Disclaimer: I still don't own it. What a surprise!

Author's Note: I was faster with this chapter, wasn't I? Stick with me, even if it's a slow ride.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The next morning, Elladan and Elrohir ambushed Mithrandir as he was coming out of his guest chambers. Before the old wizard had a chance to speak, the twins quickly told him about their suspicions as to the perpetrator of the color-changing spell on their hair that had started this whole mess.

"Well, you've gotten yourselves into this mess quite well. Now get yourselves out of it. By yourselves!" Mithrandir turned and headed down to breakfast. The twins followed.

Reaching the private dining room that was empty except for Elrond, Mithrandir took pity on them. "Perhaps a bath might help matters." Having giving the twins all the help he intended to, he entered the dining room.

The twins were furious, but plastered rather fake smiles on their faces upon seeing their father's doting expression. These smiles grew even more fake when the conversation turned to children's antics and how excited Elrond would be to be a grandfather. Mithrandir just sat there with an amused twinkle in his eye and the largest smile on his face since the last time he'd seen pipeweed from the Southfarthing. Estel, who had arrived late, enjoyed the tales Elrond told about the twins as children.

Back in their rooms after breakfast, the twins were once more trying to figure out what they were going to do. It looked like the carpet was going to wear out before they found a solution.

Finally, Elrohir said, "We have to just explain everything to Father. He'll be disappointed in us and relations with Mirkwood will suffer, but he wouldn't force us into a marriage we don't want.

Neither twin was excited about the prospect. Therefore, they decided to put it off until after dinner. But when they tried to tell Elrond that they didn't want to get married and that this situation was a mistake, Elrond simply told them that it was perfectly normal to be nervous before such a life-changing event as marriage but that it would be wonderful once it was all over. He then asked if the invitations should be written in emerald, sapphire, or gold ink.

"Blood red," replied Elladan.

"Emerald! Excellent choice, my son! Just what I would have picked!" Elrond spoke as if the reply he'd received was the one he had wanted. The twins decided that this was hopeless.

The weeks whipped by, with Elladan and Elrohir trying to tell Elrond that they had no intention of marrying. When it was decided that it would actually happen in Lothlorien, so Galadriel and Arwen could plan things to the finest detail, the twins felt even worse. Knowing their grandmother, they realized that they were never going to get out of marrying Thranduil's daughters. They were definitely running out of escape routes. In fact, they couldn't see any. Except for the library window that didn't shut properly any more. It hadn't appreciated the cornmeal from Estel's mealworm-in-a-jar being spilled all over its fasteners.

A few days after the summer solstice, a small group of elves from Mirkwood had come to finalize exactly which weddings would take place. Biric, one of King Thranduil's advisors, led the envoy. The visit wasn't absolutely necessary, but Thranduil wanted to know more about the elves his daughters would be marrying. After all, they might have been a pair of immature idiots who never stopped playing pranks. Wait a second, that's what they were...

As the twins, Elrond, and Biric relaxed with some wine in Elrond's study (well, Elrond and Biric were relaxing anyway) they discussed which of Thranduil's daughters would marry which of Elrond's sons. Elrond excitedly compared the character traits of Elladan and Elrohir to Biric's far more subdued descriptions of Megwindilas and Carowania. Eventually it was decided that both parties would go to Lothlorien a month early to allow the betrotheds time to decide exactly who it was that they were betrothed to.

The situation thus settled, it was decided that the Mirkwood elves would remain for a week or two to allow the horses, guards, and diplomats time to rest before returning to Mirkwood. It also allowed some time for working out any important details that hadn't been taken care of by Galadriel or Arwen yet.

The next day, the twins were glumly sitting in the library with Estel, helping him do exceedingly nasty homework on the Valar, the First Age, and probably other subjects as well. Yes, that's right. It was a crossword puzzle. Glorfindel could sink no lower.

"14 down has to be Maedhros, Elladan. Who else would Morgoth have hung by his right hand and have been rescued by Fingon?"

"All right, all right, I believe you. Elbereth wouldn't work with the ones we've already found anyway," replied Elladan. This discussion was rapidly losing its glumness.

Elrohir refrained from bashing his head against the table. "122 across is Ecthelion," he managed to say.

"How did we go from 14 down to 122 across? I'm pretty sure 15 down is Sauron. Besides, E-c-t-h-e-l-o-n is one letter too short for the space."

This time Elrohir did bash his head against the table. After the first smack, he decided that bashing his head against the table was actually more painful than carrying on a conversation with his brother. Elrohir replied, "Firstly, your arm is covering all the numbers from 15 down to 121 across." Elladan's arm quickly moved.

"Secondly, the Elven king who died at the Last Alliance was Gil-galad, not Sauron, and definitely not Sauron spelled S-a-r-o-r-i-o-n. Thirdly, Ecthelion spelled correctly fits 122 across perfectly."

"Oh," was Elladan's only answer.

Biric was sure that the twin sons of Elrond kept talking, but from his position half-hidden under a reading table across the library, he couldn't hear them. That was alright, though. Even if he couldn't hear their beautiful, melodious voices, he could see their perfectly formed features.

With a sigh, he returned his attention to the poem he was writing about and to the twins. So far it read:

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I love looking at your head

Because I love you

When I tried to talk, you fled

You don't have a clue

How much my heart bled

But my love is true

Biric stopped. It wasn't very good; even he could tell that. Plus he couldn't think of anything else to rhyme with 'red', 'head', 'fled', and 'bled'. With another sigh, he crumpled up the sheet of parchment.

*************************************************************

A/N: Leave me a review and tell me how much you'd love to have Biric stalking you! Seriously, reviews are nice. The more I get, the more motivated I am. So it's really in your best interest...