1. Chapter 1 - Hounds and Hares by Erulisse
2. Chapter 2 - Boys Will Be Boys by Erulisse
3. Chapter 3 - Mud Puppies by Erulisse
4. Chapter 4 - Campfire Stories by Erulisse
5. Chapter 5 - Spring Fever by Erulisse
6. Chapter 6 - The Hair of Imladris by Erulisse
7. Chapter 7 - An Heirloom of the High King by Erulisse
8. Chapter 8 - Warrior Braids by Erulisse
Hounds and Hares
Across the far bridge, Elrond explained the task to the twins. "You're the hounds. The hares will leave you a faint trail. Track and find."
Glorfindel gathered the warriors together. “You're the hares,” he said. “Each of you has a bag of acorns. Use them to make a faint trail for the boys to track. The object is to elude and hide from the two hounds until the dinner bell.”
“Challenge them,” he continued. “The skills they learn playing hounds and hares may one day save their lives.”
The elves scattered, dropping acorns as they began eluding the young hounds.
Boys Will Be Boys
Bright laughter rose from the elf standing on the ground far below them. “You got up there, you can get down. One foot at a time, it's easy.”
Elladan looked at his brother perched high in the neighboring treetop. “'Easy', he says,” he growled in Quenya. “If we ever manage to get back to solid ground, I'll give that Sinda 'easy'.”
“Careful, this is a diplomatic mission.” Elrohir replied. “I don't think Father or King Thranduil would approve of our damaging the Prince.” He paused as more laughter sounded, then nodded at his brother. “All right. Minimal blood and bruises.”
A/N - What was harebrained? Was it the climb to the top of the trees? Perhaps it was the Twins' intention to pummel the young Prince. You decide.
Running through the underbrush, heedless of the whipping branches and slashing thorns. Elladan tripped over a half-buried root, falling hard against the ground. Elrohir quickly reached out, helping him up before continuing their dash.
“Will we be on time?” gasped Elladan as he followed his brother into the clearing.
“It's going to be by a hairs-breadth,” growled Elrohir, “with no time to bathe.”
Their boots echoed on the flagstones of the entryway. “Halt! Late or not, you mud-puppies WILL bathe before dining,” Glorfindel commanded. “Make it quick, but thorough. I expect you back here for inspection within half a candlemark.”
Sparks flew from the campfire, as the dark trees seemed to creep closer to the small group of three.
“We were funneled onto a narrow pathway,” he said, “a steep cliff on one side and a sheer drop-off on the other. Behind us, Gondolin was now a blazing funeral pyre.”
Glorfindel paused, looking at the twins. The hair-raising story of Idril's escape had them enthralled.
“Suddenly, a Balrog stepped in front of us threatening all with fiery death. I drew my sword and hastened to engage the enemy in battle.”
“What happened then?” asked Elrohir, his eyes wide.
Title: Spring Fever
Challenge: Sounds Like - Err
Author: Erulisse (one L)
Characters/Pairing: Elrond, Erestor, Elladan, Elrohir
Book/Source: The Books of JRR Tolkien
Disclaimer: Tolkien built the sandbox, I only play with the bucket and shovel that he left for me. No money, profit or non, is made from the publication of this story.
On the first warm day after a long cold winter, complaints started amassing. Erestor paced while reading them aloud.
“Cook says the salt and sugar were switched, two puppies now have pink fur, and Glorfindel's stallion has flowering weeds braided throughout its mane and tail. Of course, that's an improvement over the usual bells.”
He flipped through the other reports. "Complaints also from the Wardrobe Master, Lindir and the Master of the Mews. They've been quite busy.”
“Send for them,” Elrond ordered, drumming his fingers on the desktop.
* * * * *
“Who's responsible?” Elrond asked his sons.
The Hair of Imladris
Elladan taunted his brother chanting, “I'm the Hair of Imladris! I'm the Hair of Imladris!”
“Whoa there,” Glorfindel said. He grabbed Elrohir around the waist as he ran by. “Why are you chasing your brother yet again?”
“Listen to him boast,” the younger elf complained. “My hair is just as nice as his. Why does he get to be the Hair and not me?”
“Erestor explained that if father ever sailed to the Undying West or left the Valley forever, Elladan would be the Hair.”
Chuckling, Glorfindel shook the young elf gently. “Heir, numbskull. That's Heir, not hair!”
An Heirloom of the High King
The twins circled the spear silently, gazing at it reverently.
Aeglos stood upright in a gold embellished, polished granite stand. The blade still gleamed; its edge honed and razor sharp. Streamers attached below the head fluttered in the summer breeze coming from the roof vents. They were faded, tattered and still bore the bloodstains of battle.
Erestor watched from the shaded colonnade as the boys formed their questions.
“Why do we display Gil-galad's spear?” asked Elrohir.
“It is an heirloom of the High King's house,” Erestor responded.
“But father wasn't Gil-galad's son,” Elladan commented.
“No, not his son. His heir.”
The troops of Imladris separated, leaving their two newest members standing isolated in front. They looked identical and their hair indicated their new rank; arranged in a complex pattern known as warrior's braids.
The Master of Imladris stood at the top of the staircase, looking over his forces. Glorfindel moved to stand before Elrond.
"My Lord, today we welcome two new warriors, fully trained to defend this refuge. They were tested and blooded, and have proven their valor with blade and bow. Do you accept their service?"
Elrond looked proudly down at his sons. "Welcome, warriors of Imladris!" he declared.