First Movement: Fugue in C

Elrohir paced wildly behind his brother, and though he could not see his twin, Elladan could sense the anger seething from him. Elrohir had always been the slightly more brash of the two, occasionally preferring action to practicality; though they were identical in appearance, the twins’ personalities could, at times, be as Night and Day. At some point, however, Day must meet Night and Night must meet Day, and as such was the brothers’ relationship: although strong and self-sufficient, each twin was only half of a more complete being. When one was impatient, the other was practical. When one erred, the other corrected. When one was at a loss, the other became a lantern in the dark. Now was no exception; although Elladan wished Elrohir would put aside his anger, he knew in his heart that his brother’s fury was merely masking his concern.

Elrohir let escape a frustrated growl, and Elladan stiffened slightly at the sound but remained as he had been when Elrohir had joined him on the balcony not long before: Imladris below him held his undivided attention, caring not for an argument that had occurred so many times in the past. The gentle descent of a waterfall to his left seemed oddly out-of-place in the rigid silence; almost Elladan lost himself its tranquil melody of promise and rebirth, and suddenly he felt an immense longing for the Sea; for all that he could so easily have if he desired… Ere his mind strayed too far, Elrohir’s heated words shattered the illusion.

“How much longer do you seek to tarry, Elladan?” Though he had stopped pacing, Elrohir’s voice dripped sarcasm, as it was wont to do when he became frustrated and could no longer control his cynical side. “I would know so that I might perhaps prepare for the eventual crumbling of the Misty Mountains.”

Elladan, gripping the banister of the balcony until his knuckles turned white, managed to keep his irritation in check. “By the Valar, Elrohir, do not argue with me.” His jaw was clenched tightly, and the words were slightly muffled as a result.

“What would you have me do, Elladan? You knew this day would come! You cannot defy fate, and it is folly to try!” With every word spoken, Elrohir’s anger and frustration escalated, fleeing his mind and penetrating Elladan’s heart. It was not the first time his brother had begged to consider their fate, whether they should pass to Valinor or remain mortal in Arda. In one movement, Elladan turned to face his brother, drawing himself up to his full stature in response to Elrohir’s threatening stance.

“Fate is a fickle mistress, Elrohir, or so the Wise have said. I daresay you are not counted among them. Know you for certain that I am defying her?” Adopting his brother’s sarcasm in an ironic twist, Elladan crossed his arms and awaited Elrohir’s response.

“Have not the Wise departed for Valinor?” Elrohir’s impassive features betrayed none of the smugness he felt at that response, but he had trapped his twin in wordplay and no other thought was foremost in his mind.

“You seek to quarrel, yet you understand naught of what you speak!” Elladan spat, and, not wishing for further disagreement with his brother, turned and entered The Last Homely House. His own quarters were not far off, and he proceeded to walk crossly down the corridor even as Elrohir hurried after him.

“Don’t I? Nearly all of our people left for Valinor years ago. Do not delude yourself with visions of the past that will never again be! Cannot you see?” Elrohir cast his arms out for emphasis and his thunderous voice echoed in the empty halls of The Last Homely House all around them. “Imladris is naught but a shell that has been tainted by time and is bereft of all life save those lingering to entertain false hope! To tarry in Arda is folly.” Elrohir paused for breath, his grey eyes flashing with rage. “Tell me, Elladan, would you have us stay to see the death of Estel? Would you have us stay to see the death of our sister? Would you have us stay and never again see our father and mother?”

Elladan abruptly stopped walking and cringed noticeably at the mention of Celebrían, and almost Elrohir regretted bringing up the name of their mother: for a fleeting moment, concern for his twin rivaled his fury, and he began reaching out a comforting hand to Elladan’s shoulder before remembering his reason for anger. Elladan still harbored an immense guilt over his mother’s decision in passing to the Undying Lands, as had Elrohir for a long while, but Elrohir had eventually accepted Celebrían’s choice after his initial heartache. Elladan, as the slightly more sensitive twin, could not help but wonder if he could have prevented his mother’s torment at the hands of the Orcs and thus prolong her stay in Middle-earth. Elladan closed his eyes, eager for a brief respite from the bout of grief that now plagued him, and his hands clenched tightly at his sides. Gathering what strength and patience he could, he turned around to face his brother again: his voice cracked slightly a s he spoke, and, though Elladan’s features remained impassive, Elrohir sensed he had pushed his twin too far. “If you have a point, Elrohir, I suggest you come to it; if not, stay your tongue. I am wearied by your senselessness.”

In the moments that passed, the twins said naught but simply stared, daring the other to be the first to act. Elrohir’s breath, coming in a quiet snarl, was the only sound to be heard until finally he whispered harshly. “You would stay and see the demise of all that you have ever loved. I do not understand? Nay, Elladan. It is you who are confused.” The youngest son of Elrond spun on his heel and stormed down the hall, leaving Elladan alone in the empty corridor.

Feeling defeated, Elladan let fall his angry façade and sighed wearily. With naught left but his thoughts for company, he turned and retreated to his chambers. continued