A/N: This is inspired - nay, copy-pasted from an ongoing RP done between my
good friend Furbeh and I. So only about half of this is mine. ^^ But review
anyway. I like it.
--- Chapter One ---
The hidden valley of Imladris was bathed in a deep golden light. The sun was finally making her graceful descent below the western horizon, and was blazing in her full fiery display of glory. Her brilliance glittered like sparkling diamonds off the river Bruinen as it flowed noisily through the valley, and was reflected off of the jagged Misty Mountains, making their snowy peaks flame read. The clouds clustered around her as she sank, tinted a vivid orange, blue and purple.
In the Last Homely House, a tall, golden-haired, grey-eyed elf was walking idly through one of its many outer halls. He was watching the patterns of the sun's light flicker and dance as the shadows lengthened across the smooth flagstone floors. Just moments ago the lord Glorfindel had been in the wine cellars, having a bit of a "talk" with a friend of his. The result, a slightly drunken Elven captain trouncing through the halls, just looking for some sort of trouble or entertainment to tide him over for a few hours.
How this all came to be: a very busy day. He had been running hither and thither on different errands all day, for messengers and guests arrived since the sun had first risen. Elves came, as well as men and dwarves, all wanting counsel with the lord Elrond. There had not been such a variety of visitors since the beginning of the Third Age. This was on top of the hobbits that Aragorn had safely delivered there two nights ago. All in all, lord Glorfindel was quite content to let himself wind down. It was amazing what a few glasses of wine could do to calm one's temper and nerves. He looked about, hoping for some sort of entertainment or (preferably) company.
Soft footsteps tapped down the polished floors, tracking a sludgy substance along them as well. "I hate mud. Hate it. hate it." The owner of the irritated speech also was responsible for the watery mess, although Elrohir really couldn't care less about such trivial matters at the moment. The younger of Elrond's twins was moping down the hall; usual clean attire and hair caked in brown mud. On their way back to Imladris, something had spooked Elrohir's horse, and sent him flying into ravine of thick and dirty water. while Elladan stood above laughing. And now comes home, and finds that his foster brother, four Hobbits, and several more visitors had arrived.
A bit too concerned with his own thoughts and complaints, he didn't even see the tipsy Glorfindel up ahead, and narrowly missed running right into him. "For the love of Elbereth, watch where you-Oh. Hello. Lord Glorfindel."
Elrohir really ought to have started watching where he was going.
Glorfindel was ambling uncaringly down the hall, swaggering a bit as he did so. He almost walked right into a vase, and only his lightning-fast reflexes kept the antique from dropping to the floor in a pile of a thousand pieces. He let out a soft sigh of relief, and backed up, surveying his work. In his slightly adled state he became quite pleased with the way the vase looked, completely unharmed in every way. He turned around, quite content with himself, only to be nearly bowled over by one of the lord Elrond's twins. He let out a small yelp of surprise and took a step back, sadly toppling over the vase for real this time. He stood rigid, only flinching once the resounding crash broke through the room.
"Oh good Elbereth..." he groaned.
Storm-grey optics watched as the vase went crashing down, he himself wincing as it shattered. Elrohir pursed his lips, giving a half-apologetic smile. "I'm eh. sorry for startling you." He muttered, glancing away from Glorfindel. Maybe he should just slink off and hope he didn't even notice the Peredhel's presence. Not likely, but it's always alright to wish.
Glorfindel blinked morosely at the mess on the ground, and hastily spun on his heel to face the twin. He blinked. He couldn't exactly tell which it was. Oh, they both looked the same anyway! His mind was working oddly slow. He turned back to look at the smashed vase, and then the twin again. He licked his lips, and then said,
"Er - er - that's just fine, Elladan, fine," something struck him. This was a very old vase -- if Elrond knew how this got broken, his seneschal could get into some rather hot water. "Say - ah, excuse me..."
He made to bustle past Elrohir, fleeing the scene, but he didn't realize that he was clinging to the twin's arm and bringing him with him. He stopped, realized what he was doing, and then continued doing it anyway. "Come with me. Er-- to the other side of the buildings. I think - I - forgot something there..."
Elrohir arched a dark eyebrow, stumbling after the Elven captain, still leaving a trail of wet mud behind them. Was he just called-Elladan? He twitched, closing his eyes a moment. That was probably his biggest pet peeve: To get confused with his brother. It was so obvious who was who, after all. Their features differed. even if it took a decade to see how, be able to know who was Elladan, and who was Elrohir. He'd let it go. since it seemed Glorfindel was just a little tipsy.
"I'm Elrohir. Well. fine. Tell me what it is and I'll keep a look out for it. But why are you bringing me along? I really. should. go. get. cleaned. off. ow." He tripped over his own feet, twisting his ankle slightly. Lovely. Just lovely. How could things possibly get any worse?
That really wasn't the best question to ask. Ever.
Elrohir? Elladan? He shot a look backwards at the twin, squinting his eyes. He normally never made the mistake - it must be bad lighting or - or something. Glorfindel let out a slightly undignified yelp again as Elrohir tripped. Yet as he was keeping a tight hold on the elf's arm, he had to stop and step back to keep his balance and that of Elrond's son. The elven lord should have realized by then that it was perhaps better for him not to be stepping back at the time. He slipped in Elrohir's mud-trail, his feet flew out from under him and he landed flat on his back. He blinked up at the ceiling, trying to fathom what had happened. He sat up, wincing at first as he made sure nothing was broken, and then began chuckling.
"You really should be more careful, Ella- Elr-- son of Elrond!"
Elrohir didn't answer, since when Glorfindel slipped down onto the floor, he'd gone with him. Giving a heavy sigh, and trying to keep a check on his temper, the Elf put a hand out, pushing his weight upon it to sit up. Unfortunately, the cursed mud he had put his hand in made that attempt fail, and Elrohir fell back down, banging his head on the floor in the process. Several. 'colorful' words followed, and he made up his mind to never wonder how it could get worse again. This was turning into a simply delightful and peachy day.
Glorfindel was slammed unto the floor when Elrohir's body - for the third or fourth time - bumped into him, and by this time he decided that this was all pretty funny. He laughed - was almost giggling, but I will not dare say that an elven lord of his supreme age and temperament could giggle - as they floundered together on the floor. Eventually he just stopped trying to get up, sagging against the wall in a semi-upright position and laughing all the more. He nudged at Elrohir, sending him sprawling onto the floor all over again.
"Really, you should probably get changed, Elladan," he giggled.
Ella-Elladan? That sent the poor Elrohir over the edge, and he scrambled up, hands clenched at his sides. "For the last time! MY NAME IS ELROHIR! Not Elladan, not Elrond, not. not Arwen! Elrohir. EL-RO-HIR! Gaahahhhh." The mentally anguished Elf put a hand to his head, spinning around with every intention of leaving. But, of course, since the laws of irony and gravity make a lethal team, more mud sent him sprawling to the ground.
"Elbereth give me strength." He murmured, closing his eyes in attempt to feel even the least bit closer to sanity.
Glorfindel blinked sagely at him, only grinning brightly when he fell down. He had never had such fun in ages. "El-ro-hir? You mean all these years I was saying it wrong? I thought it was just - Elrohir," he giggled again. "I suppose then that Elladan isn't Elladan at all, but El-lad-an? Or - El-la- dan... Or... Ella-dan?"
He couldn't figure out which, so he pouted a bit as he tried to come up with the answer. He wiped a speck of mud off of his robes, but it was of no use, as by now his robes were pretty much ruined in mudstains.
Perhaps he himself would make like Glorfindel, and go find some wine as well. No. The last time that happened, he and Elladan were little, and they thought a bottle of wine 'someone' had left out was juice.
"Yes indeed. El-ro-hir. That's most definitely how you pronounce my name. And I suppose all along your name is pronounced. Glor-fin-del? Or perhaps it's just Glorfy." Elrohir chuckled to himself, forgetting about any such manners, respect, or just plain intelligence.
"Glorf--" this actually seemed to befuddle the ancient seneschal. He paused, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Hmm. Glor-fin-del... Glorfin- del... Glo- GLORFY?"
Suddenly he realized that the twin - whichever he was - was being cheeky. He narrowed his eyes at him, anger replacing his giddiness. He stood up, for a moment towered above Elrohir, and then slipped and fell back down again. The humour of the situation returned, and he was reduced to giggling again.
"Glorfy - Glorfy! I'll have you - your head--" he snickered and kicked out and Elrohir. "Why so wet, Ella-- Elrond's son? Eh? Did you go swimming or - or something? I hate swimming myself."
Elrohir wanted to scowl-wanted to go stormy off down the hall and lock himself in his chambers forever more. but seeing the great Glorfindel, slayer of Balrogs and other mighty deeds so. giddy, just made a laugh escape his lips. This certainly would work well if he ever sought to blackmail the Elf.
"Swimming? No. I was in a tragic accident that left me in a muddy ravine. Why are you wet and muddy?" He obviously knew, but he simply desired to hear what answer the drunk Elven captain had.
Glorfindel scoffed at Elrohir. "Me? Wet and muddy? What are you --" suddenly he looked down at himself and the sad state of his robes, and he gasped in surprise. He would have jumped onto his feet, but he was able somehow to grasp onto the fact by then that if he stood up - he would fall down. So he stayed put, goggling. "Why, I am wet and muddy! How'd that happen! I - I must have... wow." He blinked. Then he looked, agog, at Elrohir. "Elro- Ella- Peredhel, I'm a mess! How did that happen?"
Elrohir raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest with a look of pure mirth in his eyes. "Don't you remember? Eh. Elladan. 'Accidentally' pushed you into a mud puddle." He finally replied, smirking inwardly at this lovely act of revenge upon his brother. If only he had been thinking that perhaps Glorfindel still thought him Elladan, thus seeking revenge on the wrong twin-even though the act was never committed. What a confusing predicament.
"And. I think he was planning to tell father that. uh. you were in the. the wine cellars!" He really hoped the Elf didn't kill him when he became fully sober, or the Elven prince was doomed.
Glorfindel narrowed his eyes, it all finally clicking together. Of course! Elladan. If he thought hard enough, he could almost - almost - ALMOST remember being pushed over by that twin! Though perhaps this memory was really a more recent one, when he and Elrohir tripped in the hall. He had no idea of the difference, though it seemed to be the perfect explanation for the mud on his clothes.
"Oh, really?" he asked, furious. He got to his feet, almost slipped, and clung to a candle-sconce for dear life. He looked around him, as if knowing that he'd see the culprit twin just beyond his range of vision. "I shall find that - er - I'll find him and tell him what - er - I'll find him!"
"Yes, yes indeed. He's a nasty one, that brother of mine." Elrohir continued, a feigned look of disappointed that Elladan would have the gall to do such a thing. "But don't be too hard on, my Lord. He's only misguided and-" He had to bite back a laugh. "I think perhaps just a little insane." And as if demonstrate, Elrohir tapped two fingers against his own head.
Elladan would seek revenge, Glorfindel would seek revenge, and yet the situation was far too amusing to care. Would his brother ever stand there, chortles of laughter echoing through the air, while Elrohir lay at the bottom of a ravine again? It was doubtful.
Glorfindel could not fathom how this had come to happen, but then again, he could barely fathom why it was that he came to be in the hallway. So he grabbed Elrohir, dragged him to his feet, and began stamping off back the way they came, snarling as he did so, "Push me... muddy... li-- OW!" he slipped again, dragging them both to the ground. He blinked, pulled he and Elrohir up again, and continued his dramatic trouncing. Suddenly he stopped dead, his eyes wide, for right in front of him was an ornamental mirror that Elrond had used as a decoration. He let go of Elrohir, and blinked at he and the twin's reflection. Then he turned on his heel and glared at the twin, completely forgotten he had dragged him with him.
"Elladan!" he roared, pointing an accusitory finger.
Elrohir gaped at Glorfindel, thinking quite a few curses in his head that could describe this predicament. "Wha-" He started off, eyes glancing over to the mirror. Lovely. This was not how his plan was supposed to go.
"Eh. no. I am not Elladan. I'm Elrohir. you believe me? Remember? You." He trailed off, wishing that the floor would become liquid, and he could simply just sink into it. And so, he did the last thing someone who had just been marked guilty should do:
He ran. Oh how Elrohir ran.
Glorfindel ran after him, and after a few seconds of his rage-filled, all- out, dead-on sprint, he realized - or noticed - that he was completely, thoroughly, one hundred and fifty percent unsure why he was running after 'Elladan' in the first place. But he came to the logical conclusion that since, indeed, he was running, there had to be a reason, and so he kept on, yelling threats after the twin as he went. He turned a sharp corner after him, but sadly, as they were running back the way they had came, this was the corner where Glorfindel had previously tipped over the vase. He didn't notice the shimmering evidence of his mistake, and so ran right through it. Well, would have, if he had not slipped halfway through. The Elven lord took a mighty tumble. His legs slipped sideways from under him, he fell hard onto his shoulder because of his forward momentum. He rolled a few times until he landed on his back, and then laid still.
--- Chapter One ---
The hidden valley of Imladris was bathed in a deep golden light. The sun was finally making her graceful descent below the western horizon, and was blazing in her full fiery display of glory. Her brilliance glittered like sparkling diamonds off the river Bruinen as it flowed noisily through the valley, and was reflected off of the jagged Misty Mountains, making their snowy peaks flame read. The clouds clustered around her as she sank, tinted a vivid orange, blue and purple.
In the Last Homely House, a tall, golden-haired, grey-eyed elf was walking idly through one of its many outer halls. He was watching the patterns of the sun's light flicker and dance as the shadows lengthened across the smooth flagstone floors. Just moments ago the lord Glorfindel had been in the wine cellars, having a bit of a "talk" with a friend of his. The result, a slightly drunken Elven captain trouncing through the halls, just looking for some sort of trouble or entertainment to tide him over for a few hours.
How this all came to be: a very busy day. He had been running hither and thither on different errands all day, for messengers and guests arrived since the sun had first risen. Elves came, as well as men and dwarves, all wanting counsel with the lord Elrond. There had not been such a variety of visitors since the beginning of the Third Age. This was on top of the hobbits that Aragorn had safely delivered there two nights ago. All in all, lord Glorfindel was quite content to let himself wind down. It was amazing what a few glasses of wine could do to calm one's temper and nerves. He looked about, hoping for some sort of entertainment or (preferably) company.
Soft footsteps tapped down the polished floors, tracking a sludgy substance along them as well. "I hate mud. Hate it. hate it." The owner of the irritated speech also was responsible for the watery mess, although Elrohir really couldn't care less about such trivial matters at the moment. The younger of Elrond's twins was moping down the hall; usual clean attire and hair caked in brown mud. On their way back to Imladris, something had spooked Elrohir's horse, and sent him flying into ravine of thick and dirty water. while Elladan stood above laughing. And now comes home, and finds that his foster brother, four Hobbits, and several more visitors had arrived.
A bit too concerned with his own thoughts and complaints, he didn't even see the tipsy Glorfindel up ahead, and narrowly missed running right into him. "For the love of Elbereth, watch where you-Oh. Hello. Lord Glorfindel."
Elrohir really ought to have started watching where he was going.
Glorfindel was ambling uncaringly down the hall, swaggering a bit as he did so. He almost walked right into a vase, and only his lightning-fast reflexes kept the antique from dropping to the floor in a pile of a thousand pieces. He let out a soft sigh of relief, and backed up, surveying his work. In his slightly adled state he became quite pleased with the way the vase looked, completely unharmed in every way. He turned around, quite content with himself, only to be nearly bowled over by one of the lord Elrond's twins. He let out a small yelp of surprise and took a step back, sadly toppling over the vase for real this time. He stood rigid, only flinching once the resounding crash broke through the room.
"Oh good Elbereth..." he groaned.
Storm-grey optics watched as the vase went crashing down, he himself wincing as it shattered. Elrohir pursed his lips, giving a half-apologetic smile. "I'm eh. sorry for startling you." He muttered, glancing away from Glorfindel. Maybe he should just slink off and hope he didn't even notice the Peredhel's presence. Not likely, but it's always alright to wish.
Glorfindel blinked morosely at the mess on the ground, and hastily spun on his heel to face the twin. He blinked. He couldn't exactly tell which it was. Oh, they both looked the same anyway! His mind was working oddly slow. He turned back to look at the smashed vase, and then the twin again. He licked his lips, and then said,
"Er - er - that's just fine, Elladan, fine," something struck him. This was a very old vase -- if Elrond knew how this got broken, his seneschal could get into some rather hot water. "Say - ah, excuse me..."
He made to bustle past Elrohir, fleeing the scene, but he didn't realize that he was clinging to the twin's arm and bringing him with him. He stopped, realized what he was doing, and then continued doing it anyway. "Come with me. Er-- to the other side of the buildings. I think - I - forgot something there..."
Elrohir arched a dark eyebrow, stumbling after the Elven captain, still leaving a trail of wet mud behind them. Was he just called-Elladan? He twitched, closing his eyes a moment. That was probably his biggest pet peeve: To get confused with his brother. It was so obvious who was who, after all. Their features differed. even if it took a decade to see how, be able to know who was Elladan, and who was Elrohir. He'd let it go. since it seemed Glorfindel was just a little tipsy.
"I'm Elrohir. Well. fine. Tell me what it is and I'll keep a look out for it. But why are you bringing me along? I really. should. go. get. cleaned. off. ow." He tripped over his own feet, twisting his ankle slightly. Lovely. Just lovely. How could things possibly get any worse?
That really wasn't the best question to ask. Ever.
Elrohir? Elladan? He shot a look backwards at the twin, squinting his eyes. He normally never made the mistake - it must be bad lighting or - or something. Glorfindel let out a slightly undignified yelp again as Elrohir tripped. Yet as he was keeping a tight hold on the elf's arm, he had to stop and step back to keep his balance and that of Elrond's son. The elven lord should have realized by then that it was perhaps better for him not to be stepping back at the time. He slipped in Elrohir's mud-trail, his feet flew out from under him and he landed flat on his back. He blinked up at the ceiling, trying to fathom what had happened. He sat up, wincing at first as he made sure nothing was broken, and then began chuckling.
"You really should be more careful, Ella- Elr-- son of Elrond!"
Elrohir didn't answer, since when Glorfindel slipped down onto the floor, he'd gone with him. Giving a heavy sigh, and trying to keep a check on his temper, the Elf put a hand out, pushing his weight upon it to sit up. Unfortunately, the cursed mud he had put his hand in made that attempt fail, and Elrohir fell back down, banging his head on the floor in the process. Several. 'colorful' words followed, and he made up his mind to never wonder how it could get worse again. This was turning into a simply delightful and peachy day.
Glorfindel was slammed unto the floor when Elrohir's body - for the third or fourth time - bumped into him, and by this time he decided that this was all pretty funny. He laughed - was almost giggling, but I will not dare say that an elven lord of his supreme age and temperament could giggle - as they floundered together on the floor. Eventually he just stopped trying to get up, sagging against the wall in a semi-upright position and laughing all the more. He nudged at Elrohir, sending him sprawling onto the floor all over again.
"Really, you should probably get changed, Elladan," he giggled.
Ella-Elladan? That sent the poor Elrohir over the edge, and he scrambled up, hands clenched at his sides. "For the last time! MY NAME IS ELROHIR! Not Elladan, not Elrond, not. not Arwen! Elrohir. EL-RO-HIR! Gaahahhhh." The mentally anguished Elf put a hand to his head, spinning around with every intention of leaving. But, of course, since the laws of irony and gravity make a lethal team, more mud sent him sprawling to the ground.
"Elbereth give me strength." He murmured, closing his eyes in attempt to feel even the least bit closer to sanity.
Glorfindel blinked sagely at him, only grinning brightly when he fell down. He had never had such fun in ages. "El-ro-hir? You mean all these years I was saying it wrong? I thought it was just - Elrohir," he giggled again. "I suppose then that Elladan isn't Elladan at all, but El-lad-an? Or - El-la- dan... Or... Ella-dan?"
He couldn't figure out which, so he pouted a bit as he tried to come up with the answer. He wiped a speck of mud off of his robes, but it was of no use, as by now his robes were pretty much ruined in mudstains.
Perhaps he himself would make like Glorfindel, and go find some wine as well. No. The last time that happened, he and Elladan were little, and they thought a bottle of wine 'someone' had left out was juice.
"Yes indeed. El-ro-hir. That's most definitely how you pronounce my name. And I suppose all along your name is pronounced. Glor-fin-del? Or perhaps it's just Glorfy." Elrohir chuckled to himself, forgetting about any such manners, respect, or just plain intelligence.
"Glorf--" this actually seemed to befuddle the ancient seneschal. He paused, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Hmm. Glor-fin-del... Glorfin- del... Glo- GLORFY?"
Suddenly he realized that the twin - whichever he was - was being cheeky. He narrowed his eyes at him, anger replacing his giddiness. He stood up, for a moment towered above Elrohir, and then slipped and fell back down again. The humour of the situation returned, and he was reduced to giggling again.
"Glorfy - Glorfy! I'll have you - your head--" he snickered and kicked out and Elrohir. "Why so wet, Ella-- Elrond's son? Eh? Did you go swimming or - or something? I hate swimming myself."
Elrohir wanted to scowl-wanted to go stormy off down the hall and lock himself in his chambers forever more. but seeing the great Glorfindel, slayer of Balrogs and other mighty deeds so. giddy, just made a laugh escape his lips. This certainly would work well if he ever sought to blackmail the Elf.
"Swimming? No. I was in a tragic accident that left me in a muddy ravine. Why are you wet and muddy?" He obviously knew, but he simply desired to hear what answer the drunk Elven captain had.
Glorfindel scoffed at Elrohir. "Me? Wet and muddy? What are you --" suddenly he looked down at himself and the sad state of his robes, and he gasped in surprise. He would have jumped onto his feet, but he was able somehow to grasp onto the fact by then that if he stood up - he would fall down. So he stayed put, goggling. "Why, I am wet and muddy! How'd that happen! I - I must have... wow." He blinked. Then he looked, agog, at Elrohir. "Elro- Ella- Peredhel, I'm a mess! How did that happen?"
Elrohir raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest with a look of pure mirth in his eyes. "Don't you remember? Eh. Elladan. 'Accidentally' pushed you into a mud puddle." He finally replied, smirking inwardly at this lovely act of revenge upon his brother. If only he had been thinking that perhaps Glorfindel still thought him Elladan, thus seeking revenge on the wrong twin-even though the act was never committed. What a confusing predicament.
"And. I think he was planning to tell father that. uh. you were in the. the wine cellars!" He really hoped the Elf didn't kill him when he became fully sober, or the Elven prince was doomed.
Glorfindel narrowed his eyes, it all finally clicking together. Of course! Elladan. If he thought hard enough, he could almost - almost - ALMOST remember being pushed over by that twin! Though perhaps this memory was really a more recent one, when he and Elrohir tripped in the hall. He had no idea of the difference, though it seemed to be the perfect explanation for the mud on his clothes.
"Oh, really?" he asked, furious. He got to his feet, almost slipped, and clung to a candle-sconce for dear life. He looked around him, as if knowing that he'd see the culprit twin just beyond his range of vision. "I shall find that - er - I'll find him and tell him what - er - I'll find him!"
"Yes, yes indeed. He's a nasty one, that brother of mine." Elrohir continued, a feigned look of disappointed that Elladan would have the gall to do such a thing. "But don't be too hard on, my Lord. He's only misguided and-" He had to bite back a laugh. "I think perhaps just a little insane." And as if demonstrate, Elrohir tapped two fingers against his own head.
Elladan would seek revenge, Glorfindel would seek revenge, and yet the situation was far too amusing to care. Would his brother ever stand there, chortles of laughter echoing through the air, while Elrohir lay at the bottom of a ravine again? It was doubtful.
Glorfindel could not fathom how this had come to happen, but then again, he could barely fathom why it was that he came to be in the hallway. So he grabbed Elrohir, dragged him to his feet, and began stamping off back the way they came, snarling as he did so, "Push me... muddy... li-- OW!" he slipped again, dragging them both to the ground. He blinked, pulled he and Elrohir up again, and continued his dramatic trouncing. Suddenly he stopped dead, his eyes wide, for right in front of him was an ornamental mirror that Elrond had used as a decoration. He let go of Elrohir, and blinked at he and the twin's reflection. Then he turned on his heel and glared at the twin, completely forgotten he had dragged him with him.
"Elladan!" he roared, pointing an accusitory finger.
Elrohir gaped at Glorfindel, thinking quite a few curses in his head that could describe this predicament. "Wha-" He started off, eyes glancing over to the mirror. Lovely. This was not how his plan was supposed to go.
"Eh. no. I am not Elladan. I'm Elrohir. you believe me? Remember? You." He trailed off, wishing that the floor would become liquid, and he could simply just sink into it. And so, he did the last thing someone who had just been marked guilty should do:
He ran. Oh how Elrohir ran.
Glorfindel ran after him, and after a few seconds of his rage-filled, all- out, dead-on sprint, he realized - or noticed - that he was completely, thoroughly, one hundred and fifty percent unsure why he was running after 'Elladan' in the first place. But he came to the logical conclusion that since, indeed, he was running, there had to be a reason, and so he kept on, yelling threats after the twin as he went. He turned a sharp corner after him, but sadly, as they were running back the way they had came, this was the corner where Glorfindel had previously tipped over the vase. He didn't notice the shimmering evidence of his mistake, and so ran right through it. Well, would have, if he had not slipped halfway through. The Elven lord took a mighty tumble. His legs slipped sideways from under him, he fell hard onto his shoulder because of his forward momentum. He rolled a few times until he landed on his back, and then laid still.