Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any recognizable characters and/or places thereof

Reginabean: Well, I tried it. My English teacher liked it. I'm doing this chapter in prose. . .not sure where it will go from there.

Kaimelieamin: Yay! Thank you! And may The Sandman visit you for all eternity.

soulsearcher-arbariel: Hehe. Thanks. I'm actually on fictionpress.net, only I prefer Lord of the Rings. I'm sure you know what I mean?

Author's Note: I would just like to make absolutely clear that this is NOT slash fiction.

*****

Legolas and Elrohir pass as quickly as possible to the house, laughing as they scrunch together beneath the umbrella, both grasping the handle, Legolas stooped to fit. Heavy droplets trickle off the edges, and the boys can hear them as the slide across the fabric stretched just above their heads. They giggle and laugh as they squelch through the mud up to the house, hurrying yet at the same time not.

"Here, hold the umbrella," Elrohir says, placing it in his friend's hands, as he pulls a small key from his pocket and pulls open one of the double front doors. Elrohir takes back the umbrella and holds open the door for Legolas, who ducks gratefully indoors. Following, Elrohir closes the umbrella and leans against the inner wall. Legolas has already plopped himself on the ground and is unlacing his boots. They giggle again, for no reason. "Hush," Elrohir manages to whisper through his laughter. "My siblings and parents are yet asleep, quiet."

"Or, siblings and parent," says Elrond, having appeared behind the two as though by magic, a bemused smile on his lips. "Hello, Legolas. It is good to see you again."

"Good to see you, too, Lord Elrond," replies Legolas, in one dizzying motion getting to his feet, bowing respectfully, then retreating back to the floor to peel off his second boot and both of his grey woolen socks. Elrohir,, who did not even tied up his boots to begin with, places his toes firmly on his heels and yanks his feet free. Once both boys are out of their boots (and socks, in Legolas's case), they stand side by side and try hard not to grin. Then, realizing, Legolas exclaims, "I left my bag in the stables!"

"Legolas!" Elrohir exclaimed, laughing and slapping his friend playfully.

"Elrohir!" Legolas returned, giving the Elfling a light punch on the arm.

"All right, you two," Elrond says, separating them before anything serious happens. "You are both tired, and need to get to bed. Can you wait until morning to talk more to each other, and spare the entire house a night of waking to shrieking adolescent boys?"

"Yes, Ada," Elrohir replies.

"Yes, Lord Elrond," Legolas says at the time. They laugh again.

"Elrohir, may Legolas borrow some things for the night, and fetch his own tomorrow, when it is not quite so wet out?" Elrond asks, completely efficient.

"Of course," Elrohir says. "Come on, Legolas. Do you remember where my room is?"

"No; I have the memory of a gnat. Yes I remember!" Legolas replies with indignance. Elrohir takes his hand and begins to lead him. Legolas looks once over his shoulder and calls, "Good night, Lord Elrond! Sorry to arrive so late!"

"Quite all right, Legolas," the elder Elf replies.

"Say, Elrohir, why do we not race?" Legolas asks with glee, and takes off at once. Elrohir chases after his friend, disappearing around a corner and leaving a rather amused Elf Lord in their wake.

*****

"Here." Elrohir opens a drawer in his dresser and draws out a pair of flannel pants and a shirt, handing them to Legolas. "These should fit you. Careful with where you put your pants, though, they are covered in mud."

Legolas blushes, having nearly forgotten about the pants. Without a word he strips off his wet and soiled clothing and pulls on Elrohir's flannels. Nonetheless he shivers just slightly, because it really is cold. The two look at each other and grin, biting their lips to keep from laughing out loud at the comedy of their very appearance: two damp Elves, fair f skin, one pale-headed and the other raven-haired, one grey-eyed and the other blue, looking as different as could be, and yet together, so very perfectly the same.

"Bed?" Legolas suggests, feeling as though a moment more will cause him to explode with laughter that will undoubtedly wake the entire population of Imladris. Elrohir nods mutely and blows out the candles on the dresser, the only light in the room. "Oh, wonderful," replies Legolas sarcastically.

"Whoops, sorry," says Elrohir, but his voice grins. Legolas lunges for his friend, searching with sense of sound only. Elrohir dodges, and Legolas skids across the floor, getting up angrily and brushing himself off only moments later. Elrohir wishes he could see his friend now, but dares not risk lighting a candle. If Legolas sees him, it might very well mean death.

Meanwhile, Legolas stands poised, ready for battle, his ears pricked to perceive the smallest of sounds. When Elrohir moves his heel, pivoting, Legolas hears, and he knows just where Elrohir is--and he lunges. With a loud crashing noise the boys tumble to the ground, Legolas on top of Elrohir, pinning him down. Elrohir has the advantage of constant wrestling with his twin, however, and manages to flip Legolas onto his back. Just as Elrohir is about to jam his knees into Legolas's elbows and insist that he admit defeat, Legolas remembers a tactic his brother used to use against him--he catches Elrohir's knee and twists it, so that Elrohir is once again on his back.

Lying on the ground in their flannels, panting, the boys feel their chests rise, feel their blood pulse, and know that each is in time with the other. "Truce?" asks Legolas in a scratchy voice. The cold and the darkness are just beginning to revive the boys.

"All right," Elrohir agrees, and they shake awkwardly on this. Just as they are getting up, leaning against each other, Legolas slips, and once again they are in a jumbled heap on the floor.

"What the. . .? Elrohir! Legolas!"

Elrond stands in the doorway, a candle in one hand and the same absent, tired, amused expression on his face as he watches his son untangle himself from his friend. The two manage to stand, sweating and smiling, and although he was a bit angry before all Elrond can think about is how good it is to see Legolas actually smiling, and Elrohir forgetting the cares of the world for a moment.

"What did I tell you just moments ago?" he asks, mocking anger.

"To go to bed," the two mumble at once.

"Go on then," Elrond says, setting down the candle. Elrohir and Legolas crawl into bed, and Elrond kisses them both on the forehead, then says, "Try, just try, not to wake up anyone else?" for good measure. The boys grin. "Good night to you both."

"Good night," the boys chorus just before the door closes, and they are in the dark again. For a while they lay quiet, listening to the rain drumming against the window and their blood pumping through their ears. Legolas lays his foot against Elrohir's leg, and Elrohir shrieks. "You are freezing!" he cries quietly. "Legolas!"

"Sorry, Elrohir."

"Are you tired?"

With a yawn, he lies, "No."

"Good night, Legolas."

"Good night, Elrohir." For many minutes more they lay together, alone in the quiet and the dark, before Legolas finally curls towards his friend. "Elrohir?"

"Yes, Legolas?"

"I. . .I'm a bit frightened."

"Of what?"

"The dark."

Elrohir reaches out in the darkness and takes his friend's hand. Legolas feels safe suddenly, connected to Elrohir and safe because of it. He allows his eyelids to droop into the deeper sleep of the Elves; passing by the light, open-eyed repose. Before he knows it, Legolas has fallen asleep. Elrohir, lulled by the gentle breathing of his friend, is soon to follow.

*****

TBC