„I don't suppose, you'll be able to go to battle for a while," the healer said frowning, "until your hand has healed properly."

Elrond nodded, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. As if he didn't now, that the blade had nearly cut his thumb and that he might not be able to use it, if he didn't give his right hand enough time to heal. He himself was a healer after all and – other than Gil Galad or Cirdan - had spent much more time in the camp than on the battlefield.

"You don't think I should fight, because my right hand is injured," he responded, smiling, as an old memory pushed to the surface.

Elros stumbled. He landed hard on the ground, clutching his right hand, where Maedhros' wooden sword had hit him. The redhead lifted the practise weapon. With a swissss it flew towards Elros' head whose eyes widened in shock.

Klonk!

Elrond had blocked the punch with his own sword, preventing Maedhros from smashing Elros' head.

"Get off," the feanorian growled, "that isn't your fight."

"His hand is wounded," Elrond responded angrily, "he can't defend himself."

"Yes, he can," Maedhros turned to Elros, his face merciless, "use your left hand. Go on."

"He is in pain," Elrond couldn't stop himself. He knew, Maedhros was different when training his boys. Colder, stricter. But this was to much, "I'll take over."

"No, you won't. He has to cope with this."

"No, he hasn't. He has to get a bandage for his hand."

"And how do you think this will help you out there," Maedhros snapped suddenly, causing Elrond to step back, "do you think an orc will let him get a bandage or anything?" He had never seen his foster father so angry before, "Do you think he will survive in the real world when he doesn't learn to endure pain? Do you think you can, when you allow yourself to be distracted by his injuries?"

"He is my brother," Elrond started to get angry too. His chest tightened significantly at the implication of Maedhros' words.

"It is a weakness," Maedhros' eyes were burning with anger, his words like a wild animal's claws in Elrond's chest. A confusing knot of anger and pain, "this world doesn't allow you to be weak!"

For a moment, Elrond was paralyzed, tears rising in his throat at the words he had somewhat dreaded to hear for a while now.

Of course, he had known, that the feanorian thought of compassion and kindness as a weakness. And since this was an essential part of Elrond's system, the fear of being snapped at for it had always been in a corner of his mind. A wild animal, pacing around, waiting for a moment to strike.

"Don't tell me about this," he suddenly found himself screaming at Maedhros. Everything was better than allowing the tears to get the better of him, "you killed our parents, when we were toddlers. Don't lecture me on how cruel this world is."

Then he turned on his heels, not even trying to fight back his tears anymore.

"He isn't wrong, you know," he heard Elros say, before a door slammed behind him.

A knock at the door.

Elrond lay on his bed, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. Crying wouldn't be helpful, he had tried it enough during the last two hours. For some time Elros had been with him, equally hurt and confused, snuggling up against his twin's shoulder. But he had left an hour ago, understanding, that Elrond needed time to order his thoughts, taming the wild animal in his mind.

And now someone – probably Maedhros, though it was definitely possible, that it was Maglor trying to smooth the waters – obviously wanted to talk to him. Of course, there was the option to sulk, but that wouldn't help anyone, himself least of all.

"Come in," he called, turning to see Maedhros with an unreadable expression on his scared face. He sat down and for a long, uncomfortable moment there was heavy silence between them. Elrond could feel that imagined beast stir again, as it waited for Maedhros' words to hurt him again.

"Maglor and I have lived for quite a while now," Maedhros finally began, "we have learned, that, despite everything, we can't protect those we love forever. They can only protect themselves."

The beast drew back as this wasn't the painful lecture Elrond had expected.

"We want you two to be strong, because we couldn't bear losing you."

Like all the others.

He didn't say it, but the sentence hung between them uncomfortably.

Elrond considered for a moment. In fact, he had already come to the conclusion, that Maedhros' intention hadn't been to target exactly the issue he felt vulnerable about. Of course, he trusted the feanorian to only want the best for him and Elros, but that didn't change the fact, that his words had hit him painfully.

Should he just nod and promise, he'd try harder next time? Make this argument forgotten and swallow his feelings out of fear of the beast's claw in his chest?

It would be much easier than trying to explain himself. It was, after all, to expect, that Maedhros wouldn't at all understand him. That he would say exactly the things Elrond was afraid to hear from him.

Did he trust his foster father enough to tell him, what bothered him? The answer was, he didn't know. He didn't know, if Maedhros would understand or even if he would try to understand. If he wouldn't, the beast would tear apart his trust in his foster father with just a few words. But if he didn't talk at all, it would keep pacing his mind, leaving small scratches at every possible occasion.

The result would be just the same. And there was, after all, a small chance Maedhros would understand.

"I care for people," he said, his voice trembling with the tears he was trying to hold back, "deeply. And I trust them. That's jut who I am. I don't think, that is," he coughed, struggling not to cry, "weak."

He didn't dare to look Maedhros in the eyes, afraid of what he might see there, not wanting to hear what he expected Maedhros to say, not expecting him to understand.

"You aren't weak."

Surprised, Elrond looked up noticing a thoughtful expression on the feanorian's face as he went on: "But care and trust make you vulnerable and there will be people who'll use that against you."

That wasn't enough to shut the beast in Elrond's mind up, but it was a start. And if he wanted to be heard, then he had to listen in return. Otherwise, it would never work.

"I see," he acknowledged somewhat reluctantly, "you have lost so many people," it was probably helpful to show, that he understood. It was, what he would want too, "I understand, that you don't want to lose us," he considered for a moment, unsure how to get his point across, "you only want the best for us," he said finally, "could you... Could you trust us to know decide for ourselves what that is?"

"I don't understand."

The creature roared triumphantly, being proven right. Maedhros hadn't understood before and the more Elrond said, the closer he would stir towards another fight.

Yet, apparently, his desperate need to be understood was stronger than his fear of not being.

"I don't want to sacrifice kindness for strength," he admitted quietly, "or trust, for that matter."

Silence. He felt claws clutching his chest.

"I would rather be hurt than unhappy."

He looked away, not wanting to hear another lecture about strength and the cruelty of the world.

"That," Maedhros carefully put a hand on Elrond's shoulder, "makes sense. I guess."

Surprised, Elrond turned around.

"I didn't think, you'd understand," he said, before he could stop himself. It confused him even more that Maedhros pulled him into a gentle hug.

"I do," he promised and Elrond had never felt more relieved, "yet, I still think, that the ability to protect yourself is important."

The younger elf nodded, bumping his head against Maedhros' shoulder.

"Don't misunderstand it, if I'm a bit to strict sometimes."

It wasn't enough to make the beast in Elrond's mind go away, but it seemed to have laid down, purring comfortably.

"Don't think of me as weak, when I try to be kind," he responded, before a smile hushed over his face, "after all," he muttered, "I don't believe, the world is as evil as you seem to think."

He could practically hear Maedhros raise his eyebrow: "And how did you come to that conclusion?"

"You killed our parents, when we were toddlers," Elrond said, resting his head on Maedhros' shoulder, "and now we are here with you."

"You won't be able to wield a sword," the healer shrugged, but Elrond reached for his dagger. With his left hand he flipped it, then caught it in midair effortlessly, a confident smile on his face. He was indeed kind, a healer, rather than a warrior. But he was perfectly able to protect himself.

Why do I keep tossing my problems at Elrond? At least he remained in character this time (anyways, it was rather that I wanted to write that oneshot and then realized I could add some reallife-experience of mine XD). So, now you have Elrond and Maedhros solving an argument in a healthy and mature way (as if healthy and mature was somewhere in Maedhros' system... Just joking, he can be diplomatic, when necessary).

Anyways, this isn't as good as former oneshots, which I blame on the long writing-break I had. It'll probably get better when I return to it on a more regular basis. Then, I'll also rewrite this piece here, but right now I'm not exactly happy, but rather fine with how it turned out.