Disclaimer: Tolkien's sandbox, my game.

Wayward defn:

1. Difficult to control or predict because of unusual or perverse behavior

2. Wanting to have one's way regardless of the wishes or good of others

3. Changing unpredictably; erratic

Wayward Sons

By K.J. Moon

Part 1

Chapter 1 – Fire and Ice

Imladris

Hidden from the world on the edge of the Misty Mountains, was a valley. Sheathed by walls of towering rock, cool streams of falling water cut deeply into the cliff faces, mingled in harmony, where water, sky and earth entwined. It was a gift given to anyone fortunate enough to chance the opportunity of witnessing its splendor.

To Elladan, the roaring falls were a wall blocking out the sounds of the world, the only place he could clear his mind and rest his weary heart. Cool and clear the splashing water of the tumbling falls was a steady stream of an endless rhythm, reflecting the music of Ainur stronger there than anywhere else in Arda, anywhere say for the Sea herself. Perched high upon a large boulder Elladan sat still and unwavering overlooking the dark pools of water below him.

His small perch amongst the falls was where he spent most of his time while in Rivendell, and it was the first place he went upon returning home from the long rides out with the Dúnedain. To be alone, but most of all for the sole purpose of avoiding his father. Avoiding the concerned glances, the penetrating sadness he constantly saw in his father's kind eyes, knowing he was the source of that sadness. He was part of the reason for his father's pain.

A crisp breeze tousled his hair bringing with it a spray of cool water, dampening his face. He leaned into the breeze and closed his eyes, losing himself in the moment. Centered and focused only on the melody of Ainur, he relaxed as the comforting harmony ebbed through his very being, becoming apart of him. The pains of his restless heart momentarily quelled.

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

Elladan felt a stir rousing from deep within himself as a familiar comforting presence approached. A comforting warmness enveloped him, lighting up his darkened world. Elrohir stood before him, glowing brightly, reflecting the light of the moon. Without a word, Elrohir jumped up beside him, reaching over to lightly brush the tear off from Elladan's face.

"Do not despair," his brother whispered.

Elladan shook his head, studying his twin in silence. He saw Elrohir's face was creased with thin lines of worry and anxiety. He saw the wave of emotions behind his twin's dark eyes, reading Elrohir as clearly as he could one of his father's books.

"You had a vision," Elladan determined, his voice barely a whisper above the roaring falls.

Elrohir nodded.

"Of what did you see?" Elladan asked as he watched Elrohir, waiting patiently for his twin to answer.

Elrohir refused to meet his eyes, casting them down towards the ground as his hands fidgeted uneasily within his lap. Elladan knew better than to take one of Elrohir's visions lightly again, he was not one to make the same mistake twice. Unlike his father's visions, which he was told appeared as clear as day, Elrohir's visions he learned were riddles, waiting to be deciphered.

"I was there but I was not," Elrohir whispered. "I was not myself, all around was a wall of flame, taller than Hithaeglir, darkness and flames, a forest was burning."

Elladan contemplated Elrohir's words. "That cannot be possible," he slowly replied. "What does father make of it?"

"I have not told him."

Shaking his head, Elladan softly chided, "Elrohir, you know he is the best one to help."

"I cannot Elladan, you know this. I will not further burden him with my senseless worries," Elrohir pleaded.

"These are not senseless worries," Elladan reasoned, feeling his brother's agonizing guilt. "Father's insight invaluable. He can help. This is different."

"It is not so different," Elrohir argued, before abruptly changing the subject, catching Elladan off guard. "We must soon tell him about the oath. Lest he find out on his own."

Elladan frowned feeling waves of anger course through his veins. "How would he find out on his own? Less you have been sharing our secrets," he accused.

"Nay!" Elrohir responded in shock. "I would never. But father, he can tell something is amiss. He is wise, there is little he cannot discern."

"He would not understand," Elladan whispered, his heart pounding rapidly as guilt once again consumed him. "He would be angry we withheld this from him for so long. It is heavy weight upon my mind. It would shatter him. After mother… I cannot."

"You do not carry this weight alone," Elrohir said. "It is ours to bear together. We will tell father," Elrohir said, his tone brokering no argument. " When we arrive back and no sooner," he added. "It is his right to know. We owe it to him and to ourselves. We cannot live with this guilt, it shall destroy us."

"At the expense of destroying him?" Elladan nearly shouted.

"I believe he would understand," Elrohir said.

Elladan replied with silence. Fear overruled any sensibility. His father was one of understanding and kindness. But would he understand this? Would he understand their reasons, they had received Manwë's blessing, but would they have their fathers?

"Father will understand," Elrohir repeated, he said it with such conviction Elladan felt compelled to believe him. Elrohir would repeat these words often, as if repeating them would make them true. Elladan wished with all his heart they would be, but the impossibility of it was too near.

"Do as you put forth, Elrohir, tell father about your vision. At least that he would understand," Elladan said, standing up from his spot, jumping down, leaving his brother alone on his boulder.

Elrohir felt like a liar. There was more to his vision than he spoke of.

Deciding to follow Elladan's advice, he sought out his father. Moonlight filtered through the open windows as he silently made his way through the corridor towards his parent's, or rather now his father's private rooms. The sweet sound of a harp filled the halls, Elrohir followed the melody. His father was playing. The comforting tune, light and pure washed over him, bringing him back to the days where his family would gather by the waterfalls and his father would play for them. He would never forget Celebrían's joyous smile, so filled with love, at the sight of his father playing. Elrohir smiled at the memory, keeping it close to his heart. His mother's smile, he held on so tightly to the memory of it, the brightness of it lit the shadows of this heart.

He passed by his father's study, stealing a moment to look in as he saw pieces of parchment and scrolls skewed across the Lord of Rivendell's desk. It was unlike his father leave his personal belongings so unkempt. A letter with Celeborn's seal attached, lay unopened on top of the pile. Elrohir was mildly curious, thinking it may be word of Arwen. But he would not forfeit his father's trust by rummaging through his things, as much as he desired to learn of the letter's contents. With a sigh Elrohir turned away continuing on, following that sweet sad melody.

The tune led Elrohir towards the balcony where often his parents would sit under the stars together. Instead, his father sat alone, his back turned towards Elrohir. It was a painful sight, almost unbearable. Elrohir leant heavily against the large entranceway, closing his eyes; he listened to his father play. Strumming the silk strings of the harp. The sound soothed him, as the music became a part of him, imagining bright fields on a summer day, a contrast to the cool winter night. So lost in the feeling Elrohir did not notice his father had stopped playing.

"Elrohir, you have been hiding from me. It is most unlike you," his father spoke without turning, cutting deep into the silence. Tearing Elrohir away from that bright field and that sunny day. Elrohir opened his eyes and was met with Elrond's concerned penetrating gaze.

"Much as been on my mind," Elrohir replied, his voice barely above a whisper as his father motioned for him to have a seat upon the bench.

Schooling his features and straightening his shoulders, Elrohir approached. He felt unease as he sat, for this was his mother's usual spot. He half expected to see Celebrían turn the corner to join them at any moment. It felt almost as if he were betraying her memory. He sighed pushing those feelings away. He was being foolish. She would not mind.

"Tell me, what troubles your heart, for why else would you seek me out on the eve of your departure?" Elrond asked, his concerned gaze penetrating deeply into Elrohir's heart.

"Would it not be to share in my own father's company?" Elrohir countered with an impish smile, attempting to lighten the strained mood.

"Not at his hour," Elrond softly replied.

Elrohir closed his eyes as he felt his father's hand affectionately brush a stray hair behind his ear.

"Aye," Elrohir replied, leaning into the touch, suddenly very grateful he and his brother would be leaving at dawn.

"Will you not tell me?" his father softly asked. "There was once a time when both you and your brother would talk freely and comfortably."

Elrohir looked mournfully at his father. He felt waves of guilt coarse through him as his father searched. "I fear that time has past," Elrohir responded, his voice hardly audible.

"So it has," Elrond replied, Elrohir could not mistake the bitter tone of his father's voice.

Without warning, Elrohir suddenly stood from the bench. His back turned to his father as he placed his hands upon the balcony railing, gripping it so tightly he was sure his father could make out the whites of his knuckles.

Without a word Elrohir's eyes took n the whole of Imladris, his steady gaze missing no detail. This was the safe haven his parents had created. The fruits of their labors enjoyed by many who sought it. Elrohir turned, his eyes swimming with emotion as he contemplated his father. He felt as though a rift had formed between them. Elrohir tightly clenched his fists, the very thought was undesirable.

"Elrohir?" Elrond asked, speaking softly as if he were coaxing an injured animal.

"Father," Elrohir gave in, his voice steady." I cannot help but feel unease whenever I think of the Woodland Realm."

Elrond waited patiently for Elrohir to continue.

"I worry when I think of Thranduil's son. A foreboding sense of ill will lingers within my heart," he said. "We have not the time to travel to Thranduil's Realm. We ride out to the Dúnedain at first light." That was all he could say, unable to speak more. He could not tell his father his worries, feeling he let not only his father down but also himself and Elladan.

"But this is not all that troubles you," Elrond stated.

"Aye," Elrohir shamefully admitted. "I cannot speak of it yet."

"Then I shall take care of things," Elrond said. "Worry not."

"How?" Elrohir asked, surprised.

"Worry not," Elrond repeated. "Just promise me one thing. Watch out for your brother."

"Your always tell me that."

"I worry for you both, but Elladan…"

"I know Adar, me too."

With his back turned towards to the hustle of activity behind him, Elrond stood tall and unmoving watching the falls before him reflecting the soft glow of the early morning sunrise. Behind him his sons readied their horses in silence. He felt helpless as they tacked and checked their mounts. It was with a deep sadness Elrond had come to realize that his sons left their home with increasing frequency, errant for unpredictable lengths of time. They chose to ride afield, riding out to far off places with the Dúnedain. His heart clenched at the realization that he did not know when he would see them again. He had not only lost his wife, but his daughter and now his two sons.

Elrond embraced his sons. They were his lifelines. Elladan with an expression of stone was unable to meet his gaze, but Elrond saw his eyes were cold and filled with guilt. Then Elrohir, who nodded briefly to him, a fire burning behind his. They were like fire and ice, Elrohir and Elladan. His heart sped, beating rapidly in his chest. Had they made their choice? Is this the cause for the strain in their relationship?

Elrond knew the flame of vengeance had not left their hearts; instead it had been ignited by a desire to protect others from experiencing a fate similar to their mother's. It was a noble deed, Elrond thought with pride, but also a foolish one if that. Though Elrond was caring, opening the gates of his home to all who seek it in need, he would not encourage the meddling in the affairs of others. They were not Istari, nor were they Valar, it was no one's place to act as such. He had not the power to protect everyone, so he would no try.

"Be well my sons," Elrond said. Before watching them mount and ride off through the gates. At least they have each other.

Keeping his word to Elrohir, Elrond made his way towards his study. Sitting down in his leather high back chair, he stole a thoughtful glance out the window before pulling out a quill and parchment. Hastily he scribbled down Thranduil's name in his elegant script. Pausing for a moment, a smile broached his face; he knew exactly what he should do.