Hi all! I'm so glad you decided to pop by and read this (nods head) uhuh, I am. Haha. Anyway, I'm not quite sure if this can be counted as a chapter, more like a prologue, if you know what I mean, the *real* story, starts next chapter, though this is a sweet patriarchal reflection-like time for Elrond anyway.

Little is known about the twins, as Tolkien did not touch much upon them, and most of what we know is fanon-based, not canon. This is my interpretation of them, sorry if it's different from some of yours, but ah, that's just the beauty of fanfiction, everything's open to interpretation.

As you all should know, all the characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. If you don't... shame on you! Whatever are you doing here? Lol. I've written out the next few chapters of this already, I just need to type it out and edit it, but I figured I could just post the prologue first.

Yeah, yeah. Fiiine. Enough Rambling, Let's get on with the fic itself. : )

Prologue – A Father's Pride

Standing on the threshold of his sons' rooms, Elrond paused, silently surveying them, and delighting for a moment, in the simple joy of parenthood, enjoying the pride and happiness it brought and accepting also the sad and bittersweet tones it carried.

A soft, warm light filled the room, making the shelves and tables seem to glow, resting on the puffy armchairs and highlighting the two tall figures in the room.

Both twins had just returned from a scouting expedition and Elrond had been relieved to learn that no serious injuries had been sustained this time. He knew he could not stop the boys from leaving – they were full-fledged adults now and they had the right to decide their own actions, and their coming and going. Elrond could advise, and if needs be he could command, but he knew that his boys had grown up, and there was little he could do about it.

However, he could not help but wish that the twins could be elflings once more, their sole worries in life whether they would do well in their lessons, and the only trouble they could have engaged in not the dangers outside the valley. The only risks they had to face the possibility of suffering a rough tumble during training, not the chance of death in a risky skirmish with orcs.

Elladan and Elrohir were both sprawled in the elder's room. Elladan had an array of weapons spread before him, and Elrond winced internally as he spied a long, heavy pole balanced precariously atop a bookcase, while his eldest lay nonchalantly lengthwise upon a rug in the room, one hand twirling a dagger idly while he scanned through several maps.

Elladan had been a most difficult child; stubborn almost to a fault, prideful, and terribly restless. On the other hand, he was also determined, protective of those he loved, and intelligent. As he had grown older, these qualities had balanced each other out, with him accepting criticism gracefully, though earlier flashes of his early mulishness still showed.

Ai, Elladan, Elrond thought fondly, as the former propped himself up on his elbow, calling out a teasing remark to his twin and ducking when an overstuffed pillow sailed his way.

Since young, Elrond's eldest had never been one to show much emotion, given to sullenness when he was upset and impassiveness when he felt hurt. Elladan would never have admitted that he needed help, nor that he wanted comfort, for that was him. As the lanky, young elfling had matured into a tall elf, eager to cut his path in the world, so had his seemingly emotionless nature. But Elrond knew that his eldest was never as heartless as he may have tried to portray himself. In the right company, and in lighter times, Elladan was as merry as the youngest of elflings who ran on Imladris' beautiful grounds, playing games and splashing in the pool.

Few could bring out the child in Elladan, and Elrohir was one of those with the special privilege.

Whenever the twins fought or argued, they always did so fiercely and bitterly, but eventually, everything would be alright once more. And that was the beauty in their relationship, one that Elrond wondered at times, if he would have had had his brother chosen differently. Had Elros decided to be numbered among the Eldar, would they have trodden the same path his sons had taken, or would they still have been separated in the end.

But Elros had made his choice, and had been numbered among the race of men, though Elrond would have wished it otherwise. Still, despite the passing of the years, Elrond's memories of his brother were still crystal clear, though it hurt to think of them.

His sons were lucky, in that they had been together all the way, with only brief separations that had threatened to send one twin, if not the other, over the edge. But Elrond wondered, would his sons one day be separated as a result of the choice they had to make? Would they then take the same path he and Elros had and lived with the grief that came after?

If Elrond could choose, he would have wanted to protect both his sons from the pain and misery that they had to witness and endure in the lifetimes, but there was nothing he could do. The sweet summer of innocent childhood had passed more quickly then he would have thought possible, and his sons had grown up.

Elladan, if you could, you would bear the burden of everyone around you, especially Elrohir, wouldn't you? Elrond asked in the depths of his mind. He received no answer, but he needed none, for he knew the reply without having to receive it. If Elladan had the ability to, Elrond knew that he would have taken every inch of unhappiness that his brother had to go through, willingly, and taken it in joy, knowing that through his suffering, Elrohir would have only bliss. For that was Elladan.

Is that what it means to be the eldest? Is that the weight that Elladan carries, the responsibility he holds, though he is but a few minutes older?

For all the quirks and rough edges his eldest son possessed, Elrond loved him as any father would a son. He had watched the chubby elfling with large grey eyes grow into a lanky and awkward teenager, had watched the teenager mature into a tall and fine elf, gaining knowledge and confidence the whole way, and he was proud of it.

Another sound from inside the room caught Elrond's attention. His younger had laid down the tome he had been pursuing before. Creeping quietly towards his brother, who was too absorbed in his maps to notice anything amiss, Elrohir hit his elder brother soundly in the head, with a cry of triumph.

Elladan sat up, abandoning his maps for the moment, and snatching up the pillow on the floor which Elrohir had earlier thrown, he proceeded to pummel his younger brother with it.

Elrohir, of course, would not have accepted a beating without returning one, and he continued to swing the pillow at Elladan satisfied at having created the mayhem he wanted. Feathers flew wildly around the room and floated around in a huge white storm, resting on various surfaces and giving his sons a decidedly strange look, but they did not care, and their laughter pealed from the depths of the flying feathers, a sound seldom heard since their mother had departed.

You would think them no more than elflings, the way they are behaving now, Elrond thought amusedly, wincing in sympathy as Elladan delivered a particularly hard blow to Elrohir's middle. In mock anger, Elrohir straightened, lifting his pillow high above his head…

Elrohir.

Elrond's youngest son was as easygoing and charming an elfling as his brother had been demanding and stubborn. Elrohir could win hearts over with a sudden smile, brilliant as the sun peeking past the clouds after a storm. Elladan was a warrior, but Elrohir was a diplomat.

More accepting of criticism, though more often he garnered praise, and far less prideful than Elladan, Elrohir had been the most even-tempered elfling Elrond had ever seen. His seemingly sweet nature, however had dept hidden a will as strong as his brother's. Elrohir generally chose to stick by diplomacy and charm, leaving the path of aggression to his elder brother, but that did not mean that Elrond's youngest was easily bullied.

Far too many emissaries from other kingdoms had chosen to assume that Elrohir's even-temperedness meant weakness, and they had all learnt otherwise.

Unlike Elladan, Elrohir saw no shame in crying when he could no longer hold back his anguish, or showing his pleasure and exuberance when things went well. Elrohir lacked Elladan's emotional control, but he never needed it anyway. As far as Elrohir was concerned, showing emotion was not a weakness. Not among family and friends anyway.

Elrohir had been a curious sort of elfling, as much as his brother, if not more, but he had always been patient, willing to wait for an answer, or to stay silent until he got a chance to ask his question, especially as he got older.

Also, he had been the one who treasured the lessons the twins received every morning, listening attentively always, small, dark head tilted forward, and large, grey eyes serious as he tackled his assignments.

Though Elrohir doubtless enjoyed his training, as did the many elflings in Imladris, he never failed to look forward to his lessons. As the elflings had started training, Elladan had by far done better than Elrohir, being more inclined towards activity than study, but in the classroom, Elrohir reigned supreme.

It was perhaps this enormous gap in their personalities that had driven the twins apart the summer they had been ten. Always it had been known that they were different, but before, they had loved the same things and hated the similar. Never had one twin been seen without the other before, but that summer, they had started to tread opposite paths.

Whilst most mornings would see Elladan out on the training grounds trying to perfect some maneuver or other, Elrohir would be found in the library, or in his rooms, hungrily devouring some text or scroll. At other times, he would be found in the Halls of Fire, indulging in the many beautiful strains that filled the hall…

The twins had been particularly difficult to manage that summer, Elrond reflected. Both had now matured into wonderful adults he could be proud of, but that one summer, above all others, always brought joy to his heart. His Cel had been around then, and it had been a time of love, learning, and family…

As you all can guess, the story from here on would jump to that summer. I'm not quite sure when I can update, I've got classes going on, but I'll try my best, even though I'm going out of the country for a family holiday in a bit. Do Review, and leave your comments and suggestions, constructive (ahem, ahem *g*) criticism, you know the drill, and do let me know if anything is seriously amiss. (As in, if I messed up any dates or other information concerning the canon part of the characters. So far, I rather doubt it though...

Oh, and as a side note, the twins are 10, that means that they are probably slightly smaller than a normal human of equivalent age, but that their IQ is as high as any other kid of 10. Due to their slight human blood, I figure they'll just be *slightly* bigger than other elflings their age, and as a result, the rest of their friends and other elflings whom they consider their contemporaries would be just a little older than them. It's not really that important, but I thought I'd clear it up a little.

Ok, so now that you've read it. Drop a note. You know I'd love to read it. And I'll update as soon as I can, k? All the best, people!