A Summer in Imladris
"You know Ada will not let us go!"
"Yes, but it's Legolas. Legolas can beg the gold coin out of a starving man's pocket!"
"Excuse me? I would thank you not to lump me together with devils who do not have any morals!"
"You see, Elrohir? Even Legolas says he cannot persuade Ada!"
"What! That's not what I said!"
"Ha! Who's wiser now, Dan? Legolas denies that he cannot persuade Ada! And besides, Legolas, I was just, er, complimenting you on your remarkable persuasive skills! No harm done! Except to the starving man, that is."
"Ro, shut up…"
"Yes, 'Ro', before you end up as the one with harm done to yourself," warned Legolas in an undertone, unsheathing his knives. The silvery blades glinted as he twirled them in his hands, throwing off flashes of light.
Elrohir backed up rapidly, "It is not as if you were a devil without any morals," he said, hastily, dark eyes tracking the movement of the blades.
Elladan sighed, "Tithen las, I do not deny that my brother does not deserve a good thrashing from time to time, but I think that Ada will appreciate having Elrohir physically in one piece, as Ro is clearly not mentally sound."
Elrohir glared at him, "Oh, yes, thank you for all your brotherly support."
"Who said that you are my only brother? Tithen las is as much a brother to me as you are. Besides, it is my duty to you, and I must carry it out with honor."
"You hurt me, Dan!"
The sun was rising above the valley in which lay Rivendell, the Last Homely House. Wisps of mist dissipated as the weak rays of the sun stretched themselves into the valley, warming the land. Bright drops of dew clung stubbornly onto leaves and blades of grass, and were currently being shaken off from their positions by three young ones, who were bickering and arguing even as they drifted across the field.
Their footsteps left no prints, their speech no more than a soft but agitated debate in a lilting and melodious tongue. Even as they walked, they seemed to carry themselves with a certain sort of unconscious feline grace, and hidden power lay hidden within slender frames, like that of a panther poised to strike. Thus are the Eldar.
Three heads bobbed up and down, two dark, one gold. It seemed for a minute that the golden head was winning, and indeed, sunlight lit upon it as if purposely crowning it with a floating halo of victory.
"I told you! Ada will not let us go!"
"He might, if he knew where you three were planning to go."
The furiously arguing heads of the three young elves snapped up as one, and three looks of guilt spread instantaneously across the faces of the conspirators. Elrond sighed, forcing a stern look onto his face even as the corners of his lips twitched in a smile.
"Where do you plan on going?" He asked, fixing each young elf with a gaze that would have borne a hole in metal.
The three exchanged glances. There was a secret code in the way they communicated with each other, when they did not want others to understand. Every time Elrond discovered their code, they would change it. This one was new, and he could not decipher the shrugs and shifting of shoulders.
He watched as Elladan glanced at Elrohir, who raised his shoulders a bit and stared into the trees. Elrohir then nudged Legolas, who blinked twice, very fast. Elrohir then turned his gaze towards the sky and Elladan delicately examined his cloak, both avoiding his eyes.
Frustration colored Legolas' face for just a second, and then it was gone, and it was a carefully composed face that Legolas presented to him after realizing that no help would come from his allies, who were both finding sudden interest in the scenery that they had viewed for millennia.
"Hir nin," Legolas dipped his head and took a step forwards. "We would like to request permission to leave Imladris for a short while. Please. We would certainly be gone no more than a week."
Outwardly, Elrond maintained his stern face, but inwardly, he heaved a sigh of relief. He had rather been waiting with held breath for the day that Legolas would exhaust all of Imladris and sneak off during the night. As a result, he had been watching the three young elves like a hawk for the better part of two weeks. Indeed, he thought it remarkable that Legolas had held out for two months, and had actually asked permission to leave. Inconceivable, really. It had happened, well, about once over the six or seven centuries that Elrond had known the prince.
And so he was rather relieved to not have to write to Thranduil about another escapade, but it would not do to agree so soon. The elfling seemed to have made it his goal to wander off and attract danger either on the journey to, during, or back from Imladris.
"Your father has made it clear that you are to come to Imladris as a respite from your warrior duties," Elrond said, "I do believe that every time, without fail, you happen to get hurt on one of your 'innocent journeys'. What do you suppose I should write to him this time? Promises not to get hurt are certainly no good, and I do not fancy facing Thranduil's rage when he finds out that you have come back from yet another stay in Rivendell with bandages covering half your arms."
"Father need never find out," Legolas said, his grey eyes wide with innocence. "All we want to do is to explore a bit in the forests, we will not be more than a few miles away from Imladris, and it is perfectly safe. Perfectly. Besides, we do not go looking for trouble. What is there to fear?"
Beside him, Elrohir let out a snicker that he tried to turn into a cough, and choked in his mirth, spluttering and gasping. Elladan thumped him on the back, perhaps harder than he needed to, nearly knocking him face first into the turf. The twins staggered, faces turned, whether from laughing or from Elladan trying to hold his brother up, no one knew.
"That is what you say every time." Elrond said, severely.
"But, hir nin, you always say that we have too much pent up energy. Indeed, just yesterday, Elrohir broke one of the vases in the Hall of Fire when we were eating dinner!"
"You what?" Elrond snapped, turning to Elrohir. The dark haired elf tried valiantly to glare murderously at Legolas and look respectfully sorry at the same time.
"Hir nin, as proved by the fine example set by your own son, we seem to have a store of excess energy. Do you not agree that this energy will be better spent outside the borders of Imladris, so that none get injured in the process?" Legolas pleaded.
Sighing, Elrond inspected the three young elves. It seemed he had no choice. Elrond let out another sigh.
"Very well," he said, glaring at them all. "But if you are not back within a week, give or take a few days, we will send a patrol after you.And we will make sure you take not so much as a single step outside Imladris for the remainder of your stay. Is that clear?"
Half an hour later, Elrond stood watching as the three riders departed from the stables. First was Legolas, his gold warrior braids blown back in the wind, clad in the green and brown of Mirkwood warriors, his bow and quiver slung over his back, his twin knives sheathed in deadly beauty. His twin sons rode after him, mirror images of one another, cloaks billowing as their horses plunged after Legolas.
They were capable, he told himself. Capable and experienced. They would be fine.
But as much as he wanted himself to believe it, he could not truly shift the uneasy gnawing at his heart. Was it the Sight? Was it telling him that this journey would go ill?
No, he decided. They will be safe. I must believe that.
But try as he might, a father's love can never truly be appeased by logic.