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“Catch me if you can, brother!” Elladan shouted. He was much surer in his ice-skates than Elrohir, who barely dared to lift his feet and instead curved them in and out to make slow progress forward. Elladan shot past him, grinning, following after his mother, who laughed and twirled on the ice. Elrohir ignored him and kept his slow pace. Celebrían always brought their whole family out to the lake in the dead of winter, when it was frozen over, to skate. Both twins were round with layers of sweaters and coats.
Elrond was not quite as certain in his skates as his wife, but he was confident enough. He hung back near Elrohir, close enough that if the child lost his balance he would be easily caught and righted.
“Atya?” Elrohir said. He did not lift his eyes from his skates as he moved slowly along. “I don’t like this very much. I’m not good at it.”
“That’s not true. When I had just started, I couldn’t even stay on my feet! And you get better every year,” Elrond said. “Is there something else you don’t like about it?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t like doing it when Elladan’s here. He likes showing off too much. Maybe I would like it if I was on my own.”
“Maybe you can ask your mother to bring you by yourself sometime.”
“Ammë’s not patient enough. She doesn’t like when I go slow.”
“Then I’ll bring you, if you want.”
“I would like that,” Elrohir said quietly. He looked up briefly at Elrond, just long enough to offer a small, sweet smile, before he went back to peering at his feet. Elrond smiled back at him. After they had made steady progress for several minutes, Elrond looked up at Celebrían, who was holding Elladan’s hands and spinning around with him on the ice, the both of them howling with laughter. She released him, and Elladan went sailing in a straight line across the ice, screeching with glee.
“Again, Ammë!” Elladan cried, his face alight. He skated back to her and Celebrían whirled him around again, laughing all the while. Elladan whooped as she released him, and he flew past Elrond and Elrohir.
Elrond heard a thud and a snap. And then, as if something had come and hit him hard in the side, Elladan doubled over and fell.
Elladan screamed.
Elrond rushed forward. Elladan lay on his side, sobbing, screaming, thrashing and grasping with one hand at his wrist, his fingers as stiff and crooked in their brown gloves as the branches of some strange tree.
“Elladan! Elladan. What hurts?” Elrond asked, stopping just in front of his son and lowering himself onto the ice beside him, trying to listen over the frantic pounding of his own heart. He pressed his hand to Elladan’s cheek and over his forehead, damp with the sweat from skating and moving around in all his clothes. Elladan was trembling throughout his entire body.
“M-my wrist. My wrist. Atya. Ammë!”
“All right. All right,” Celebrían said. Her face was devoid of any color. “It’s all right, little one. Atya will make it feel better.”
Elladan sniffed, still shuddering with the force of his sobs.
“Atya…”
“Come here,” Elrond said, gathering Elladan carefully in his arms, pushing his hair back from his sweaty forehead. “Let’s go home. We’ll get you comfy in your bed with all your toys and some hot chocolate, and you’ll feel much better.” Where Elrond had left him, Elrohir was sitting on the ice, having fallen forward onto his knees. He was kneeling, unable to get up again, holding vaguely onto his wrist as Elladan had been, though not with the same painful grip. His eyes were wide and frightened.
“Will you get Elrohir?” Elrond asked Celebrían softly. “And I’ll take Elladan.”
Celebrían nodded, skating off to where Elrohir was sitting. Elrond pushed himself carefully to his feet with Elladan in his arms.
“Are you all right?” Celebrían asked. Elrohir did not reply. “Your brother’s hurt himself, but he’ll be all right. I’m going to pick you up, now, okay?”
Elrond skated slowly to the shore, which was covered in half a foot of snow. Celebrían joined him, placing Elrohir down on a dry patch of ground and untying his skates, putting his boots on his little feet. She changed her own shoes, too, and then went to Elrond. She untied his skates and helped him into his boots so that Elrond would not have to put Elladan down.
They began the slow trek home.
“Elladan, did you hurt your wrist?” Elrohir asked in a strange voice as they started to walk. He was grasping Celebrían’s hand tightly. Elladan lifted his tear-stained face from Elrond’s shoulder.
“Y-yes,” he groaned, whimpering.
“I heard it. It must be broken.” Elrohir’s voice was still tight and strange. Celebrían reached down to lift him, and as soon as he was in her arms, Elrohir rested his head on her shoulder and peered over at Elladan.
Elladan started to cry again at that news.
I think Elrohir is in shock, Celebrían said in Elrond’s mind, and at the same time she kissed the top of Elrohir’s head. They both are. Be kind when you speak.
“It might not be. The sound could have been the ice cracking when you fell, Elladan,” Elrond said. Elrohir did not speak again for the rest of the walk home.
Will he be all right? Celebrían asked in Elrond’s mind, and Elrond responded to her even as he shushed Elladan, petting his hair affectionately and humming a lullaby to calm him.
He’ll be fine. There’s no blood, so at worst it’s a closed fracture, and at best, it’s a sprain or less. He won’t be allowed to run around quite as much until it’s fully healed. But he’ll be fine.
I feel sorry for him. He’ll go stir-crazy if he can’t play sport for more than a week.
He could tell she felt guilty, for it was her own exuberance and risk that had led to his flying across the ice at such a speed and his fall.
It’s not your fault, he murmured between their minds. She did not reply.
Elrond and Celebrían brought both children up to Elladan’s room. They helped Elladan carefully out of his layers, knowing his wrist would make it difficult for him to take them off. Elrond sat by Elladan’s bedside and started to examine his arm.
The first problem was that it did not show any signs of actually being injured at all. Which meant it was at most a strain, but even that should show up as a bruise.
In the meantime, Elrohir had taken off his coat, gloves, scarf, and hat on his own, but he was still in his thick woolen sweater.
“Do you want me to help you take that off?” Celebrían asked him. Elrohir shook his head mutely and climbed into Elladan’s bed, snuggling up against his side away from his injured wrist.
“Does this hurt?” Elrond asked. He pressed his finger gently into Elladan’s wrist on one side. Elladan shook his head.
“Not any more than it does on its own,” he said, and even when Elrond pressed his thumb harder, Elladan shook his head. He pressed in several other places, at angles that he knew should hurt. Elladan did not wince.
“All right. I’m going to give you a little splint, just in case, Elladan, and then all you’ll need is rest.”
“What’s wrong with it? Is it broken?” Elladan asked. He had perked up significantly since the walk home, but his forehead was still creased with pain.
“I don’t think so,” Elrond said. “It would hurt when I pressed if it was.”
“But I heard it,” Elrohir said, and his voice was soft and strained.
“I told you, Elrohir, it might’ve been the ice,” Elrond said, a little more harshly than he intended. “I heard it too, but I don’t think it was bone. It has none of the symptoms of a broken arm.”
Elrohir burrowed into Elladan’s side more closely, closing his eyes. Elrond softened.
“I’m sorry, Elrohir. Do you want some hot chocolate? I’m going to get some for Elladan.”
“Yes, please.” Elrohir did not open his eyes. He still looked a little paler than normal. Probably lingering shock.
As Elrond went down to the kitchens, he and Celebrían spoke in their minds.
What is wrong with Elladan? Celebrían asked him.
In all honesty, I cannot tell. There’s no pain where there should be, and no swelling. Even a minor muscle injury would swell. A break would bruise horribly.
A pause.
Do you think he could be faking it? Celebrían’s voice, even in his mind, was confused and quiet.
I don’t know. I can’t think of any other explanation.
He really did fall, though. And I thought I heard a crack, too.
I know. Maybe…maybe the swelling is delayed. But I’ve never seen that happen before. We’ll have to keep a close eye on it for the next few hours.
Another pause. This one drew on longer—long enough for Elrond to put the milk to boil and find the chocolate in the pantry.
He screamed, Elrond. Celebrían’s voice again. The thought of it made Elrond shudder. He screamed so loud. I cannot believe that was fake.
He had no answer for her. He finished mixing the hot chocolate and brought the cups up on a small tray. He stopped by the healing halls and picked up what he would need for Elladan’s splint, tucking the supplies under his arm.
When he got back, Celebrían was smiling and telling stories to the twins. Elladan was awake and alert, laughing occasionally at her tales despite his hurt. Elrohir was still curled up just as he had been when Elrond had left, though he looked a little paler—then again, it might have been the light as it faded from afternoon to evening. His eyes were still closed.
“I’ve brought your hot chocolate,” Elrond said, putting the tray down on the bedside table. Elladan took his cup in his good hand and started to drink it immediately, but Elrohir did not stir. He winced as Elrond touched his shoulder.
“Elrohir? Your drink.”
“I d-don’t want it anymore,” Elrohir whispered. His voice was heavy, and Elrond’s heart clenched. Something is wrong. “I d-don’t feel well.”
“Celebrían, will you get him some water, please?” Elrond asked. He put a hand on Elrohir’s forehead—it was sweaty, but not feverish. Celebrían rushed to do his bidding.
“Open your eyes, Elrohir.”
Elrohir did. His eyes were glassy, tired.
“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
“I feel nauseated,” he whispered. “And hot.”
“Okay. Let’s get you out of your sweater, then.”
“I c-can’t.”
“You can. I’ll help you. Just put your arms up and I’ll pull.”
Elrohir shifted to sit up and put his arms up over his head. His hands were tense. Elrond pulled the sweater off and Elrohir winced.
“What hurts? Your head?”
Elrond froze as Elrohir lowered his arms into his lap. His left arm was mottled with purple bruising, swollen much more than the other side.
“Elrohir, your arm!” Celebrían gasped from behind them, rushing forward and putting the glass of water on the bedside. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Elrohir said. His voice was strange again.
“Elrohir,” Elrond said suddenly. “When Elladan fell, you fell too, didn’t you?”
“I fell first,” Elrohir murmured. “I had already fallen when I heard him scream.”
Elrond’s chest swelled with guilt—how had he not noticed?
“Which way did you fall? Backwards or forwards?”
“Forwards. Onto my hands. It hurt a lot, but—but I thought it was because Elladan hurt his wrist, and I always feel it too when he gets hurt.”
It all made sudden sense.
“You didn’t feel Elladan’s injury. You hurt your wrist,” Elrond said. “And Elladan felt it too. And thought it was his own.” Now that he thought about it, he had heard the snap before he had seen Elladan fall. All of that had jumbled together in his memory.
Elladan looked at them. He looked down at his own wrist, and then at Elrohir’s, and began to cry.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It felt like I did it,” Elladan cried. Celebrían wrapped her arms around the boy, pulling him off the bed and into her lap to comfort him, as Elrond hovered over Elrohir.
“It’s not your fault, little one,” Celebrían soothed, running her hand up and down Elladan’s back. “You didn’t know.”
“It felt like I did it,” Elladan said again. Elrohir was silent. Elrond examined him much as he had Elladan, pressing at different places gently and watching Elrohir wince. When he was convinced that the wrist was indeed broken, not merely sprained, Elrond took the pieces that he had brought to build a splint for Elladan and set to work on splinting Elrohir’s arm instead.
“It’s all right. You didn’t know. And there’s no harm done, now, look. He’s all splinted and ready to rest.” She tucked a strand of wayward dark hair from Elladan’s face and kissed his forehead before releasing him to go to his brother.
Elladan curled up against Elrohir, hiccupping on a final sob and then murmuring to him.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are, Elladan. It’s okay,” Elrohir said softly. Elladan shook his head.
“They were taking care of me when they needed to be taking care of you.”
“But I’m all taken care of, now. It’s okay. Even I couldn’t tell that time, not really. I got confused.”
“Confused about what?” Celebrían asked gently. The twins looked up at her and Elrond as if noticing them for the first time.
“Whenever Elladan hurts himself, I feel it,” Elrohir said. “As much as he does. But I can always tell when it’s Elladan that’s hurt, and not me. I just…know. But when I get hurt and Elladan feels it, he doesn’t always know if it’s him or me that’s hurt. This time, I thought he was hurt, too. I got confused.”
“We probably confused you with all our fussing,” Celebrían said. She leaned to kiss Elrohir’s forehead. He nodded and yawned, blinking drowsily.
“How long do I have to keep the splint?” Elrohir asked.
“A few weeks. Four to six—less if you’re careful,” Elrond said. “Do you feel better now?”
“A little. I’m sleepy.”
“Then you should rest. Are you still in pain?” Elrond asked. He had been asking Elrohir, but both twins nodded.
“All right. I’ll add something to your hot chocolate for the pain, Elrohir, and that should make both of your pains ease.”
He went to find the herbs he wanted, adding just enough to the hot chocolate to make a difference without altering the taste too much. Elrohir drank the cup in several long draughts, not taking the time to enjoy the taste, and then wriggled deeper into his blankets and pillows. Elladan curled up with him.
“I’m sorry,” Elladan said again. Elrohir frowned.
“Stop saying that. It’s getting annoying,” he said. Elladan closed his mouth. Elrond couldn’t resist a chuckle.
“Sleep well, my loves,” Celebrían said, drawing the blanket up and tucking it under their chins. She leaned to kiss each of their cheeks, and under her touch Elrohir let out a little sigh like he used to when he was a baby, and the tension left him. He closed his eyes.
Elrond closed the curtains as Celebrían left to go into the living room. He peered through the relative darkness to the twins, lying there with their eyes closed, as he closed the door behind him. He sat on the couch and Celebrían settled at his side.
“Elrohir didn’t cry,” Celebrían said after a while. “All this time. Not even when I was carrying him home.”
“No,” Elrond said. The line on Celebrían’s forehead that meant that she was exhausted had appeared. She leaned against him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“That’s very unusual,” Celebrían said. “I know he’s stoic, but children that age almost always cry when they’re hurt seriously.”
“I think that part of it was that he didn’t want to tell us,” Elrond said wearily. “He thought Elladan was hurt and didn’t want to take the attention from his brother.”
They mulled over that thought for a moment.
“Did you have this with Elros? Feeling each other’s pain?” Celebrían asked after a while.
“No. But we…well, we had the potential for a bond like they have, but we were never as close as they were, even in Sirion,” Elrond said quietly—the distance between them still grieved him. “He closed himself off from me fairly often.”
“That may be a skill that they need,” Celebrían said. “To close each other off, at least briefly. So that if it happens again, Elladan can close himself off and know that the pain is not his own. Though it sounds like Elrohir usually knows.”
“Elrohir has the stronger sense of self out of the two of them.” They sat in silence for a long moment before Elrond spoke again.
“They will certainly need the ability when they’re older,” Elrond said. “If they plan to be warriors. A strike to either of them could incapacitate both, as it is now.”
Celebrían winced.
“I know. But…I don’t want to discourage their closeness, Elrond. They love each other. They need each other. And…and I know that it has its disadvantages, but it has its advantages, too.”
They’ll choose the same way, if they love each other this much, Celebrían said in Elrond’s mind, not daring to speak the thought aloud. We cannot be sure what will happen if we make them separate.
“I know.” The thought of it made a single tear dribble down his cheek, unexpected, and he reached up to touch the wetness with his hand. “But—but we have to help them learn this, especially now, when they’re so small. It will only get harder the longer we wait, and it could save their lives. And they have a right to close themselves off from each other, Celebrían—they are one in many ways, but they are each their own, too. And we chose to be able to share our thoughts and feelings with each other when we got married, but they were born with this ability. They have to have the right to choose whether they want it, the good and the bad. Maybe it’s a choice for when they’re older, but if we don’t start teaching them now, they’ll never know how to make it.”
“You’re right,” Celebrían said, and her voice was choked with tears. “You always are.”
And they cried together, for a while, mourning already the bond between their two sons that would wane, at least some, with this choice. Yet Elrond held in his heart a hope that perhaps this new development might make things better, and let the twins stand alone and grow together and apart in ways that he and Celebrían had not yet dreamed.