A/N: Wow. I think this is the faster I have ever gotten something edited and published. And all thanks to all your wonderful reviews. I feel the need to apologize that there are no spanked elflings in this chapter. Only sons of Elendil. But never fear! I saved the best distressed Middle-Earthling for last. So you shall have your Thranduil in the next chapter. ;)

May you sail fair to the far fields of fortune With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet And may you need never to banish misfortune May you find kindness in all that you meet

Elendil wasted no such time as waiting for his sons to come creeping back into the tent like he knew Gil-Galad was planning. Instead as soon as his sons turned the corner of the command tent Elendil grabbed the nearest one's arm, spun him around and sent a flurry of hard smacks to his backside.

Isildur cried out in surprise and pain. "Father!" He yelped indignantly.

Elendil released him and grabbed Anárion, subjecting him to the same treatment. He cried out as well.

When Elendil released his youngest they both stood in front of him, eyes downcast, rubbing their bottoms petulantly.

"Where in Arda have you two been?"

"Speaking with Elrond." Isildur answered quietly, taking on the role of older brother and answering first.

Elendil bit back his rage. As expected his youngest son, ever the diplomat, caught this.

"Oh, Father, please do not be angry with us!" He cried.

Elendil's eyes softened at the childish plea and he sighed. He ran a tired hand down his face and stepped closer to his sons. Resting a comforting hand upon each one's shoulder and looking between the two, he spoke. "I am not angry with you. I was merely worried. You both went off with Elrond, and Gil-Galad and I had thought that perhaps something had happened to you three. We were worried you had been taken hostage until the scouts reported to us about you. Why did you not say where you were going? And furthermore, I told you if you went to walk off the post-battle anxiety you were to stay in camp, did I not?"

Both nodded and looked down. "Sorry, Father." Isildur whispered.

"Sorry, Ada." Anárion said, slipping into his preferred name for his father in the Sindarin language.

Elendil sighed again and then looked around them, thankful that the darkness of the shadows had covered them from any prying eyes.

"Whose idea was it?" He asked curiously. They were all going to be disciplined. It made no difference whose idea it had been. But Elendil was simply curious.

Anárion glanced worriedly at his older brother. Isildur looked pale in the dim light.

"I did, father." His eldest replied quietly. Then his voice grew stronger. "I-I suggested we take a break from all the seriousness and clear our heads, and there was absolutely no way we were going to be able to do so inside the camp what with everything going on. So I suggested we take a walk out for a bit."

"All the way to the northern tips of Ithilien where Sauron's spies are hidden everywhere?"

Isildur gulped and shot his father a wild and surprised glance. So did Anárion.

"How—?" Anárion started, but his father cut him off.

"Gil-Galad's scouts." He answered dismissively. Then, "Come." He turned and began stalking toward his own tent. His sons shared a tent further down, but he preferred to have this discussion in his own. His sons' was further into camp, where anyone might hear the proceedings. But Elendil's stood beside Gil-Galad's in the midst of the other high officers, so any that heard would not deem to make a spectacle out of it.

Both of his sons followed behind him on weary feet. They knew when an order had been given after all.

He sat on his large cot, beckoning for Anárion to come forth first. He directed Isildur to sit in the chair placed by the fire. Both boys did as they were told knowing it was expected of them. Anárion made his way to his father slowly, but without protest.

He lowered his breeches and lay over his father's knees with a shudder. Elendil rubbed his youngest son's back for a moment, relaxing him further. There was no need for any more talk. Both of his boys knew why they were here.

And with that thought Elendil pulled his boy close and raised his hand, bringing it down in a hard SMACK!

Anárion gasped and then bit his lip. His father had never been much of one for conversation when he was dealing out chastisement. Instead he preferred to let his hand talk for him. And it did a fine job, Anárion had thought wryly. After some time as the burn began to build up he whimpered and shifted a bit as though trying to lessen the sting.

"Shh, settle down, lad. We are nowhere near finished."

Anárion's whimpers were louder after hearing that.

Isildur squirmed in his seat uncomfortably. He'd always hated watching his little brother being reprimanded, especially when he also had a spanking coming himself. His father had at first always disciplined them separately, but as they grew older and one or both were due a spanking it found them both in the same room, attentive to the other's chastisement. They were merely a silent reassurance to one another that all would be well soon.

Still he winced as a rather forceful smack landed on his brother's now rather dark pink backside and a muffled cry escaped his lips. Muffled because Anárion had buried his face into the blankets of the bed.

Tears began making their way down his cheeks, many of them from his thoughts of earlier when he'd been talking with his brother and Elrond.

What if his father was killed in this battle? Cut down just like King Oropher. His father was strong and not rash, but this was a major war, and they were fighting with forces they couldn't hope to oppose.

Suddenly his tears turned to sobs, deep, ragged and heart-wrenching.

His father could be killed. They could all be killed. Everything could be lost. Anarion had already left his home and many of his friends. And Anárion couldn't lose anyone or anything else.

He grabbed his father's calf, holding on for dear life as the sobs wracked his body. He hugged his father's leg as though it would keep his father alive and well forever. As though it could save them all. He suddenly didn't want to be anywhere else than over his beloved father's lap having his backside tanned like a young boy.

Elendil stopped, shocked. He had never seen his son reduced to this so quickly. He turned his son over quickly and sat him on his lap, keeping aware of his throbbing bottom. Anárion gasped for breath and coughed, as Elendil rubbed his back and spoke to him, his voice softly stern so as to get him to listen. "Anárion. Anárion listen to me. You are going to make yourself sick, lad. Shh, calm yourself. Take deep breaths. That's it, little one. Good." He rubbed his back soothingly and Anárion turned to bury his face in his father's shoulder and grasp at him with such fierceness that Elendil near cried out in surprise.

He continued to whisper soothing words to him, but Anárion just cried all the harder. Elendil glanced up at his eldest son who seemed just as surprised as his father.

"Anárion!" Elendil suddenly said sharply, pulling his son back so he could look at him. If gentle comforting would not calm him then perhaps shocking him into silence would work.

Anárion sat up rigidly having not expected to be spoken to in such a harsh tone.

"Calm down, young one." Elendil continued, his voice kinder this time. "Now tell me what has you so distraught."

"Or-p-pher's dead! A-and you could b-be too, Ada! A-and brother, and Elrond, and everybody!"

Elendil looked into the frightened eyes of his child for a moment and then pulled him back to him, holding him tightly and shushing him. How childlike his son was even as old as he was with four children of his own. But his sons had ever been this way. Always seeking their own father's love and reassurance just as their own children did.

Finally Elendil drew his son back again and Anárion sat, looking all of ten years old again. "Now," He brushed the stray hairs from his son's face. "You will listen to me, both of you." He looked over to Isildur who was sitting silently in his chair. He looked up at his father, tears glistening in his eyes as well.

"This war has not gone well, but it has gone far better than we could've dared to hope at first. Not even the wisest amongst us know how this battle will end. You two have been into battle before. There are almost always loses, and each and every one of us come to battle knowing this."

"But you won't let anything happen to you, right Ada?" Anárion asked, his voice sleepy.

Elendil shifted him a bit so that his bottom rested more fully on his thigh. Anárion hissed, but he was fully awake once more.

Elendil glanced at his oldest son who was sitting quietly, his eyes downcast. He watched him carefully as he spoke. "Nay, all will be well, child. Your brother and I will be fine."

Isildur glanced up and father and son shared a look. Isildur understood that his father was merely making the promise to reassure Anárion.

His brother didn't need to know that though so Isildur smiled fondly at his brother and said, "Aye. All will be well, little brother."

Anárion smiled softly in return and Elendil rubbed his back a moment more before saying, "Now let us have this mischief over with."

He turned his son so quickly that the only thing Anárion had time to do was gasp.

"Y-You are not yet through!" He cried.

Elendil chuckled slightly at his son's forthright insolence. "Nay, little one. Not quite. But almost."

And with that Elendil began spanking again. It didn't take nearly as long for Anárion to begin crying this time. But his cries were no longer from a deeper anguish. It was merely crying from a spanking and nothing more, and though Elendil grieved at making his children cry at all he would rather have the latter tears than the former ones.

When he deemed Anárion to be fully repentive he drew the spanking to an end. Once his son had quieted Elendil lifted him from his lap and set him on his feet. Anárion's hands flew out to grasp his father's shoulders and steady himself. Elendil gently pulled his breeches back over his sore bottom to which Anárion winced at. Elendil smiled warmly at him and stood to help his son over to the chair which Isildur had evacuated quickly in order to allow his little brother to take his seat.

Anárion stared at it in distaste, but with a light swat to get him moving he gingerly sat, his foot tucked under him so as to relieve as much pressure from his abused bottom as possible.

Anárion gave Isildur a small smile of encouragement as Elendil gently took his oldest son's arm and led him over to the bed, repeating the same process he had with his youngest. He pulled him to his side and Isildur drew down his breeches before placing himself over his father's lap.

Elendil drew him close. He could feel the tense back muscles under his left arm and he rubbed soothing circles for a moment as he had with his youngest. Then he briefly rested his hand on Isildur's pale backside in warning before drawing his hand up and bringing it down.

Isildur always attempted to remain stoic for the entirety of a spanking. He had never managed to do so thus far, but he still tried.

Elendil shook his head at his child's stubborn customary silence. He would break soon enough and until then Elendil was content to continue.

Anárion squirmed uncomfortably, both from his own stinging bottom and for his brother. He loathed watching his older brother get spanked. Almost as much as he hated getting the spanking himself. But his brother was always there for him, so Anárion did his best to return the favor.

And it also bothered Anárion how his brother could remain so silent. Isildur would cry silently at first, and then after Anárion thought he could watch no longer Isildur would let out a bursting sob. It was downhill from there and normally Isildur's spanking was over fairly quickly after that.

Anárion had once wondered why his brother didn't just start crying like that from the onset of a spanking, for surely it would get him a reduced sentence, but then he realized that it was likely because their father would know he was acting.

Suddenly a small whimper escaped from Isildur. He was doing his best not to think about what might have happened to himself, his brother, and Elrond if servants of Sauron had caught them. But the more he tried not to think about it, the more the visions haunted him.

They could have been killed, or worse, kidnapped and taken alive. A shudder escaped Isildur. There was no telling what Sauron might have done to them if he had of caught them. The herald of the High King of the Noldor and lord of Imladris, and the kings of Gondor would've made excellent bargaining chips.

A sob broke through Isildur's lips. Elrond treated both of them as though they were also his brothers, and that meant he trusted Isildur the same as Anárion trusted him. And it had been Isildur who had convinced the others to journey outside of the camp. If something had of happened to them, he never would have forgiven himself.

More sobs broke through and Isildur's foot twitched in a small kick. Elendil glanced at his son's dark red bottom. He lightened his swats considerably and asked quietly, but still loud enough to be heard over Isildur's sobs, "Have you been thinking over what I am about to ask you, child?"

Isildur nodded. "Aye!"

Elendil nodded. "Good, then if you'd like, little one, we can continue this conversation with you right side up. Would you like that?"

Isildur nodded. He still felt guilty about everything, but he knew his father would allow him to apologize and then it would all be over and he would be forgiven. Elendil turned his son gently and pulled him close to him. Then he gestured for Anárion to join them. Anárion jumped up and quickly made his way to his father and brother's side and sat, his feet tucked under him, leaning against his father's shoulder.

"Tell me what you did wrong."

"We s-sneaked out of c-camp." Isildur answered, trying to calm his hitching breathing as his father rubbed circles on his back.

"Very good. And what did I tell you before I went to join Gil-Galad in the command tent?"

"To not go outside the perimeter of camp." Anárion replied quietly.

Elendil nodded. "Aye. And neither one of you listened."

Isilidur looked down, as well did his brother.

"Shh, you have both been disciplined now and it is over. What have you now to say to me?"

"Sorry, father."

"Sorry, Ada."

Elendil nodded and brushed the hair from both of their faces before kissing the tops of their dark heads. "Come, both of you. You need to rest."

He helped them to get cleaned up and change out of their filthy and torn attire. They had already pulled their armor off earlier before they had left camp. Once they were dressed he lifted the covers on his large cot and beckoned both boys to climb in. They both did so, reminding Elendil of the times when they were young and had misbehaved. He had always sent them to their own rooms then, but somehow they always ended up in the same one when he got there, usually it being Isildur's.

He covered them with the blanket and bent down to kiss each of their foreheads. His boys smiled happily and closed their eyes. Elendil changed himself and then took one last fond look at his boys before going off to find Gil-Galad and unload the trouble burdening his heart.