Chapter 3: 2: The Bond Between Twins

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's work. The OC's are mine.

"What happened? What happened!? Seregmir and his miniature army of half-wits only turned on us in the barracks for absolutely no reason!" Beleg internally yelled at the General. "We did nothing wrong!"

"Seregmir tells me that the three of you ambushed him and his companions at unawares." The General remarked off-handedly. Beleg clenched his teeth to keep himself from screaming in protest at the accusation. The three friends were practically shaking with rage as they were told the rest of Seregmir's untrue, yet cleverly planned out lies.

"But General," the normally quiet Culdôr said earnestly "we never did those things to them, they did it to us."

"I never asked for your opinions!" the General fairly shouted as he stood up abruptly. "If Seregmir was ever hurt by one of you (and you're very lucky that he wasn't during that blasted fight!) we'd all pay his father dearly." he stared at each of them in turn. "Go to the infirmary to get yourselves checked out, then you're confined to the barracks for three days." He muttered in a somewhat gentler tone. The Beleg gaped. Confinement to the barracks? For three days? That was almost unimaginable. As far as they knew, no one had been confined before. "You're all dismissed." They nodded numbly before leaving the General's office.

"Well, that went well. Real well." Mablung huffed as they walked towards the infirmary. "I don't understand exactly what Seregmir has against us. We haven't done anything to him… have we? " they all thought for a few minutes after that. Why did Seregmir hate them? And for what?

"No… I-I don't think we have." Culdôr murmured thoughtfully.

"Well, even if we did, it was well over two-hundred years ago for Ilúvatar's sake, so why get revenge now, for crying out loud!" Beleg looked down at his feet sheepishly as Mablung and Culdôr gawked, surprised by their friend's sudden outburst. "I mean… we're not children anymore, so why continue fighting now? We're on the same side after all. Why can't we just get over every petty difference we have with each other and try to get along? For ten minutes at least?"

"Why would you want to be friends with him?" Mablung asked disbelievingly.

"It's not that I want to be friends with him." Beleg said with a sigh. "Believe me, I think he's a complete tyrant just as much as the next elf, but I know that in the one fight against evil, he's on our side."

"What do you mean?" Mablung asked, trying to comprehend his friend's reasoning. Beleg had always been a little out there, saying things that only sounded a little bit like what he meant, but what he meant made sense. Most of the time.

"Look, I know that he's wronged us and probably a few others, but what he's done isn't enough to label him as an accomplice of Morgoth, now is it?" Beleg commented dryly. Mablung still continued to grumble about the whole situation as they made their way to the infirmary, when Culdôr pulled him aside.

"You know he's right, Mablung." Culdôr reprimanded gently, his hazel eyes shining with that same Culdôr-ish light that Beleg and Mablung could never quite name or even figure out for that matter. "Just because we don't like Seregmir, and Seregmir doesn't like us, doesn't mean that we're enemies." Mablung sighed.

"Of course I realize that mellon-nín, but I just can't..." his voice trailed off.

"I get it." Culdôr said with an understanding smile.

"Ai Elbereth! What happened?" Alquawen said with slight panic in her voice as the three young marchwardens entered the infirmary.

"Seregmir." Her brother mumbled under his breath.

"I can't believe the three of you! Can't you stay out of trasta for two seconds?!" Alquawen exclaimed as she buzzed around them, trying to get a better look at their injuries.

"No." Culdôr said with a smirk. Alquawen huffed as she guided them to an empty cot.

"Sit down. The three of you." Beleg quietly watched Alquawen flutter around the medicine shelf, muttering about what items she would need. Being much gentler than her brother and two companions, Alquawen had decided to become a healer, instead of becoming a marchwarden like them. Beleg would've smiled fondly at his sister, had the bruising on his face not been as painful as it was. Ever since he and his friends had been old enough to walk, they had wanted to become marchwardens, but Alquawen hadn't known what she wanted in life. Beleg could still remember when she told him that she was going to be a healer, about three days after he had become a cadet.

"The reason I'm becoming a healer is because I know you're going to need me. I know you too well to trust that you won't get hurt out there." she had told him teasingly.

"I don't suppose I can deny that." Beleg had replied. Alquawen laughed.

"No." she had said with a giggle. "No you can't."

Now, they were around two-hundred and eighty-six years of age, and they were all living good lives which were full of happiness, with the exception of occasional run-ins with Seregmir. Beleg was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not notice Alquawen as she carefully checked his friends' ailments until it was his turn.

"The bruise will heal in time. Now, let me see your arm." Beleg felt the blood rushing to his cheeks as Mablung and Culdôr glared at him accusingly.

"Stupid twin telepathy." Beleg mentally cursed. All elves had the ability to telepathically communicate with their siblings and somewhat sense what was going on, even if their sibling was refusing to tell anyone what was happening. Beleg looked up at his sister meekly. He should've known that she'd have a guess on what had gone on in the barracks. Alquawen gave him a dirty look as he reluctantly lifted his left arm.

"The other arm." Alquawen sighed in exasperation. Why was her brother so difficult? Beleg groaned in defeat and extended his right arm to her. Culdôr caught her glance and scooted over so Alquawen could sit beside her gwanûr. She lightly placed her hand under Beleg's wrist so that it was resting on top of hers. Alquawen gently patted her brother's arm and wrist. There had to be something wrong with it. There had to be. She had felt that he was in pain, and that he was doing his very best to hide it. She was so distracted by her own thoughts that she didn't realize that she was applying too much pressure.

"Nuitha, Alquawen. Gwathel, you're hurting me." Startled, Alquawen immediately stopped. She gazed into Beleg's face. It was obvious to her that he was keeping himself from showing that he was in pain, but she could see his pain showing itself in his forest-green eyes. She moved more carefully as she assessed the injury, then bandaged his wrist, careful least she cause him any more pain.

"So, what should we do?" Mablung asked as he lay back against his cot. It was approximately the fiftieth time he asked this.

"What have I told you? We can't do anything because there's nothing to do!" Culdôr snapped from where he was sitting on his own cot, keeping off his twisted ankle. "Beleg, please help me out here! Mablung's being annoying again!" Beleg didn't seem to notice that his two friends were squabbling. Instead, he was sitting cross-legged on his cot, with a calm, serene look on his features. The two marchwardens shared a glance. Beleg always adopted that facial expression when he was communicating with his sister.

"I'm sorry for causing you grief by showing you that I was in pain." Alquawen heard her brother's whisper in her head. She sighed sadly. Why was he apologizing for his pain? She had put too much pressure on the injury, causing him to show the pain he was in. That wasn't something he needed to apologize for. She sat up in bed, gazing at the incredible artwork that Varda created in the night sky.

"No, you need not apologize for that gwanûr. I'm the one to blame for that. I should've paid attention to what I was doing." she mentally replied. "And please don't get in another fight. I don't want to get out of bed to go save your skin!"

"Don't worry about that gwanunig-nín. I don't want to get in another fight, though I shall be sure to break Seregmir's nose next time I see him, for all the trasta he's caused!" Alquawen couldn't stop herself from laughing at her brother's comment. "What?" her brother teased "Wouldn't he deserve it gwathel?"

"Aye." Alquawen agreed. "Now go to sleep, ere I come over and throw something at you for keeping me awake at this unholy hour! Now, good night!" Alquawen wasn't entirely sure, but she could've sworn she had heard Beleg laughing.

Hi everyone! (I don't know whether or not elves can telepathically communicate with their siblings, but I thought it would almost deepen the relationship that the twins share )

Sorry this took so long to post! My life's been a bit crazy because we're about to go on winter break, and trying to get ready for Christmas. Hopefully, the next chapter will be up after Christmas. HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYBODY!

(elvish translations below :))

Gwathel = sister

Gwanûr = brother

Mellon-nín = my friend

Trasta = trouble

Nuitha = stop

Gwanunig-nín = my twin