DISCLAIMER : I do NOT own any of Tolkien's characters, places or other stuff.

Author's Note: I have no idea why this was written, but since it was, I decided to post it. Just came out from the bottom of my tired, overworked, mind. I know it's: silly, stupid, pointless, impossible -besides the fact that LotR is impossible, since it IS a STORY!!!- inappropriate, etc., etc., etc.

For any of you who wish to know more about Losseas, the twin sister of Legolas, check out my other story, Story Of My Own, that I have also posted on FFnet. 

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As much as he tried, he could not take his eyes from the sky. The dance of the deep purple of the falling night, mixing with the fading orange and red, was more beautiful than ever. The air was cool, not too cold, just enough to calm him. There was a distant singing of a bird; the whispering of leaves, gently stroked in the breeze. The Bruinen was chanting in its own, strange tongue, soothing the heart and mind. Everything was peaceful...

Or at least that's how Elrond, Lord of Imladris, perceived things that evening. And he much hoped for them to stay so, though it was an almost unimaginable thing: his foster son, Estel, had returned from his journey with the twin children of Elven King Thranduil of Mirkwood, Legolas and Losseas. Somehow, the three has managed to ensnare Mithrandir, the Istari, in their dealings. Now, all four of them were resting in their chambers, but for how long it would last, Elrond knew not, and feared pondering over it more.

The three youngsters were famous for their mischief, and have caused much trouble in the past, anywhere they went. And he was convinced that the mere presence of Mithrandir was not going to slow them down or intimidate them. If anything, it could only turn them more dangerous and bold, and if that was possible, more 'playful'.

Elrond could see his poor house, only a year ago, on one of the visits of the twins. Elladan and Elrohir had escaped the responsibility of watching over them by joining a hunting trip, so the Lord was left alone to make sure Imladris was still standing when they would return.

And that was, to say the very least, a challenge. Along with Estel, they had tricked, mocked, played a prank, and literally scared the pants off of some of the most esteemed elves of the dell. Still, not one overly complained. For the life of him, Elrond could not fathom what ill thought made all of those victims not ask for greater punishments! They surely disserved it a few times.

Still, there was that innocents about the three that could not be overlooked. It made you long for your childhood days, when you could do just what they did: fun. That was the key element that always got them out of the nasty situations that they got themselves into.

Suddenly, Elrond realized something: he was the only person on the veranda. That would not be surprising, were it not for the fact that Mithrandir was in Imladris. The old wizard never missed an opportunity to watch the sunset with him, his lifetime friend. So, where was he now?

Knowing him, he was probably with Legolas and Losseas, and Estel, talking of where to go next. Thinking of just that, a shudder went down his spine. If he had to rescue them one more time, he was determined to force them to never leave their respective homes!

A sudden burst of laughter caught his ears. It was odd, in the serenity around him, any noise to penetrate. But this noise could not even be called so. It was too beautiful, like clear silver bells; definitely elvish.

His curiosity was picked when an eerie sound fallowed close behind, then a thump, and a small cry.

He started walking away from the veranda, the stars now fully up on the night sky. He made his way along the corridor, guided by more laughter, cries, and funny sounds that went something like whiiiiz and woooosh.

Elrond reached a hallway where the guest rooms were. The noise was getting louder. Soon he realized it was coming from the wizard's room. That was strange!

He got closer, now clearly making out two silver voices and a deeper one, the first laughing and the other mumbling something unintelligible.

He was a few good feet away, but there was no doubt who was behind the noise: Legolas, Losseas and Mithrandir. Confident and eager to find out just what was happening, he stepped at the door. It wasn't even tightly closed, so all he had to do was push it slightly for it to open without the smallest sound. The image that revealed its self left him speechless...

Mithrandir was on the bed near the far wall of the room, on his back, kicking his feet; in his right hand he clutched a small pillow, and was desperately waving it in the air, trying to hit something in the process. On his left side was Losseas, kneeling on the bed, pushing a larger pillow in the wizard's face, struggling to get it past his arm, protectively arched over his head. On the other side stood Legolas, crouched, pummeling the poor Istari with a huge, soft pillow, making his white beard tangle; at the same time, the elf was dodging the blows of the smaller pillow, while his sister was trying to constrain the still defensive left hand.

Elrond just stared in disbelief, while the trio did not even seem to acknowledge his presence. The most disturbing thing was that wizard seemed to be enjoying this type of activity.

A new set of images rushed through Elrond's mind: Mithrandir, playing pranks with the young ones, indulging in their nuisance... His line of thought was abruptly ended by a muffled shout. Mithrandir, with surprising speed, agility, and comfort for someone who was as old as he looked, dodged another pillow, barely missing Losseas' hand.

The Istari was slowly inching towards the edge of the bed, thinking that that could be his escape. But the elves caught sight, and a plan was quickly forged in the twin minds.

Legolas risked a glance around the bed, searching for some new weapons. He soon found more pillows resting at hand's length at his side, and made for them. Unfortunately, Mithrandir did not waste such an opportunity. Instead, he lunged for the elf's hands and stole the object of his most recent torture. Turning it against Legolas, he gained a few inches closer to the edge. But the victory was small, as Losseas was at his side, making up for Legolas.

In a matter of seconds, Mithrandir again found himself fighting two hard to beat opponents. Now, though, Losseas was closing in on his back and his seemingly only mean of escape was cut off. The time to despair had come, so he tossed wildly, managing to get past Losseas, as she was forced to duck his swings.

But he was dangerously close to the very edge, chancing a rough fall from the bed. Then again, that was the plan of the twins!

Legolas, noting with pleasure that it had worked, pushed even harder, fighting the Istari's left hand that still was reaching for him. It almost tugged at his sleeve, when it was too late. His balance lost from pushing Losseas, Mithrandir nearly jumped off the bed, landing on his back.

A loud thud echoed down the empty hall, making Elrond wince. If anyone heard the commotion, they would never live it down. His senses scanned the surroundings, noting with great relief that everyone was asleep or not close enough to be suspicious. Then he turned back at the small pillow-war, waged inside the guest room. This time he could not control himself, and burst out laughing.

Mithrandir laid flat on his back, arms stretched at full, right and left. His feet were still on the bed; from a different angle, one would say that he was merely sitting on the length of it. The tangled mess of grey that was claimed to be his beard covered his face, all the way to the top of his head, mixing with hair.

It was really too much! The young elves were laughing helplessly, holding their stomachs so they didn't burst. But none of them looked to the door, even though now there was no denying the intruder.

Suddenly, Mithrandir stirred on the floor. His fist turned in a ball around the corner of the pillow that he was still clutching. In that moment, when Elrond expected it the least, the projectile was launched, faster than human eyes can fallow.

The pillow made direct contact with Elrond's face, sending him stumbling back a few steps, both out of shock and the force of the blow. He hit the wall behind him, clasping his hands to it in order to keep upright. Booming laughter came as an answer from the room, accompanied by the crystal sound of two others.

Furious by this turn, and even more tempted by the sweetness of revenge, the Lord of Imladris snatched the pillow from the floor, where it had fallen, and rushed back.

To add to his ill mood, a wave of fluff of all shapes and sizes came at him as soon as he made one step inside. But that did not stop the brave, ancient elf. He had faced even the forces of Sauron; this would be easy. Though an encouraging thought, it immediately proved wrong.

It was incredible just how many pillows were in one room! Could they have planned ahead? Anyway, it did not matter. The situation was not for his well-being, and that needed to be changed.

Deciding that there was no way out, Elrond lunged in the middle of the flying feathers; by now, the pillows were all but in pieces, so the warriors were covered in the stuffing. As luck wanted it, it was Mithrandir that came at the end of his attack.

The wizard, however, foresaw this, and ducked, sending the Lord crashing on the bed. There he was literally covered in pillows, blankets, and nearly chocked by the feathers. He could hear the twins above him, struggling to hold him down, laughing freely.

"NOW!" he heard Legolas call. In a few hazed seconds, he was breathing openly again, free from the weight of the mountain of bed coverings. That, however, was a very small, if not nonexistent, relief.

The moment he opened his eyes, he received a huge pillow smack in the forehead and eyes. Rolling over, he landed on the floor, near the wizard. More laughter fallowed, some shifting, a low groan, and then louder laughs.

Elrond hesitantly opened his eyes, taking in the way Legolas and Losseas were still laughing, looking at Mithrandir, who was looking down at him.

"Did you fall, my Lord?" he asked, sarcasm and amusement obvious in every word.

The one in question lifted himself from the floor with as much dignity as he could muster, considering the way he looked: all covered in feathers, his clothing a mess, hair ruffled. 

Not knowing what else to do, he smiled. For he was truly not mad, or even upset. It had been long since he had taken part in the activities of youngsters, and only now did he realize how much he missed it. The problem was how to get to his own room without being seen...

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