Celebrían—who was dressed for the day in one of her simpler gowns—strode across the twins' room. She held two bags which were already packed and arranged, even if it was rather poorly done, and dropped them on the bed. Then the elleth unpacked them.
"Nana!" Elladan called in a panic. He had been standing patiently in front of a dark mirror, letting Elrohir practice his warrior braids for the trip. Now he jumped and pushed past his younger twin, skidding to a halt in front of her. Celebrían looked at them both, eyeing Elrohir as he discreetly followed his brother. It was still dark, so the room was lit by candles, and a warm fire burned gently in the hearth. There was probably no need for it since it wasn't freezing.
Outside, the deep, orange tendrils of sunlight just managed to touch the sky.
"Well, I can't send the two of you away without an organized pack," she said, neatly refolding wrinkled tunics, before rolling them into smaller bundles. They slipped into the bottom of the leather bag easily, fitting snugly. Then she worked on other clothing items.
Elladan opened his mouth to say something, before realizing there was no argument to make. Glorfindel or Faron would have caught them on it anyway. Better it be their mother scolding them than two very stern teachers. On another note, Glorfindel would spend twenty minutes teaching them to fold things, while their mother would simply do it herself. She always liked to get things done correctly, and if that meant doing it alone, she would.
He sighed, turning back to the mirror.
Elrohir began braiding his hair. The skill he had learned from practicing resulted in some nice plaits. Elladan thought about asking Elrohir to do his for him and then decided against it. He needed practice anyways, so his fingers went to work.
At first, he had doubts about them. They were uneven and inconsistent; he only let them be because his mother said nothing. And if Celebrían said nothing, it usually meant she hadn't noticed, or it was done well. He decided on the first.
After a moment, Elrond entered. Their father carried two saddle packs, filled with supplies and bedrolls arranged the night before. He set them down on Elladan's bed, next to their now neatly organized bags, and then straightened, sighing and smiled at them. Elladan knew that smile. That expression made both the twins grin.
"I am going to miss you both," Elrond said, expression suddenly serious. He knelt to their level and beckoned them over. The twins grew solemn, padding around to either side. Gracefully, Celebrían sat, watching as the two edged closer. "Remember to listen to Glorfindel and Faron. This is not a game, like your other exercises. Those two will keep you safe, but don't forget to listen and obey. You must be serious about this. In any real situation when you are out patrolling with your men, something can, and usually will go wrong, no matter the scale. Always be prepared."
Celebrían wrapped an arm around Elrond's shoulders. "And remember your promise, little ones," she added with a smile.
"This is, in fact, a week trip with Faegon. Who knows what will happen." Elrond rolled his eyes to the ceiling. In truth, Elladan thought it would go well—he hoped. He thought they had been doing better this week. They hadn't come to blows, and they hadn't really, truly fought. Elladan watched them with young, calculating eyes, and nodded thoughtfully. "Do you think you are prepared?"
"Yes, Ada."
"Nana made sure of that," Elrohir chirped, gesturing to the packs. Elrond crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.
"Well then, I think we are due down at the stable in a half hour. That leaves us very little time to eat."
" And the cook made something special for this occasion," Celebrían said, picking up her long skirt. Elladan and Elrohir let out whoops, scrambling to gather their things. Elrond strode toward the bookshelf, Elladan noticed.
He hoped he remembered everything, and went over the list in his head, pausing to answer questions he hadn't heard, and to let his mother look him over. She seemed more nervous than everyone in the room combined.
Elrohir, having finished already, packs piled high in his hands, was already at the door with their parents.
Elladan threw a look toward his bed, where his sword lay sheathed and safe. He felt a worm of unease. There would be a day when he could use that sword. That day couldn't come soon enough; he thought as he closed the door behind him.
Faegon poked at his breakfast with a silver spoon. It was one of the newer things his father had brought home that week.
He stared at the food, stirring and smashing the bread and butter till it was a paste. He wasn't very hungry and turned away fresh fruit, hot tea, and even the pastries someone had brought them the day before.
He looked out the window, craning his head toward the sun. It was nearly dawn; he'd have a half hour to get to the stables. The walk would be a good twenty minutes, which meant he should probably start off soon.
Faegon sighed pushing his plate away and scooted the chair back. He jumped out of it, hitting the floor with a quiet thump.
The house was dark and silent as usual, except the parlor had no fire in the hearth, and the house was unusually cold. And lonely. Faegon hadn't heard his father get up, but when he had awoken to an empty house, he had assumed his father had gone off to work.
So that left him to prepare on his own. Rations weren't required—Glorfindel would take care of that—and Faron would provide gear for the horses. Clothes and other such things, however, were the child's responsibility. So, he packed himself for a week and filled his saddle bag with other stuff on the list, such as two water skins, a bedroll, blankets, and a dagger.
Then Faegon braided his hair, cleaned up an attempted breakfast, and headed out the door, packs in tow. Maybe, just this once, his father would come to see him off. He wished he would, even if, in truth, Faegon didn't want him there. He had seemed proud enough when Faegon had told him their team had won, and a patrol with senior Elves was a significant step in training. Maybe he would come, and save Faegon the awkward humiliation of going by himself.
The Elfling snorted. What was he thinking? That would never happen.
Glorfindel pulled the synch on Elladan's saddle, straightened, securing other loose ends, or bridle straps in place. Generally, like with any of the other horse's, a headstall would suffice. But Glorfindel had told them a noseband was mandatory. On such a large expedition, it would come in handy if they needed more contact with the horse.
And the last thing Glorfindel wanted, was for one of the Elflings to be carried off by a terrified pony. So, headbands and nosebands were needed.
The pony eyed the golden-haired Elf and lowered his head, sniffing the remnants of his breakfast in a wooden bucket. Elrohir watched with the kind of curiosity some reserved for a sparring match.
"Why does he eat while getting dressed?" Elrohir asked, shuffling along Glorfindel's side.
The blond Elf laughed. "Because it keeps him busy while I tack him up; especially when tightening the girth. He's not very fond of that step. If I didn't give him something to do, he would hold his breath and make it impossible to get anything done," he explained, moving to the other side of the horse. If that were correct, Glorfindel would wait to finish until they set off, which was supposed to be comfortable for the pony, and more pleasant for its rider.
Elrohir laughed, stroking the pony on its soft velvet nose. It always amazed him how with all those short little hairs, this large beast nose was softer than anything he had ever touched.
"Nana would scold us if she found us eating breakfast while dressing," he told the taller Elf, smaller hands still petting the horse's muzzle.
"Indeed, she would. You are not a horse, and have different customs." Glorfindel patted the animal on the shoulder and moved to Faegon's pony. It was the Elfling's pony, which his father had bought years before. He was a dark brown with one white stocking and a black mane and tail. A beautiful animal. As Glorfindel began working, Elrohir turned around, observing the healthfully crowded barn.
There were different horses out of their stalls, being tacked up or waiting outside; guards checking their armor and weapons, and bystanders watching with interest. Among those were their grandparents, parents, Erestor, and a few Elflings from training. Radhron and Raithon stood with Leston, apart from the others, conversing quietly. Elrohir felt a warmth of pride wash through him. All these people coming to see them off? He grinned.
"Faron!" Glorfindel called across the barn. Faron looked up from checking his horse's feet and waved from down the aisle. "Where did Asfaloth go?"
The dark-haired Elf looked around, then shrugged, continuing to fit his horse's headstall. The leather piece was hardly simple. Soft, black leather lying snugly across the animal's cheekbones, fastening near the ears with intricately ornamented silver leaf-shaped clasps.
While Glorfindel occasionally attached bells to both his browband and headpiece—Asfaloth wandered when he wished—Faron had silver studs lining the headpiece and browband, embedded with small white stones. In any case, it was one of the most beautiful headstalls Elrohir had seen. It even had elegant patterns embroidered in white thread along the cheek—piece. "I've no idea. Wasn't he over with you?"
"Yes, but I can't find him! Are you sure you didn't see him?"
Faron took another look around, laughing, and shook his head. "No, Glorfindel! I did not! You should try tethering him next time! Headstalls are very useful for your impish horse!"
Glorfindel, running a hand over his face, sighed. "Very well, I will deal with that later. And Faron!"
The Elf straightened again, gently letting his horse's leg down. "Yes?"
"Go to the storage room and get me a new blanket and some extra brushes, and maybe one or two medical kits! It never hurts to have extra!"
Elrohir watched in puzzlement as Faron vanished into the tack room. A moment later, he came out with the requested supplies and dropped them on a bale of hay. Glorfindel muttered his thanks, and checked Faegon's pack, counting on his fingers. "We are going to set out ten minutes late..."
"Is that a bad thing?" Elrohir asked, glancing to where Elladan and Faegon were seated. They were noticeably far from each other, backs to the other on a stack of straw. Elrohir had found he was too excited to sit still. He had to move, and see how things worked.
"Well, it only means when we make camp, we'll have ten minutes less to cook. The soldiers know that." He gestured to the eight warriors that would be coming with them. "They're moving fast, Elrohir. Never underestimate a seasoned warriors value of food at the end of a long march."
"So, we better be on our way then...Do you want me to go get the others?"
Of course, the warriors had started to mount, after checking things off mentally, which confused him. Why didn't they bring a list, instead of trying to remember? He had seen several warriors mouthing words and looking over their things, and then walking up to Glorfindel or Faron and reporting. It just seemed rather hard.
Of course, seeing the others begin to mount, Elladan and Faegon came over to the ponies.
Glorfindel now took the time to run outside, assumedly to search for his horse. A moment later, when Elrond and Celebrían helped their sons mount, Glorfindel came trotting into the stable. He swung down from the saddleless stallion.
Faron had gone without a saddle too, and they both carried their supplies on their backs. Elrohir guessed they traveled lighter than they advised. However, the Elves who were bringing more, or those who were assigned to specific things like wood or extra blankets, had a pack pony, or a saddle. Looking over at his ride, Elrohir vaguely wished he could ride without a saddle too. It would feel much more natural.
Across the aisle, Faegon easily mounted by himself, and held his head high, watching the world as if it were small and weak. Typical. How early did the mood swings start, or was he born that way? Was that why Elladan had been so quiet?
"I am so proud of you both," Celebrían said, looking them over like any good mother would. She even checked their girth straps, tightening them the rest of the way, sparing Glorfindel the work. The golden-haired Elf shrugged, moving to help Faegon instead, leaving Elrond and Celebrían to see them off. The twins grinned, leaning down to let their parents give them kisses, and in Elrond's case, a loving ruffle of the hair.
"Remember to be safe, and listen to Glorfindel and Faron," she added, looking around. "Oh, and have fun."
Elrond grinned. "And no matter what Glorfindel tells you at the fire about me, don't believe a word."
The Lord and Lady of Imladris stepped back as Glorfindel called to set off. It was quieter and organized then Elrohir had been imagining, and as they lined up and began to move, people called their goodbyes.
And then quickly, Radhron and Raithon shot after them, coming up beside the twins' ponies, and listed off requests.
Elrohir also noticed, from the corner of his eye, that Elrond had approached Glorfindel. They whispered. Then Glorfindel laughed, gesturing to a book Elrond held, and cheekily pushed Asfaloth into a canter.
"And remember to tell the whole class everything!" Raithon called. They stopped at the entrance to the stable, waving madly. "We don't want to miss a single detail!"
Beside him, Elladan shouted something back, and then they were out of sight.
Elladan watched the sunrise, coming above the trees in a yellow fireball. They were four hours in, and the sun was already up. In that time, he had learned two things: Faegon could surprisingly be quiet when he wanted to, and riding horses for hours was boring.
The only remotely interesting thing was listening to the older Elves talk. Of course, he found himself doing other things too. Like counting how many strides it took his pony to go twenty feet, or how many times Glorfindel stopped to throw something at Faron, riding two spaces behind them, or even going over his supplies.
On the fifth hour, when an Elf on their right was telling a particularly dull story, Glorfindel stopped the group and dismounted.
Elladan thought maybe something exciting would happen, but they were letting their horses rest instead. At that point, he was practically begging for someone to talk to them. Glorfindel and Faron had attempted conversation a few times but had always gone off to check others from the group, or to make sure rotation went smoothly. Sometimes they even went scouting.
Scouting.
That was the magic word. Six hours in, when Elladan thought he was going to die, or whither from the glares of Faegon, Glorfindel rode up beside them. "Now that you've experienced...patrolling in its most mundane element, how about we set up for lunch?"
Elladan, Elrohir, and Faegon perked up immediately. "How do we do that?" Faegon asked, sitting straighter in the saddle.
"Well, for starters, we scout ahead. Then when the scouts have found a good place to stop, we can set up camp." Glorfindel smiled and dismounted, leaving Asfaloth to walk riderless beside them. He came back with Faron and another Elf.
"And another thing you must learn is even though we are stopping for lunch, it doesn't mean we settle in. A patrol camp must always be ready to put away if something goes wrong. That applies to sleeping too. Which means everything should be packed before going to sleep, and your bedroll, blanket and most importantly your weapon, should be the only things within immediate reach."
The three nodded thoughtfully. Elladan, more aware now, realized he had never ridden this much. He shifted in the saddle, fatigued. All he wanted to do was lay down and nurse his sore muscles. But they wouldn't have time. Indeed, it would be a short rest, lunch, and then they would be on the road again.
Finally, Faron gestured for them to follow him, and they set off at a canter, quickly putting distance between them and the group.
"So why exactly are we scouting ahead when we could just stay with the group, and look for a place while we ride?" Faegon asked, moving his horse toward Faron's, which was quite a feat, considering how short his pony's strides were.
"Because in any normal patrol, there could be danger, and if the scout sees any, he or she can get away faster than a group, and warn the main caravan. In which case, we would prepare for battle. However, this is probably one of the safest areas in Rivendell, and I would not have taken you scouting if I didn't think it was safe," Faron explained, keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings. Faegon's face twisted into something akin to confusion.
"Well, that's stupid. If you know it's safe, what's the point of sending scouts?" The Elfling rolled his eyes, scoffing.
Faron considered the question, trying to determine whether Faegon was dumb, or if he was trying to get on their nerves. "Well, the practice of course."
"How can we practice if there's nothing there? How do we train our eyes to see something if it's not there?"
Faron raised an eyebrow, turning in his saddle to look at Faegon. "We're not looking for danger, but I suppose we could use our imaginations," he said dryly.
Faegon rolled his eyes. "You mean an imagination you don't have?"
"He means the imagination you don't use, which would explain why this conversation became so dull," Elladan commented, reining his horse to the left, creating space between them. Faron looked sharply at Elladan, quieting the Elfling.
"The point is," Faron continued conversationally, "we would be looking at the trees and our surroundings for anything unusual. Like prints in the ground that are human or horse. It would do well to know you're near others, or that there may be threats in the area. If you know people are close; you can be on watch. Being alert to others could save your life."
The three nodded, Faegon's attempt at an argument forgotten. Finally, after watching their surroundings, Elrohir notifying Faron of a few animal tracks, Faegon spoke his thoughts.
"Can we still use our imaginations? This is boring."
Faron grinned. "Very well, as long as you have one."
When they got back to the group, it was another long ride. Elladan and Elrohir found themselves talking more often, and even a slightly put off Faegon commented. Elrohir said it was because the other Elfling—though irritating—would supply some entertainment. Then, when the sun was setting, they arrived.
Elladan gaped. The sun, an enormous fireball hung low in the sky, was nestled right behind the arch of the bridge. It was then Elladan was sure Glorfindel and Faron had brought them this way on purpose. The orange, burnt light reflected off the dark water of the stream, glowing in thick, radiant beams, glaring off the guards' armor. All around, the atmosphere shimmered, as if the light itself had turned red, and they were living under it. Someone on the edge of the bridge—likely a scout—waved them over, calling a greeting.
Glorfindel called something back, and they approached slowly. He felt so official when they stopped in front of the other group, and exchanged pleasantries.
He had never seen something grander, a feeling bubbling in his stomach that made him giddy so even when he and Elrohir were assigned to sleep in the same area as Faegon; he found he wasn't even upset.