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Story Notes:
Bunniverse compatible, and very rooted in the bunniverse -- if you've not read much of the bunniverse, this may very well not make much sense (or at least raise a lot of questions). For those who do read the bunniverse, this will probably answer a few.
Big hugs and special thanks to Marty (Beruthiels Catz) for nudging me to write this, for helping encourage me along, and generally being there for the whole process of writing this. *huggles*
Elrond was witness to many things. It was the advantage of being quiet and staying out of the way. There was, of course, also the fact that everything was happening in his house practically under his nose.

Among those who were there, there were two that he had lived with longest of all. These were not his children, nor was one of them his wife. These were his best friends – though, the term in Rivendell had been ‘advisors’.

Actually, sometimes, they did act like children – not his children, thankfully, but there were times that he felt they were exhibiting the qualities of someone’s child. He would never say such a thing – maybe he would hint to it, or pull one of them aside and beat around a bush.

Now that he really thought about it... the younger one was more mature than the older one. Sure, the younger was sillier at times, but if they had an argument betwixt themselves, the younger was prone to giving in to the elder to keep the peace. On the other hand, the elder did not behave so admirably when the younger defended his opinion. There was at times shouting, and huffing, and glaring, and occasionally stomping, which may or may not be followed by door slamming.

It is hard to stop and step back and look at a situation when it has been going on for so long. Abuse is a difficult word to say, with harsh connotations. Sometimes unintentional, or even unseen, and often, a cover of something more serious. Elrond’s training as a healer of the body had included some instruction in the arts of healing the mind and soul. There were others more skilled than he with these, but sometimes his confidence in his abilities coupled with a sudden need turned him into the advisor, and the advisors into the advisees.

---

“All I was saying was... it just seemed a little odd,” Glorfindel settled upon. “I do not want to begrudge you anything, but I was a little uncomfortable with what you were saying to that young lady.”

“She was... three hundred at least. Hardly young.”

Glorfindel’s expression was one of helpless defeat already. It puzzled Elrond, from where he was sitting in the corner of the parlor, far enough not to be directly within their site but close enough to see and hear everything, that one so strong, so courageous, could be cowed by...

Well, Erestor was intimidating. That was half the reason for putting him into the position he was in while they were all living in Rivendell. No one won more arguments in favor of the realm than Erestor had. Erestor, however, continued this need to win debate into his personal life, and to what Elrond believed to be an unhealthy degree.

It appeared that the argument had begun somewhere private – and from what he could ascertain, it more than likely had not started as an argument. Glorfindel was not one to create conflict. At some point, Erestor had brought the conversation somewhere public – all he needed to do was walk away, and Glorfindel would follow. Now that there was an audience, Erestor turned on the showmanship – the gestures, the polysyllabic words, and the slow, practiced pace. While Glorfindel sat in defeat on the sofa, Erestor towered over him and delivered his explanations like a parent scolding a child.

Elrond caught a brief glimpse from Glorfindel. Maybe Glorfindel was hoping that he would voice his opinion and set Erestor straight; perhaps it was more for Glorfindel to take a moment and consider what Elrond would have done in his place. As Glorfindel turned back, Elrond noticed the glossy sheen to his eyes. That was when Elrond discretely set his book in his lap, his thumb held in his place, and actually paid attention to what was going on.

“You acted as if I was not there.”

“I was aware of you,” rebuked Erestor. “You were right there next to me.” He huffed loudly, and shook his head. “This is just the way I am, Fin. You know that.”

“I know you like to flirt with pretty girls, but do you have to do it in front of me?”

Erestor crossed his arms over his chest. “Fin, I do it without thinking. I was just making politce conversation. Did I go up to her and grope her or wink at her or something inappropriate like that?”

“Well, no—“

“No. None of that going on,” agreed Erestor quickly. “We were just talking. You were right there, you heard everything.”

“It is not always the things you say or what you do,” interrupted Glorfindel, “It is more the way you say and do those things and how I interpret that.”

“Your interpretation is obviously flawed.” Now, Erestor was angered, and he stood directly in front of Glorfindel glaring down at him. “My intent was not to upset you – that you believed that to be the case is your problem. I was merely holding an innocuous conversation, and if this is going to bother you, perhaps you should just stay home from now on.”

Always in need of the last word, Erestor stormed out of the room. Glorfindel looked lost, unsure of whether to stay or go after him.

“Glorfindel.”

The blond startled, and looked back to where Elrond was sitting. “I am sorry about that,” apologized Glorfindel. “I did not mean to disrupt your reading.” He slowly stood up with the intent of leaving.

“Sit down, Glorfindel.” Elrond set the book on his vacated seat and went to join Glorfindel on the sofa. “I need to ask you a question, and I need you to answer honestly.” It was harder for Elrond to say than for Glorfindel to hear. “Is he abusing you?”

Glorfindel refused to make eye contact. “He would never do anything to knowingly hurt me.”

Even someone not trained as a healer would have figured out the answer, realized Elrond. He took hold of one of Glorfindel’s hands. “But he does,” spoke Elrond softly.

“I need to go talk to him.” Glorfindel attempted to stand up, but Elrond gently pulled him back down again.

“What are you going to say to him? Is he going to suddenly have a change of heart? Is round one him berating you, and round two you getting the upperhand?”

Glorfindel slid his hand out of Elrond’s grasp and ran his hands through his hair, his head bowed. “No... I... have to go and calm him down now.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“It will probably just make it worse.”

“But do you want me to?”

Glorfindel was silent. A stunted sob escaped as he nodded his head. “I do not want to lose him,” explained Glorfindel helplessly. “I just... I feel like I am losing myself.”

“Then, you do want me to talk to him?”

“Yes, please,” he managed in a very small voice.
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