Rain In Rivendell

Disclaimer: see earlier, much as we wants them, oh yes, precioussssss, we wants the twinsssssss so we can use their ideas to play good pranksssss on people, yessssss, precioussssssssss.

Thanks to:

lucidity – glad you're continuing to enjoy it!

Also to Lord Elrond of Hogwarts – sorry I didn't get your review in time to say thanks at the start of chapter 2!!!

A/N: I'm not entirely sure how to portray Thranduil, so apologies if you disagree with me.

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Chapter 3

"When is lunch?"

"Do you think of nothing other than your stomach? Anyone would think you to be a Halfling and not an Elf!"

"I am hurt, muinthel nîn."

"You lie."

"I do not – hey!"

"Those who wrong me whilst occupying my bedroom shall suffer just punishment."

"Then you have lapsed of late, sister dear."

"Oh? How so?"

"You used to commit far worse crimes than simply pushing your eldest brother from your bed."

"Indeed? Then I shall have to amend that at once. After all, I cannot allow my prisoners getting off too lightly, and lighter than their predecessors."

"Ah. Er. Perhaps, sister dearest, you could forget that I uttered such words from my mouth?"

"Now why would I want to do that? You know how I enjoy seeing you suffer."

"Errr…"

Arwen smiled sweetly and innocently. Elladan's eyes widened. "Arwen, no. No. You would not dare…Arwen!" He ducked as his sister swung a pillow at his head. She missed him, but caught Elrohir, who was sitting laughing, full in the stomach. She gulped. Not the best move of the day.

Elrohir gasped, winded. It did not last for long, however. He grabbed a cushion and tossed it at Arwen, who shrieked as it caught her full in the face. "Elrohir! Now you are asking for it!" She pushed him to the floor to join his brother and tossed two more pillows at him. "Ha!" she crowed. "I claim the winner's crown!" She paused, suddenly aware of a lack of older twin. "Elladan? Where are you? Elladan?" Now she was worried. What could he be doing, if she couldn't see him? "I hope you are not reading my diary. Ada shall hear if you are doing so!"

Someone pushed her hard from behind so that she tumbled to the floor to join the younger twin and she shrieked again. "ELLADAN!"

"Indeed it was I," announced the pusher, grinning triumphantly from where he stood upon the bed, holding up several thick pillows that Arwen recognised as his and Elrohir's (their rooms were very close to their sister's). "We cannot have a proper pillow fight if we have only Arwen's pillows and cushions – many though she has," he explained.

Elrohir flew at him and wrestled some of the pillows from his grasp, pinning him flat on the bed. "This, brother dearest, is war!" he declared, then yelled as Elladan pushed him off of him. The younger twin grabbed a pillow and whacked his twin on the shoulder. Elladan was not going to stand for that, and seized hold of another pillow, aiming for his brother's stomach. Elrohir rolled to the floor and landed atop Arwen, who howled in shock and promptly pushed him to the floor, claiming a pillow for herself and assailing Elrohir, just as Elladan tossed a cushion at her back. A free-for-all descended upon the bedroom of Elrond's youngest, and the howls and shrieks were something that had to be heard to believed. Numerous people wondered in alarm if someone was being murdered, but thought better of that notion when they recognised the voices and some of the words being spoken – or rather, yelled.

The war had continued so for a good half an hour before Elrond, having just finished teaching, decided that he should inform his offspring that lunch was due to commence within five minutes or so. He was most alarmed at the sounds emanating from the corridor on which his offspring's bedrooms were, and quickened his pace.

"And that is for attempting to rip my skirt off!" screeched a female voice as the door was flung open.

Silence. The trio froze. Arwen was standing atop her bed, pillow having collided loudly with the shoulder of Elladan, who lay on his side on the bed. Elrohir was sprawled on the floor, a pillow on his stomach. Clothes were ripped, faces were flushed and the long, dark hair of all three was a tangled mess.

There were feathers.

Everywhere.

Elrond let out a long-suffering sigh at the scene that met his eyes, then sneezed as a lone feather tickled his nose. A few feathers flew up and then floated back down to the floor. Feathers on the floor. Feathers on the bed. Feathers on the desk.

And on the chairs.

And the window-seat (and yes, the torrential downpour continued outside, unrelenting).

And the bookshelves.

And the cupboards.

And…No. He could not bear to look anywhere else. He closed his eyes, attempting to convince himself that he was imagining things. That his daughter's room did not resemble an explosion in a henhouse.

Upon opening his eyes, he immediately wished he had not done so. The room did not look any better upon a second viewing.

It looked worse.

Far, far worse.

He sighed heavily again. Why did this always happen to him? Why was it always his children? Sighing a third and final time, he asked The Question: "Just what has taken place here?"

He got no response. He did not expect one. "Lunch is ready." He turned and left, closing the door firmly behind himself.

His offspring unfroze. Arwen released the pillow that she still held. Elrohir sat up, pushing the pillow upon his stomach to one side. Elladan rolled to the floor and stood. "Ah," was all he said. It was all that needed to be said. They brushed the feathers off their crumpled clothes.

"We should make ourselves presentable," stated Arwen.

Elrohir nodded in agreement. "Come, Elladan. We shall meet you outside your room in five minutes, Arwen." The two left for their rooms, leaving their sister to change on her own.

They emerged in four minutes to find Arwen awaiting them. Her hair was brushed and she wore a smart dress of deep purple. "We should keep Ada and his guests waiting no longer," she said, and they walked off in silence.

Elrond was indeed waiting, as were his guests. Thranduil looked rather unimpressed (or perhaps he was just hungry, thought Elladan, then thought back to the remark that had begun the pillow fight). Legolas was struggling to maintain a straight face, Arassuil was regarding Elrohir keenly and Gandalf had one bushy eyebrow raised in the direction of the younger son of Elrond. The other guests politely averted their gaze. Elrond was looking extremely irritated and his offspring, muttering their apologies, quickly took their seats.

"So how was your journey, my lord?" asked Elrond of Thranduil in a somewhat strained manner, in an attempt to divert the attention away from his rather disgraced offspring. The Lord of Rivendell had already taken precautions to ensure that they were not seated anywhere in the proximity of Legolas, as the combination of all four was entirely too much for him to handle at this moment in time. Instead, Arwen was seated to his left with Elrohir on her left and a representative of Gondor to his left. Elladan was to Elrond's right (separation of the twins being of the highest priority), with Arassuil to his right. Legolas was some distance round the table, next to his father and a (hopefully) safe distance from his friends.

"It was as well as could be expected, given such atrocious weather. It has been raining in my realm for a fortnight with little easing. We nearly did not make it here in time for the council," the Elven King answered. "Fortunately our horses do not seem to be averse to such weather."

The meal progressed with much discussion on a variety of topics, though the children of Elrond spoke little, sensing their father's displeasure. Elrond grew more relaxed as time went on.

Until dessert was brought out.

It was apple pie.

The twins could not prevent themselves from looking at each other. A move that was extremely inadvisable.

Elladan snorted (somewhat inelegantly, it must be said). Elrohir swallowed hard in a desperate attempt to suppress his own laughter.

It did not work. As the younger twin lowered his head to hide the growing grin upon his face, something light and white floated down from his head to land in his dessert.

A feather.

He could not help it any longer. The giggles burst out and he squawked. "E-e-excuse me, Ada," he choked out before tearing out of the room to collapse in the hall outside, where he howled with laughter. Moments later Elladan joined him. "Ada sent me out in disgrace," the older twin informed his brother.

"But – but apple pie!" Elrohir squawked. "Of all the possible desserts they could produce, why apple pie?"

"Keep your voice down or Ada will suspect something!" hissed Elladan fiercely.

"You think he is not already suspicious?!" spluttered Elrohir in disbelief. "The moment the meal is over he will be out here demanding to know why we were unable to control ourselves at that particular moment!"

"Scram," advised Elladan, grabbing his twin's hand and yanking him to his feet.

They fled.

An empty stall in the Rivendell stables had never been so appealing. Fortunately there was a large pile of hay bales conveniently positioned for them to lie low behind for as long as necessary. As they recovered their breath, they thought back to their sister, still at the table…

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"Arwen, could you perhaps shed some light on your brothers' behaviour?" Elrond hissed at his youngest, not wanting to draw too much attention to his sons' actions.

Arwen was as bewildered as her father, having no knowledge of the incident that had passed in Elrond's bedroom. "I can honestly say that I have no idea. Why they should find dessert so amusing, I do not know." Her eyes were drawn to the feather that still sat atop Elrohir's slice of apple pie, and a giggle escaped her lips, stopping short under the fierce glare of her father. Once the council had finished for the day, there was going to be serious trouble, and she knew without doubt that she would not be able to escape her father's wrath for once. He had caught her in the act of pillow warfare. This sobered her up immediately, and she bowed her head meekly, her innocent act belying the revenge she was planning on wreaking upon her brothers. 'Mordor hath no fury like a woman scorned', she thought to herself. Oh yes. The twins were for it.

Big time.

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~TBC~

Elvish translations:

muinthel nîn – my sister