"Is there anything to feel?/Is it pain that makes you real?"

-The GooGoo Dolls

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any recognizable characters and/or places thereof

Cyberwing: Thanks!

Hardcorewwnut: Elladan sort of feels like that is his sister, and he doesn't care what impediments she has, she's not chattel, she's a member of his family. Do you know what I mean? Elrond's feelings will be cleared up a bit in this chapter.

Blue Jeans Baby: Thanks. Her answer is in this chapter. (of course)

Artemis: Thanks! Split infinitive. . .no one would tell me what that meant (no one knew)! Thank you! And I do try to focus on emotion as well as plot and such. As for flamers, it just bothers me when people tell me about things that I know about from real life--like how twins act. I know I reacted badly. . .ah, but how could it have been explained when Addaliel did not understand?

Littlesaiyangirl: The chapters are short because I generally just sit down and write on a whim.

MusicGrl: Elladan sees her as his sister no matter what. He doesn't see people as "defected", because they are all unique individuals, each with his or her own merits. (Yeah, so you can probably tell who I based Elladan off of. . .)

*****

Elrond's Perspective

*****

I never stopped loving my daughter; this much, at least, I should like to be very clear about. I had. . .after Celebrían left, I hadn't the energy for Addaliel. I loved her still, but she was so needy. But no, that is untrue. The truth of it was, I wanted to help her, and never knew how. She was never needy. I wanted to be her father and she shut me out.

It was not a complete surprise when she left with Galadriel and Arwen. Galadriel had been angry, probably blaming me for Celebrían's departure. A part of me returned that anger, for I, too, suffered the loss of a loved one. Elbereth forbid she should see this. . .

Looking back, perhaps I blamed Addaliel for things she was too young to have understood, let alone caused. Perhaps I saw Celebrían's leaving as Addaliel's fault: if she had only been a better daughter. . .But then, I could have been a better husband. This much is undeniable. Perhaps we all failed Celebrían, in our own ways, and perhaps she simply sensed that it was her time to go.

Arwen took much cheer from Rivendell. The long corridors seemed silent without her spirited laughter, gloom seemed to settle into every corner. But, though Arwen came first to my mind, it was Addaliel that really took the mirth from Rivendell. Arwen may have laughed, but Addaliel brought on the laughter. I never stopped being disappointed that a day would pass without the crashing sound of my youngest child failing halfway through a cartwheel. Even Elladan and Elrohir felt this, I think, although they would never tell me. The two Elflings took the happiness from our lives.

Was it hard for me? Very. I lost my wife, whom I loved. Her mother, perhaps simply to spite me, took my daughters. Elrohir was "thinking" even more than usual. Elladan hid his pain, instead lashing out at the world. Both boys secluded themselves from all external stimuli. I did what I could for them, but the most I could do was let them know I was there for them. This mattered little, for they had lost faith in me.

*****

Addaliel's Perspective

******

At first I missed my brothers, and wished I could earn back my place in my father's heart, but soon I grew to love the nature of Lothlorien, the way if one was not careful one would pass into a dream state. Galadriel was not the hateful creature I had at first thought her to be. As it happened, she was very kind and understanding, especially to me. She would say things voicing exactly my emotions without condescending.

In Lothlorien, I advanced in my studies, delving into Quenya and Westron. In these undertakings Celeborn assisted me. I think he enjoyed tutoring me. My grandparents, I learned quite quickly, could have an extraordinarily commanding presence, but they were truly good people. Arwen never took my interest in studying, not at all, although she looked on often, and Celeborn would tell her that she was free to join us, if she liked. This invitation she always denied.

Arwen adjusted well to the move. She was rather lacking in emotional depth, as a child, and minded not leaving our home and immediate family. Very quickly Arwen befriended an Elf eight years older than us by the name of Haldir. She may have even had a crush on him, of this I am unsure. As Arwen grew closer to this boy she drew away from me, which was just as well, as Arwen saw me only as doll, a devotee, and would have been disappointed to know that these were untruths.

But without her companionship, I was lonely. I wanted to tell Galadriel and Celeborn what was wrong, but could not. Finally, my silence became a burden I could not bear. It was then that I learned to play the violin. At first, I picked up the instrument simply to make a bit of noise. The sounds that came from it were choked and squeaky, but this was quickly corrected. "Addaliel--" Celeborn began in a somewhat angry voice, but Galadriel interrupted him.

"She wishes only to communicate," Galadriel said. To me, she asked, "Would you like me to teach you to play properly, Addaliel?"

Yes, please! my heart shouted. I smiled widely and nodded.

*****

"Are you sure this is right?"

"He entrusted it to you, did he not?"

"He never meant for it to be publicized."

"I swear to you, word of this will not get out."

"Well. . ."

"He and I were very close friends, he told me everything. I doubt very much that he would mind."

"All right, but just this once. Promise?"

"I promise."

*****

Elrohir's Perspective

*****

Elladan draws often now. I have seen the images he puts to paper, when he allows me or when he accidentally leaves the drawings lying around. Mostly they are angry pictures without shape, defined by harsh lines and darkness. He uses only coal now, never the colorful inks Atara delighted in. On occasion he draws her and our sisters. These drawings, to me, are the most disturbing, for he shows that he wishes to cast them from his heart but cannot.

For myself, I have only my thoughts. I tell myself this, at least, but it seems to be untrue. More and more I find myself reveling in the time without thought. This is rather simply achieved: laying in bed staring at the ceiling, watching the sun set, really any time and any place. Without thought, one can stray from consciousness. One can stray from emotion.

~*~

I take back my words yesterday. They were rash and without thought. It is good to feel. It is. . life. Emotion, be it pain or be it love, be it joy or sorrow, is the very fabric of our beings. I was wrong to denounce it.

Perhaps I should explain, in a little more detail.

The stars were out and the moon high in the sky when I heard a knock at my door. Who it could be I knew not, but I called out over my shoulder, "Come in!" The door opened and closed. I had my face turned away, towards the window. I only turned when I heard a muffled sobbing noise, and I turned.

Elladan stood before me, his entire body shivering. Tears streaked his face and reddened his eyes. "Elladan," I gasped, getting to my feet.

"Elrohir," he said, his voice hardly a whisper, and he fell into my arms. To my surprise, I also cried. When neither of us had the strength to stand we collapsed onto the bed, and lay next to each other. Our tears mixed on the pillow, our hands entwined. We did not need words. Our sorrow, our remorse, the absence within us, was a mutual feeling.

Elrohir and I cried for countless minutes, hours, days. We cried until the stars all fell, until the moon turned the tides from us, until there were no more tears. We cried until we fell asleep.