Hello, friends! It has been a while, but I am here to present to you something that I hope you will enjoy. If, perchance, you have not read one of my other pieces, entitled, "You Boys Will be the Death of Me," I STRONGLY suggest you do so before reading this one. If you do not, this story will likely make little to no sense in your mind. And look, I am so strongly passioned that you read the precursor first that I have even included a link to it; s/8484940/1/You-Boys-Will-be-the-Death-of-Me!

And now, without further ado, and as always, enjoy!


They ducked desperately, their heads just missed as stones flew over them. The first gave a startled yelp as he skidded to a halt at the edge of a cliff, unseen a mere second earlier. The second, unable to stop in time, slammed bodily into the first, knocking him off the precarious ledge. "DAN!" he screamed, then could do nothing as his brother came to a rest after rolling down the steep slope only to have a fully-grown pine topple down upon him as a thick, powerful bolt of lightning zapped down from the clear, blue sky and cut through the trunk effortlessly. Tense hours passed as the younger of the two stood helplessly atop the drop until he saw, in slow motion, the hand of his dear brother poke out through the branches, quickly followed by his other hand and, finally, his head. Time returned to its normal pace as the younger twin clambered down to help, mere seconds having passed in reality. Both out of the tree's deadly, tangling embrace, they looked each other over. For having survived a rockslide, an orc ambush, a horde of giant Mirkwood spiders (this is Imladris, for Illuvatar's sake! They don't even belong here!), and a bunch of screaming females – of all races – chasing them for miles before coming upon the goblin nest that they had been running from when they ended up on the cliff, they didn't look too bad. Elrohir had gotten his hand caught in the rockslide, though it was not serious; maybe one broken bone, and in the hand, that was an especially lucky feat. A few scrapes marked both his and Elladan's faces, though Elladan also had them covering more of his body as he had just climbed through a tree intent on keeping him trapped within its scratchy prison. It was hard to tell which was the worse for wear; Elladan had a small, yet fairly deep, gash from an orc scimitar in his left forearm (luckily unpoisoned), his right boot's toe had been torn off by a spider (again, they don't belong here!), and there was various creatures' blood caked in his hair (and he wasn't saying that the females' blood was in there… he just wasn't saying that it wasn't). Elrohir, for his part, was missing a three-inch-wide, two-inch-long portion of his hair on the left side of his head, his right hand was slightly swollen from the rockslide, and his tunic was ripped from the… female… attack… (that's all he's saying), and he had his share of multi-racial blood smeared over his body.

They just stood there, staring at each other, before bursting out in hysterical laughter. "Ro," Elladan laughed, "I think we've gotten better!"

Elrohir had to agree. "Remember three months ago? Adar had to patch us up until we were mummies! I'll say we've gotten better!"

Elladan suddenly sobered. "I just wish it would go away." Elrohir nodded, sobering as well.

"But," he reminded his twin, "remember what Adar told us all those years ago. No matter how good one is at avoiding trouble, once one gets Favoritis, there's no way to get rid of it."

A long moment of silence stretched between them. "But won't Adar be proud of us this time? We didn't get nearly as hurt today!"

Elrohir slapped his brother half-playfully on the shoulder. "Don't say that! We still have to get all the way home!"


Please don't forget to review! Even just the simplest of thoughts is enough to brighten my day!

~Ithillaer