“What just happened?” Elladan asked confused, staring down at the semi-conscious figure of Legolas.

“I don’t know ‘Dan, but I do not think it was good.” Elrohir hissed in pain as his father spread open the fingers on his hand for a closer look at the bite.

“Ada, why did Legolas react so to Estel? When I observed them earlier they appeared to have reaffirmed their friendship, and everything seemed fine between them. What can have happened to so swiftly alter that?” Elladan asked, bemused by the swift changes that had just occurred.

Elrond’s voice was slightly muffled as his head was bent over, examining Elrohir’s wound. “It is the Rucin Elladan, it is affecting his mind, causing him to say things that he does not mean.”

“Well of course he did not mean them father, that was obvious. Legolas would never say anything to hurt Estel.” Elrohir tried to jerk his hand away from the exploring fingers of his father, but he was held firm by his brother. Suppressing a glare at his twin he continued. “What is more important is why he is saying these things.”

“The Rucin causes a physical addiction in elves; Legolas’ body is unable to cope without the drug’s presence.” Elrond replied, preoccupied.

“Yes,” Elrohir continued, frustrated. “We have all seen how his wounds do not heal, how he is constantly fatigued, but this does not explain Legolas’ attitude towards us and towards Estel.”

Elrond sighed, releasing Elrohir’s hand after a thorough cleaning and bandaging. “Rucin causes a chemical imbalance in the mind, Legolas is no longer able to recognise friend from foe, and he will become increasingly distrusting and paranoid.” Both twins chimed in then, demanding immediate answers.

“Is this imbalance permanent? To what extent will it continue?”

“We have seen him harm using words, is he likely to become violent?” Elrohir glanced down at his hand, and thought ‘more violent than he has already become?’

Elrond busied himself with collecting all his materials, head bowed, reluctant to answer any more questions.

“Elrond, I think it is time for them to know the truth,” Glorfindel said. He had recovered from Legolas’ attack, though he was still paler than usual. Elrond looked at him, his eyes speaking of a pain beyond the ability of words to describe. “It is time mellon nin,” Glorfindel repeated.

Elrond raised his head and gazed at Glorfindel, who leaned forward and clasped a hand around Elrond’s biceps. “You cannot shield them from this any longer. Much as we would wish for this never to have happened, it has and they must face up to the fact that they will lose Legolas, as ever they lost…”

“Lau! You go too far Glorfindel!” Elrond cried. “Would you reveal that which you have sworn to keep secret?” Elrond’s voice trembled with ire or fear, the twins were unsure which.

“Ada, surely you cannot keep this from us now. We know about the Rucin, what else is there that you are hiding from us?” Elrohir asked, dredging around for ideas. “Is it contagious?”

“How in Illuvitar’s name can addiction be contagious ‘Ro? Have you lost your mind?” Everyone winced collectively at Elladan’s thoughtless remark.

“I was only wondering if it was possible that this could be transmitted from one elf to the next by physical contact, or fluid exchange. Please allow that I have an excellent reason for asking.” Elrohir waved his bandaged hand in his brother’s face, which paled rapidly.

“Ada, it is not contagious is it? Oh Elbereth no!” Elladan was near begging for an answer.

“It is not contagious Elladan,” Elrond shook his head. “You need not fear that. Your brother’s injury is minor; if he rests it for a few days, and keeps the bandage dry, then it will heal with no complications.”

“Then why can we not know whatever it is we don’t know?” Elladan cried, exasperated

“What are you keeping from us?” Elrohir echoed.

“I do not understand why!” Both twins chimed in with questions, growing angrier as their father withheld what could be important information from them.

“I said no!” Elrond’s voice cracked as he slammed his fist down on the table, fingers clenched tightly together. “I will not do this to you. Do not ask it of me.”

“Adar” Elladan began.

“Lau!” Elrond’s voice, vibrating with anger, coincided with the cascading of thunder outside. A large bolt of light flamed through the sky, causing a second rumble as it hit the ground, almost muted by the still reverberating echoes. Appearing from nowhere dark angry clouds congregated in the skies, settled above Rivendell, pelting down their load directly above their home. Frowning the twins stepped over to the window, looking out at this unexpected weather.

Elladan grimaced as he eyed the families hastily packing up their picnics, mothers shielding the young from the pellets, fathers ushering them inwards. Screams and cries of the children, whose afternoon had been ruined, echoed up, almost buried underneath the lashing of the rain and the growl of drums in the valley. Angry voices of the parents could be heard, they had not expected this storm either, and appeared to be blaming their lord for not warning them. Elladan ducked his head, upset at the anger projected their way, while Elrohir clutched his injured arm closer to his chest, and shivered in sympathy for the families straggling in. Eventually there was nobody left outside, though several rugs and baskets had been abandoned, in their haste to leave the gardens, and were now collecting rainwater. All was silent again save for the violence of the storm saturating the ground, and the gusts of the wind as it threatened to topple all but the sturdiest of trees. Shivering again, Elrohir turned to face the family who remained dry inside.

“I would hate to be caught out in that, the storm is merciless. The clouds positively seethe with turmoil.” Elladan murmured, glad that all were safe within these walls; from the looks of the wind, anyone travelling out there would scarcely be able to stand, let alone move towards shelter. Fortunately there had only been the one lightening strike, and the subsequent emptying of the sky had managed to extinguish those flames before they could take root in the forests. “’Tis fortunate you returned when you did Glorfindel, you would certainly have had a torrid time of it.” Elladan spun around at his twin’s cry.

“Glorfindel!” Running forward Elrohir managed to support the elf as he wavered. “You need to rest, return to your seat this instant!” Elrohir’s objection was quelled by the merest glance that the blonde elf could summon.

Elladan joined in the argument, stepping forward to the elf’s other side. “Whatever you require either myself or Elrohir can fetch, but you would do well to remain seated, unless you prefer the comfort of the floor.” Elladan’s concerns were brushed away even as his brother’s were, as Glorfindel strode forward, heeding nothing but the stunned figure before him, standing fingering something on his finger.

“Elrond.” Glorfindel’s voice was laced with compassion, as the lord of Imladris stood there, opening and clenching his fist, eyes drawn in horror to the ring adorning his finger. “Elrond!” Glorfindel repeated, somewhat louder, facing the elf then. After a pause the desolate eyes rose to meet his, and the twin’s gasped at the despair in their father’s. “This storm was no coincidence. The burden is too great; your emotions are spilling out of control, and affecting the ring. You must share your fears with those closest to you, ere you destroy us.”

“I cannot,” Elrond gasped painfully, as he sought to control both his anger and the storm outside, “it is too much.”

“Which is precisely why you need to open up. This storm your anger has created is no mere shower, it is potentially life threatening for any who travel in it, especially with those lightning bolts you were tossing around. You need to regain some control, or you may yet sunder your home.” Glorfindel edged forward in concern.

“And will it be any less sundered were I to reveal what I would keep hidden?” Despair and strain warred in the timbre of his voice.

“Bonds can be rebuilt in time, lives cannot be remade. You must see this.” Glorfindel’s voice was calm as he sought to ease his friend through wisdom.

Elrond bowed his head in shame at Glorfindel’s words, was he truly causing this much distress because he was ashamed? Or because he feared the consequences of his actions? His hand shook as he fought to control his anger and the grief, which caused the skies to weep unceasingly; he could not think past his distress. Head bowed he scrubbed at his eyes, willing the weather to subside, and failing. “I must have time and peace in which to halt this,” Elrond indicated the weather with a flick of his head, unwilling to lift it to look at his sons.

“Can you not just…wave it away? You created it in a short enough time!” Elrohir was angered by his father’s unwillingness to share his pain, despite his obvious need; he felt slighted and undervalued.

Surprisingly it was Glorfindel who answered, Elrond being in no condition or temper to do so. “It is easy to create something like this; in anger the nearest elements are usurped from their natural state and forced into this condition, it takes much longer to unravel the mess that it caused.” At the twin’s puzzled looks he continued. “All you perceive is that the rain must cease, but the clouds themselves are still loaded with their burden, and must empty. The rain must disperse somewhere, and in quantities such as these it is highly likely that there will be floods unless care is taken. No, Elrond needs time to control the storm and himself, in due course he will reveal to you what is wrong.”

“Why will you not tell us? You were there, if it is this painful for father then surely you will be easing his burden to tell us?” Elladan, no less infuriated than his brother, strove to gain the answers from Glorfindel.

“News such as this cannot come from another; this must be told to you by your father, or else all may lie in ruin.” On this cryptic note Glorfindel dismissed the twin’s further questions with a stubborn shake of the head and turned once again to his friend. “Use this reprieve wisely mellon nin, you must control this storm ere it raises the very roof of Imladris.” Turning to leave, Glorfindel leaned on Elladan for support as he was guided out of the room by the twins.

Elrond stared after them, grief and fear desolating his eyes. “I fear that will be the result whatever I do henceforth,” he muttered almost to himself.

Seating himself next to the bed he gazed down at the now unconscious figure of Legolas, unwittingly the cause of all this distress, and sighed. Folding his arms on the edge of the bed he rested his throbbing head down upon them, and closed his eyes against the pain. Even as he reached out with the ring to separate the elements and restore calm once more to Rivendell, a part of his mind kept mulling over Glorfindel’s words to him.

Elrond shuddered at the thought of giving voice to his deepest regrets, especially to those who most admired him, yet he perceived the truth at the heart of his close friend’s words; it was far better to hurt with the truth than with lies or concealments. Elrond had not missed Elrohir’s pain at his actions earlier, and he was equally sure that Elladan felt the same, though he concealed it better. Sighing, he acknowledged that events had gone too far for this to remain a secret any longer, and prepared himself to inform his sons, together, when next they gathered.

Decision made, his head sank lower onto his arms as weight was lifted from his shoulders; not all of it, nor even much, but what little was removed was enough to allow him some rest. As his mind disengaged from his body, Elrond sank into the dreamless oblivion of the exhausted. The ring, instructed by him, continued repairing the damaged weather system.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Glorfindel limped away from Legolas’ chambers, dragging the twins with him by virtue of their being his crutches. Elrohir impatiently tried to return into the room, but was halted by Glorfindel deciding he needed to rest a little more of his weight upon him.

“We cannot just leave him like that,” Elrohir cried. “Ada is struggling to bear this weight and we can relieve him somewhat. Why does he not allow us this? We are mature now, we can handle this.”

“Elrohir, neither your father nor myself doubt that you are old enough to greatly aid us; in fact we rely upon your support, and your brother’s, however in this instance part of your father’s distress is caused by your demands upon him. He has had little time to contemplate upon these events, and needs to evaluate them to control his emotions; pushing him to make any kind of decision whether to tell you, at this time, is only endangering everyone present. If you allow him a reprieve, he will have decided his course of action, and the situation will be much clearer and easier upon him.” Glorfindel broke off then as a cough wracked his body.

As he clutched his arm tighter around his injured ribs Elladan ducked underneath his shoulder, placing a supportive arm around his mentor’s waist, and began leading the injured elf to his rooms. “You are in no condition to be berating our foolishness, when you can barely stand. Come, I will escort you to your chambers where you will partake of rest.”

“Elfling, you will take me to my office where I will get caught up on the reports I have missed while journeying and then I will have your father’s work sent over to me, for he does not need any more distraction during this time.” Glorfindel used his sternest voice upon Elrond’s eldest who was not swayed in any way.

“That will not be happening today Glorfindel, you are barely able to keep on your feet, and sitting up for prolonged periods of time will not allow your ribs to heal. You must remain as motionless as possible in order to be eased quickly,” Elladan scolded the warrior. “If necessary I will have you restrained on your bed, and kept motionless; there is no-one in this house who would question the word of a healer, especially when upon sight of you.”

“Elladan,” Glorfindel repeated, unamused.

“Do not make me force you, I will carry you to you rooms myself if you do not co-operate; and a fine sight that would make for all the eager young elflings who look up to you so. Do you want to lose all the respect you have earned?” Elladan stared forcefully into the warrior’s eyes.

Glorfindel mumbled to himself about elves and their airs, while he limped unwillingly along guided by Elladan. Elrohir remained behind, staring at the closed door, frowning.

“’Ro, father does not need our presence at this time, you would be best served elsewhere.” At Elrohir’s questioning look he frowned. “Estel? Or have you already forgotten what Legolas has said to him. I believe he could do with some company about now? I will meet you there after I have tended Glorfindel”.

Elrohir nodded, and strode towards his brother’s chambers, as his twin helped the ailing elf along, despite his complaints. “I am not an invalid you know, I am perfectly capable of getting to my quarters on my own. You should go to Estel, from what I saw of him he has had a trying time thus far, and Legolas’ words will only have made it worse.”

“Until you are hale you will do as I suggest and rest, you may have your revenge upon me at a later time, but until then…” Elladan’s voice tailed off, he had long ago discovered that threats were more effective when left to the victim’s imagination.

Glorfindel glared at him, but it was effectively muted by his injuries and fatigue. Scowling at him, Glorfindel limped along at Elladan’s behest muttering, “Of all the irritating habits your father possesses why would this be one of the ones you had to inherit?”

His scowl deepened at Elladan’s cheerful reply, “Who can say? But it is to your good fortune that I did.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Elrohir walked rapidly along corridor, passed the crowds of dripping elves who had hurried in as the storm broke. The sight of the tearful elflings being consoled by their equally distraught parents gave him scant comfort; it reminded him of how much his father refused to share his problem, and was taking it out on others. He had not truly finished his discussion with his Ada earlier concerning Estel, his ire had been somewhat stilled when Legolas’ fate had been revealed. Even now he held sympathy for his father’s obvious pain, but the rage at secrets being kept from him only added to his previous anger. Hurrying passed the families who eyed him a little angrily for not having warned them of what to expect, he approached the staircase that led to the upper floors.

His swift march halted as he passed the ajar doors of his father’s study; reaching forward to close them he halted, thinking. As hard as he tried to walk past the door, his will was not strong enough to override his curiosity. Elrohir had remembered that the articles that his father had been researching earlier still lay within. He had pulled his father out of the room in such a hurry that Elrond had not had time to conceal the documents; therefore all the answers he sought were lying inside the room awaiting him. A swift glance at the stairs reminded him that Estel was alone, sorely in need of some company and kind words, but the traitorous voice in his head convinced him that his comfort would be more effective if he could provide the reasons for Legolas’ behaviour and Elrond’s anger. Despite taking another step forward he was unable to pass the door and, decision made, he entered.

Glancing furtively around in case anyone was watching him, he entered his father’s study without any of the elven families paying him any notice. Closing the door gently to behind him, he snuck over to the desk, unable to shake the feeling that any moment now he would be discovered. Making as little noise as possible he quickly scanned the sheets in front of him, looking for the passage he had overheard earlier. Finally identifying it, he moved to sit closer to the fire, the sunlight having been obscured by the seething masses located directly above Imladris. Resting his elbows on his knees, he held the paper before the flames, the better to see it. Skimming through it he alighted on the final sentence he had overheard his father say, and continued from there.

“ If it is within my power, none, especially my sons, shall ever learn of these events. Rucin is addictive, painfully so. Its effects are debilitating physically and mentally; an elf deprived of Rucin is unrecognisable. All grace and elegance are lost to the uncontrollable trembling and spasms of limbs; the victim is unable to distinguish between friend or enemy, concerned only with acquiring another dose. It is with a heavy heart that I have prescribed more Rucin, for while it may eventually destroy the elf mentally, prolonging the addiction vastly increases my chance of finding a cure. I have found that I need not medicate every day, nor even every week. If the victim is willing to endure the depression and the pain I can go nearly two weeks without dosing them. “

Elrohir frowned as the handwriting became increasingly shaky here, leaning even closer into the firelight he could see the writing appeared to be smudged, as if some liquid had been carelessly spilled upon it.

“The sight of the suffering is the most hurtful thing I have ever experienced. Watching the victim lying there experiencing agonies, while knowing that I am at fault, is unbearable. And yet I must bear it, I must be strong for [SPLODGE] and my sons; were it not for the unwavering support of Glorfindel I would have found myself submerged long past, yet even his steadfastness cannot abate the agony I feel. I gave the Rucin to her, it because of me she suffers. Had I not been so impatient things may yet have recovered on their own, but alas I was too eager to experiment with this newfound herb, and too ignorant of its effects.“

Elrohir gasped in horror, Elrond had given the drug to the previous victim? His father had caused the death of another. Little surprise then, that this was something he would not wish his sons to know, and yet Elrohir was not disgusted by his father’s actions; horrified yes, but he felt a deep vein of sympathy flowing through him. He had spoken to Estel, had seen his guilt at unknowingly infecting Legolas with the Rucin; he knew that his father would have felt the same emotions, the same pain. He chided himself, angry that neither he nor Elladan had noticed the distress that their father was feeling, and had abandoned him to this despair alone; how could they have been so preoccupied to miss this? Elrohir was thankful that Glorfindel, at least, had been there to aid his Ada, and placed a mental reminder to show his appreciation when next he saw him.

As his thoughts returned to Estel’s distress, he remembered the expression on his brother’s face, and stood with a hurry. Now that his curiosity had been sated he was keen to return to his brother who had been deeply hurt, he feared, by Legolas’ unexpected words. Placing the paper back upon his father’s desk he turned to leave…and paused.

Slowly turning around, his eyes were widened in shock. Surely he had not just glimpsed that name; it could not be? Hastily seating himself at the desk, he scoured the pages before him until his eyes alighted upon the name that had caught his attention moments before. His hands clenched tightly together in a mixture of rage and overwhelming grief; crushing the paper before him. He bent his head onto his fists, gasping for breath as he fought the shock. It could not be. His father could not have done this. Not to her.

“Let it not be true,” he pleaded. He read on.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

“NOOOOOO!”

The halls of Rivendell echoed with this cry.

***

A/N: Additional:

I realise that many of you will see Elrond’s accidental use of the ring as OOC (especially after a discussion on Mellon chronicles where I asked this very question). I am not suggesting that every time he gets a little peeved with Aragorn returning home injured he will lash out with it in rage, only that his emotions are so extreme that he lost control of it for the first time ever. As he is only a half-elf, despite possessing all the blessings and graces given to the elven-kind, he still retains a small piece of humanity, which is weak; it is this human emotional overload that causes the storm.

While researching this yesterday I came across a quote from Tolkien, concerning the use of magic in Middle-Earth:

In a letter to a fan (Letter 131), he refers to ‘inherent inner power or talents’ and to the fact that the Rings of Power ‘enhanced the natural powers of a possessor’.

I take this to mean that the rings may also enhance natural weaknesses, of which Elrond’s emotional state certainly is one. If anyone wishes to read the rest of the essay it is located here:

http://gofree.indigo.ie/~warrenl/Tolkien/Magic/Magic.html