Grandmother warned me, when I asked to look into her Mirror, that the secrets cast within its depths are only whispers of what may be, or what may forever lie veiled in shadow.

My lover's face was reflected back at me, wavering on the rippled surface. His eyes, hurt and angry, were narrowed in scorn, seeming to bore through me and into my very soul, scorching it with his contempt. There were other images too that skimmed across the water, but my vision narrowed until the only thing I could focus on was the disgust darkening his gaze.

"Legolas," I whispered around the lump in my throat, swaying on my feet as the profundity of my own folly became clear, and felt the prickle of hot tears of shame well in my eyes. "I have hurt him beyond redemption, Grandmother. There is no love left in his eyes, only loathing. Oh gods, what have I done?"

"The magic of the Mirror is perilous," she cautioned, seeing my stricken expression, and taking my hand, gently led me away and to a bench beneath a mighty mallorn. "It shows many things, and not all that it reveals may come to pass. Beware its tricks, my child, for while the eyes are windows into the heart and mind, sometimes within the water, a window may become a mirror that casts back a sick and distorted reflection. Mayhap what you see is true and his eyes tell you that your careless accusations have harmed your relationship beyond any hope for repair. Perhaps not; I do not know."

With Galadriel's words ringing in my ears and a dozen questions about the Mirror's visions whirring through my mind, I climbed the ladder and into the talan I shared with my twin when our travels brought us within our grandparents' realm.

Those eyes have haunted my every waking moment of the weeks since he had ridden out of Imladris in a cold fury, the glimmer of blue as clear as ice and as warm as summer, gone wintry with suppressed rage.

We argued... I argued, rather, hurling charges of betrayal at him; he only gazed haughtily back at me and in a glacially formal tone informed me that he would be leaving the Valley at first light. When he rode away the next morning, I vowed that I would not follow, would not beg his forgiveness, vowed to forget him. Goodbye, good riddance, be gone with you! Go back to your dank and dreary forest and trouble me no more.

Though if I were to be brutally frank with myself, while I was quick to cast the blame for our divide on him, 'twas in truth as much my own will that tore us part. He turned on his heel and walked away, and I did not stop him. I could have, but my own damnable pride would not let me call out to him, beg him to stay, apologize for my accusations and listen to the facts rather than tossing out claims of perfidy based on unfounded rumors. 'Obstinate Peredhel' he has called me in jest more than once, and I knew he spoke the truth. My pride is an unruly beast, feral and treacherous; one day it will devour me from the inside out.

For a long while, I sat huddled against a corner of the talan, watching my brother toss in his sleep and thinking about the visions in the Mirror. I wondered at their truth. Did not the lady tell me to beware of them? And now I cannot forget them, those eyes, the hurt and pain in his sapphire gaze, though I vowed I would put him thereafter out of my mind.

My brother watched me despondently since our lover's parting, aching to beg me to swallow my anger, yet he would not ask, would not say the words that he longed to voice. He knew through experience that the more I am pushed, the more deeply I will resist, and so he let me stew and hurl epithets into the empty air, bore the brunt of my verbal abuse without complaint, while he waited for my fervor to burn itself out. The weeks took their toll on him, my darling, beautiful twin. Clouds shadowed his storm-grey eyes, and slowly my rage was crushed under its own weight, as he knew it would, if given time.

It should not end this way, in the wake of unjust accusations borne of petty jealousy. Nay, the Mirror was wrong, it has to be. Were we not creatures of free will, with the ability to make our own choices? Our futures should not be told by a few splashes of water in a pretty basin.

As the sun rose over the Wood and burnished the forest in a tawny glow, I gently loved my twin awake, seeking solace within his body, appeasing my guilt with his sighs and moans. When we were sated, he lay curved against me, trailing his fingers languidly over my stomach.

"Did you find the answers you sought, tôren?" he asked quietly. (my brother)

I grasped his hand and pressed a kiss to the tips of his sword-callused fingers, then rolled him over and came to rest upon the solid bulk of his chest so I could look down into his eyes.

"Aye, beloved. The Mirror was most enlightening."

"And?" Though he tried to suppress it, there was no disguising the hint of longing in his voice.

I kissed his lips and rubbed my nose playfully against his.

"'Tis a beautiful day for a trip to Mirkwood, gûren. What say you?" (my heart)

His whoop of joyous laughter was all the answer I needed.