And now his brother, his twin, was lying near death upon the bed, and it was all Elrohir's fault.

He had tried in vain to apologize to his father earlier, but the elf-lord hadn't even spared him a glance, too concentrated on tending to his son. Celebrían, his Naneth who was supposed to love him the most, simply looked at him with tear-filled eyes and took up a place by her husband's side.

Glorfindel had all but glared daggers at Elrohir when he had heard what had happened and proceeded to confine the elfling to his own room across the hall; to be left on pain of death, Elrohir was sure.

But he had needed to see his brother; had needed to know he stilled lived at least. And Glorfindel hadn't been so heartless as to post a guard outside the door to keep Elrohir inside. It had been an easy thing to slip across the hall and enter the room silently. Although he doubted his father would have heard him anyway, so engrossed was he in his healing.

And now Elrohir almost regretted that he had come. It was nearly more than he could bear to watch; his twin so helpless and lifeless, the slow, barely distinguishable rise and fall of his chest the only sign he had not passed to Mandos' halls. But Elrohir was sure it would not be long now. His father looked exhausted, and the tears that ran down his cheeks told Elrohir all he needed to know: Elrond held little hope in Elladan's recovery.

The youngest son of Elrond choked back a sob that would surely give him away and fled the room, little aware that his father had sensed his presence as soon as he had entered.

Elrond sighed, eyes lingering on the door that seconds before had been shadowed by his son. He was clueless whether to be enraged that the child had done something so stupid, or thankful that they had not both been injured. But in the end, one was enough.

Brushing a stray hair away from Elladan's face, Elrond wiped his tears on his sleeve, not really caring that it left a stain on the rich silk. Clothing was replaceable, his son was not.

Elrond let his thoughts drift back to a time that was mostly shrouded in shadow, so long had it been, but the memory his mind latched onto was clear enough. A memory of his brother lying pale and wounded upon his bed and Maglor near to weeping beside him. And Elrond, barely nineteen summers old, standing shadowed in the doorway, too afraid of rousing his foster-father's anger to enter.

That time it had not, it turned out, been his fault, as this had been Elrohir's, but Maglor had been too scared and overcome by despair to listen to a child's pleading. He had later apologized to Elrond for blaming him, but it hadn't really mattered who was at fault. All that mattered was that Elros was nearly dead because of a stupid dare, and Elrond was not.

The Lord of Imladris sighed deeply to himself. Of all the thoughtless, careless things he had done in his life; that had been the worst. He knew how Elrohir felt; knew the guilt that was coursing through the younger twin and would probably follow him all his life whenever he remembered this incident. That was, if Elladan lived, for if he did not, Elrond had a terrifying suspicion he would loose the other as well.

Twins were rare things among the elves. Only a handful of them had ever been born through all the long ages the Firstborn had walked upon Arda; and they had always been male. Twins held a certain connection between them, a connection Elrond knew well. And for one to loose his twin was to loose half of himself. And at so young an age, the grief would surely take Elrohir as well.

And Celebrían. Elrond had a good inkling what the loss of both her sons would do to her. At best it would send her over the sea to Valinor. At worst….Elrond would loose all three of them.

That thought drew him back to the memory of his twin lying pale upon the bed. He had stood frozen in that doorway all through the long night; not daring to enter in case Maglor threw him out. He just had to be there, no matter what happened. By the time sky had begun to lighten in the early morn, Elrond was exhausted and very close to collapsing upon the floor.

But Elros stilled lived. And that was enough to keep Elrond standing there, ignoring the pain and exhaustion. Maglor finally fell into a fitful sleep, half lying upon the bed; his hand still clutching the child's to him. Taking advantage of the chance to be nearer his brother, he crept forward to the other side of the bed and gently lay down next to his brother. For a moment he thought he had disturbed the elder elf, but Maglor's eyes did not focus on him, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Taking his brother's other hand in his, he found it still warm and that gave him a small reprieve from his night of worrying. But Elros' eyes were stilled closed tightly, and although his breathing was even he was still obviously unconscious.

Without meaning to Elrond fell asleep. The path of Elven dreams leading him quickly down the road of a nightmare. His brother dead upon the pyre and Maglor standing next to Maedhros, the grief and anger plain on his face. He met Elrond's eyes, and the half-elf saw blame and hatred within them.

            Just when he could not stand to look into those grey orbs any longer, a slight touch upon his hand roused him from his nightmare. He was disoriented for a moment, blinking away the lingering dream before his eyes focused on the hand that he held clasped in his. A hand that was moving…

            Elrond raised his eyes to his brother's, and the relief that coursed through him in that instant caused him to cry out in joy.

            "I was wondering how much longer you would sleep," Elros smiled. "That was some dream you must have been having."

            Elrond chocked back a sob. "Nay brother, not a dream, but a nightmare."

            "What of?" his twin asked.

            Elrond smiled happily, "nothing that matters. It was only my imagination anyways."

            Their talking, although near whispers still awoke Maglor. His eyes alighted upon Elros and he cried in joy. "You are awake! We were so worried Elros."

            "I am sorry," he said and allowed his foster-father to kiss his brow. "Twill not happen again, I swear it."

            "It had better not," Maglor said sternly before he smiled in joy again.

            Elros glanced between the two of them before fixing his gaze on his brother. "Well, what have I missed?" The sheer innocence in his voice caused Elrond to laugh loudly and after a moment Elros joined in. Their laughter resounded off of the ceiling and under the door to greet those passing by.

            So lost was he in his memory, Elrond did not realize at first when the small hand he held in his tightened around his fingers. But the moan that came from his son pulled him back and he glanced down in shock to see Elladan's eyes opened.

            "What…what happened, Ada?" he said weakly, trying to focus his eyes upon the figure next to him.

            "You slipped, ion nin, and hit your head, but you will be fine." Elrond smiled down at him, wiping away the tears before Elladan fully focused on his face.

            At that Elladan smiled. "When can I get out of bed?" he asked innocently, and Elrond was suddenly struck with how much his eldest looked like Elros; he had not noticed it before.

            "Not for awhile, I'm afraid. You hit your head quite hard." Elladan pouted. "But we will see tomorrow, all right?" Elladan did not smile, but he nodded in acceptance.

            Suddenly he caught a glimpse of Elrohir hiding once again in the shadows and gave his brother a grin. "What are you doing hiding over there, 'Ro? Come and sit beside me."

            Elrohir looked terrified as he met his father's eyes, but Elrond nodded. Elrond wondered when he had returned, for he had not noticed.

            "Well?" Elladan asked his brother, as if they had just been interrupted in the middle of a conversation. Elrohir looked confused. "Well what?"

            His brother smiled at him. "Well, when can we try again? I want to beat you this time!"

            Elrond glanced in terror between his two sons, but Elrohir beat him to it. "I do not think that is such a good idea 'Dan. I do not want to see you hurt again. We will find something else that I am better at.

            Elladan looked skeptical, but catching the look in his father's eyes he said nothing, only grinned a promise to his brother.

            The Lord of Imladris tried not to roll his eyes at the boys. It was going to be a long recovery, he was sure.

ion nin: my son