Sorry this is so late. I just got back to Tally. But for the next 20 minutes, it's still the 17th (at least on the east coast of the U. S., so I haven't missed it yet. (g) I'm going to have to beg forgiveness for not responding to your lovely reviews again. If you have any questions, I'll answer them on my profile in a day or two, so ask and remember to look. You guys are great!

Enjoy this last chapter of Playing Games.

Chapter 6 – For the Past or the Future

Elrohir found his brother on a second floor balcony, staring out over the vale of Rivendell with a pensive look he knew well. It was a look he wore whenever anyone got hurt and he believed there was something he could have done to prevent it. It was the same look he wore whenever he thought about their mother.

"Brother?"

Elladan started but did not turn around. "What s wrong with me, El?

"What do you mean?"

"I hurt him so much," the elder murmured. "Why do I do it? He doesn't deserve it."

"You judge yourself too harshly."

"Do I?" he asked, sounding curious. "I don't think I do."

Elrohir moved closer and sat on the railing beside his brother. The lightest of breezes cooled his flesh. He watched the other and waited, saying nothing. From below, the heard the crystal ringing of the bell calling everyone to lunch.

"I push him away, El. I don't mean to but I do." He rested his elbows on the stone rail. "We got close to Arathorn and he died, far too young, and what if I get close to Aragorn and he dies too? It hurts too much, even thinking it."

"I know."

Silence pressed in around them. Elrohir felt inclined to continue, to broach the thoughts that had coalesced in mind as he searched the halls of the Last Homely House for his twin, but he was not sure how. He was not sure how his brother would react to them. That perhaps, more than anything, was what held his tongue.

He bit his lip. "Elladan? Do you think we've taken this too far? Done it too long?"

When the elder tensed and half-started up, he knew he did not have to specify what "this" and "it" were. They were the life and breath of their last few centuries. "I don't know," he answered. "Why?"

"I do," Elrohir replied. "I think we need to stop. It hasn't changed anything."

"The Orcs need to pay for what they did to Mother," Elladan said firmly.

His twins nodded. "They have, brother. But I think we pay more." He glanced out to the woods, looked out at the trees Estel had tromped through trying to find their trail. "I'd like to see Estel grow, become a Man. I'd like to be a real part of his life instead of just a frequent visitor."

"You've been talking to Father," observed Elladan, nodding slightly.

"He asked where you were. Said he was worried."

The elder took a deep breath, held it, let it go. "I don't know if I can," he said. "It eats at me, knowing those beasts yet wander Arda. They don't deserve to live."

"Don't we?"

Elladan looked at him then and their grey eyes met. So much shared grief passed between them that could never be put into words. They knew the other's thoughts, their feelings, as no one else could. Then Elladan voiced their concern: "I don't think I know how."

o/o/o/o/o/o

Lunch passed quietly. Estel tried gamely to keep the conversation rolling; but the longer the twins' chairs remained empty, the quieter he became. Elrond and Legolas tried to talk to the boy but his answers were short and lackluster. That something had happened between the brothers, the elf lord knew, but he could not figure out what. Neither Legolas nor Estel would utter a word on the subject.

Lord Elrond watched Estel take another half-hearted bite of his foul only to begin playing with the remaining food a moment later. Silver eyes darted across the table, then dropped.

He followed the look, already knowing what he would find—two empty chairs, the place untouched—and sighed. He wished. . . . But he had no desire to define those emotions with words and let it go. He looked back at his youngest, pretending to eat his food, and decided something had to be done.

Forcing a smile, Elrond said, "Estel, why don't we go out to the stables."

The boy looked up, but it was Legolas who spoke the pair's confusion: "Why the stables?"

The elf lord raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Did you not tell Legolas about our plans for this afternoon, my son?"

Confusion pinched the boy's brow, darkening his eyes—then it cleared, excitement replacing it. He met Legolas' questioning gaze. "Ada said he'd take me riding this afternoon," he said. "Would you like to come?" Anticipating the protest, as both Elladan and Elrohir had used it many times, he directed his next plea to his father: "Can he come, Ada? Can he?"

Elrond laughed lightly, with a glance telling the young prince he was not obligated to indulge the boy, and smiled at the boy. "Easy, Estel. The young Prince learned to ride many years ago with the twins. There may be other things he needs to do, but he may come if he wants to."

The archer appreciated the fact that Lord Elrond had made sure he could decline, and though he knew he should probably seek out the twins, he found he did not wish to, especially when Estel turned sobered silver eyes on him. Within those bright eyes, he found anticipation of refusal, acceptance that there were more important things than spending time with him that the elves he loved had to do, and a faint hope that he would get to spend time with his new friend.

"I thank you, my lord," he answered. "But there is nothing I have to do that cannot wait a couple of hours. I would be delighted to join you."

The smile that erased the anticipation of disappointment assured him he had made the right decision. The child looked to his father expectantly. "Well, then," the elf lord answered. "I believe the horses await."

Elladan and Elrohir took up watch on the porch, staring out over the yard of their home. Legolas and Estel were both on horseback while Elrond assisted from the ground, making sure the six-year-old did not fall from his perch.

"Make a circle!" they heard their father call. They watched as the fair-haired wood-elf led their little brother in a wide loop around Elrond at a light trot. The pace bounced the boy in his seat, thumping him like a rag doll against the leather saddle and making his arms flap like a bird's. Smiles graced their faces.

"Squeeze your knees together, Estel! Hold on tight! There you go. Up and down, steady now. Control your movement. Watch Legolas! See what he does?"

They had not realized before, but they saw now that Legolas rode with saddle and bridle. Their eyes followed their little one as he studied the wood-elf with a seriousness out of place on one so young and slowly started copying the other's movements, tentatively at first, then with greater confidence as he got the hang of it.

"That's it!" Elrond approved. "That's it, Estel! Just like that!"

The child looked up with a proud smile and almost immediately lost the rhythm of the post, bounced along rapidly until he regained control, once more focusing his attention on the horse under him.

"Look, Legolas! I'm doing it! I'm riding!" the child called.

"I see you!" the wood-elf laughed. "I see you! You're doing wonderful!"

Wonderful. It was strange standing here with their little brother out there. In those first few months, when the awing joy of having a new life around blocked out the pain of loss and they had determined to do better by Aragorn than they had Arathorn, they had imagined they would be the ones to teach the boy to ride.

Elrohir still remember their late night debates on how they would start, where they would go, what age they would introduce him. It was only standing here, watching the rest of their family experiencing what they had planned to, that he realized the plan had been to start when he turned six. And they had not even been here.

Their father had obviously remembered and taken it upon himself to see that the little one did not miss out. He was glad Father had stepped in, but he wished they had been here. So much had they forgotten recently. How much was due to their hunt for orcs? Their hate? How much life had they missed in pursuit of death?

Estel was a natural on a horse. Before long, he was racing Legolas back and forth, the two young ones taking turns chasing each other, and the elder elf had gone from teacher to overseer. Minutes slid away to hours, and at least two passed in such simple pursuit.

Elrond watched the two, dark and fair, with an unreadable expression, lost in some thought that seemed to the twins to bring both happiness and sorrow in equal measure. Then he seemed to feel their gaze and looked up, glancing to the side to catch their eyes.

Grey met grey, and it seemed to the younger twin that their father knew something of what had transpired earlier. Nothing specific, he thought, but enough to know that all was not right between the brothers. Make it right, he heard.

The elf lord turned back to his charges and clapped twice to get their attention. "All right! I think that's enough riding for one day."

Obediently, Estel stopped. "Can we ride more tomorrow?" he asked as the elf lord came over to help him down.

"Perhaps," the elder replied. "We'll have to see what happens tomorrow."

"This was fun, Ada. Thank you for riding with me, Legolas." The boy looked between the two elves with a smile on his face.

"I'm glad, my son."

"Your welcome, Estel."

But that was when he caught sight of the twins standing at the house and he barely noticed as Lord Elrond asked Legolas to help him take care of the horses, a task the boy was supposed to complete himself if he was to ride. He did not even realize his father failed to call him back for the task as he took of toward the identical pair.

Elladan and Elrohir went to meet him. They tried to smile but either the effort fell flat or Estel was not willing to forget what had happened even if it appeared they were, for the boy slowed and came to a halt feet before them. He waited silently, eyes large in his small face.

Elrohir was the first to speak. "We saw you riding out there, little brother. You did very well." Elladan nodded next to them.

Estel smiled shyly but seemed no more at ease. He seemed to be waiting for something. Or trying to find the courage to say something. Elrohir decided to see if it was the latter.

"What's wrong, little one?" he asked.

"Why weren't you at lunch?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, then looked back at his twin to find the same startlement he felt. He looked at the boy. "That's what's bothering you?"

"We always have lunch together when you're home," the little boy answered. "Are you mad at me? Is that why you didn't come? I didn't mean to make you mad. I'm sorry I was rude."

Elrohir squatted on his toes and held out his hands. Estel obediently moved closer and the younger twin pulled him to his lap. "We're not mad at you, tithen pen."

Elladan squatted near him. "And we're glad you and Legolas are getting along now."

"We're friends," the little boy offered shyly, but obviously pleased.

"That's good," Elladan told him.

Bright, innocent eyes looked up at them. "But if you weren't mad at me, why weren't you at lunch?"

"We were thinking," Elrohir answered lightly.

"About what?"

Days spent hunting through dreary countryside after the foul beasts that killed your parents and stole our mother, was the answer that popped into his head. He remembered cheerless days and horrid nights, remembered stretches of weeks or months where he no longer knew precisely who he was, who the faces around him were, and knew with the clarity of hindsight that he was losing himself the longer this went on. The longer they forsook life, the smaller its hold on them became.

In a few years' time, would they enjoy a cool breeze? Would they enjoy the fresh, newness of spring, the sun on their faces? Would they find beauty in the trees and streams and mountains—the landscape of Middle-earth? Would they still be able to differentiate orcs and men? He suspected he knew the answer, and it was one he did not like.

He shuddered to think what would become of little Estel if he should choose to follow in their footsteps. It was a life—a non-life—they would wish on no one. He hugged the boy closer for comfort and decided to answer with a question of his own.

"How, how would you like it if Elladan and I stayed around for a while?"

Estel's eyes were large. "How long's 'a while'?"

"A year, at least."

The silver orbs grew even larger. "You'd be here for my next birthday?"

"We'd be here for your next birthday and all the days in between."

The boy smiled and opened his mouth to answer—then frowned, his face dropping quickly and he pulled back slightly, the better to peer into his elder brother's face. "But what about your hunts? People need you to help them."

"Do you remember the Rangers, Estel?" Elladan jumped in. When the child nodded, he said, "We ride with them on our hunts. They'll help the people while we're gone. You don't have to worry about that, little one."

"Well, what do you say?"

Estel answered by throwing his arms around Elrohir's neck. "Thank you," he murmured.

Elrohir smiled sadly. "We're sorry we missed your birthday."

"It's okay." The boy let go to hug Elladan. "Will you help Glorfindel teach me?"

"Of course, little one."

Estel's smile widened, joy lighting his eyes, and he hugged each of them one more time. "I'm gonna be the best warrior ever!" he said. "And I'm gonna help people, too."

"We know you will," Elrohir agreed, getting caught up in his little brother's excitement.

"And one day, I'm going to be just like you."

The End