Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters and/or places thereof.

MusicGirl: You're so lucky. My parents won't let me play anything. I'm a bit rough round the edges, if you understand. Music is such a universal communication. . .augh. Must. Not. Get. Dreamy.

Lil Kawaii Doom: thanks

Littlesaiyangirl: You guessed it!

Galorin: You probably did figure it out. Thanks!

*****

Addaliel's Perspective

*****

When the letter came, I waited for Arwen to reply. It took her very little time, snapping that she would never, not in a million years, return to Imladris. I was asked if I would go or not, and at once I agreed to. Galadriel and Celeborn probably knew why. I can only hope they do not think ill of me for it. I went because I needed to get away from Arwen.

She ruined my life as best she could. Though I was the main target of her anger, I began to suspect that others had been targeted before me, for she was deft in this skill. It was subtle, at first; assignments I knew I had done would disappear. This first happened with a word list I had memorized. She probably did not realize that it was only kept for reference. The next time, it would be a new list of words or sheet of music. Nothing I had written myself, at first.

Then she must have gotten furious; she was not ruining my life, just bothering me the smallest bit. I was ignoring her, being polite whenever she spoke to me, which was almost never. One night I spent hours agonizing over a composition in Quenya, falling asleep just before dawn when I was finally satisfied with it. Arwen crept into my room and took the composition. She was not even there to see me panic when I noticed it was missing. She did not need to be; the anxiety showed all day.

"I suppose it is all right," Celeborn told me when he understood that I had simply lost it, though I had done it. "But only this once. You have to be careful with where you leave things, Addaliel." I nodded.

Arwen kept stealing my compositions. I caught on and beat her at her own game by simply making a copy of each one, then folding the copy and sliding it under my mattress before going to sleep. If the original was still there in the morning, I slipped the copy into a small drawer. If, as became usual, the original was gone, I used the copy and said it was the original. Galadriel and Celeborn were quite displeased with the shabbiness of the work, but the quality had not changed.

Arwen was not stupid. She thought of a new torment for me, one far more terrible then I imagined she was capable of. This was an amazing plan. It made me realize that she plotted, watched until the moment was just perfect, then struck. If you recall, violin was my life. Galadriel taught me how to play, but the music was inside of me already. Arwen took Galadriel's violin and filed the strings until they broke.

Because I have a habit of playing violin in the middle of the night, I was accused of breaking the strings. I denied it. "All right," Galadriel said, although she clearly did not believe me. The next day the neck of the violin was broken. Again I was blamed for this. "Addaliel, yes or no, did you break the strings yesterday?" I shook my head. "And did you break the violin itself?"

No!

"I cannot believe you," Galadriel said with regret. "No one else had such an interest in music and knew exactly where I kept my violin." She kept it in the library. "If you will only admit that you broke it--"

I didn't! by now I had realized that Galadriel could see my thoughts; this made communication much easier.

"I wish I could believe you. . ." Galadriel shook her head. "You know you are in trouble for this, Addaliel." I nodded, because I was in trouble, even though I had done nothing. "Go and get your violin."

NO! It was not defiance. It was shock. She wouldn't--couldn't. I would die.

"You are still allowed to play, but only with Celeborn or myself present."

You don't understand! Naturally she did not. She did not know that violin was like air to me. I played at all hours of the day and night, channeling all my anger, fear and resentment. Without the violin, who was I? Without the violin, I had no communication, no voice. Didn't she know this?

I realize now that Galadriel never meant to make me suffer as she did. She did not understand, when she took my violin, because to her the violin was merely a hobby. This was the first time my grandmother failed to understand me at all. I gave her my violin without meeting her eyes, then turned away and strode from the room. As soon as I was out in the hall I ran, running and running until I was on the ground, running as the trees passed me by, running until I stopped, breathless. Then I slapped myself. Hard. And went back inside.

Six years passed. Six years, and the only time I was granted access to my precious music was when I was accompanied, not alone, and only when Galadriel or Celeborn had the time. They tried, and I saw that they did, to make it easier. Galadriel taught me how to sew to occupy empty hours I would spend otherwise pining for my lost music. I hated sewing, and would have pricked my fingers to escape it, but this would also have taken away my music in full. After a time it did not matter; music came less and less naturally to me, and finally playing was a chore, for in my dying notes I heard the echo of the person I once was.

When the letter came, I had to go. Arwen had not stopped tormenting me, although she saw how much I suffered the loss of my music. It took a long time for me to forgive her for that. I told Galadriel and Celeborn that yes, I would like to visit my brothers in Imladris. They knew what I meant. "Addaliel, be careful," Galadriel said.

I will.

"Take care of yourself."

I promise.

"Take care of your music."

I did not reply.

"Addaliel?"

What music? Those were some of the bitterest, angriest words I had ever thought. I regretted them at once.

"This music," said Galadriel. Then she hugged me and kissed my forehead, and when she drew away my violin was slung across my back. For the first time in more than six years, I wept.

*****

Elrond's Perspective

*****

I sent the letter when I could bear it no longer. Of course it was easier, once Estel was there, to focus on raising him instead of on missing Arwen and Addaliel. For a long time I was able to believe that they were happy, and it would be best to move on. I would see them again. Elves live for ever. I could wait.

Then Elladan drew a picture. It was of a lake, peaceful and serene. A girl sat by the water's edge, her shoes beside her, but did not go in. Her eyes squinted from the sun's glare. This had to be Arwen--it was identical to Arwen. In the water of the lake a smaller form bobbed half-in and half- out of the water, smiling, imploring the first girl to come in. Addaliel seemed pleased, although she knew Arwen would never swim with her. Elladan drew this picture and left it lying on his desk.

Estel found the picture, and brought it to me. "Who are they?" he asked as I studied the charcoal lines. What could I tell him? He was only nine years old. He would not, could not, understand.

"No one," I replied, setting down the picture. "Elladan invented them." I tried not to let Estel know the sadness this picture brought over me. "Estel. . .would you please see if Elladan or Elrohir has anything for you to do?"

"But--" of course.

"Do as you're told."

With a careful glance about the room he did. I could hear his feet hitting the ground for some time. It reminded me that he was not Elven. Something always kept me from seeing Estel as my own son, although I fostered him and loved him. Perhaps it was his footsteps. He would always stand out so from the Elves. . .it's not that I didn't love him. I just always knew that he was not mine. His destiny owned him, before he was even born.

After a moment I stopped thinking of this, and wrote a letter to Lady Galadriel.

I did not ask for my children back. I simply asked if they would not like to visit Imladris. That was the only request she would not surely refuse.