Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien.

Glorfindel opened his door, and grinned at his reflection. Today had been a good day, and there was to be a feast soon. He was certain that Thranduil had brought some of mirkwood's best wine, and that alone promised a good evening. Still smiling, he bathed, opened his wardrobe and dropped the glass of questionably attained pre-celebration liquor on the floor.

"ERESTOR!"

Erestor, meanwhile, was busy trying not to tear up the robes Glorfindel had gotten him. Or at least, not dye them brown. They weren't quite as awful as Lindir had described them to be, but they did have yellow and bright pink flowers. Which said it all in Erestor's book. Mumbling to himself -- again -- he quickly dressed and left the room. He took the long way to the dining hall, carefully skirting around the quarters belonging to the balrog slayer. He assumed that by now, Glorfindel had discovered his little 'joke' and he had no wish to meet the elf in the hall, without others (like Lord Elrond) present.

Glorfindel stared hopelessly at his empty closet and his worst robe that lay upon the bed. There was no time to search for his clothing now! The feast started in ten minutes! Sighing (as well of thinking up his revenge for Erestor) Glorfindel prepared for what he was beginning to guess to be a fairly humiliating night.

Erestor strode purposely down the halls of Imladris. He was wearing a cloak to hide his brand new robes, and as he ducked into the room that the seamstress worked, he glanced furtively around as if he was in the midst of a battlefield -- which, in his opinion, he was.

"Erestor," Lindir panted from behind him, "Why do you act as if you are in the midst of a battlefield?"

"A battlefield this is, Lindir." He replied, sweeping out of the seamstress's rooms with a ball of string poorly disguised under his cloak. "But this is a battle of cleverness and wits -- which means that I of course, shall be the victor in this round"

"And how...." Pant, pant ...."Do you figure that?"

"Is it not obvious that I am much more intelligent then Glorfindel when it comes to subtlety?"

"Er...."

"Think on it Lindir." Erestor said patiently. "Do you call drugging someone and locking them in their rooms subtle?"

"Well no, but you did steal his clothing out of his wardrobe."

"Lindir, did I inform him I was going to do something drastic?"

"He did not inform you."

"That is beside the point!"

Still bickering, they entered the dining hall.

Glorfindel's mind, was trying to come up with a plan that would save him from the humiliation the night now promised to bring. He wasn't having any luck. The valar must be having a wonderful night of entertainment he thought. Or perhaps this is what the term comeuppance really means. He mused on the likelihood of the idea that maybe he had deserved what was happening to him -- then dismissed the whole thing as pure nonsense, and settled his mind down to begin planning some sort of revenge for Erestor.

A knock at the door jerked him out of his pleasant imaginings of what Erestor would look like if he 'borrowed' all of his reports for Lord Elrond (He later realized that that idea should have been categorized as a suicide mission, rather then a prank given by a colleague. Erestor was extremely protective of his reports, and wouldn't take well to having them... Borrowed).

"Lord Glorfindel?"

"Yes?"

"Lord Elrond bids me to ask you -- in these exact words, meaning no disrespect -- 'Why are you sitting holed up in your rooms?! The feast is going to start and you are not where you are supposed to be!"

Glorfindel looked at the door, startled as he realized that he was hearing Elladan's voice. He paused, Elladan and I have some... unfinished business. He wrenched open the poor door, but elf who he sought, had already left. Then he remember the message. Cursing in all forms of elvish (as well as the black speech; they had developed some absolutely wonderfully expressive curses in Mordor.) He managed to pull on his robes and stomp through the halls of Imladris.

Lord Erestor had just finished putting the last touches on his second little 'gift' to Glorfindel, and stepped back to admire his handiwork, when the telltale sound of voices reached him. He quickly stood in the shadows of a pillar and waited until the first few elves had passed, before sitting at the high table, looking as if he had only just arrived.

Soon, Lord Elrond arrived to join him at the table, quickly followed by his sons, King Thranduil, as well as a few other officials and visitors. But there was a conspicuous lack of Glorfindel. Erestor wondered what that meant. He saw Elrond whisper to one of his sons, and Elladan bowed his head and left the room -- looking a little nervous, but that was it. He soon returned, and by that time, most of the seats had been filled. Then Glorfindel arrived.

Erestor had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He couldn't have planned Glorfindel's arrival better if he had tried. Glorfindel came into the room, looking for all the world like a cat who had been offended and was now searching for his offender.

Erestor had the most uncomfortable feeling that Glorfindel had him in mind to fill that post. He grinned, it was going to be a most entertaining night.

Glorfindel observed the barely noticeable grin of his advisary and stifled a groan. This was going to be a most humiliating night.

"Glorfindel! There you are! Now we may begin this excellent feast that has been prepared for us in honor of King Thranduil's visit."

"Of course, my lord." Every one was staring at him. Normally he wouldn't have minded all of the attention, but in his worse robes... Erestor was a cruel elf, that was for sure. Glorfindel was very proud of the fact that his voice was steady when he asked for Elladan to pass the potatoes. It was partly his fault, that Erestor had been able to get at his robes after all. Elladan avoided looking Glorfindel in the eye, and Erestor studiously ignored Elrond and Glorfindel, while poor Thranduil had no one to talk to except Elrohir and Lindir, who was sitting with them that night.

Glorfindel pitied him. Those two elves were likely to talk him to death, and if not they could always ask Elrohir to sing.

Glorfindel observed Erestor out of the corner of his eye. He smirked, as he noticed that the advisor still wore a cloak to conceal his rather colorful robes. Then, he had an idea. "My Lord Erestor, are you not uncomfortable wearing that bulky cloak? Come, take it off and join the celebrations!"

Erestor glared at Glorfindel. Oooh, that elf is asking for it! "I find the cloak to be just fine, thank you Glorfindel. But if I may ask a question of you?"

"Ask away, mellon nin." Glorfindel smiled charmingly, inwardly wondering if life could get any worse.

It could.

"I was under the impression that you would be wearing your blue robes tonight, as you said this morning. Surely those are not your best?"

Glorfindel shot Erestor a look that would have withered grass, and said "I suffered an unfortunate accident. All of my clothes seem to be missing. You wouldn't know what happened to them, would you?"

"Nay, mellon nin," said Erestor, sounding entirely innocent

Lindir choked on his wine and Glorfindel sent him a suspicious look.

Erestor continued, "Although it is curious that such a similar thing happened to me earlier in the day." Under the table, he grasped a string and pulled. Miraculously, at the same exact instant, Glorfindel's wine came spilling down on him.

The evening rapidly went downhill from there

Glorfindel's clothing was soaked, so he spent most of the evening avoiding the people he usually would have been talking to, and laughing with. It was also entirely possible that they were the ones avoiding him.

Erestor's protective cloak mysteriously disappeared (Glorfindel was later seen that evening wearing a very similar one over his ruined robes). So the poor retiring advisor spent the evening in the way Lindir had predicted; surrounded by all the elleths, and quite overwhelmed.

The only one who really enjoyed the feast, was Thranduil himself, who couldn't resist provoking the two lords every once in a while. If looks could kill, he would have been in the halls of mandos many times over and Mirkwood would have been in dire need of a new ruler.

Lucky for him, they couldn't.

Epilogue

The following morning...

Erestor awoke that morning with the memories of what could be considered one of the worst nights in his life.

Glorfindel, was having similar thoughts as he opened his wardrobe and discovered his clothing still missing. There was a knock at the door, and a maid came in, clutching all of Glorfindel's clothes. She unceremoniously dumped them on the bed, and turned to leave, shutting the door behind her. The balrog slayer sighed. Now he had to put them away again. He didn't think he could stand it if someone else tried repeating that particular prank.

Erestor's clothing was not returned to him -- for indeed, Glorfindel had never stolen it -- it would later be found in the rag pile in the room where all of the dirty laundry was kept. He dressed instead in a pair of reddish brown robes the seamstress had brought to him as he awoke. They were new, and contained no holes. Erestor smiled grimly, he would have to work on that.

Each elf was polite to the other that morning, and the previous day was not mentioned. The day went fairly well, until they retired for the evening. Erestor went to his study, and began to tidy up as Glorfindel went into his rooms with a sigh of relief. It was when he opened his wardrobe that his world came crashing down around him.

Erestor's world (or at least most f his sanity) collapsed that evening when he discovered all of his reports were missing.

Two separate howls of rage occurred that night.

Elladan looked at his brother a little worriedly. "You don't think they'll come looking for us once they each realize it wasn't the other, do you?"

"Of course not," Elrohir replied breezily. "They'll have already killed each other by then."

"I see your point, muindor nin." Elladan smiled and looked down from the tree top they had taken refuge in. "And I really hope you're right."

"Trust me." Elrohir replied.

It was when Elrohir said that, that Elladan realized they were in trouble.

The End (maybe)

A/N Yes, that was the end. There is a vague possibility of a sequel -- I'll think about it, but no promises. Thank you to all who have reviewed. This was my first fic, and I'm glad it was so well received. You guys rock! And a special thanks to Ellen, the best beta ever, who edited all of the chapters (any mistakes are mine, I take full credit and chappies 5-8 are still unbetaed). Sayonara!