Elros

Elrond, my brother, stood before me. It was a strange feeling, after having been apart for so long. So long.
I could tell that he was studying me critically. It was no different than what I was doing to him. I was amazed by what I saw before me. This seemed to be no half-elf, but a pure member of the fairest of races. He carried himself as one of them, dressed as one of them, looked, really looked, as one of them. Of course, he had chosen to be one of them, but I had not known that it would become this apparent in him.
The elf, my brother, spoke. 'Elros. I have missed you.'
My first thought was to say I had missed him too, but those words did not come. Instead, flowing from my mouth, I heard, 'Elros... it is long since I have been called that. I am Tar-Minyatur now.' It was true. I was the King of Numenor now. But to him, only to him, it felt wrong.
'Tar-Minyatur... As you wish.'
I knew then that we were truly apart, would be so forever, yet I longed to reach out to him and tell him that I still loved him.