Luckily, Arasion doesn't have to run long, for there, up ahead, he catches a flash of red and silver. Relieved, he speeds up and then skids to a stop on his knees next to the broom, reaching for it with eager hands.

At the same instant, another, much larger hand enters his line of sight.

The elfling's head snaps up to find a startled male elf with long, sun-gold hair kneeling and reaching for his broom as well. They both freeze, leaf-green eyes locked on ocean-blue. The adult opens his mouth slightly, drawing in breath to speak, and Arasion does the only thing he can think of: he yanks the broom to himself, smacks the other elf between the eyes with it, and scrambles for freedom.

It doesn't work.

A hand quickly snatches the hood of Arasion's cloak, yanking him back before he can get more than two steps away. "GAk!" he chokes, falling onto his rear. A second later stupidly-large fingers close around his ribs and suddenly Arasion is trapped within the desperately strong grip of the golden-haired elf.

"Little one!" he cries joyously, pressing his nose against the elfling's wild black hair. "You are here! You are—" he stops abruptly, confused. "How are you here?"

"Noooo," Arasion complains, attempting to squirm free. "Irmo! That's cheating! Noooooo!"

The elf easily compensates for his escape attempt, standing and securing Arasion to his chest. "Is this your… broom, little one?" he asks, stooping and picking it up.

Arasion slumps in defeat, scowling into the elf's chestplate as he begins to walk away. "Yeah," he says grudgingly. "Don't break it." He tilts his head back, scowling up at the elf, and asks "who're you?"

The golden-haired elf looks a little dazed as he returns Arasion's stare. "Ah... yes, my name is Glorfindel. What is your name, little one?"

"Arasion," he says, noting the satisfied gleam in Glorfindel's eyes when he speaks. His scowl deepens. Belegwend must have gone to the elves once he left, if this one already knows his name.

"Arasion," Glorfindel repeats, hugging him a little closer. "Where are your ada and nana?"

The elfling opens his mouth, a reflexive reply of "dead" on his tongue, but pauses. "Far away," he says after a moment of consideration. "Far away in the West."

Glorfindel's expression becomes one of understanding and compassion. "Fret not, little one," he says, gently stroking Arasion's cheek. "You will be reunited with them."

Oh you are going to be so much fun to confuse, Arasion thinks, struggling to keep the grin off his face. "They like to visit me," he says innocently.

Sure enough, that gets a surprised and puzzled look from the elf. "Visit you? What do you mean?"

"In my dreams," Arasion says.

"Dreams," mutters Glorfindel, half to himself. "Is that why you said…?" A look of bemused wonder crosses his face. "You are a very strange child, Arasion."

Oh you have no idea, Arasion thinks, unable to stop a devious grin from pulling at his lips.

Hedwig suddenly swoops by, circling around Glorfindel's head and startling him. Elladan and Elrohir follow close on her heels.

"You found him!" cries Elladan in relief. Now that he's on the ground, Arasion can see that Elladan and Elrohir are twins. Both look slightly winded, presumably from chasing helter-skelter after Hedwig, and he has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from giggling madly. Good job, girl, he thinks, raising his eyes to his familiar.

"Ai, Elbereth," Elrohir says, soft and giddy. "Look at him, Elladan."

"Hello, little one," says Elladan with a beaming smile. "You have managed to cause quite the uproar. Tell me, how did you get here so swiftly?"

Arasion smiles back guilelessly. "Oh, I flew."

Glorfindel chuckles, a rolling sound that vibrates through his armor and into the elfling in his arms."You flew, did you? Where have your wings gone?"

"I don't need wings. I have my broom."

Elrohir's eyebrows rise. "That must be quite the special broom, if you can fly on it," he comments in the way of adults indulging a child's imagination.

Arasion grins, shark-like. "Give it, I'll show you," says he, wiggling his fingers beckoningly.

The twins chuckle, but Glorfindel is a little quicker on the uptake. A cautious look crosses his face. "You can show us when we return to Rivendell, little aras."

Dammit, the elfling thinks, frowning irritatedly. So close.