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"You are not my father." Elrond snarls.
Something is very wrong here, the gentle, soft spoken Lord of Imladris does not snarl. And yet he does.
"I sired you." Earendil says calmly, though the calmness is forced. "Therefore, I am your father. "
"And I gave birth to you." Elwing interjects. "You cannot say that I am not your mother."
"I have no mother." Elrond hisses. "I have only fathers."
"We are your parents!" Earendil thunders, and Elrond frowns, not impressed upon in the slightest by Earendil's wrath.
"It is true, I had two parents." Elrond admits. "But you two are neither of them."
"The Kinslayers were not your parents." Earendil said in tones of contempt.
"They were the only parents I knew." Elrond objected.
"They stole you from us!" Elwing cries, and there are tears budding in her eyes, though Elrond cares not.
"You sold us to them, for a jewel!" is Elrond's response, and to his satisfaction, both Earendil and Elwing, (not father and mother, they can never be father and mother) flinch back.
"You are not my parents." Elrond says, his eyes fastening upon the great gem that blazes upon Earendil's forehead. "And that jewel does not belong to you. It belongs to my family."
Elrond received no answer to this treasonous statement, nor did he care to hear one. He turned on his heel, turning his back upon the ones he has come to hate, and took his leave, the glow of the Silmaril still bright in his eyes.