Pairing: Elladan/Glorfindel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns all and New Line Cinema must have some rights. No copyright infringement intended, no money made.
Summary: Under the cover of night, Elladan and Glorfindel discuss their upcoming betrothal and something they have never talked about before.
Series: Days of Light and Darkness.

Under the cloak of night, conversation comes more easily, for the quiet gives the impression of listening - and of being heard - and the shadows muffle all intrusions, creating privacy. Imperfections are shaded away, while the white light of the moon consecrates all it touches.

Steeped in moonstone waters that bubbled slightly, warmed by a natural spring that ran from the mountains down into the valley, Elladan at last soothed away the aches of a long, hard winter. The pool was small, backed up against one side of the valley with a sheer cliff face and marked in smaller stones where its edges spread to the rest of the valley. The only tributary that did not fall into the valley and did not run through it upon the surface, only below ground, fed the pool. Carefully nurtured bushes privatised the tarn, favoured by the elves of Imladris for winter bathing. Elladan stretched his arms out along the pool's edge, reclining his head back and feeling muscles that had not properly known relaxed since before the winter, unclench. Glorfindel, perched gnomishly atop a nearby rock, regarded his lover in silence, playing idly with the thong Elladan wore about his neck bearing the ring of Imladris upon it.

The bushes parted and both elves raised their heads to see Elrohir emerge from between the shrubs. He stripped off cloak, tunic and breeches without preamble, depositing them in an untidy heap and slipping into the pool.

"Hello," Elladan said lazily, tilting his head to eye his twin without having to sit up again.

"'Lo." Elrohir submerged himself beneath the pearly waters, rising again with his dark hair pouring down his back, shining like polished obsidian with the moon-reflected liquid of the pool. He folded over backwards to float upon the surface of the water, letting the moonbeams wash over his body.

Eyeing him distractedly, Elladan noted the hard, sinewy lines of muscle that stretched against Elrohir's skin, the slight concave to his abdomen and the more prominent bones of his frame.

"The winter has not done you well, brother," he observed critically. "I think perhaps we should aim to remain here for a time, until you are fitter."

Elrohir opened an eye languidly.
"Examine your own reflection before you censure me," he grumbled.

"I was," Elladan replied with a smile.

"I am not your mirror," Elrohir raised his head reluctantly and managed to grin.

For a few moments all was quiet, the sounds of the night washing soothingly over them. The low hoot of an owl that ghosted past overhead and the soft chirrup of the night bugs. Scuffles in the bushes indicated that small creatures went about their business unperturbed, and overhead the slim, dark shapes of bats wheeled and flitted. The ground glittered lightly as the first dew began to settle. Glorfindel's hair was webbed with it, sticky drops that chilled into tiny, glistening crystals for the air was still very cool. It laved the surface of exposed skin; a cold tongue that lapped breezily along the uncovered flesh and brought pleasant shivers that could be doused in the heated sanctuary of the water.

"You two did well today," Glorfindel said quietly.

Elladan lifted an eyebrow and Elrohir made a noise of vague interest, keeping his eyes closed.

"I speak of your courage in accepting what has passed between your father and Legolas," Glorfindel explained. "I confess I was prepared to berate you for a pusillanimous attitude apiece, yet you proved yourselves today to be more mature than I had given you credit for. You impressed me, both of you."

"Rather tutorial of you, beloved," Elladan remarked with a grin, secretly acknowledging the spread of warmth within him at the praise, recognition of a hard choice made with difficulty.

"Please master, do I get a gold star?" Elrohir asked, opening one eye, a smirk bowing his lips.

Glorfindel bore the teasing with a good-natured smile.

After a pause, both twins spoke again, gruffly and in unintentional unison.
"Thank you."

Elladan chuckled, glanced at his brother and coloured slightly, conscious of the light blush on Elrohir's face. Glorfindel tactfully ignored this, his eyes upon Elladan's pendant, which he was forming webbed cradles with between his fingers.

"So tell me," he said after another moment, "How went your hunt this winter? Was the notable decline in both your healths worthwhile?"

"I thought so," Elrohir remarked, finally rising from his prostrate position and scraping his hair over one shoulder out of his eyes. "We managed to reduce the Orc population of the Dark Mountains considerably, at relatively little cost to ourselves."

He carefully did not mention that he had spent half the winter with his wrist strapped up, having broken it a second time following their return to Mirkwood. Nor that Elladan had taken a knife just above the knee, damaging tendons that had taken over a month to heal. It had been Elrohir's knife; left plunged in the eye of an Orc, returning home that had caused the injury and so fortunately it had not been poisoned. Nor did he mention the shared nightmares that had plagued them after taking a shot apiece of the antidote to Orc poisons they always carried, both having been touched by Mordor blades in mid-winter. For four days they had curled up, shivering and hallucinating, only to rise with their bloodlust more fierce than ever. The satisfactory outcome had though, sated them, for a time. Elladan caught his brother's eye and held his tongue also.

"How many did you kill?" Glorfindel asked.

Elrohir shrugged. "Forty one myself. Some still remain. They come in from the farther corners, but the riders of Mirkwood plan to do a sweep in the spring and we thought it was time to return."

"Elladan?" Glorfindel turned to his lover, nodding to Elrohir. Elladan carefully veiled his expression, catching the intensity of his lover's gaze.

"I do not know," he replied. "I do not count."

Glorfindel was silent, his jaw tightening as he diverted his gaze back to the necklace.

Glancing between them, Elrohir shook out his hair and rubbed the water from his face.
"I will leave you," he said, pulling himself up out of the water and reaching for his riding cloak.

Glorfindel handed Elrohir his own cape, which he had brought out when Elladan went to fetch a change of clothes. The younger twin accepted it gratefully, for his own was stiff with blood, sweat and dried mud. Bidding them goodnight, he collected his soiled garments and made his way back through the lines of bushes, walking into the night.

"How many, Elladan?" Glorfindel asked, after Elrohir had faded from sight. "How many Orcs did you kill?"

"I have already said…" Elladan began, then, catching his lover's eye, sighed, defeated. "Forty four."

Glorfindel nodded.

"Not half so many as were there," Elladan continued, "But as Elrohir said, they will continue to come in..."

"Why could you not just have answered me that?" Glorfindel asked, folding up Elladan's necklace and laying it atop the folded pile of fresh clothes. There was no recrimination in his tone, but Elladan felt rebuked at the lack of it.

"It makes you uneasy," he said finally. He rose, slipping out of the water and reaching for his clothing. "I suppose I do not like to share this side of me, when I know it concerns you."

"It concerns me more that you would conceal it," Glorfindel said quietly. "That you would deny this part of you. Elladan, I would rather you kept count, perhaps because I think it means that you are at least trying to work your way toward a goal, that you feel there is a price to pay and when that blood is spilled, you may stop."

Elladan shook his head.
"You are like Papa, you believe that one day, we will stop this, that one day, we will not need to do this. It is not so. Mama is gone. We will never get her back. And we will never stop this. Not until every Orc in Middle-earth is vanquished."

"Or unto your own deaths," Glorfindel's voice was suddenly harsh.

Elladan shrugged, fastening the ties on his tunic.
"Dying would defeat the object. It is a risk to be sure, but a price worth paying."

"You have no idea what you are talking about." Glorfindel's voice was soft, but suffused with steel. "You have absolutely no understanding of death whatsoever."

He slid down from the rock, staring at Elladan with a hard expression on his features.
"Revenge is not a worthy cause for death and you only display your ignorance by believing it so."

Elladan stared at his lover. Glorfindel's eyes were burning with the phoenix fire that told of his past life. The cerulean orbs bored into Elladan's own, challenging his belief and finding it wanting. Elladan sighed, breaking their gaze and lifting his eyes to the heavens with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Perhaps you are right. I do not agree with you however."

Glorfindel just shook his head, his frustration at Elladan's stubbornness evident.

"What the Orcs took from Mama can never be repaid," Elladan continued, speaking more to fill the sudden void between them than because he wanted to consider the matter. He yanked on a boot angrily, bracing his foot against the rocks at the waters edge to wrench at the fastenings. "We lost her somewhere in those caverns, lost her soul. Without it, what was her existence but a curse to her? Eternity knowing only what she had lost and could never feel again. The price for death may be high, Glorfindel, to we who call ourselves immortal, but with that in mind, the price for a life is surely higher!"

"The value of life cannot be measured in blood and slaughter," Glorfindel said quietly. "Such things measure only death, in its basest form. Death exists to show that life is precious, to prevent even we who are immortal taking it for granted. To surrender life is to throw the gift of Illuvatar back to the Gods in disregard, lest life has been destroyed or for a cause worthy so that others may live."

"And my mother's life was not worthy enough a cause?" Elladan asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Elladan," Glorfindel reproached. "What does she gain from this reckless, suicidal slaughter that you two undertake? You seek only to serve yourselves."

Elladan wanted to contradict him, but even as he opened his mouth, he found only silence. It was true. Celebrian was long gone and to the only place that could possibly enable her to recover. It was they who bathed their souls in blood, hurting themselves in penance for the pain they felt they had cause her by failing to protect her.

Gazing at him sadly, Glorfindel, knowing this, realised something else.
"You truly do not fear death," he said softly. "It is life that you fear."

Elladan looked at him and then painfully averted his gaze.

"You saw what befell your mother," Glorfindel continued, his voice low as if he hardly dared speak what he now believed. "She survived an ordeal that no elf nor living beast should ever undergo. You fear that life, that half, accursed life, where no pleasure can be taken. In blaming yourself you feel somehow that you deserve the same fate. And you believe death to be superior, because it is an escape, because it makes everything stop. You brush with death every day. You place your life on the line and dance upon it for you do not fear to fall."

Elladan could not bring himself to look at his lover, hearing the masked horror Glorfindel felt in the quiet control he kept over his voice.

"It is not only that," Elladan said weakly, hoping to offer some semblance of comfort. "We would not wish this same fate upon any other - will you not acknowledge there is a degree of altruism amidst our selfishness?"

"And that will continue to drive you, even if you could come to believe your mother healed." Glorfindel's gaze was still upon him, yet Elladan did not meet it. "And she will be, Elladan." Glorfindel sighed, looking away now himself. "She may even now be well again and all your suffering for naught." He paused. "Can you imagine how she would feel, if ever she were to discover what course her twins have followed?"

Elladan closed his eyes.
"It would... She would be devastated," he admitted.

Glorfindel's arms wrapped around Elladan, drawing him close. The elder elf did not speak again; the truths he had pulled from his lover were painful to both of them. And in the end, it would make no difference. Celebrian was gone. Forever. The twins would feel responsible, no matter what they knew logically or what Elrond and Glorfindel told them. They would hunt the Orcs. Forever. And suddenly, Celebrian's words came back to Glorfindel: You would not let me die. It was small wonder the twins now sought death to relieve their feelings and did not fear it, forever it would be seen to them as an escape.

"Let me speak of somewhat to you," Glorfindel broke the silence at last. He drew back, touching Elladan's cheek and making no comment about the damp silver line that trailed down the elder twin's cheek - water dripping from his hair…perhaps. Elladan looked at him, his eyes now curious for he caught the hesitation in his lover's voice. It was Glorfindel's turn to look away, which he did for a moment, inhaling deeply as though to draw strength from the air. "It is not something I have spoken of with many and probably only your father knows the details I shall now reveal to you. I swore never to speak of it to any, yet after the Last Alliance, I could find no other way to so effectively comfort Elrond after the fall of Gil-galad. I will tell you now for no other reason than because I think that you deserve to know. Bear with me for the tale is long and parts of it you will already know and some are hard for me to recall."

He offered Elladan a crooked smile. The younger elf nodded and took Glorfindel by the hand, guiding him away along the familiar paths of Imladris, where both often walked together in the peace each found within the other's company. Such would not be the case that night.

*****

2

Glorfindel was quiet for several minutes, wondering where to begin. Finally, he spoke, adopting the manner in which he had often conducted his lectures, while Elladan was his student and not merely his lover. "Of the Fall of Gondolin there is much to be said and I do not quite know how to cover so much great history in a short space of time. Tell me, what do you recall from your earlier years about this event?"

Elladan glanced at his lover. Though he had suspected what the turn of conversation would bring, absurdly he had still not quite expected it. The historical details concerning Gondolin had been relayed before to the twins, yet it was clear that Glorfindel did not mean to speak of it in terms of its notability in history.

"Maeglin, son of Adrehel came to the hidden city of Gondolin, desiring there to assume the kingship of the Noldor. His intent was to marry his first cousin, Idril and by that binding capture the throne. Idril refused him, falling instead in love with a man, Tuor, who had followed the guidance of Ulmo to the secret city of the Noldor. Maeglin betrayed the city to the forces of Morgoth. Tuor and Idril sired Earendil and it was in his seventh year that the attack came upon the city."

Glorfindel nodded.
"Indeed that is so, upon the night of the Summer Gates Festival. The city was bejewelled with many lights, the town itself in silver, while upon the trees many gem-coloured lights hung, in blues and reds and greens. It was shortly after sundown when the forces of Mordor were seen. They came from the North, striking the highest walls where there were fewer guards stationed, and panic ensued. We of the eleven Elven Houses summoned up our armies and Tuor's own personal guards came from the House of the Swan."

"Maeglin died quite early as I recall," Elladan filled in. "After a failed attempt to kidnap Idril and Earendil. Tuor came to the rescue of his family from Maeglin. Was he not thrown out of the city to his death?"

Once again Glorfindel nodded, but more absently now. His eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, the touches of the moon that drifted between the trees lingering upon his skin even as they stepped through the shadows.

"There were many lords of the houses and many great deeds were done," Glorfindel continued.

For many minutes, in a voice filled with both sadness and pride, he spoke of the men of the Fountain, the Golden Flower, the Swan and every other house. Elladan listened in silence, the once inspiring tales of the Gondolithrim lords made him strangely uneasy. The courage and valour exhibited by the individuals was great. They laid down their lives for their people, Elladan noted with a sense of guilt. Though in part they must have fought to save themselves, such is the natural instinct, and yet, altruism burns with a strong flame to accept the Halls of Mandos as payment for a kindness. Unless... Elladan banished the thought before it was completed, wondering and still not quite willing to wonder if such a payment was actually a gift.

"Our High King Fingon was killed thirteen years earlier in a battle," Glorfindel continued, "The crown was in the hands of Turgon, but passed from him to Gil-galad," he added automatically. "Ecthelion slew three Balrogs and Tuor five, before the former was struck by a fiery lash and lost the use of his sword arm. It was Tuor who dragged him free and, at the Square of Folkwell, Galdor came to their rescue.

"In the Square of the Palace of the King, I joined them, with the army I commanded and, for a time it seemed we should not fall. But then came a fresh onslaught of the Balrogs and Gothmog, Morgoth's son, honed all his intent upon slaying Tuor. It was Ecthelion who leapt between them and who struck the Balrog until both tumbled into the fountain and were drowned, a watery grave from a fiery death for both." Glorfindel's features were crossed with sadness, his eyes staring back into a time that only he could see. "That day nearly saw the breaking of Tuor at the loss of one he loved so dearly."

"They were lovers, then?" Elladan asked curiously.

"No," Glorfindel replied slowly. "And yes. Remember if you will, that Tuor was married and all his heart's love was focused upon his lady. Yet Ecthelion held what may be considered a greater claim to Tuor's affections, in a friendship that ran deep into their souls. They were like brothers, friends and lovers all in one. I believe they did share blankets from time to time, with the lady's knowledge, but those were warrior's comforts as many found upon the battlefields with a trusted companion. Ecthelion's last stand saved the life of Tuor, as Tuor had before saved him in turn."

Life for life, Elladan silently thought. Death for death. Ecthelion's gift to Tuor was a valuable one, dying so that his friend could live. It was partly that which had first led the twins into the Orc slayings. The faint and vain hope that by killing the Orcs, somehow it would make Middle-earth a place that Celebrian could inhabit, that it would bring her back. But of course, it had not, and it never would. And so the purpose became almost solely revenge, to destroy that which had destroyed her, though in doing so it killed little pieces of themselves.

Continuing with the tale, though Elladan knew it from earlier years of Glorfindel's teaching, the elder elf said: "Even through his grief, Tuor pleaded with Turgon, the King, to flee the falling city. Turgon refused, choosing rather to fall with his kingdom and urged Tuor to guide those whom he could to safety. He and Idril brought many of the people to a hidden escape pass from the city and, while they herded the people toward it, I led the House of the Golden Flower into holding back the armies of Morgoth."

"Dragons," Elladan inserted, recalling vividly Glorfindel's descriptions of the beasts. "Vast, immeasurable in length and breadth, with jointed limbs ending in foot-long claws. The tail coils and twitches, lined with plates or sometimes spikes, extending their distance still further. Slender-headed, with nostrils seeming delicate until seen at close quarters, where it becomes clear that the skin is tough scale, slightly blackened by the endless streams of smoke that waft free even when the fires burn low. The skin shimmers like the jewels they hoard and their eyes are many faceted and reflect a thousand times all that they see."

"You can almost quote me upon that one," Glorfindel said, roused slightly from his mental meanderings by the familiar description.

"Elrohir and I drew pictures of them for weeks and 'slew' each other in your image," Elladan chuckled, blushing slightly at the antics of his childhood.

Glorfindel smiled, though there was a sadness to his eyes of a new breed and he turned away from his lover with a sigh that only the breeze noted, pining silently for the child he had fallen in love with, so far now removed from the elf that walked at his side. I will wed you, my loved, for, if nothing else, in the hope that somehow, I can still find the child you were inside, for both of us.

"A Legolas Greenleaf, of the House of the Tree, led the Gondolithrims onward, with Galdor, for their night-sight was best for the task. Beneath the Eagle's Cleft, where a walled precipice flanks one side and a bottomless drop the other, an ambush fell. The fleeing peoples were spread along the length of this perilous path, Galdor at one end and I at the other, when the Orcs launched an attack, raining boulders upon us from above. Throndor of the Eagles came to our defence and many Orcs were slain - women and even children fighting with Morgoth's forces." Glorfindel shuddered suddenly. "Ah, Elladan," he said softly. "Though I would aid a child in learning the art of a sword, it saddens me deeply to see them in need of such a skill. A sword in the hands of a child is a grievous thing - an image that is wrong to see and yet one that I have seen all to often."

Elladan found for an instant he could not look at his lover, feeling suddenly like a child himself, as though he looked through Glorfindel's eyes. The eyes of one who has seen too many years. He laid a hand upon his own sword hilt, almost unconsciously feeling the notched guard beneath his thumb, the telltale scars that signalled the loss of his childhood, and continued to walk at his lover's side.

"It was then that the Balrog came, was it not?" he said quietly.

Glorfindel nodded.
"It came for the people, the women, the children and I could not see that happen. I struck at the demon and then leapt, up atop the highest rock and it followed. This was as I intended, to draw it away from the crowd, yet its bestial wrath proved my undoing. The whip burned me." Glorfindel's expression was strange, the touches of a smile upon his lips, which seemed out of place, his voice growing oddly distant. His fingers touched his abdomen where Elladan knew the long scar testament to that battle, still lay. "Even armour melted beneath its touch and I hewed its whip arm from its body, even as the metal buckled and scalded. It was then the creature fell, and I, unbalanced, was caught by its remaining limb and torn into the abyss."

The eerie smile was complete now and Glorfindel blinked back from his glassy-eyed reverie. "The strangest thoughts came then to me, Elladan. How bright the moon did gleam above and how, amidst the blackness of the endless chasm, the golden metal that I wore glowed with the moonlight. All else became distant, the rushing wind seemed feather light in touch and above, cries of meaningless sorrow could be heard. Everything ceased to exist. I do recall the bottom of the void, where this bodily form was broken beyond repair. I remember the moment where such fear hit me that something shattered inside. I wanted to scream then, as I never had before, but I had no voice to cry out. There was nothing. No light, nor dark, nor any other thing.

"And, beneath even the horror that was invoked, I felt so calm. I watched myself fall, even as I knew myself to be falling. The sensations were apart. And then they were not. Such a moment of agony as never another I have felt, heat, light, the explosion of these that shatters, consumes, there is nothing but the pain imploding, until I was simply the agony not merely feeling it. And from that slowly drifting free, the clouding of the vision and the separation from feeling once more. That was the true moment of death and for all it must be similar, yet different, as the spirit flees the dying house of its body." Glorfindel glanced at Elladan, his smile still in place. "For me, it was over and I had done what I had wished to."

"And you went into the Halls," Elladan said softly. He looked at Glorfindel then, half inclined to ask and yet knowing Glorfindel would tell him little.

"Yes and was among the fortunate there in being permitted to return to the lands," his lover continued automatically. But," Glorfindel said and in doing so made it clear that no further information would be given about the realm of Mandos. "This holds true only for the Eldar. What befalls the race of Men, I know not."

Glorfindel did not speak of the Dark Halls with those who lived upon the mortal plain; it was not something that could be comprehended by those who held life. What little other knowledge he felt he could share, regarding the fates and existences of the fea, he had imparted only to Elrond to reassure him of Gil-galad's state. Even then he had told but a little of the truth, mentioning only the nurturing and correcting of the fea by the Valar in preparation for a second chance if all deemed it appropriate.

"What is it like?" Elladan asked, despite himself.

"It is like no place you can conceive of," was all the reply that came to him. Glorfindel's expression was unreadable, though the moon bathed his face in the purifying caress of her light.

"Why?" Elladan found himself whispering, half in reverence for the ghost of the Glorfindel of Gondolin that shone out inside his lover. "Why did you ever choose to return? I have seen you in the midnight storms, Glory and your rebirth seems to fill you with terror."

Glorfindel nodded slowly, explaining that the reason for this was separate. He thought back then to the time of his rebirth, not the precious innocence of the life he had led in second childhood, but to the time he truly considered he had been reborn, when his memories returned. The process initially had been gradual, most of his recollections coming to him slowly and allowing him to accept the existence he had led before. His character strengthened and his views upon the world shaped by the recollections and he had believed himself recovered. Yet it was not so. He had never truly recalled the memories of Gondolin and its fall, nor his own part in it and, some years after Elrond's coming to the Eldar an experiment between them had changed that dramatically.

A discussion between them had led into the speculation of just how such a memory could be induced, if indeed it could and Glorfindel had wished it so, hoping to lay his past to rest. With consent given, Elrond had laced a drink with miniscule quantities of belladonna, mandrake and holly root; vision-inducing toxins, fatal in higher doses. Fired by the storm that raged outside, perhaps it made them reckless; Glorfindel had drunk the cocktail of potions. As he recounted this separate tale to his lover, Glorfindel mentally chastised himself for the thousandth time.

The visions had hit him with greater force than either had anticipated, not only had his memory recalled Gondolin, but also caused the drugged elf to relive it. He had fallen from a tower top, having wounded both Elrond and an unfortunate maid coming to his aid, almost destroying himself a second time. Elrond had fought a long and draining battle to spare him a second demise, though Glorfindel had later cringed, almost wishing for it, during the wicked beration Gil-galad had bestowed upon them both for their idiocy.

The king had been alarmed by the unfolding and spoken more harshly than he had needed to, which to credit him, he later acknowledged. But the lesson had been learned even before he had spoken. Glorfindel, as he and Elladan weaved between the bushy path they had taken, explained the full effects of the drug. Not only had his first death been remembered, but, in the subsequent visions that surged from his stimulated memory, while he slid in and out of consciousness, had recalled to him the actual rebirth process. Everything. The sudden shock of being in physical form and the instant before everything was once more obliterated, where the previous memories transfer into the unborn mind, before they are locked away until adulthood can govern them.

Elladan, listening to this, found himself more shocked to hear of the folly of his father and his lover than the actual consequences of their actions.

"I knew when I first chose to leave the Dark Halls that one day, I would remember all this," Glorfindel concluded. "Though to find out in such a way was not as it was intended. And as for why I made that choice" Glorfindel cast his gaze about the quiet valley, where the creatures of the night and even the nightingale warbled contentedly amidst the peace. "Can you not see? What is there in this world that is not to come back for, to reclaim and make all as it should be?"

"We cannot reclaim it," Elladan said quietly, his voice steady with conviction. "Our people will fade from these shores, are fading now. It is no longer our world, Glorfindel, as you and father frequently speak of with concern in your voices and eyes."

"We are the fabric of Arda, Elladan and we are bound to its fate by our very creation. There are lands that remain ours and impenetrable to all other peoples and in which we will live until the end of Arda itself," Glorfindel answered. He spoke with the surety of one who has seen the Blessed Lands and once more that ethereal glow seemed to radiate from him, a lingering energy of one touched by the Valar and given back to the earth.

"We are bound to its fate," Elladan murmured thoughtfully. "And yet it will die."

Glorfindel heard him, but he did not speak. He had spoken only of his death in hopes that Elladan would come to understand a little of the significance of death and its role, hoping to make his lover take it less lightly than he customarily did. Glorfindel had hoped, in reminding the younger elf of the tales of those who had laid down their lives for a cause, which had in early years so inspired both the twins, it would communicate the purposelessness of the actions the twins themselves took and that the value they placed on their own throats was too low. Yet, with nothing left to say, the firstborn wondered, suddenly concerned, that he might only have served to underscore the release death could bring.

*****

3

Elladan stared at his lover as he felt Glorfindel's gaze fall upon him. He could hear the steady, rhythmic beating of his own heart thudding in his chest. Every inch of his skin tingled as though he could feel the blood moving beneath the surface. The air he inhaled was cool, scented with damp earth and vegetation being kindled into the ground. Faint, ghostly touches trailed across his cheeks where strands of his hair brushed like blown threads of silk against his face. The very act of living became the centre of his universe for a handful of moments after Glorfindel had ceased speaking.

Elladan bowed his head. He had forgotten what it was like to feel this way, to simply be, existing in time and in space. A sense of cold sadness filled him. It was not enough.

Arda will die and we will die with it, he concluded mentally. We can do naught for Mama, which I think I realised long ago, however much I hate it, but perhaps we can make the world that bit safer before we go.

Shying from that realisation and all it would come to mean, Elladan lifted his eyes to Glorfindel's once more. Whether the older elf saw something of Elladan's discovery in his eyes, he did not know. He hushed Glorfindel's rising question with a finger pressed to his lover's lips. This, he quickly replaced with his own lips, gently kissing the familiar curve of Glorfindel's mouth, his tongue seeking entrance, willingly granted. His hands moved to his lover's spine, flattening his palms and splaying his fingers to draw Glorfindel closer to him. He moved swiftly, his fingers unfastening the ties on Glorfindel's tunic, without breaking from the warmth of their kiss. The chilly air caressed Glorfindel's skin and the older elf shivered a little as his upper garments were stripped away.

Elladan broke the kiss at last, with a lingering nip at the plush lower lip, trailing his kisses down Glorfindel's throat. Fingers reached for his and Elladan returned the grip, holding onto the security he found in his lover. Glorfindel was here and now, past and present did not matter. Touch brought sweet oblivion and Elladan smoothed the clean planes of alabaster flesh, his fingers tracing the old whip scar line that had somehow remained, even through death, ingrained into Glorfindel's memory so deeply that even in reforming his body, the mark stayed. Tonight, Glorfindel's skin flinched at that touch, though Elladan had traced it many times. Falling to his knees, Elladan outlined the pale scar with his tongue, kissing Glorfindel's stomach and stroking his lover's thighs, soothing him. Glorfindel's fingers were so tight around his own; for the memory was close now and he struggled for his control. Elladan continued his ministrations, feeling his lover slowly relax, returning to the state of seemingly infallible calm that he maintained for the most part.

His teeth found the fastening to Glorfindel's breeches and he rubbed his cheek against the swelling he found there. Glorfindel's fingers caught at his hair, the painful tug at his locks encouragement not dissuasion. Breechcloth was peeled away and Elladan brushed his lips lightly over the satiny shaft head. Glorfindel moaned aloud, his head falling back.

"Shh!" Elladan whispered fiercely, raising eyes that burned dark in their sockets.

His chest shuddering with the effort, Glorfindel obeyed.

Slowly and deliberately, Elladan reached into the hollow in the centre of a tree stump, where a sapling had been thrown down in the winter gales. A small puddle of rainwater had collected there and frozen and he fractured fragments of ice from it. The slivers of icy crystals glittered in his palm and he spilled them onto his tongue, wrapping then the chilled muscle around his lover's length. Glorfindel hissed, raising his fist to his mouth and biting upon his thumb. The shocking contrasts between the heat and almost unbearable cold sent shivers through his body and the stars swung crazily overhead, the earth rushing up to meet him as his knees buckled and he sunk limply to the ground. Elladan's mouth found his again, the salty taste of his essence deceptively warm, though his lover's lips were still cooled by the ice. Elladan's hand smoothed through his hair, the other, still holding Glorfindel's tightly.

Their fingers remained linked, even as Glorfindel returned the favour, easing his lover's own desire with nimble fingers, teasing Elladan with his own trick and dancing ice-coated fingertips, dipped in frozen dew, along the younger elf's heated length and capturing the flood of release with his palm, lightly coating the grassy stems with another clear fluid that would chill away by morn. Elladan only released the grip of their hands to help Glorfindel on with his clothing; then reclaimed it.

Glorfindel drew his lover close, slipping his arm around Elladan's shoulders and together they sat, watching as the stars drifted, almost imperceptibly slowly across the skies. Elladan sighed quietly, resting his head on Glorfindel's shoulder. Even the sense of brief contentment was only a lull, impermanent and as always the thoughts crept back in. The night was their time, his and Glorfindel's, he claimed it with, unknowingly, the same passion and determination that, in years past, his sire and Ereinion Gil-galad had sworn the starlight to be theirs.

But it did not change anything. When the dawn rose again, last night would be over and all that preceded it would remain. Celebrian would still be gone. He would still feel the burn of guilt and powerlessness and the emptiness inside. His father would still be taking Legolas to his bed, though his heart called out the name of another, long lost to him. The Orcs would still linger in their filthy holes, ever-spreading the shadows throughout the land. Elrohir would still be hurt beyond repair by words spoken centuries ago. Each day would bring more blood, more loss. And, if ever some miracle were to erase that, the memories would linger. Forever.

Beside him, Glorfindel sat quiet, his azure eyes reflecting the stars, his soft breathing reassuring in its serenity. Feeling his lover's gaze, Glorfindel blinked and looked up. How, Elladan silently asked. How do you bear the burden of two lifetimes, when I cannot stand even one? It was said of course, that the passage through second childhood strengthened the soul of the reborn, so that they might have the pleasures of innocence to recall to them when their greater experiences became too much. But even Elladan's first childhood seemed so very far away. Glorfindel's acceptance made his own failure to cope strangely humiliating. But within even that, he found encouragement. Even though Glorfindel had failed, if that was what he had attempted, to convince Elladan of the meaninglessness of his hunting, he had even so given him pause to consider other reasons for which an inexorable task should be continued. A way in which to understand himself. Elladan leaned into Glorfindel's embrace. Maybe this small moment of comfort would not change the big picture, but perhaps…perhaps, it was enough just to have the moment for what it was.

"Can I speak yet?" Glorfindel asked softly, treating Elladan to a playful smile and unaware of his lover's bleak thoughts.

Despite his despondency, Elladan grinned.
"I do not know about that," he teased. "That is an unreasonable request, do you not think?"

"Ah hoo h-ot ink oo," Glorfindel replied, one hand across his mouth to stem speech and smirking at his lover.

Elladan prised his hand away, kissing the knuckles and chuckling.
"Could you translate that into Sindarin please?"

"I said: ah hoo h..." Glorfindel began, snickering.

Elladan rolled his eyes, leaning over to kiss the mocking mouth.

"I do not think so," Glorfindel explained.

"In that case, I suppose I could allow it," Elladan conceded graciously.

"Oh, thank you so much," Glorfindel answered witheringly.

Elladan tapped his nose with a severe forefinger.
"Any more of that sarcasm will lose you the privilege of speech," he threatened, tracing a line down over Glorfindel's lips with his finger and placing his palm against his lover's mouth. Glorfindel kissed the centre of the palm.

"Suddenly the necessity for conversation pales," he smiled.

Elladan cupped his jaw, moving to kiss the older elf again. For several minutes, only the night bugs croaked as lips lingered in kisses shared.

"I am still proud of you," Glorfindel said, as they drew apart. He changed the topic of conversation for he had said all he could regarding death and knew from then on it was for Elladan to decide what he considered it meant. The lack of forthcoming response indicated time for reflection was necessary. "For what you did today."

Elladan smiled, delighting briefly in the pleasure that statement continued to elicit. He was more content in his choice now, the sense of calm that enveloped him when they had brought Legolas to Imladris once more lingered peaceably, despite the reluctance with which he had conceded to the concept initially.

"Ah well," he said with a shrug and a grin. "I have resigned myself to the fact that my father is just as capable as I of finding the most inappropriate lover - and hiding it better than I ever did!"

Glorfindel did not smile. His voice was strange when he spoke again.

"Am I, in your eyes, inappropriate?"

Elladan shifted uncomfortably.
"Glory, I did not mean that in aught but jest. I meant only that sleeping with my tutor pales in comparison to bedding the child of one's enemy."

"That is not an answer to my question."

"I do not understand the question," Elladan replied, puzzled. "Would I be with you if I thought it so?"

"Would you?" Glorfindel challenged him. "No, Elladan, please think about it. Are you with me because you love me, or for other reasons: it is habit, or simply that you know I love you and so you will not leave me, though you feel naught?"

Elladan stared at his lover, the words thundering, nonsensical, around his brain. Glorfindel's expression was cold, implacable and revealed nothing of his own emotions. His blue eyes pierced Elladan to the core.

"You need to know, Elladan. Unless you do you cannot contemplate swearing eternity to me."

Glorfindel rose then, releasing Elladan's hand and began to walk away into the night.

"Do you wish to reconsider?" Elladan called after him and he rose too.

Glorfindel paused, glancing back. The moonlight bathed him, bleaching his hair to platinum and whitening his skin. A frown creased his features yet he glowed in the moonlight, a creature of ephemeral radiance, while Elladan stood cast in shadow.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Have you not given me a cause to wonder if it is not my affections but your own that you doubt?" Elladan retorted. "For have I ever given you reasons to question mine?"

Glorfindel answered quietly. "Once."

Stunned, Elladan recoiled. Even when his confession about the night he had spent with Elrohir had surely wounded Glorfindel the most, never once had the elder elf queried Elladan's feelings for him. All the while he had supported Elladan, trusted him and the shock of knowing now that it had not all been complete faith, struck like a blow. His mouth drying up and speech deserting him, Elladan looked away, unable to look at his lover, or believe how much the doubt hurt. Glorfindel turned then and started once more to walk away.

For a moment, Elladan let him go and then, fuelled by the hot rush of anger, triggered by any moment of pain, he crossed the distance between them, grabbing Glorfindel roughly by the elbow. The elder's briefly warning glance caused him to loosen his grip immediately.

"Where did that come from?" he demanded. "What is this about, Glory? Why do you, who has never before suspected me, now come to do so?"

"Where, what and why," Glorfindel repeated, a strange, distracted smile playing upon his lips. "Three of the six great teachers. Ask how and who and when will you not?" His voice was light and amused.

Derailed, Elladan could only stare at him in perplexity and frustrated, cry out:
"Glorfindel!"

His lover regarded him mildly, offering no explanation. Into the unnerving silence, Elladan plunged on.

"All these years - Glorfindel, you have never said anything before! I do not need this, not now!"

Glorfindel's expression hardened.
"Now seems as good a time as any," he replied evenly.

Elladan sighed, falling into step with his lover as Glorfindel began to walk back through the woods.
"Could you not have asked this of me years ago, when it all came to light?"

"For me to have expressed such a lack of faith in you would hardly have been supportive. It was not what you needed to hear."

"But I do now?" Elladan asked.

Glorfindel shook his head. "No, perhaps not. But now I need your answer."

"What do you want me to say?" Elladan asked wearily. "That I am sorry - again? I love you, Glorfindel. What more is there for me to say? Can you believe that two and a half thousand years means nothing, because of one night?"

Again, Glorfindel shook his head and Elladan was left gazing at him, confounded. His voice dropped as he in turn shook his head in disbelief.

"Is there something in the air this time of year that I know not of, or some strange rite I am missing? Do I invoke these suspicions by my mere presence? Elrohir too has doubted my loyalty in recent months. Do I radiate insincerity or incapability to love more than one person, despite the different forms love may take?"

"Elladan," Glorfindel's tone became severe. "I am just trying to ascertain…"

"Ascertain what, Glory? Do we really have to overanalyse this?"

"So you intend to rush headlong into marriage without any real comprehension of what you are doing?" Glorfindel demanded. "In the manner you do with the Orcs," he added, his tone almost condescending.

"Oh of course," Elladan replied, his voice laced with deepest sarcasm. "I have not spent my entire life witnessing my parents example of exactly what not to do and therefore I have no appreciation of the import of marriage."

Glorfindel inclined his head.
"Touché," he said softly.

Elladan stopped then, turning to face his lover and catching Glorfindel's hands in his own.
"Why then, Glory, do you ask this of me?" he said, touching his lover's cheek so that Glorfindel would look at him.

"Because I love you." Glorfindel raised his intense cerulean stare to hold Elladan's irresistibly. "For who and what you are. I know that you will continue to hunt the Orcs. I know that you love Elrohir and that you are and always will be, a part of him and he of you. And still I love you, Elladan. But I need to know that you can feel the same way, that amidst all that you hate and you fear, you can find it in yourself to love me and know that I accept you for who you are. Can you tell me that? Can you share yourself with me, whoever you are and whatever you do?"

For a long moment, Elladan considered the question, honestly asking himself just that. When finally he answered, it was in complete truth.

"Yes," he said simply. "Yes, I can. I will."

Glorfindel swallowed hard. "Can you, Elladan? Are you certain?"

"Glory," Elladan reproached, smoothing his fingers through the soft, silken waterfall of golden hair that fell about his lover's face. "I have not had so many years to know myself as you do, but this I am sure of: Elrohir is my brother and twin, and as you say, we will always be a part of each other. But I am not he. I know I seek the Orcs with seeming relentless need, in vengeance and penance. I cannot - I will not - give this up. I admit this all freely and trust that you know, no matter what, that I love you. In love, in hate, in life or death, I love you."

Glorfindel had watched him quietly for the duration of this speech and now, a slow smile spread across his face.
"Very well then," he said, almost hesitantly.

"Shall we..." Elladan's heart skipped a beat and he almost jumped, startled. "Shall we go to my father in the morning?"

"Not too early, perhaps," Glorfindel remarked with a grin.

Elladan grimaced comically. "Hmm, perhaps we should wait until Prince Legolas has departed."

"I think so," Glorfindel agreed, chuckling. Elladan smiled impishly. "Good. And," he added, his grin widening. "I am sure I can think of ways to pass the time until then."

Glorfindel slid an arm around his waist.
"Come then. Will you not show me?"

*****

4

Just before the coming of dawn, Elladan slipped from his lover's side, leaving Glorfindel to catch what precious little rest he could. He moved on silent feet down the cold corridors, whispering a 'good morning' to Lindir, emerging sleepily from a chamber to head back to his own. Bypassing his own room, Elladan tapped lightly on the door to Elrohir's and went inside.

The chamber was empty, the bed neatly made up and the quiet within suggesting it had been that way all night. Elladan crossed to the bed, perching upon its edge and curling one leg beneath him to wait.

His vigil was not a long one. The sky was not yet paling with the coming of light when the door opened again and Elrohir entered. His dark hair was raggedly strewn across his shoulders, falling carelessly into one eye. He looked sleepy and sated. Surprise etched across his features as he noticed Elladan's presence.

"Good morning," Elladan said teasingly. "And where have you been?"

"With Erestor - …"

"With Erestor?" Elladan yelped, startled. "But he..." "Is married with children," Elrohir finished. "I spent the night with his son."

"Did you not lie with his daughter last time we were here?" Elladan asked suspiciously.

Elrohir shrugged, adding teasingly: "I would sleep with Erestor, if he were willing and if he was not married."

Elladan laughed at that, but then his expression sobered.
"Elrohir, I wanted to speak with you about that..."

"About Erestor being married?" Elrohir said, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah, nah, about marriage."

"Why brother," Elrohir quipped, falling to one knee and grasping his twin's hand. "I thought that you would never ask!"

Elladan smiled fondly, but shook his head. "Brother, be serious, please."

Elrohir sat back on his heels, eyeing Elladan for a minute and then nodded, moving to sit beside him upon the bed.
"Speak then," he encouraged.

Elladan was silent for a moment, his mind racing as he sought a way to tell his twin of his choice – he had spoken not a word of the marriage he had been considering for the past year to his twin. He did not know how Elrohir would react to the situation. As his more tempestuous twin had proved the previous day he was liable to react before he thought and Elladan dreaded the prospect of his brother's anger aimed his way. They rarely fought seriously, and when they did it was unbearable for both until the matter was resolved.

If Elrohir was opposed to the binding, what then? Elladan had no wish to spend eternity fighting with his twin. But to surrender Glorfindel's affections…the thought sickened him. No. Abruptly he gave himself a shake, he would not know until he spoke to Elrohir – and to give credit to his twin, Elrohir had so far been understanding of his brother's relationship.

"Elrohir...I..." Elladan began and Elrohir looked at him curiously. Elladan faltered. "I - Glory... I want to bind to Glorfindel," he said in a rush, lifting his eyes apprehensively to Elrohir's face.

His twin was silent, staring down at the bed sheets. He did not look up and it was some minutes before he spoke.

"Took you long enough."

"What?" Elladan asked uneasily.

"I said, it took you long enough." Unexpectedly, Elrohir lifted his head with a smile. "I have been waiting for this since long before Mama left."

"You knew that I…?"

Elrohir shrugged.
"Let us be realistic, Elladan. Over the years I have taken many to my bed and though I care for each in my way, I share nothing more than physical pleasures with them, 'warriors' comforts' I believe is the common euphemism. You, on the other hand, have been steadfastly dedicated to Glorfindel alone. A bond of that sort is not meant to be broken."

"So, you do not mind?" Elladan asked.

Elrohir shook his head. "Well, yes... You are..." He raised an almost sheepish smile. "You are mine Elladan, my brother, not someone else's lover - even if it is Glorfindel. But also no... He...You... You both deserve it and so I will not prevent you. I ask only that I can be present."

"Would I have you anywhere else?" Elladan demanded, pulling his brother into an embrace and kissing his cheek.

Elrohir grinned, though it seemed a little strained, and tugged affectionately on a lock of his twin's hair.
"My blessing upon you both, brother. Go at once to Papa or I shall do it for you."

"Come with me," Elladan said impulsively.

"This is for you and Glorfindel," Elrohir demurred. "I will wait until you tell the rest of the family."

"Who?" Elladan asked with a grin. "The entire family now consisting only of Arwen?"

"Nah, nah, I mean also Erestor, Tharin and Lindir to speak of but a few others."

"Lindir..." Elladan broke in suddenly. "I ran into him this morning and…he was going back to bed…"

"I did not realise he was on night patrol - I thought Tharin had taken over that?" Elrohir seemed surprised.

"Nay - I mean he was leaving a bedroom to go to his own..." Elladan trailed off, trying to remember which one along the corridor it had been.

"I am sure that even Lindir must have physical needs," Elrohir teased.

"Yes, but..." Elladan paused as he registered what he had seen. "He was leaving Arwen's chamber."

Elrohir's eyes widened.
"They could not - they are not - Elladan, you do not think...?"

Elladan nodded.

Elrohir let out a shout of laughter.
"The wily little mare," he exclaimed. "And not a one of us has noticed. Do you think that Papa knows?"

"If he does not, I am not telling him!" Elladan said firmly. "I have quite enough to say as it is!"

"You cannot think that he would refuse you and Glorfindel!" Elrohir snorted.

Elladan shook his head.
"No, but it does not make the asking easier."

Elrohir just rolled his eyes, tumbling his brother backwards to sprawl over the mattress.
"Coward," he goaded.

"Coward?" Elladan echoed, staring up into his twin's taunting eyes as Elrohir held him pinned. "I am not! Take that back!"

"I will not - coward," Elrohir added, grinning.

Elladan threw his legs up around his brother's waist and rolled sideways, yanking Elrohir off balance and dragging him over onto the mattress, trying to straddle him. Elrohir grabbed his brother's wrists to counter Elladan's attempt at dominance and held them against the bed. Elladan tugged at his hands. Elrohir wriggled. Both now trapped by their own manoeuvres. They paused, caught in stalemate.

"Coward," Elrohir repeated, still teasing, even though his legs were secured flat to the bed by his twin's torso.

"I am not a coward," Elladan said calmly, as though he were not pinned by his upper half to the mattress.

"Let me up and I will take it back," Elrohir suggested.

Elladan shook his head.
"Take it back first."

"I will not."

"Then I will not."

"Fine, it looks like we are stuck here," Elrohir said contrarily.

This decided, both relaxed and, for a few minutes they lay together. Elrohir looped his arm behind his brother's shoulders and Elladan's hands, with one of Elrohir's still encircling them together, rested upon his twin's chest. Into the peaceful quiet, as they waited for the coming of the sun, Elladan said thoughtfully.

"I wonder - do you think I am supposed to invite Legolas?"

* * * * *

Elladan's question was not to be answered. He rode with Glorfindel for the morning patrols and, in doing so, was absent from Imladris when the winged rider came to the gates. They stabled their horses and ascended to Elrond's study in an oblivion that was echoed by the as yet undisturbed household. Elladan paused before his father's door. The heavy wood had seemed not so imposing as the time in which he had been summoned there, suspecting that his father knew of his night with Elrohir. He stood now, feeling the door to be the last barrier to his heart. He raised his hand to knock…clenched his fingers into a fist - let it fall.

Glorfindel's soft chuckle made him glance at his lover. Amusement danced in the cerulean eyes that met his own. Elladan pulled a face and stepped back, indicating that Glorfindel could take the initiative. Raising his mocking eyes first to the heavens, Glorfindel lifted his own hand to knock. And then paused too. Another quiet laugh escaped him at their folly. Elladan held out his hand to his lover and Glorfindel took it, locking their hesitant digits together. With his free hand, Elladan beat lightly upon the door.

It swung inwards of its own accord, the latch unfastened, to reveal the room beyond. Legolas, dressed in his riding cape and breeches, nodded to Elladan as he moved out into the corridor, his light footsteps quickly fading away. Elrond stood before his desk, his features grim. Elladan glanced at his lover, and then at the passageway Legolas had departed by. Where did he come from? And what has he done? Elladan instantly wondered, not realising Legolas had returned to Elrond the previous night.

Glorfindel took a step into the room, he too seeing the greyish hues of strain painted upon his lord's face. Elrond looked up. "Elladan. Glorfindel. I take it you wished to see me? Is something amiss from your patrol?" Elrond spoke abruptly.

Glorfindel glanced at Elladan, all traces of his amusement diminished.
"Nay, my lord. What here has happened?"

It was then that both registered the figure robed in grey who stood wearily by the window, his features as ashen as his clothing.

"Mithrandir?" Elladan said, both pleased and startled to see the wizard.

"Morning to you, Master Elladan, and to you, Glorfindel," Gandalf said with a poor attempt at his fatherly smile, touched with fondness for both the elves.

"I would greet you gladly, Mithrandir, if I did not fear you brought bad tidings," Glorfindel said, hesitating to move towards his old friend.

Gandalf sighed.
"It is so. Forgive me, but so it is. Ill news must be told and I must be the unfortunate bearer of it. But come, you must have wished to say somewhat yourselves to be present so early. Elrond was just about to send for you."

"Our cause can wait," Elladan replied quickly.

"Indeed, this is not the time," Glorfindel seconded.

"My lord, what is the news?"

Elrond glanced between them, his expression softening from concern to curiosity.

"There is likely to be no better time in the future that I can foresee, will you not divulge it before we turn to duty?"

"Your countenance implied that your business cannot wait," Glorfindel protested. "And yours that you brought not ill news but good, which I would gladly hear," Elrond replied.

"Forgive me, but I must at once depart," Gandalf interjected, setting aside a half-finished cup of steaming brew. "Elrond, send your emissaries and we will meet within the year. I will return to Saruman and speak further with him before we continue our investigations. May the Lady's light be with you all."

"And with you," Elrond solemnly replied, echoed by his son and seneschal.

As the door closed behind Gandalf, Elrond turned once more to Elladan.

"Now," he said, moving to his desk and pulling several sheets of paper toward him. He dipped his pen into the inkpot and glanced up at his son. "Tell me, what brought you here?"

"Truly Papa," Elladan shook his head. "This is clearly not the time."

Elrond scrawled a few hasty lines upon his sheet and, still writing, said: "What there is not time for is dalliance. Come, speak."

"My lord, we wished only for you to consider that we…”..." Glorfindel glanced at Elladan.

Elladan lifted his shoulders in a shrug. Though tension set the muscles in his father's shoulders and turned his careful scrip into a scribble of poor legibility, Elrond, looking up once more, was obviously interested.

Elladan sighed. It would not have been his ideal choice to speak of a decision that had spread within him a sense of completeness and tranquillity amidst the ominous air of the chamber in which ill news had so recently been spoken. Yet, if there was trouble to come there would be orcs to slay and he would be away from Glorfindel's side, plagued by his loneliness and always beneath the shadow of potential doom. If not they did not speak now, would they ever have the chance? It had to be considered. He nodded to indicate that Glorfindel might continue.

"That we, myself and Elladan that is, might be bound to one another in the custom of our people," Glorfindel finished. "But, as we said before, this can wait."

"It shall not!" Elrond said with astonishing vehemence. He stabbed his pen into the inkpot so hard the quill snapped.

Elladan's stomach lurched sickeningly. Surely, surely his father did not mean to refuse them? Glorfindel too looked startled.

"My lord...?"

"Nay, Glorfindel!" Elrond held up his hand, ink stained from the splattering of the pot. "If you wish to be bound then this news will not stop it. I shall refrain from the usual questions this day, and take your answer from this instead: you shall be wed before this year is out, if you are certain enough of one another's will, and with my blessing upon you both."

Elladan's mouth dropped open, a smile upon his parted lips and looked to his lover, the surprise and relief upon Glorfindel's face mirrored on his own.

"Indeed Papa, that is well with us," Elladan replied, slightly dazed, as he found confirmation in Glorfindel's glance his way.

Elrond smiled, a gentle smile that washed away all of his grave expression.
"Then I grant you both my blessing now." His eyes touched upon them both in turn, his features touched with pleasure. Then he sighed and drew out his quill again, writing regardless of the broken tip. He sealed the letter and then handed it to Glorfindel. "I will speak with you both later upon this topic if I may, but now to my sorrow we have business to which we must attend. Glorfindel, the letter must go at once to Galadriel, though I warrant she will know what it contains. Send forth Erestor with all the haste he does possess. Gandalf will pass the news to Cirdan and Legolas is gone to his father's home." He looked up at them both for a long moment, his expression falling sombre once more. "Sauron has returned."

* * * * *

Elladan uttered the foulest curse he could think of and Glorfindel's eyes widened. Elrond cast his son the briefest of reproving looks for his language and continued heavily:

"Gandalf confirmed this morning what we have suspected for a time. He is returned from Dol Guldur. The rings are being gathered, the Nine, of course, are found and enough of the Seven to worry me greatly. At present the One Ring is still elusive and this buys us precious time. But Sauron is back, of this we are certain."

"May the Valar have mercy," Glorfindel whispered softly, his tone as bitter as gall. "This is the coming of the second darkness then."

Elrond nodded, and for a brief instant Elladan realised that beneath the grim exteriors of composure he had seen before and knew he would see again, this news was terrifying to the elder elves.

The shadow had hung overhead for almost the entirety of the twins' lifetime, though in their early years it had been less and the Watchful Peace had reigned for a brief duration. The whispers in the wind had rumoured of Sauron's whereabouts many times, the shades of darkness spread and the dark forces multiplied with every year. The Dwarves had turned to war and Gondor too had long been struggling. And now the bleakest truth was known. Sauron was discovered; the forces in motion had a commander. Who killed our mother…Elladan realised.

"Never mind mercy," he spat out. "Nor the Valar, for their choices are not ours to dictate. What can we do?"

For the smallest instant pride flickered in Elrond's tired eyes.
"Go and fetch your brother - and sister too. Keep this quiet from the rest of the house at present. I am to meet with the White Council as soon as can be arranged. Though I know you may wish to ride out in haste and slay the forces that litter this land, I need you here. I need you to take up your roles as my sons, heirs to the lordships of Imladris."

"And we will do it," Elladan vowed firmly. "I will go to them, Papa." He offered his father the briefest of sympathetic smiles and then hurried to the door.

There was no time to waste and…and he did not want to see the haunted expression Elrond wore in his eyes for another moment. Nor its mirror image in Glorfindel's. It chilled him to see their despair. He could not feel fear, not yet. That emotion belonged to those who had lived through the darkness afore, not those who had heard only of it and lived in the times after. That emotion also belonged to a future time, for if – when - the darkness came again, Elladan knew he would be afraid. But there was not time for it yet and at that moment he felt only his anger, arisen once more from his mother's phantom grave and the desire for vengeance.

* * * * *

The binding of Elladan and Glorfindel took place in the year 2851, four months from that day exactly, even to the hour. Held in the Golden Wood, so that the Lady Galadriel might take the place of her daughter, the rites were performed as the light of Anor began to grace the skies and coloured the clouds with blushes. Haldir, guardian of the wood, stood in place of Glorfindel's long absent parents. Arwen, once more residing in Lorien, was present, with Elrohir, and Cirdan too, though he had travelled to the wood with quite another purpose mind - the matter of the White Council, which was to be held at the end of that same month.

~ END ~