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

*****

A half an hour passed, perhaps a little less, before Samwise at last decided the he had to know what was going on, and why Elrond had been so angry with Strider. "Well, I had best get to it then," Sam decided, and set off to find Strider. He had been wander halls for quite a bit, poking his head into every room and realizing how little he knew about Imladris, when he heard muffled sounds of someone crying coming from one room. He paused. That could only be Strider, but would it be right to enter? Would it be simply too intrusive?

Before Sam could decide, the door swung open. An Elf stood there, at first expecting to see one of his own kind, and in failing to do so lowering his gaze and catching sight of Sam. The Elf, Sam noted, looked not unlike Elrond himself, with the same grey eyes and black hair, but something of this one looked younger despite his agelessness. "You will be looking for Estel then?" asked the Elf.

"Es--I'm sorry, who?" asked Sam.

"Estel, what does he call you?" the Elf called into the room over his shoulder. No reply was forthcoming, and so the Elf began to recite, "Thorongil, Dunadan, Hope--"

"Would that be Mister Strider?" asked Samwise, remembering the strange name Elrond had used for him. "For it is him I was seeking. Is he here? If this is a bad time--"

"Oh, no, this is a perfectly good time. Come in, please," the Elf stepped aside, and Samwise shuffled nervously into the room. He hardly heard the door shut behind him. It was a very lived-in room. There were charcoal drawings tacked up on the walls and all manner of things placed about. Someone had taken cares in making this place their own. It even had an individual sort of smell--'A Strider sort of smell,' thought Sam. And there, sitting on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chin, was Strider himself. Another Elf sat beside him, one arm around his shoulders whispering in Elvish. This Elf looked so alike that which had answered the door, Sam turned twice to be sure there were indeed two of them. The Hobbit felt wholly out of place, and was more than ready to turn about and leave.

The Elf who had answered the door strode across the room to Strider, and said, "At least say hello to him, Estel, he cares enough to ask after you!"

Strider raised his head, rubbing tears from his eyes, and said, "Samwise. You have my sincerest apologies." The state of him frightened Sam a little; his eyes were rimmed with red and strands of hair stuck to his face, as tears will cause hair to do. But Sam, true as Strider has said, had a stout heart. He did not turn away from his friend nor feel any disgust, but his heart moved with sympathy. Sam crossed the room and sat beside Strider on the bed.

"No need to apologize, Mister Strider," said Sam. "But why do you let him do that to you, say those hurtful things and all? It's wrong, and that's all there is to it."

Strider twisted his head to glance at Sam, and gave him an appreciative look. "We all see things our own way, Samwise. There is.much history between Lord Elrond and myself. History he would eagerly deny."

"You know that is not so," interrupted one of the Elves, the one sitting beside Strider.

"Samwise, these are the sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir," Strider said, elucidating quite a bit. "Elladan, Elrohir, this is Samwise; if you recall, I have told you about him."

"Nice to meet you, Samwise," said Elladan.

"And you," replied Sam.

And, quick as that, introductions were finished with. "What's this history, then?" Sam asked. "It is not my place to ask, I know, but if you would not mind explaining just a bit, it would be much appreciated. I don't see any ways as anyone can justify what I heard."

"My father was killed when I was two years old," Strider explained. "To keep me safe, my mother brought me here. Lord Elrond raised me, and came to see me as his son. Until, of course, the day I met his daughter, Lady Arwen Evenstar, and fell in love with her. Arwen said she would marry me, and that would mean that she would be mortal. Lord Elrond was, to say the least, opposed. Now you understand what he was so angry about. His words are easily justified."

"No, that is not so!" Samwise replied at once. "You shouldn't take that, Mister Strider, you shouldn't. And you!" he turned to the Elven brothers. "You should be ashamed of yourselves, knowing and letting it happen! If you cared one bit about Mister Strider you would do something!"

"Sam--" Strider began, but Elladan interrupted him.

"Do not think we care not for Estel. We knew not what had been happening, and even if we did, what do you propose we do about it? You think neither of us has endured the same?"

"Elladan, daro! U-quet, you are only making things worse," Elrohir hissed.

"How long has this been going on, Estel?" Elladan asked.

"Elladan--"

The twins were so busy arguing, only Samwise heard Strider mutter, "Nearly five tens of years."

"That's longer than I've been alive," Sam said quietly. "Why do you let it happen?"

"Sam, Elrond raised me. He was the only father I ever knew. What would you have me do? I cannot simply tell him I will disobey him and marry his daughter. Ai, I ought to simply tell Arwen I wish not to have her forsake her immortality."

"But, Mister Strider, that's giving in!"

"And that is precisely what I ought to do."

*****

TBC

Daro! U-quet: Stop, don't talk (basically, shut up)