A/N: Short chapter I wrote between classes this morning. It seems as though I've been neglecting Elladan lately *gasp*. I mean, who is this story REALLY about, right? ;) So, more Elrohir later.

Part 11:

Elladan woke late the next morning, though the sun was obscured by threatening rain clouds, making it difficult to tell the exact hour. A few drops splattered on the pane. He wished it would just make up its mind and pour, for then it would suit his mood far better.

Elladan had not seen Elrohir since the night before. Indeed, he did not even hear word of him. Usually when Elrohir disappeared for any length of time his father or Erestor or Glorfindel would come in with reports of whatever trouble his younger brother had gotten himself into. Last time it was dousing Erestor while he was washing the horses, claiming that he could not tell the difference by the smell. The memory was not enough to bring a smile to his face, and he realized that his words from the night before must have struck deeper than he thought they would, to make Elrohir stay away from him for so long. Any other time and Elrohir would have laid into him with his own verbal barbs, but last night he had absorbed his words in silence.

There was a rapping on the door as Erestor stuck his head in. "Elladan?" he called softly, checking if he was awake.

Elladan pushed himself into a sitting position to greet the councilor. "I'm awake, Erestor. What has my brother done this time?"

Erestor frowned as he entered the room. He was carrying a rather long object, wrapped in brown and green cloth. "Nothing that I have knowledge of. I came to bring you a parcel. It came from Mirkwood this morning."

Erestor laid the object in Elladan's hands. He unwrapped the cloth to reveal a stunning longbow, carved in the fashion of the finest archers of Mirkwood. The dark wood was inlaid with gold in the figures of trailing vines and leaves, and a finely wrought star in the center of the grip. A note fluttered to the bed from the wrapping:

"Elladan—

I heard you were in need of a new bow. Heal quickly, and we will ride together soon.

--Legolas"

Erestor did not miss the surprise in Elladan's face turn to disappointment as he read the note. Elladan let the bow fall to the blankets as he collapsed against the pillows, a few tears escaping down his cheek. Erestor reached over him to finger the bow.

"'Tis a fine bow, Elladan. Perhaps the finest bow I have ever seen," he tried to console him.

"Yes, it is," Elladan said his voice cracking.

"And Elladan," he continued absently. "It was hand delivered."

Elladan's eyes turned towards him in confusion, then looked past him as an elf dressed all in brown and green entered the room. Elladan's tears came in earnest as the Prince of Mirkwood approached the bed to sit on the edge.

"Did you truly believe I wouldn't come?" Legolas laughed as he enfolded his friend and recent lover in a tight embrace.

Elladan didn't notice as Erestor silently took his leave. "How did you know? I did not send for you. Verily, no one in Imladris even knows about us!"

"No one, Elladan?" Legolas questioned. "Do you forget your twin brother so easily? It was Elrohir who sent for me. He told me I must come, for you had been grievously wounded, so I rode on the wings of the storm that has pursued me since I left my father's realm." He sat back and looked Elladan over. His light fingers traced over the hollow cheeks and dark circles that shadowed Elladan's eyes. "Alas, I see it is true. Your wounds are deeper than I had wont to believe."

Elladan looked away. He wanted to smile and say 'No, Legolas, 'tis nothing!' but the lie wouldn't leave his lips. "Aye," he said quietly instead. "Wounds deeper than even elven eyes can see. Perhaps…perhaps it would have been better if you hadn't come."

Legolas responded by kicking off his boots and stretching out next to Elladan on the bed. He let the bow clatter to the floor, forgotten. "You will not get rid of me so easily," he chuckled. "Now, your father said he would have my head if I did anything to slow your recovery. *My* father said he would have my head if I was indeed involved with the young Lord of Imladris or his twin brother—I do not think he can tell you apart. So it seems as though the destiny of my head is in your hands. Act like it."

Elladan was taken aback by the comment but by the time he could think of anything to say, Legolas was asleep, exhausted by his long flight from the storm and wrath of his father. Elladan pulled the blankets over him and tried to return to sleep, but his thoughts would not settle. His mind was not on the blond by his side, but on wherever Elrohir could be, and what kind of mess he had gotten himself into this time.