AN: One thing I noticed in the movie is that there is always some sign of joy in Galadriel's eyes. Basically, I wrote this story to explain why there isn't any in Elrond's, and why he is so afraid to let Arwen go: he is terrified that one more loss will break him. Elrond and Glorfindel's conversations mirror the ones Elrond has with Aragorn in the Movies (and the appendices, to a degree). But when all is said and done, he sees Joy again in Minas Tirith, and realizes that everything will be OK. The bit about autumn is taken from the Movie appendices, and something the Set Designer said about the Elvish state of mind. I have also taken some liberty with what Vilya can do, mostly because I am not exactly sure what it does.
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~Mourning~
The trees changed. This in and of itself was not alarming as trees both changed and shed their leaves in accordance with the turn of the seasons. What was alarming was that it was high summer, and that the trees of Imladris did not customarily follow this trend, as they were customarily held exempt from so small a thing as the march of time.
Elladan and Elrohir rode out often now, to hunt and learn with Glorfindel. Under his tutelage, their proficiency increased, and soon they rode without him and were gone over night. And though the orcs began to give Rivendell a wide berth, they could not hide from the young lords' wrath.
And the birds did not sing so sweetly, and the water no longer leapt joyfully off the falls reflecting the light like so many diamonds as it fell. Instead, the birds only cried and the water plummeted down only because it was compelled to do so by gravity.
For the Lord of Rivendell was sick at heart. No more did he wander the gardens, nor did he watch the stars from the terraces. And though his appearance did not change, his heart grew old within him as he lamented for his departed lady.
He had not been able to wholly cure her and was forced to stand helplessly by as she wasted away, losing the joy in her gardens, in her children, and in him until Glorfindel himself had packed her things and laid plans for a final journey. Elrond had not spoken to his friend since Glorfindel's return from the Havens, so he did not know that his lady's countenance had lifted with each westward step, nor that she had smiled as she waved at Glorfindel from the stern of the ship that bore her hence.
He had not spoken with the twins often of late either. They no longer dined with him when they were home, and if they knew that their father took no rest when they were out, they did not show it. Life in Rivendell had settled into a silent, unvarying, uncomfortable routine.
A knock broke the silence of Elrond's chamber. He did not want guests, so he said nothing. The knock came again, and when he still did not respond, the twins opened the door to admit themselves.
"Ada, we would speak with you," Elladan said.
Elrond did not look up.
"Ada, we have been practicing with Lord Glorfindel, but he said if we wish to become expert at sword handling, we should ask you," Elrohir said. "He said you are the best."
"I was," Elrond replied, his voice devoid of everything save the air on which it was carried. "That was too long ago."
"Ada, please," Elladan said. "You must do something. Teach us, or read or look to the gardens. While you sit here your valley withers. You must come back to life, Ada, or take the ship yourself and join Amm. It is in my heart that nothing else will bring you joy"
"I cannot accompany her!" Elrond exclaimed suddenly, showing more life than he had in months. He held up his hand so that Vilya shone in the fire light. "I have a duty, my sons, and you cannot change this."
"You could," Elladan said bluntly. "You could give it to someone else, and pass over the sea."
"No, my son, I cannot." There was great pain in Elrond's eyes. "There is no one else."
"I will not sit idly by in Rivendell, Ada," Elrohir burst out. "Nor will I spend my days at sport."
"What would you have then?"
"I would have these hills cleared of orcs," Elrohir's eyes were full, but his voice was horribly controlled. "What good are Elvish havens if the roads between them are too dangerous to pass? What when Arwen wishes to return? Will you forbid it and have her live in exile?"
"My son, you cannot take this upon yourself."
"As you have taken the care of Imladris upon yourself? Ada, I do not bear a Ring, but I would still protect my home."
"Enough, Ada." Elladan broke in, his face hard. "It is not as though Elrohir has come to this decision independently. We stand in this together."
"My children, I do not require this of you. I did not intend for you to become warriors."
"You will not dissuade us, Ada," Elladan said. "We choose this. If you will not teach us, then we will teach ourselves, though we would benefit from your wisdom."
Elrond's eyes clouded.
"Many a time over the last centuries I have cast my eyes to the heavens and have asked the Valar to make my sons grow up."
The twins regarded their father solemnly, seeing him in an entirely new light.
Lord Elrond continued, his voice as hard as stone. "I would take each of them back."
The silence between them was exceedingly awkward.
"Excuse us Ada," Elladan said finally. "We have told Glorfindel we would meet him in the glade for archery lessons."
Lord Elrond nodded and watched as his sons left the room. He sat for a while, and then walked into his study where Hadhafang, his great sword, hung on the wall, untouched since the Last Battle of the Last Alliance.
* thwack. . . .thwack *
The arrows were too far apart. They could not have more than two in the air at a time.
* thwack thwack . . . .thwack thwack *
Ah. Now they were firing together. Four arrows, two bows, and ever of one mind, Elrond realized that his sons would be a force to be reckoned with.
Lord Elrond stood before his sword and shut his eyes, forcing out his last tears. When he opened them again, they were solemn and hard as agates. Gone were the last fragments of his ageless joy, driven out finally by this latest grief.
Stretching out his hands, Elrond took down his sword and closed his fingers around the hilt. Memory flooded back to him and he ruthlessly quashed it. There was much to do.
And all he had left was Time.
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AN: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll never touch them again, I swear!