A/N: Wow, I really wasn't expecting such a response - thankyou so very much
for surprising me!
Artemis: Don;t worry about reviewing too much, of course it's always brilliant to hear from you, but just so long as your out there and still reading, I don't mind! And, wow, that sounds so much like my own school!
Sireen C: Glad to provide a different perspective - that was exactly what I was aiming for with this story, also to show a little bit of the friendship between the four, and indeed Glorfindel and Elrond, that I think I may expand in another story... just testing the water, you know?
Arwen Baggins: Sorry, can't help you with Legolas' age - it seems we have to use a lot of our ideas with him because not much is know, I'm afraid. I *think* he a bit younger than the twins, yet that raises the interesting question, doesn't it - did Elves care about the age of their companions, as they all lived forever anyway? Intriguing, no? lol
Sorry, I know there were a lot more of you who reviewed, but we'd never get anywhere with the story if I individually wrote to you all. But suffice to say I very much appreciate you reading this story, and hope very much that you will enjoy and review it!
Lord Elrond of Rivendell smiled a little and rolled his dark blue eyes when he realised what must have happened. He had been demonstrating the method in which to draw poison of a mild concentration from an infected wound, speaking aloud with his back to his single pupil. He had *expected* Aragorn to be making notes upon the practical show as he usually did, but upon asking a question and recieving no answer, Elrond had turned and found the young man dozing with his chin in his hand, completely oblivious. Though Elrond had promised Glorfindel that very morning that he would be strong and not be any easier in his rules or teachings just because of the state of his children, he could not help himself, and he made Aragorn a cup of painkilling tea.
He now placed the steaming cup on the table top in front of the sleeping ranger, and gently shook the young man's shoulder. "Wake up, ion nin [my son]," he called in a soft voice.
Aragorn seemed to respond to this, for one eye opened groggily and took in it's surroundings. The seventeen year old must have then suddenly realised the process in which he had come to be in such a place, and the other eye snapped open. Elrond watched as the dark pupils in the slate-grey eyes predictably shrank to tiny dots, and his youngest hissed as if he had been burnt. The Lord of Rivendell had to hold back the chuckle that almost escaped him as Aragorn then groaned and wrapped his arms around his face as a sharp headache assaulted the front of his skull.
"I am sorry, ardar," came Aragorn's muffled, pitiful voice from beneath his arms. "I shall pay more attention."
"Do not fret yourself," Elrond squeezed his son's narrow shoulder and moved to take a seat opposite him. He smiled even further as Aragorn finally removed his arms from around his head and tried to look at his father, squinting and grimacing most unattractively as he did so. Unfortunately for the ranger, the Sun was shining very brightly through the open windows just then, and his headache only increased to murderous heights. He groaned again.
"Would you like to know something, Estel?" asked Elrond mildly, averting his gaze to a branch upon a tree outside the window instead of upon his youngest.
Aragorn looked at him curiously - or at least, about as curious as one can get when they are trying with all their might not to simply scream and throw themselves from the nearest balcony in an effort to stop the pain assaulting them mercelessly. The elven lord continued, "I am actually considering feeling a little sorry for you... Now, do not mistake me!" he called when Aragorn's pale features brightened considerably at the thought of a restful day after all, "You are not getting off of this lightly... I was just considering whether it is your own fault, after all."
"Well," Aragorn croaked, "My dearest brothers were plying me with drinks for a large portion of the night... I had to keep up with Legolas or he would tease, and there was that delightful and rather memorable game of 'downers' that Martonia instigated - I believe I was pressured into it," he concluded hopefully, trying to shift blame onto 'peer-pressure'.
Elrond laughed aloud at that, "Nay - I do not imagine you can fob all of last night off onto other people. Part of growing up, Estel, is that you finally learn to take responsibilites for actions which- "
"Arda, *please*!" cried Aragorn weakly, pulling the hot cup of tea to his trembling lips and letting the soothing steam caress his face. "You *know* under normal circumstances I would definately listen to your teachings and lectures, but *please* - it's still so early in the morning and I feel so very, very unwell... could this talk please be postponed until tomorrow... Please?"
The Lord of Rivendell could not help himself, he could not deny anything from the large, tortured pair of crystal-grey eyes that looked up so imploringly at him. He sighed gustily, folding his arms and looking down to his feet for a moment, but when he looked back up again - there the damned eyes still were. "Fine, let it be," he cried, throwing up his hands and glancing up to the ceiling in his mock-agitation, secretly he was glad to let his youngest find rest... he could always tell Glorfindel different when asked.
Aragorn made a pitiful, muted sound of triumph, drained his painkilling tea in one, set the cup down, folded his arms, and promptly fell into a deep, healing sleep where he sat. Elrond rolled his dark blue eyes, though they twinkled, and left the room and his youngest to his undeserved peace.
"Now, you two, I have the book you requested, but why you needed it escapes me - I had to go all the way to..." Glorfindel trailed off as he glanced up from the worn pages of possibly the oldest and most difficult-to-find book of lore in the realm, to find both Elladan and Elrohir sleeping flat out across the table they were supposed to be writing on. The golden-haired lord said nothing further, simply walked up to the desk and let the large book fall heavily onto the table top without any more preamble, jolting both twins violently from their breif respite.
"Hey!" cried Elrohir, voice broken and hoarse as he was startled, "We were sleeping then!"
"So I can see," Glorfindel raised one practised eyebrow, dark brown eyes searching both twin's haggard faces. He was most unamused. "Is that why you sent me on a wild-goose chase to find this ancient novel, so you two could catch up on your beauty sleep?" his voice was tight, a veritable warning to any who heard this particular tone directed at them.
But Elladan for once - as he was usually the more sensible twin - decided this time to completely ignore the warning signs of an explosion, and proceeded thus: "Why Glorfindel, you really think Elrohir and I need any more beauty sleep?" He leapt up from his seat deftly, even in his sluggish state managing to avoid the vast, leather-bound piece of work flung at his head. "Oh, come on! I was only jesting!" he cried, mildly alarmed and his friend's actions.
"You are to carry on today as normal!" the elven lord reiterated angrily. "And that does not mean sleeping through your lore-tutorials."
"But, Glorfindel," replied Elrohir wearily, an uncharacteristic whine seeping through into his tone as he stood, unasked, to retrieve the thrown novel from the floor, "We've been working hard all morning and the most part of this afternoon, no luncheon or anything. And we *normally* sleep through our lore-tutorials... it wouldn't be normal if we did not!"
This made Glorfindel hesitate for a moment, on the verge of yelling at them to purposefully make their minds pound against their skulls - of course, he knew the younger twin was lying, but he thought he might have just found a way out of an awkward situation. If he only spun it properly, he could save himself quite a lot of hassle, and yet still get away scot-free... "Is that so?" he asked as though thoughtful, dipping his fair head to one side in an imitation of curiousity.
The twins, for their part, were fairly suspicious over his sudden apparent- naivety. Surely Glorfindel was far too wise to fall for such a half- hearted, lame excuse? Their identical, dark-blue eyes widened simultaneously and they exchanged glances - but it seemed they felt far too wretched to care for the consquences if this was a cunning trap laid by the elven lord. "Err, yeah..." said Elladan as he looked back to his elder companion, searching his face for any hint of jest or anger.
But he could find none. Glorfindel thought himself at that moment to be possibly the best actor in all of Middle-earth... perhaps he would take it up as a profession before he left that world's shores. He emanated stupidity - a fairly mean feat for one so learned as he... and yet he himself couldn't quite believe the guilibility of the twins. Mayhap all the drink consumed the night before a affected their brains more than previously thought? Either way, they believed him as he said, "Well, in that case - you may continue on as normal." And indicated they were to do so with a wave of his hand, offering the table top to them once more.
The twins needed no second chance, and did not further question their elder mentor's curious behaviour. They buried their heads into the crooks of their arms, and left the realm of the living for some considerable time - they may have left their lore-work unfinished, but it was definately worth it in their eyes.
Glorfindel grinned and, pulling the vast leather-bound text into his lap, sat in one of the plush chairs next to his friends, and there he spent a quiet hour or so listening to Elladan and Elrohir snoring softly where they sat.
The dusk was beginning to fall around the Rivendell realm when Legolas dropped deftly from one of the thicker branches of a great beech tree, stumbling uncharacteristically as he landed heavily. He had been training all day, yet there had been more than a few mishaps... mainly losing his balance over and over resulting in a fair bit of pain for himself, misjudging things, feeling weak and not being able to keep up as he should - also, getting distracted by the pain in his head and behind his eyeballs. He had thrown up the little breakfast Lord Elrond had managed to force down him that morning, and had felt thoroughly miserable all day, and now, to top it all off, he was exhausted. But no one had lied to him, told him Mirkwood-warrior training was to be all fun and games - and he had sworn an oath of devotion, so he supposed it was down to no one other than himself.
And that just annoyed him even further. The fact that he had brought all this upon himself.
But he no longer cared, for the time had come to return to the Last Homely House, where he would immediately seek respite in the form of his bed, so warm and welcoming, and probably not wake til after noon the following day. He was so looking forward to just closing his eyes - hopefully they would stop aching - and he'd be fit to make up all the work he hadn't done that day. So he breathed in deeply, and stepped forward, beginning to make his way on shaky legs towards his bed, as though drawn there by an unkown force.
Alright, let me know what you think of this story - whether you think it's acutally funny etc. There's one last bit to go, and I hope you stick with me for it! Cheers.
Artemis: Don;t worry about reviewing too much, of course it's always brilliant to hear from you, but just so long as your out there and still reading, I don't mind! And, wow, that sounds so much like my own school!
Sireen C: Glad to provide a different perspective - that was exactly what I was aiming for with this story, also to show a little bit of the friendship between the four, and indeed Glorfindel and Elrond, that I think I may expand in another story... just testing the water, you know?
Arwen Baggins: Sorry, can't help you with Legolas' age - it seems we have to use a lot of our ideas with him because not much is know, I'm afraid. I *think* he a bit younger than the twins, yet that raises the interesting question, doesn't it - did Elves care about the age of their companions, as they all lived forever anyway? Intriguing, no? lol
Sorry, I know there were a lot more of you who reviewed, but we'd never get anywhere with the story if I individually wrote to you all. But suffice to say I very much appreciate you reading this story, and hope very much that you will enjoy and review it!
Lord Elrond of Rivendell smiled a little and rolled his dark blue eyes when he realised what must have happened. He had been demonstrating the method in which to draw poison of a mild concentration from an infected wound, speaking aloud with his back to his single pupil. He had *expected* Aragorn to be making notes upon the practical show as he usually did, but upon asking a question and recieving no answer, Elrond had turned and found the young man dozing with his chin in his hand, completely oblivious. Though Elrond had promised Glorfindel that very morning that he would be strong and not be any easier in his rules or teachings just because of the state of his children, he could not help himself, and he made Aragorn a cup of painkilling tea.
He now placed the steaming cup on the table top in front of the sleeping ranger, and gently shook the young man's shoulder. "Wake up, ion nin [my son]," he called in a soft voice.
Aragorn seemed to respond to this, for one eye opened groggily and took in it's surroundings. The seventeen year old must have then suddenly realised the process in which he had come to be in such a place, and the other eye snapped open. Elrond watched as the dark pupils in the slate-grey eyes predictably shrank to tiny dots, and his youngest hissed as if he had been burnt. The Lord of Rivendell had to hold back the chuckle that almost escaped him as Aragorn then groaned and wrapped his arms around his face as a sharp headache assaulted the front of his skull.
"I am sorry, ardar," came Aragorn's muffled, pitiful voice from beneath his arms. "I shall pay more attention."
"Do not fret yourself," Elrond squeezed his son's narrow shoulder and moved to take a seat opposite him. He smiled even further as Aragorn finally removed his arms from around his head and tried to look at his father, squinting and grimacing most unattractively as he did so. Unfortunately for the ranger, the Sun was shining very brightly through the open windows just then, and his headache only increased to murderous heights. He groaned again.
"Would you like to know something, Estel?" asked Elrond mildly, averting his gaze to a branch upon a tree outside the window instead of upon his youngest.
Aragorn looked at him curiously - or at least, about as curious as one can get when they are trying with all their might not to simply scream and throw themselves from the nearest balcony in an effort to stop the pain assaulting them mercelessly. The elven lord continued, "I am actually considering feeling a little sorry for you... Now, do not mistake me!" he called when Aragorn's pale features brightened considerably at the thought of a restful day after all, "You are not getting off of this lightly... I was just considering whether it is your own fault, after all."
"Well," Aragorn croaked, "My dearest brothers were plying me with drinks for a large portion of the night... I had to keep up with Legolas or he would tease, and there was that delightful and rather memorable game of 'downers' that Martonia instigated - I believe I was pressured into it," he concluded hopefully, trying to shift blame onto 'peer-pressure'.
Elrond laughed aloud at that, "Nay - I do not imagine you can fob all of last night off onto other people. Part of growing up, Estel, is that you finally learn to take responsibilites for actions which- "
"Arda, *please*!" cried Aragorn weakly, pulling the hot cup of tea to his trembling lips and letting the soothing steam caress his face. "You *know* under normal circumstances I would definately listen to your teachings and lectures, but *please* - it's still so early in the morning and I feel so very, very unwell... could this talk please be postponed until tomorrow... Please?"
The Lord of Rivendell could not help himself, he could not deny anything from the large, tortured pair of crystal-grey eyes that looked up so imploringly at him. He sighed gustily, folding his arms and looking down to his feet for a moment, but when he looked back up again - there the damned eyes still were. "Fine, let it be," he cried, throwing up his hands and glancing up to the ceiling in his mock-agitation, secretly he was glad to let his youngest find rest... he could always tell Glorfindel different when asked.
Aragorn made a pitiful, muted sound of triumph, drained his painkilling tea in one, set the cup down, folded his arms, and promptly fell into a deep, healing sleep where he sat. Elrond rolled his dark blue eyes, though they twinkled, and left the room and his youngest to his undeserved peace.
"Now, you two, I have the book you requested, but why you needed it escapes me - I had to go all the way to..." Glorfindel trailed off as he glanced up from the worn pages of possibly the oldest and most difficult-to-find book of lore in the realm, to find both Elladan and Elrohir sleeping flat out across the table they were supposed to be writing on. The golden-haired lord said nothing further, simply walked up to the desk and let the large book fall heavily onto the table top without any more preamble, jolting both twins violently from their breif respite.
"Hey!" cried Elrohir, voice broken and hoarse as he was startled, "We were sleeping then!"
"So I can see," Glorfindel raised one practised eyebrow, dark brown eyes searching both twin's haggard faces. He was most unamused. "Is that why you sent me on a wild-goose chase to find this ancient novel, so you two could catch up on your beauty sleep?" his voice was tight, a veritable warning to any who heard this particular tone directed at them.
But Elladan for once - as he was usually the more sensible twin - decided this time to completely ignore the warning signs of an explosion, and proceeded thus: "Why Glorfindel, you really think Elrohir and I need any more beauty sleep?" He leapt up from his seat deftly, even in his sluggish state managing to avoid the vast, leather-bound piece of work flung at his head. "Oh, come on! I was only jesting!" he cried, mildly alarmed and his friend's actions.
"You are to carry on today as normal!" the elven lord reiterated angrily. "And that does not mean sleeping through your lore-tutorials."
"But, Glorfindel," replied Elrohir wearily, an uncharacteristic whine seeping through into his tone as he stood, unasked, to retrieve the thrown novel from the floor, "We've been working hard all morning and the most part of this afternoon, no luncheon or anything. And we *normally* sleep through our lore-tutorials... it wouldn't be normal if we did not!"
This made Glorfindel hesitate for a moment, on the verge of yelling at them to purposefully make their minds pound against their skulls - of course, he knew the younger twin was lying, but he thought he might have just found a way out of an awkward situation. If he only spun it properly, he could save himself quite a lot of hassle, and yet still get away scot-free... "Is that so?" he asked as though thoughtful, dipping his fair head to one side in an imitation of curiousity.
The twins, for their part, were fairly suspicious over his sudden apparent- naivety. Surely Glorfindel was far too wise to fall for such a half- hearted, lame excuse? Their identical, dark-blue eyes widened simultaneously and they exchanged glances - but it seemed they felt far too wretched to care for the consquences if this was a cunning trap laid by the elven lord. "Err, yeah..." said Elladan as he looked back to his elder companion, searching his face for any hint of jest or anger.
But he could find none. Glorfindel thought himself at that moment to be possibly the best actor in all of Middle-earth... perhaps he would take it up as a profession before he left that world's shores. He emanated stupidity - a fairly mean feat for one so learned as he... and yet he himself couldn't quite believe the guilibility of the twins. Mayhap all the drink consumed the night before a affected their brains more than previously thought? Either way, they believed him as he said, "Well, in that case - you may continue on as normal." And indicated they were to do so with a wave of his hand, offering the table top to them once more.
The twins needed no second chance, and did not further question their elder mentor's curious behaviour. They buried their heads into the crooks of their arms, and left the realm of the living for some considerable time - they may have left their lore-work unfinished, but it was definately worth it in their eyes.
Glorfindel grinned and, pulling the vast leather-bound text into his lap, sat in one of the plush chairs next to his friends, and there he spent a quiet hour or so listening to Elladan and Elrohir snoring softly where they sat.
The dusk was beginning to fall around the Rivendell realm when Legolas dropped deftly from one of the thicker branches of a great beech tree, stumbling uncharacteristically as he landed heavily. He had been training all day, yet there had been more than a few mishaps... mainly losing his balance over and over resulting in a fair bit of pain for himself, misjudging things, feeling weak and not being able to keep up as he should - also, getting distracted by the pain in his head and behind his eyeballs. He had thrown up the little breakfast Lord Elrond had managed to force down him that morning, and had felt thoroughly miserable all day, and now, to top it all off, he was exhausted. But no one had lied to him, told him Mirkwood-warrior training was to be all fun and games - and he had sworn an oath of devotion, so he supposed it was down to no one other than himself.
And that just annoyed him even further. The fact that he had brought all this upon himself.
But he no longer cared, for the time had come to return to the Last Homely House, where he would immediately seek respite in the form of his bed, so warm and welcoming, and probably not wake til after noon the following day. He was so looking forward to just closing his eyes - hopefully they would stop aching - and he'd be fit to make up all the work he hadn't done that day. So he breathed in deeply, and stepped forward, beginning to make his way on shaky legs towards his bed, as though drawn there by an unkown force.
Alright, let me know what you think of this story - whether you think it's acutally funny etc. There's one last bit to go, and I hope you stick with me for it! Cheers.