Disclaimer- Don't own it, you know.

A post on tumblr about elrond associating celebrian's torture with maedhros sort of stuck with me, and this fic was born. Mentions, of course with me, of Elrond/Gil-galad, because I apparantly delifght in alienating Celebrian fans. I do not, however, treat Elrond's relationship with Celebrian was fake, however; I never will. Rated for allusions to rape.

"Why didn't you try harder?"

His son's face was streaked with tears, his jaw, so like his father's, clenched in anger.

"Why didn't you make her stay?"

"I could not make her stay," he said, his voice soft with grief, eyes trained on the waters where his wife's ship was slowly disappearing from the horizon. "Nor would I want to."

"How can you say that?"

This time it is his daughter's voice, shaking with emotion, her eyes (so like his, why were his children all so like him?).

"How can you let her go like that?"

He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

"You never loved her," accused Elladan. "Not the way you loved him."

"I healed her body," he said wearily. "I healed every part of her I could reach. Her soul was beyond healing, my children, and you must believe that. She needs rest and time and the gardens of Estë, and she will only find those in Valinor."

"You don't know that," said Elrohir, his voice pleading. "You should have waited longer."

"I knew," said Elrond.

"You didn't!" yelled Arwen, her composure breaking. "How could you have known what went on in her mind? How do you know she wouldn't have healed? It's not like you've seen this before."

"Your mother is her own person," said Elrond sharply, memories flashing unbidden in front of him. "And I have seen this before. You forget yourself, Arwen. All of you do. I spent my childhood in the company of one who had been tortured equally, one who had suffered. His past haunted his steps, and now you haunt mine. Why do you seek to blame me so? I had no part in her hurt. I loved your mother. She may have not been my only love, but that does not diminish what we felt for each other."

Elrond's voice did not rise, nor did it waver. He met the eyes of each of his children in turn before turning away, preparing to shut himself in his guest room until ready to make the long journey home.

"Also," he finished slowly. "If you must insult me, then do, but do not speak of my relationship with Ereinion. You did not know him."

"Ada?"

Elrond, who did not need foresight to know this was coming, opened his door without a word and ushered them in.

"Yes?"

Arwen and Elrohir stood awkwardly, shooting each other pained looks.

"We wanted to apologize," said Arwen finally. "For the awful things we said."

"And Elladan?"

"He, er," said Elrohir. "Hasn't seen reason yet."

Elrond nodded. "It may take time. Your mother's departure has...shaken...us all."

Arwen sat on the edge of Elrond's bed, gazing at Elrond with an unusual thoughtfulness. "Ada?"

"Yes?" repeated Elrond, feeling as thought he could almost smile.

"What..."

"What was it like?" guessed Elrond.

She nodded, and Elrohir sat next to her, taking her hand in his.

"I don't often tell you of my early days, do I?"

"No," said Elrohir. "You do not."

"Simply put, I do not tell you because I cannot. There are too many in Imladris who still grieve for slain loved ones for me to talk openly of any love I have of the Fëanorians."

"But they tolerate the crest," said Arwen.

"Yes," said Elrond. "Partially for love of Celebrimbor, who died so cruelly and so close to my founding of Imladris, and partially because they do understand I have a bond with Maedhros and Maglor that cannot be broken."

"They just don't want to hear about it," finished Arwen.

"Exactly."

Elrond looked at his hands for a moment, hands Celebrían used to tease him about, for they were bony and nearly as ladylike as hers.

"When I knew Maedhros," said Elrond. "It have been five hundred years since his torture, and he still wasn't healed."

"But," said Elrohir. "They say...forgive me if I'm wrong, but they say Maedhros was mad by the time he killed himself, that he had been going mad for a long time."

"Maybe that was true," said Elrond. "But I did not see it. I saw a quiet, determined man who did not want to get too close to my brother and I, for fear that he would lose us. While Maglor watched us, it was Maedhros who hunted and made sure we were safe. He slept as little as possible, for when he did sleep, he was haunted by horrible nightmares."

He paused to look up at his children, who were watching with rapt attention.

"You saw your mother's scars, of which she had many. They were nothing compared to Maedhros's. Every inch of his body, save his face, was mangled and mutilated beyond belief. He stopped answering to his mother-name the moment he realized what he looked like. Inside, I do not think he was whole, for they did to him something that no orc should ever be able to do. They did it for their sick pleasure, for their amusement, and to humiliate him."

"If he was so much worse," whispered Elrohir. "Why couldn't mother be saved?"

"Because they did the same to her," said Elrond, using six thousand years of experience not to cry in front of his children, for he had learned to shelve his pain after the loss of his parents, foster-parents, brother, lover and now, wife. "A weaker Elf would have died. Maedhros was strong, so he survived. Your mother was strong, so she survived. Both did it against all odds, against even what is written in our laws."

"Wait..." said Arwen, horror dawning in her eyes. "They..."

"That can't be true!" said Elrohir, growing angry. "Maedhros was captured for many years, they can't have defiled him so long without him dying!"

"He was Morgoth's prisoner for thirty-three years," said Elrond calmly. "He hung on Thangorodrim for six of them. I assure you, my son, he was tortured as brutally as I have described for the rest."

He met Elrohir's eyes, and Elrond could tell that he believed him.

"Thank Elbereth they didn't have mother longer," whispered Arwen, tears welling in her eyes. "Oh, thank sweet Elbereth."

"If Elbereth were truly kind," said Elrohir. "Mother would not have been at their hands at all."

Elrond used his childrens' conversation to compose himself, trying to push self-doubt out of his mind. Was it him? Was he cursed? Why was he so destined to lose those around him? Were his children next?

At these thoughts, he found he could keep his emotions in check any longer, and he turned his face away from his children, trying to stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks.

"Ada," said Arwen, and in a swish of fabric she was at his side. "I am sorry we have been so hard on you. You know, didn't you? From the moment you saw her."

"I knew she would leave us," said Elrond quietly. "One way or another."

Arwen collapsed into his arms. He let his head rest on top of hers.

"I, too, am sorry, Ada," said Elrohir. "You are right. You could not have saved her. But she was strong, and she will heal. And I will...I'm going to rethink my opinion of Maedhros."

"I am proud of you," said Elrond. "And never think that I do not mourn for your mother's pain."

"I must go tell Elladan everything you said to us," said Elrohir. "And, Ada..."

"Yes?"

"Never think that we don't mourn for your pain."

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