"What are you doing?"
"Waiting," said Mallas, without looking at her twin.
"They will not be here for several hours," pointed out Legolas, joining her on the floor.
"I am prepared for anything," she replied lightly. Shrugging off her leather vest, she tossed it to Legolas. It contained several pouches, each holding a certain weapon.
He tossed it back to her and she shrugged it over the silk grey tunic she wore. "You are always suspicious."
"Maedhros attacked during a festival. Why should not his kind attack during a truce?" remarked Mallas, leaning back on her hands. "Never mind. If nothing happens, no one will know. But I dearly hope I did not go to all that trouble for naught."
"I swear you are battle-crazed," answered Legolas cheerfully. "Perhaps their sons will invite us a tourney of sorts."
"Maybe," said Mallas hopefully. "Are they skilled, do you think? Enough to be worthy of their challenge?"
"Not to me!" laughed Legolas. Mallas sighed, rising. "I am twice as skilled as you with weapons."
"And I with words," retorted her brother.
"Yes, perhaps. You can prattle on without a vestige of wit, of course." Impatient already, she drew a slender knife from her hiding place and began tossing it in the air.
"Mallas, do you not think that might be a breach of trust? To conceal weapons?" asked Legolas at last.
The knife clattered to the stone floor in Mallas's astonishment. "I will not use them unless I need too."
"Of course, of course, but there is an unspoken agreement of weaponless truce."
"I was never privy to the agreement, and so am breaking no oath," she argued.
Legolas frowned at her. "Maybe you can befriend Arwen," he said, hoping to distract her enough to get her in a better temper.
"Ha!" she answered contemptuously. "What shall I do with a brat who was renowned for her beauty before she could lift a knife?"
"Maybe you underestimate her," replied Legolas mildly.
"Maybe," she answered doubtfully.