Chapter 1: Reluctance Summary: Elrond announces to his sons his decision of sending them to Mirkwood for a year; the twins are none too happy, but accept with reluctance.

"I refuse to go, Ada!"

"I too! We are not children, you cannot force us into this!" Elrond sighed in exasperation at his sons as he slowly tried in vain to sink slowly deeper into his chair, like the piece of furniture could hide him from the scornful looks he was receiving. He knew the twins would not take his news with good grace, but their firm resistance was beginning to wear on him after an already long and tiresome day. Passing a hand over his eyes, the elder peered over his slim fingers at his twin sons, weathered warriors standing tall and firm before him, defiance in their matching stormy gray eyes. Convincing them would be far from easy, but he had to try as best he could.

"Listen to me, both of you," the lord of Imladris said in an even, calm voice, straightening just a little in his chair. "I know you would rather spend your time hunting down Orcs to avenge your mother as you have done faithfully all these years. You would probably prefer if I sent you to stay with your grandparents for the year; at least in Lothlorien you can roam, with the Galadhrim and help protect the borders. But this is something I need you to do for me; this is something vitally important. This will benefit us all, and perhaps mend any, Elbereth forbid, rifts that might have unknowingly occurred. Arwen is residing in Lorien at the moment, so I can ask no one but the two of you to do this for me. There is no one else I can ask this favor of."

"But stay in Mirkwood? For a whole year?" It was difficult for Elladan to disguise the emotion flooding into his voice; in the end he gave up trying, disbelief and annoyance lacing every one of his words. "Ada, you and Thranduil are not exactly what everyone would call ‘friends'; I don't know if there is a proper word to describe the...relationship you both have. The two of you rarely speak to each other in correspondences, even less when in one another‘s presence. Why are you insisting we go and stay in his realm for a whole year?"

"Because it will strengthen ties with Mirkwood. They are secluded and far to the north. They need a strong alliance now more than ever as the darkness grows in their forest."

"Why can they not have ties with Lorien?" Elrohir reasoned, though he knew already the answer to his question. The Golden Wood was further from the Greenwood than Imladris was. It made more sense to establish an alliance with the Last Homely House than with the Woods of the Mellryn Trees. Besides, there were no longer heirs to Lothlorien with the twins' mother gone over sea. An alliance between the Last Homely House and the Northern Woods would benefit more than merely the two parties involved. If such a bond between them could be established, then Mirkwood would have an indirect link to Lothlorien, felling two birds with a single shot from an elven bow.

"Can you not do this for me?" Elrond tried to argue, ignoring Elrohir's question. "It is only one year. You will be trying to win the favor of Thranduil's children, not the king himself. An alliance between heirs is more promising than one between the parents, especially after so many long years.
"I am not asking you to perform a miracle, merely to help our kin in what little way you can. Saes, gwenyn-nîn." He looked each one of his sons in the eye, hard steel gray against not so rough pale charcoal. The lord silently implored them to heed his wishes, not as their leader and ruler but as their father. Elrond asked so little of his children, save their happiness, that it was difficult for any one of them to fully reject any requests he laid before their feet. With a collective sigh, the twins finally caved in.

"All right, Ada," It was Elrohir who spoke. "We'll go to Mirkwood as you ask. But that does not mean we will like it. Do not be too surprised if one year later you find yourself with two very grumpy sons on a warpath when we return." A thankful smile graced the aged yet still youthful face as Elrond gestured for his sons to approach, wrapping them in a warm paternal embrace when they were close.

"Thank you, pen-neth--both of you." He released them, the warm smile still etched across his features. "Now go and prepare yourselves for the journey. You leave tomorrow morn." With a united nod, the twins turned, dark chocolate hair swirling around them as they left their father's study to attend to their own matters. Elrond watched them leave, a faint sigh escaping him as a warm, pale hand descended onto his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

"They were reluctant, but they love you," came the voice of Elrond's oldest friend and advisor turned lover. "In their hearts they would do anything for you; Arwen as well."

"Aye, that I know, Glorfindel." The blond nodded, a faint smile coming to him as he knelt next to his lord. Elrond gazed down at him, drinking in the sight of deep ocean-blue eyes hiding, a bit mischievously, behind stray strands of golden-blond hair. The hand moved from his shoulder as the Elda lord knelt, cupping Elrond's knee instead, fingers trailing over wine-colored velvet robes in its path. They stared at each other for a long moment, when Elrond finally let out a sigh, fingers lifting to twirl into golden locks spilling over Glorfindel‘s shoulder. "Was I right in asking this of them? Was I right to agree to let them foster a year in a place they have no real desire in visiting, much less living there?"

"It is no secret that you and Thranduil are not the best of friends," Glorfindel reasoned in a soothing voice. "In fact, it's probably rather a stretch to call you friends at all."

"Aye, but I respect him. He is a king of his own realm."

"And you are a lord of yours, a well-known and great one at that. For those qualities he respects you. He respects you as the lord of an elven realm, as a hardened, seasoned warrior and as a great negotiator and lore master. You protect your people to the best of your abilities and they love you for doing such deeds; he can relate to that far too well.
"Aye he hates the Noldorion blood that flows within you; the same blood that flows within your children; the blood that began the Kinslayings too many years ago. But that is something he cannot help, no more than he can help his own bloodlines; the great king of Mirkwood should realize that if he does not already."

"You are right, a'maelamin. Yet I am more concerned about his children." He paused, during which time Glorfindel studied his features carefully, one pale hand reaching up to twirl fingers in the chocolate hair that both twins had inherited, mirroring the lord‘s own fingers still in his hair. Elrond sighed at the faint touch before continuing. "I have not met any of Thranduil's children. I have heard he has three sons and a daughter. It makes me wonder how similar or how different...from their father each one is..."

"Each of your children are different from one another, from you--even the twins."

"Exactly. But there are also similarities between us. I only hope that none of Thranduil's children have inherited their father's haughty arrogance. Elladan in particular does not take kindly to such an attitude. And they will be associating with one another on a daily basis." As he finished speaking, his golden haired lover rose on his heels, planting a breezing kiss on his lips.

"The twins are grown, and they handle themselves well in battle and in diplomacy. You have taught them, as have Erestor and I. They will not bring dishonor to you, your house or themselves. All will be well, melethron, do not worry." Elrond sighed yet again, leaning his forehead against Glorfindel's, smiles crossing each of their faces.

"What would I do without you?" His lover merely smiled more brilliantly in return as they drunk in each other's presence, forgetting the world around them. All that existed was one another and the quiet moment they were sharing together. Neither moved for the longest time until a chime sounded, signaling the start of the evening meal. In unison the two lovers rose, walking hand-in-hand to the dining hall. One reassured the other with merely his presence; the other smiled softly at the encouragement, leaning against his lover. Elrond resolved to show Glorfindel his appreciation for the other's patience and love after dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~
"Is this such a good idea?" Elladan turned slightly in his saddle to eye his brother, who was riding next to him. One week had passed since the discussion with their father. A mere day later the twins had left their home of Imladris, laden with a few of their belongings and weapons, for the journey to Mirkwood. Barely a week later they could just now make out the tall, aged beeches that made up the majority of the Greenwood, after leaving the Misty Mountains behind them. One more day and they would have reached their destination. Yet the twins still questioned whether this year in Mirkwood, a foster year they called it, would really bring out a strong alliance with the forest king and his heirs.

"Well we can't turn back now," Elladan replied, turning his attention back to the path in front of them as Arien sunk lower in the sky, announcing the approaching nightfall. A chill breeze rose, partly from the mountains they had just passed and partly from the approaching winter. The twins were glad of one thing; they would make it to Mirkwood long before the white cold settled in, and for that they were thankful. "We promised Ada we'd do this for him, so we must. Besides, we've come this far, and the Greenwood is only just in front of us."

"It still makes me wonder." Elrohir absentmindedly flicked a stray strand of hair off his shoulder as he spoke. "We're either really going to enjoy this year and live it as if it were our last, or botch things up and hate it miserably." He sighed heavily. "I would rather be hunting Orcs than doing this."

"As would I, gwenneth. However, we are doing this for Ada. Besides, there will be plenty of Orc to hunt later. Perhaps we should view this foster year as a retreat. After all, we have been roaming the lands for nearly a century now, with barely any time to relax. My body is beginning to protest under all the strain of riding and hunting. Let us try to enjoy this year until something ruins it for us completely."

"You're right. Let's try our best to make the most of this time away from home and in the company of our kinsmen." Elladan flashed his brother a bright smile in agreement. Wordlessly, they reined their steeds in, dismounting to break camp for the night. Mirkwood was close, but the home of its king lay deep within its woods; it would take nearly half a day of riding before they reached their destination. As much as they would have liked to rest inside, in a warm bed away from the chilling winds, Elladan and Elrohir relished the last camping night they would have in a while.

Neither spoke as they unburdened their horses, one twin setting out bed rolls while the other lit a fire and divided the remaining lembas. They ate enough to satisfy themselves, leaving the rest for the morning. Still silent they lay themselves down to sleep, identical pairs of eyes lying awake for a few more moments to gaze up at the stars shining down upon them. They felt little of the cold, weary as they wer but stayed near one another and the fire nonetheless.

"Elladan?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think Thranduil's children are like?" The elder twin thought on the question a moment. He wasn't quite sure how to answer, so took his time formulating a response. Elrohir waited patiently for his brother to speak, keeping his eyes fixed on the stars above. Eärendil shone down brightly on his beloved grandsons from above, providing the twins with a sense of love and comfort in the cold and lonely night.

"I expect they would look like the king," Elladan began. "They might even have a few of his mannerisms. Mirkwood elves are said to be proud warriors, relying on their own strengths before asking for the help of others. His sons must take such an attitude, and maybe his daughter to an extent."

"Do you think they are as arrogant as he?"

"I hope not. You know how I find distaste in such haughty, overbearing attitudes." Elrohir answered with a curt nod. "I have heard stories that his sons are well respected among the border patrols, and the hands of his sons and daughter are sought after by many a prospective suitor and lady."

"Sounds a great deal like us."

"It does, doesn't it?" Silence fell between the twins again as each became lost in their own thoughts.

"Elladan?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think Ada is trying to tell us something by sending us away for a year?" Elladan smiled, marveling, not for the first time, how their minds seemed to walk down similar paths.

"I think he is. ‘Settle down, stop chasing after Orcs and trying to get yourselves killed. Maybe fall in love with some nice elf. Just keep your heads attached to your necks for the next thousand years and I shall be content.' Something like that, I believe." He smiled again, hearing the amused chuckle coming from his double at the imitation of their father's voice. Elladan continued in a more subdued tone once they had calmed down. "But I think he is trying to gain Thranduil's alliance. By asking us to foster with the king, he's hoping to gain a trusted comrade in arms and smooth over any rough edges his sons might have. Ada means well. He loves us and Arwen dearly."

"I know he does." Visions became blurry at the end of Elrohir‘s words, eyes turning blank as the elven sleep claimed them, the embers of the fire playing mischievously across their hair, turning chocolate strands into golden-red as it died down.

The twins slept the night away, weary from travel yet hidden from dark eyes. Ears were alert even in sleep for signs of an attacker, but none came, allowing the brothers to get a restful night's sleep, their weapons unneeded yet within easy reach. As Arien approached to claim the sky yet another day, they awoke in unison. As silent as the night before, they packed their things, readied their horses, and set off into Mirkwood, nibbling on some lembas as they approached their foster home, steeling themselves for any sort of welcome they might receive.

Translations:
Ada-father
Saes, gwenyn-nîn-Please, my twins
Pen-neth-Young one
A'maelamin-My beloved
Melethron-Love/lover
Gwenneth-Younger twin (endearment for Elrohir)

Chapter 2: Beneath the Beeches
Summary: Thranduil ponders his relationship with the Lord of Imladris while waiting for his sons to arrive; the feast to celebrate the Peredhel twins' arrival proves most interesting.

Sunlight playfully danced against the tall canopy of the forest, sneaking past leaves to glitter across the ground and in the hair of five tall and fair forms, Mirkwood's king and his children. Thranduil, as usual, was clad in robes of the rich greens and browns of his realm; a gold circlet adorned his golden head, set on his brow just above a pair of deep blue eyes. An elaborate ring of mithril was wrapped around his neck in curling waves. His face was youthful, but an aura of pride and royalty floated around him, creating a commanding presence that few failed to notice. He was an elven king, who loved and greatly admired riches; yet today, for the most part, he went unadorned. Pristine and regal, it was easy to decipher who was the proud king and father from the children who gathered around him. His eyes lighted in faint delight as they rested on each of his beloved offspring in turn.

Arondil was the eldest, and nearly the spitting image of his father. He had inherited nearly all of Thranduil's physical features, as well as a few of his personality traits. He was arrogant at times, but not to the extent of his parent, his presence just as commanding yet holding a note of calm and gentleness. Like his father, he too sported robes of green, golden hair braided away from his face. To his side stood Celeron, Thranduil's second son. Rather than possessing golden tresses and sapphire eyes, he had taken after his mother; silvery locks swayed in the faint breeze, the air lifting them in the way of green eyes. His attire of a white tunic and moss-green leggings underneath a long brown cloak was less formal than his brother and father's, but just as regal on his person. He served as advisor to his father and his siblings; Celeron knew well when to keep a secret and when one should be exposed. He was playful and mischievous, loving challenges, but also knew when to be serious and quiet.

Celeron smiled in fondness as he watched his sister, and Thranduil's youngest child, Nimriel, skip from tree to tree, peering out in hopes of catching the first glimpse of their guests. She was a spoiled child, being the king's only daughter--and his youngest. Nimriel tended to get her way without even trying; it didn't matter how much her parents or brothers would protest, she always seemed to get what she wanted in the end. Like her mother, she possessed an innocent beauty for her young age, but one that hid a deep understanding and sympathy for others; Nimriel often knew more than she let others believe. Streams of hair, a mix of gold and silver, cascaded in waves down her back, green eyes, flecked with gold, wide and staring into the surrounding trees. Many a suitor had visited the king in the past, asking for his daughter's hand in marriage, though Thranduil had deemed none worthy enough for his child. So engrossed in her search was she that Nimriel ignored the fallen leaves and branches beginning to snag in the ends of her white robes as she nearly flew from behind trees, her appearance becoming more disheveled each passing moment.

"Lighthearted as ever, is she not, Legolas?" Arondil said with a smile, addressing his youngest brother.

"Aye," came the reply from Thranduil's other side. The king's youngest son possessed both the king's colors and his mother's regal beauty. Spun gold wound its way down his shoulders, braids entwined, within the tresses. Eyes that seemed to glow with a Silmaril's light flickered left and right in blue flashes. Ever-alert ears listened to the surrounding forest for signs his sister might miss. He was dressed less formally than the rest of his family, preferring the comfort and practicality of a warrior's clothes rather than the formal robes he found too constricting or too billowing at times. He was a stunning beauty compared to his brothers' regal handsomeness; some even said Legolas' beauty paled that of his mother and sister. Most agreed, however, that Legolas strongly resembled his grandfather above all others. He was a warrior at heart, often found in the company of patrol guards rather than court advisors and counselors.

The soft whinny of an elven steed came to their ears; each one leaned forward slightly to catch another sound. Another whinny came before two riders were seen approaching the royal family in the distance. Keen elven eyes noticed the dark hair of the twin riders, as well as the deep burgundy and rich brown tones the elves of Imladris were known to sport. Quietly, Thranduil and his children waited as the Peredhel twins approached, reining their horses in and dismounting. As they bowed to the woodland king in respect, the royal family couldn't help but gape a little at the remarkable resemblance the twins held with one another; none of them had ever seen a pair so alike in looks that they wondered how alike the two thought and spoke. They had known the sons of Elrond to be identical, but the sight before them was still a bit startling.

"My lord Thranduil," Elladan began, bowing a little more deeply in respect. "Might I introduce myself; I am Elladan." He gestured to his twin. "And this is my brother, Elrohir. We thank you most graciously and kindly for allowing us to stay with you and yours in your beloved realm for the following year. My father sends his regards and thanks."

"I shall send him my own, son of Elrond," Thranduil replied, inclining his head in acknowledgement. He forced away the faint grimace that threatened to spread across his face. It was no secret that the golden king held a little resentment to those who possessed Noldorin blood, but he had come to respect some of them, the lord of Imladris among them. He was pleased to see that the sons of the Peredhel were gracious and polite, obviously well learned in the art of war, by their looks and diplomacy in their manner. "Allow me to introduce my own children." He gestured to each one in turn, each child bowing or curtsying when their name was called. "This is Arondil, my eldest, Celeron, Nimriel my youngest, and Legolas."

"It is a pleasure to meet you all," Elrohir said with yet another deep bow.

"The pleasure is all ours," Celeron returned, a smile spreading across his face as he turned eyes to each twin. Elladan copied his smile, but his eyes remained focused on the form behind Celeron, that of his younger brother. He blinked once when he registered Legolas' sapphire eyes returning his stare. For a moment nothing else existed between the two, except each other and the locking of their gazes. Quickly they turned away from each other, steeling the quickened pace of their hearts and forcing down the heat threatening to consume their faces and ears. Legolas shuffled a little behind his brother lest his father should notice; at least Elladan could play off any emotion in his face as nervousness at meeting Mirkwood's king.

"Come, you must be weary from the journey," Arondil offered, gesturing to the house behind them. "Allow us to show you to your rooms so that you may rest before the evening meal. Ada has made arrangements for a warm welcome."

"You are most kind," Elladan said, surprised at the evenness of his voice even as his heart still fluttered. Passing one quick glance at Legolas again, he began to help his brother unburden their steeds before stable hands took the horses away for rest. The dark-haired twins then began to follow their hosts into the house and to their rooms.

~~~~~~~~~~
Arondil was right, Elladan noted to himself as he sat in a seat around the circular dining table filled with delicacies he both recognized, loved and couldn't guess at the origin of. If there was one thing he had to give Thranduil credit for, it was that the king certainly knew how to throw a feast for his guests. He had expected to find Thranduil to be arrogant and self-absorbed, but so far the king did not seem to him so to him. The golden king seemed to be genuinely pleased at having the twins in his company and home for the next year. Perhaps Erestor and Glorfindel had been right when they said Thranduil held no fondness for the Noldorion blood in their veins, but he tried not to let it affect the respect he held for Elrond. Now and again, Elladan caught a grimace floating across Thranduil's face for the briefest of moments, but the next the king seemed to be intrigued in the tales the twins had to tell. Elladan was starting to like the king for his courtesy and respect for others, though he still disliked the king's arrogant attitude--which, thankfully, had not arisen yet.

Finding himself wedged between his brother and Thranduil's wife, Erinien, Elladan listened to the lively conversation around him, but kept his eyes, for the most part, trained on the person seated in front of him. Legolas had changed from his warrior's clothing to a silver tunic and deep green leggings for the evening, something just a little more formal than his previous change of clothes. The threads of the tunic seemed to shimmer in the light of the dining hall, highlighting the prince's golden hair. Elegant, slim fingers were wrapped loosely around a silver goblet, bringing the object to his lips for a sip of the bittersweet cider it contained. He caught Elladan's gaze for a moment over the brim of the goblet, holding it with his own before the elder twin broke away to answer Nimriel's question.

"I understand you have a sister," the young elven princess said, a sparkle of curiosity in her eyes.

"Yes, Arwen," Elladan replied kindly. "She resides with our grandparents in Lothlorien at the moment."

"What is she like? I would very much like to meet her."

"Perhaps you will," Elrohir said. "She is due back in Imladris at the same time we are. She is a dark beauty, with our father's coloring but mother's regality. But she is not one you would like to toy with. Arwen frequently likes to tease Elladan."

"Why ever is that so?" the queen asked, peering at the twin to her left as Elrohir broke out into a brilliant smile.

"Because he becomes embarrassed far too easily for someone accustomed to battles, such as himself." At his brother's words, Elladan could not fight the blush that stained his cheeks. Laughter broke out across the table. "You see? For a seasoned warrior, methinks he blushes too much." Another peal of laughter rang out as Elladan flushed an even deeper red.

"Brother dear," Nimriel said gently, turning to Legolas in an attempt to draw attention away from the embarrassed elf, much to Elladan‘s thankfulness. "Why not grace our guests with your exquisite voice?"

"Yes, I agree," Celeron said with a quick nod of the head. "In fact, I have the perfect song. You know which one I mean." It was not long before Arondil and his parents also asked the same of Legolas. The young prince felt the rush of embarrassment stain his own cheeks, just as it had Elladan's moments before.

"I have heard of the musical talents of Mirkwood's youngest prince about as often as his skills in archery," Elrohir commented. "I would be most grateful to hear the often sought-after voice just once during my stay here."

"You flatter me too much, Elrohir," Legolas replied, keeping his voice as steady as he could make it. "Very well then, I shall oblige. I cannot deny my guest, who has given me such a heartfelt compliment. I sincerely hope that this show will be to your liking." The younger twin smiled as the prince gestured to a nearby musician, whispering something into his ear to which the other nodded before making a knowing motion to his fellow players. Soon the dining hall was filled with the sounds of harps, Legolas' silvery voice following a moment afterwards.

Come with me in the twilight of a summer night for a while
Tell me of a story never ever told in the past

Take me back to the land
Where my yearnings were born
The key to open the door is in your hand
Now fly me there

He paused for a moment, letting the musicians continue of their own accord. The prince seemed not to notice the startled look upon Elladan's face, which had appeared the moment the first verse had left his lips. For the words he sang came from a song Elladan had only heard once before, coming from the lips of a human girl. The song had intrigued him for, as he listened, it seemed to remind him of the Valar and past kin who first ventured to Middle-earth. The first and last time he had heard the song was during a journey to the north nearly twenty years ago with Elrohir, though his twin had not been with him at the time he heard the girl singing. He was both surprised and awed that Legolas should be singing that very same song that had captivated Elladan's attention.

As the prince began the second verse, Elladan suddenly found his voice rising, his slightly deeper tones mixing with the prince's lighter ones.

Fanatics find their heaven in never ending storming winds
Auguries of destruction be a lullaby for rebirth

Consolations be there
In my dreamland to come
The key to open the door is in your hand
Now take me there

I believe in fantasies invisible to me
In the land of misery I'm searching for the sun
To the door of mystery and dignity
I'm wandering down, and searching down the secret sun

By now, nearly at the end, Elladan had closed his eyes, unable to see the surprised looks that his twin as well as Thranduil, his wife and children were throwing his way and Legolas'. They listened intently, marveling at the sounds of slight alto and tenor mixing magically in a way they had never heard before.

Come with me in the twilight of a summer night for a while
Tell me of a story never ever told in the past

Take me back to the land
Where my yearnings were born
The key to open the door is in your hand
Now take me there
To the land of twilight

Only as the song ended did Elladan open his eyes, gray orbs peering around and registering the awed and surprised looks given to him. He smiled sheepishly, barely noticing the flush that had crept upon Legolas' face in his slight embarrassment as well. All was silent for a moment before Thranduil spoke, a hint of laughter, pride and approval in his voice.

"I dare say that was the best show I've seen, or heard, in a long time," his voice boomed slightly, a smile spreading across his face. The others nodded and voiced their agreement as dinner proceeded on an even merrier note than it had before.

"Pray tell, where did you learn that song?" Erinien asked, curiosity weaving into her voice as she turned to Elladan. "I have only heard Legolas sing it before, and he said he learned it whilst venturing the woods, stumbling upon a young girl by a river singing to herself."

"That was how I learned it as well," Elladan replied. "Perhaps we both found the girl, but missed each other. A pity, for I would have enjoyed another's company in learning such a song." He barely caught a smile of contentment creeping across Legolas' face before Arondil engaged him into another line of conversation. As he spoke with the eldest Mirkwood prince, Elladan couldn't help but feel that perhaps this foster year would be much better than he and his brother had previously anticipated.

Translation:
Arondil-Lover of the Forest
Celeron-Silver Forest
Nimriel-White Garlanded Maiden
Peredhel-Half-elven

Chapter 3: Target Practice
Summary: Not wishing to be idle while staying in Mirkwood, Elladan and Elrohir decide to join the sons of Thranduil in their daily practices with the border patrol.

Nearly two weeks had passed since Elladan and Elrohir had arrived in Mirkwood. They found their stay most enjoyable, spending time recounting tales of hunts and feasts to eager young elflings fascinated with the dark twins, or spending hours in the small but engaging library, reading up on Sindarian lore that they could not find in their father's vast study or library. Some days they spent riding in the area surrounding the elf home. They were amazed at the aged trees that covered the Greenwood forest, marveling at the natural beauty of the place. Mirkwood was similar to Imladris, yet different all the same. The old trees made them feel like children again as, at times, they would abandon their steeds and attempt to climb the aged oaks, beeches, birches and cedars.

But, after a time, the twins found themselves becoming weary of such activities, and sought out new ones lest they become restless and idle. They were eager to hunt, especially if the target were Orcish in origin, but knew that, while they stayed in Mirkwood, Thranduil was their guardian; this was his realm and they were guests, so his rules and orders would be obeyed. Asking the king to allow the twins to ride in his border patrol would be out of the question. Deciding they needed some physical activities to strengthen their limbs and weary their minds, Elladan and Elrohir set out with bows and quivers in tow into one of Mirkwood's designated target spots. They were laughing as they recounting their training years in Imladris before their majority as they neared the spot, only to find themselves faced with the three woodland princes and a band of young apprentice patrol guards.

"Elladan, Elrohir, what brings you out and about this early after morning meal?" Arondil greeted as the twins approached, clad in the garments of Imladris' border patrol. Though it might have been more practical to wear the greens and browns of Mirkwood, they found it much more comfortable to wear the colors of their home, and the garments they had spent so long breaking in. The princes didn't seem to mind, and their young charges seemed awed by the dark pair.

"Restlessness, meldir," Elrohir replied. "We grow weary of a still life. Our father is a lore master, and, while we enjoy company among numerous scrolls and books, the outdoors suits us better. We need something to occupy our minds and strengthen our limbs. Tis a pleasant day, and some archery will do us a world of good."

"You have made impeccable time then," Celeron said with a smile, gesturing to the half-dozen patrol apprentices gathered behind him. Young eyes were fixed on the dark elves in wonder and amazement, for few elves of Mirkwood possessed the dark complexion both twins sported, nor had any of them seen twins so alike. "Today is when these elflings are to learn the way of the bow. Perhaps a demonstration from marksmen of the valley will give them a sight to behold, for I am told Imladrian elves are as quick as those of both these woods and the golden one."

"Is that a challenge I hear?" Elrohir asked with a grin, eyes twinkling as he turned to his brother, who gave him a similar smirk.

"I dare say it is! But nay, not against myself. I am only a fair shot, far better with the sword than my bow. Perhaps Legolas would make a more worthy challenge."

"Again you flatter me, gwanur-nîn," the youngest prince said, leaning casually upon his bow. Yet his eyes sparkled in mirth as Elladan found himself almost drowning in their very depths. "And you are being modest. I accept your challenge, with grace. Though I warn you, I am counted among the best archers here in the Greenwood. Few can best my precise aim."

"And Elladan is the best in Imladris," Elrohir countered, a devilish grin spreading across his features as he noticed his brother gaping at him. "Many an Orc have tried to run from us, but all were felled by the strumming of Elladan‘s bow and the swift flight of his arrows." A deep flush colored the tips of Elladan's ears in his embarrassment; he could not believe his brother had just accepted a challenge for him! Nor could he imagine Elrohir to ever be bragging about his accomplishments. Before he could say something, however, he found Legolas' eyes trained on him.

"What say you, Elladan?" he asked. Swallowing thickly, Elladan stilled his breathing, his hands clenching for a moment around his bow before he turned eyes to the prince.

"I accept," he said simply, watching as delight registered across Legolas' delicate face. He felt another flush creeping up on him, but willed it away as he watched the golden-tressed prince slip a green feathered arrow from his quiver, nocking it to his bowstring before drawing back. His movements were elegant, his eyes fixed on their target, a thick beech tree nearly three hundred feet away. It would see that he had practiced his technique for centuries until the motions became flawless and graceful, his aim precise. There was but a second's pause before he released, the arrow whistling faintly in the air before stabbing into the bark with a faint thud. Applause erupted around the young prince as it was noted he had struck the notch in the wood he had been aiming for.

"Impressive," Elladan said as Legolas stepped back, allowing the dark-haired warrior to take his turn.

~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas found it difficult to keep his eyes still as he stood behind Elladan, watching as the warrior took his turn. He had been fascinated by the dark, enchanting beauty since the moment he had ridden up with his brother. Elrohir, too, was just as enticing, but there was something in Elladan that Legolas found most appealing, yet he could not determine what it was he was drawn to. The young prince often found himself fighting his own rising blush as Elladan colored whenever he felt he was being embarrassed in some fashion. Often times the prince would catch himself gazing down at the warrior from his balcony as Elladan and Elrohir explored his family's kingdom. As each day passed, he found it more and more difficult to keep his eyes anywhere except trained on the elder twin.

As Elladan made ready his shot, Legolas found his eyes roaming the other's body as they have done many times before. The peredhel twin was tall--slightly taller than most elves. In the last couple of weeks, Legolas had noticed that the twins were slightly less keen to sounds and smells than the other elves were, sometimes noticing how they shivered faintly when a particularly cold night breeze blew. Such behavior he also attributed to the mannish blood in them. However, as he watched, he noted that Elladan still retained his elven elegance, his movements light and graceful as he planted his feet and set up his shot. The muscles of his back could be seen growing taut through his dark wine-colored tunic as he drew back his bow, the elven instrument creaking just faintly. He paused for a mere heartbeat before releasing the string with a twang, the arrow sailing in the air before stabbing next to Legolas', a mere hair's breadth to the right of the notch. A unified intake of breath was heard, for none thus far had come so close to the prince's arrow before. The twin shot another arrow a moment later, this one landing just a notch above his own, and closer to the prince's. This they knew he had done to prove his first shot was not some luck of the draw.

"Well done!" Arondil exclaimed, coming forward and clapping Elladan firmly on the shoulder whilst the apprentices circled the princes and their guests. "Never have I see such a shot from another other than my brother. You are indeed a great marksmen Elladan."

"Now I must say you are flattering me," Elladan replied. "Twas luck, nothing more. Legolas is still a better shot."

"You humble yourself far too much, gwanur-nîn," Elrohir said with a snort. "Come now, even Glorfindel cannot best you, and he taught you! Sometimes I believe you are far too modest for your own good."

"I concur," Legolas said. "From my point of view, that was an excellent shot. But how are you at swordplay?"

"Do I hear yet another challenge?" Elladan asked, his brother's devilish grin now coming to him. Legolas' silvery voice broke out into peals of laughter, a sound Elladan wished he could hear many more times.

"I do believe so," the young prince replied. "But not against me. Nay, I am good with the sword, but Celeron is better. A trial against him would be far more entertaining. Do you not agree, Arondil?"

"Aye, this I would like to see," the eldest replied. "Celeron can be arrogant, if I might say so."

"You may not!" Celeron exclaimed, folding his arms across his chest with a huff. "I am merely an excellent swordsman, who has not discovered a worthy opponent yet. It is not my fault I have a naturally keen talent with the blade, one few can compare to, much less overpower."

"See? Arrogance indeed." Arondil's teasing words brought a pout to his brother. Such a childish action brought laughter to the group.

"Perhaps I may cut that arrogance down to size, so to speak," Elladan said with a bit of mirth in his voice.

"Ha! We shall see! Draw your sword!" Celeron then proceeded to draw his own blade, doing so with an elaborate flourish that sent another ring of laughter through the group. Obliging him, Elladan handed his bow and quiver to his brother as he drew his own sword, the silver blade glittering in the light, bringing out the golden vines etched along the sword's length in sharp contrast. He allowed Celeron the first strike, parrying with ease before making one of his own as the rest of the group settled themselves onto the forest floor or fallen logs nearby, giving the opponents adequate space to duel within.

Their exchange continued, a smile creeping across Celeron's face as he noticed he had indeed found a worthy opponent. Elladan was aware of him and the swings of his blade, but his attention was focused elsewhere. He was more aware of a pair of eyes trained to his back, the same pair he had felt on his person while he set up his shot. Knowing who they belonged to, Elladan could feel his heartbeat quicken as he thought of Legolas watching him intently. What was it about the slightly younger elf that drew so much of Elladan's attention? Was it his beautiful voice, or his equally beautiful face? Elladan wasn't sure, never aware of the growing emotion blossoming within himself.

Likewise, Legolas was unaware of the same emotion flooding his chest, his person. He found himself gazing endlessly at the dark form sparring with his brother. His hands clenched and unclenched on his knees every time Elladan narrowly avoided the swing of Celeron's sword, always stepping aside at the last moment. The young prince unknowingly chewed the inside of his cheek as he watched in anticipation, and a touch of apprehension, growing uneasy from his seat on the fallen log. He misread Elladan's sudden stumble as a trip over an unexpected root, but his left hand companion knew otherwise.

Elrohir's eyes were also trained on his brother, but he read something in his movements that Legolas could not. Elladan was slightly sluggish in his moves; normally he was quick and rarely lost his footing. The narrow misses had worried Elrohir, since his brother usually avoided such blows long before the other ever thought of making such a move. He began to wonder whether or not his twin was feeling well that day when he caught the sudden flicker of Elladan's eyes directly to his right. He turned to the young prince seated next to him, quickly noting the apprehensive state Legolas seemed to be in as he completely ignored Elrohir‘s stare. Realization suddenly dawned on the younger twin. He had noticed his brother becoming a little more absentminded each day since their arrival in Mirkwood. Only Elrohir would notice Elladan's awkward silence when his brother was normally lively and loved conversation. He began to wonder. Might his brother be...? But, if so, Elladan didn't seem to realize it himself yet. And if he were, might Legolas also...? It would seem so as he observed the young prince.

Elrohir suddenly became aware of a pair of ocean-blue eyes peering at him over Legolas' head. His gray gaze locked with Arondil's, the other smiling at him, unnoticed by his sibling. It was a mischievous smile, one Elrohir knew quite well. So, someone else was suspecting the same as him. His eyes twinkled, bringing a nod from the other. Wordlessly they agreed to let things run their course, but when they got impatient then, and only then, would they intervene on their respective brother's behalf.

"Ha!" The sudden shout brought both Elrohir and Arondil back to the present in time to see Elladan clip Celeron with the flat of his blade on the other's backside as he stepped aside to avoid a blow. With a yelp, the silver haired prince fell unceremoniously onto the forest floor, spitting out dirt and leaves. His look of utter surprise and shock only sufficed to bring laughter to the group around him. Sheepishly, he accepted the hand Elladan offered and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"I have been bested this day," Celeron said with a dramatic sigh and a flourish of his hand. "I have met my match. Do with me as you will. Have your way with me as I am at your command. But please, be gentle." His suddenly feminine act brought more laughter and merriment to the group, so much so that it took some time before they quieted down again.

"My brothers, it seems we have some real competition on our hands," Arondil said, rising from his seat, and clapping Elladan on the shoulder again. "It would appear that Imladrian elves are well-versed in the art of war craft, as well as lore. We have some fine warriors in our midst."

"You flatter us with your words," Elrohir said, the twinkle still in his eyes. "Today was merely a stroke of luck for Elladan to come so near to Legolas' mark and best Celeron at his own game. Another day might prove otherwise."

"Are you saying you won by mere luck?" Elrohir grinned at Arondil's challenging tone, a silent understanding passing between the two.

"Nay, for I say on any other day we both would have bested you twice over." Arondil laughed in response.

"And they call us arrogant. So be it! I invite you to accompany us each day as we train the apprentices. Perhaps we shall become friends, or maybe more."

"I accept!" Elladan stared in surprise at his brother and his eagerness to accept the offer. He knew his twin too well; Elrohir was planning something, and Elladan got the funny feeling it revolved around him. He turned to see Legolas gaping at his own brother in a similar fashion. It would seem the youngest twin and the eldest prince were indeed cooking up something in their minds.

/This stay,/ Elladan thought as the twins and princes turned their attentions to schooling the patrol apprentices, /is turning out to be the best decision Ada ever forced us into. Can it get any better than this?/

Translations:
Meldir-Friend
Gwanur-nîn-My brother

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