

Elladan frowned, straining to remember.

"No." He said, puzzled.

Elrond closed his eyes, bowed his head and all was uncomfortably silent. Elladan shifted his gaze from his father to his brother, hoping for an answer. Eventually, Elrohir spoke.

"He died, Dan." Elrohir said softly, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder, as if to pass his strength to him.

Elladan blinked, astonished and saddened. He had never seen the boy again but he had thought he would have lived. His illness had been potentially fatal but the boy had improved so much, he had thought …

"But … his illness was clearing and he had most of his strength back … he was walking and everything." He stuttered, not comprehending how it was possible the boy's condition could have deteriorated so much without him remembering how. Suddenly he sharply shook his head and, with misery in his voice, asked what both twins were wondering, "What does he have to do with Nerea?"

Elrond was silent and neither brother dared breathe.

"Ada," he pleaded, his voice almost a whisper, "Please. Tell me."

Elrond closed his eyes again, telling the darkness was easier than telling his sons.

"He was her brother." He said. "I let her down. Twice."

A tear escaped the proud Elven Lord's eye.

"How ada?" Elrohir asked gently.

Lord Elrond took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

"I failed with her mother, then, when I tried to make things right, I failed with her brother." He admitted, his guilt showing through every word he spoke.

The twins guided him to a chair as Elrond closed his eyes in despair.

"All that has happened here, all the destruction, all the trauma and pain, it is all my fault." He choked out, burying his face in his hands.

The twins were instantly there, drawing him in close to them in an effort to comfort the broken Elven Lord. Truthfully, the two were scared. Their father was always calm, always in charge, in control of himself and often of them. Now, he looked … broken.

Tentatively, Elladan's thoughts crept into voice.

"What happened ada?"

Elrond sighed. He had thought, hoped, that once Elladan had woken, not remembering any of the events that forced him to his bed for over 4 months to heal, that he would never have to relive it again. Even thinking of beginning to tell him sent his memory swirling in a whirlwind of shame, blame and guilt and still sent him reeling from the nauseating memory of his painfully slow realisation and response that happened throughout, what he wished would only be a story.

His selfishness and wish for his own feelings to be spared the pain once again were not important now though. His son was right. He deserved to know the truth.

"Firstly, the villagers sent a plea to us, the Elves of Rivendell, about twenty years ago I think it would be, asking for our aid. There had been a large group of orcs spotted not far from their settlement. They knew they couldn't win without our help."Elrond's eyes met those of his sons. They remembered this part.

"Of course, I allowed it and set out with about a hundred soldiers who volunteered their help."Elrond broke off to send an apologetic look to his sons.

"I wouldn't let you come. I told you it was because you had to handle things when I was gone," he sighed, "but really, it was only because I was worried about what would happen to you. I knew you were both capable, able and willing but there was something that held me back from letting you come. An uneasy feeling that made me unable to choke out a 'yes'. And I am sorry, but I am glad that you were not there."

The two sons of Elrond had been angry at first. They had complained and brooded and tortured their advisors and friends with talk of their anger towards their father. Until Glorfindel had told them all their father was saying now.

And now they felt none of their anger, only the lingering shame of ever having doubted their father's trust in them.

They nodded, prompting him to continue in his story.

"We came to the village as soon as we could, but it had already begun. The orcs were tearing into the people. We entered the battle with a cry, hoping to turn the orcs towards us."Elladan and Elrohir nodded again, they understood, and had used such tactics themselves a few times.

"It worked for a little while. We had managed to protect a large amount of people behind us. They were mostly children, with few women and only the very occasional man. Many of the children were crying, drawing more and more orcs closer, loving the sound of the hell they were creating."

Elladan comfortingly rubbed his father's shoulders. Knowing how indescribably horrible it must have been, to hear the cries and yet be unable to cause them to cease. Especially so, for a father.

"I pressed forward with a large fraction of the army, aiming to drive the orcs back and out. The others I urged a to take the people we had to safety. I told them to take them to Rivendell." Elrond's eyes met those of his sons. "Barely three quarters of the people made it. They didn't trust us. Even after everything we had done for them."

The pain and betrayal in Elrond's voice was clear for all to hear and he winced at the pathetic sound of it. The army had done the best they could but they couldn't leave the group to chase after a single Woman or Man who had run from them. The lives of many were more important than the few.

"When we surged forwards the orcs did not withdraw nor run as we had hoped, instead they split, barging their way into houses on all sides. We could hear the started, terrified, screams from where we stood. I ordered them, in groups of three, to follow the orcs. I entered a house and saw three orcs facing a family of four. The mother had her arms around her two children, a boy and an infant girl. The father, facing the orcs with a kitchen knife. We stepped in and disabled the nearest orc easily enough, however the other two did not go down easily."

Elrond sighed sadly, remembering the swiftness in which the orcs had reacted. Like he should have.

"They grabbed a family member each, had a knife to their necks, but we three all stood on one side of the room. We couldn't go to both. The little girl was crying, desperately trying to get to her mother. The orc threatened her with his other knifed hand but she did not listen nor seem to care. All she wanted was her mother. I promised her her mother would be alright. I promised I'd save her."

He paused, taking a deep breath.

"The orcs told us to choose. The mother or the father."

Elrond paused, shaking his head in dismay.

"I couldn't." He said, his voice faltering.

The twins wrapped him in a tight hug. He rested his head on one of their shoulders, finding his arms too heavy to wrap around them in return.

"No one would expect you to make that decision ada." Elrohir supplied reassuringly.

Elrond sighed into his sons shoulder.

"They did."

There was silence for a long moment as the three Elves rested like that. Their father locked comfortingly between them, his eyes closed and head on one's shoulder. A strange picture of an incomplete family, the sons soothing the father, but a peaceful one.

Elrond was reluctant to shatter the tranquillity that each felt, just hanging on to each other and he doubted he would be able to continue without this support.

"I didn't choose." He admitted into the silence.

To his relief neither of his sons shifted and their comforting weight still rested over him. He was never more thankful for his sons.

"The two other Elves with me thought and acted quickly. In a matter of a second or so, both orcs fell dead and the mother and father remained standing. Quickly we began to usher them out, the mother stopping to thank us."

A small smile graced Elrond's lips. Such a courteous woman.

"Swiftly, we hurried them along, making sure the children were protected." He explained, his voice growing thick.

"We were not far from Rivendell when then the mother fell. She lay and did not immediately rise and so ordered the two Elves with me to take the children and run for Rivendell."

A single tear fell from the Lord's eye.

"It was the wrong thing to do."

The twins shared a confused look.

"I don't understand." Elrohir said.

"I checked the woman over. Sure that she had been hit from behind by an orc, such was the way she had fallen, but this proved false. Her wound was taken in the side." He said, his voice surprisingly stable and able.

"She was killed by her husband."

The twins hugged their father tighter, a dreaded sense of knowing crawling over their skin.

"She was killed by him. And I left the two children in his care."