A/N: This is a huge chapter! It's full of laughs and some thrills. As you can probably tell, this is meant to be an Elvish Hallowe'en, some nice light fun. As I said earlier, these are among the last chapters, so I hope you enjoy them.

Farothwen walked around after breakfast with Glorohtar, feeling very out of place. Apparently today was some sort of celebration, the courtyard decorated and the red-clad Elves in high spirits. Glorohtar was fine: the stitches were removed from his head and he just had a large bruise on his ribcage, not a cracked rib like he thought. He saw Elenion walking past and asked him what was going on.

'It's the Autumn feast,' he replied. Glorohtar had completely forgotten the Equinox was coming.

'Go and change!' Elenion fussed. 'Tonight's going to be very special and you must be dressed for it.'

'What's happening tonight?' Farothwen asked. Elenion smirked.

'You'll see. Just enjoy it.'

Both of them perplexed, Farothwen and Glorohtar did as he said, and dressed in red. Excitement was in the air, as well as something else. Glorohtar couldn't put his finger on it. Bloodlust?

All of their questions were answered before the sun set, at the feast. The usual fare was served – a mixture of meats and fruits, the last harvest before winter. Red wine was in everyone's goblet, and Farothwen noticed that everyone's lips were stained red, like it was blood. Everyone was also drinking feverishly. Tonight was going to be a very strange night.

As the feast came to an end, Lord Elrond stood to say his usual piece. 'As you all know, tonight is the night where the boundaries of the circles of the world is at its weakest. As the sun sets, the restless souls of our forebears and also of Men walk the earth for a brief period, lamenting for their lost lives and their beloved land. If you see them, please do not disturb them, for they are full of hurt and anger and may try to harm you. Enjoy yourselves, and hail the dead!'

'Hail!' All drank to the souls of fallen Elves and Men. Farothwen was alarmed.

'The dead walk the earth tonight?' She looked to Glorohtar for an explanation, but he was equally disturbed.

'I do not know. The ways of this land are still strange to me. I would think it was a story, but everyone here seems to believe it.'

Beleglor overheard. 'Of course they walk, my dearest. For here in Imladris have many battles been fought, while Mirkwood has not seen much of war.' Much as he hated lying to his children, Beleglor was enjoying seeing the fear on their faces. 'Do not fear them, you are safe from them. Their stories are mostly full of sadness, not of hate. They will not hurt you.' He stood. 'Come, join the celebrations. I hear Elladan and Elrohir are putting on a play, and it's very funny.'

Farothwen followed her father. Much as she loved him, she knew he was a terrible liar. They were just stories. Nothing to fear. She gave a reassuring smile to her husband, who also knew that it was not true. Besides, the idea of Elladan and Elrohir acting in a play was hilarious.

A group of Elves were seated under the large pine tree in the courtyard, hung with red ribbon, its shedding needles gently drifting down onto the grass. A little stage area was marked out, a blue sheet hung as a backdrop. Glorfindel was acting as narrator, and he graciously waited until everyone was seated, including Farothwen, Glorohtar and Beleglor. Farothwen sat, leaning back comfortably into Glorohtar, his arms around her in the cool air. Glorfindel cleared his throat and began.

'Welcome, fair people, to the tale of the great warriors Tugdir and Thaurdir, as portrayed by our own Masters Elrohir and Elladan!'

They appeared and bowed to cheers from the audience. Elladan turned to Glorfindel and said, 'Glorfy, it's Elladan and Elrohir, I was born first.' He grinned as everyone laughed.

'By only two minutes,' Elrohir protested as he put the props on the ground: two wooden swords, a long flower, and two large bottles filled with what looked like a thick red liquid. It was obvious that this was part of the play, as Elrohir turned to the audience and loudly whispered, 'He has smelly feet.'

'I don't!' Elladan cried. 'It's the smell of the old cheese from the kitchens, I swear!' Everyone laughed at Elladan's perfect mock indignation, Glorfindel clearing his throat loudly again.

'Thaurdir was walking through the forests of the wilderness, marvelling on what a lovely day it was,' he began.

'Ah, it's a lovely day, I marvel,' Elrohir said.

'When he saw his old friend, Tugdir,' Glorfindel continued.

Elladan sauntered onto 'stage'. 'Hello, Tugdir, my old friend,' Elrohir said, bowing.

'Hello, Thaurdir, my two-minutes-younger friend,' Elladan replied. 'How be you?'

'I be well. How be you?'

'I be well.' Elladan started frantically waving his hands in front of his face. 'Argh, a bee!'

Glorfindel again pretended to read from his scroll. 'While they found a better playwright, Thaurdir and Tugdir started talking about things.'

Elrohir and Elladan in low voices said the word 'things' over and over again.

'A new playwright was found and he decided to put in a beautiful woman, Bainwen, who came over to say hello to her old friends, Tugdir and Thaurdir.'

Arwen walked across the stage. 'Hello, my old friends, Tugdir and Thaurdir.' She promptly walked off again. Elladan and Elrohir watched her go.

'Both Thaurdir and Tugdir realised that in their hearts they were overcome by love for Bainwen,' Glorfindel said.

'Ah, in my heart I am overcome by love for Bainwen,' Elladan and Elrohir said in perfect sync. They angrily looked at each other. 'No, I am!' they said together. They appeared angrier. 'No, I am!' they screamed in sync.

'All right, you both are!' Glorfindel called, and they looked placated. 'Bainwen suddenly realised that she had to finish her conversation with the two great warriors, so she came back.'

'I've come back!' said Arwen. 'Sorry, I forgot to finish my conversation with you. How be you?'

Elrohir rolled his eyes. 'Please, don't ask me that.'

The narrator cut in again. 'Tugdir had found a pretty flower to give Bainwen.'

Elladan handed Arwen the flower. 'A pretty flower for a pretty maiden,' he said, grinning like a fool. Arwen acted touched and smelt the flower. Elrohir appeared angry.

'Ow!' Arwen shrieked, rubbing her nose. 'A bee!'

Glorfindel's voice seemed agitated. 'While the new playwright was dragged out the back and had the stuffing kicked out of him for writing such rubbish, the narrator got so fed up with the play he had a tantrum. Argh!' He threw the empty scroll to the grown and stormed off, the three actors running to calm him. The crowd were laughing hysterically. A whisper was heard, 'That's my favourite part. Glorfindel does tantrums so well. He should do, he has enough of them!' That sent the crowd into a new wave of laughter as the actors and narrator came back on stage, the narrator muttering something about playwrights having obsessions with bees.

'What are you lot laughing at?' Glorfindel improvised. 'Are you laughing at a poor actor reduced to doing such drivel as this to put scrolls on the shelves? To put gold in my circlets? I could be with the greatest of actors, you know!' He pretended to cry.

The crowd shouted 'Get on with it!' Glorfindel picked up the scroll and he seemed to wipe his eyes and blow his nose on it. 'Oh dear,' he said, 'that'll take a while to get out.'

'Get on with it!' the crowd shouted, prompted by Arwen. Glorfindel cleared his throat once again and resumed.

'Now the narrator has become the playwright, he decided to write Bainwen out, because he believed that a woman has no place in a manly, violent play, and he was sick of pandering to women's demands for a woman in the play. He doesn't know what happened to Bainwen, she went off and died somewhere, he doesn't care.'

Arwen marched up to Glorfindel and pretended to slap him hard, storming off. 'Wench!' he called back at her. He straightened himself up and continued.

'Thaurdir remembered that it was the Equinox.'

'Ah, I remember, it's the Equinox!' Elrohir cried.

'And he also remembered that the souls of the dead walk the earth unhappily, seeking rest and retribution.'

'Ah, I remember, the souls of the dead walk the earth unhappily, seeking rest and retribution!'

Elladan tapped him on the head with the hilt of his wooden sword, Elrohir falling to the ground. 'Sorry, he was getting annoying,' he said apologetically.

'Tugdir was thinking of a really funny and original way to scare the wits out of Thaurdir when night fell and he regained consciousness,' Glorfindel continued.

'I know!' Elladan exclaimed. 'I'll stick a white sheet on my head with holes cut out for eyes and pretend to be a restless spirit!'

He ran offstage while Elrohir sleepily stood up.

'Thaurdir was also thinking of a good way to scare his friend Tugdir.'

'I know!' Elrohir exclaimed. 'I'll stick a white sheet on my head with holes cut out for eyes and pretend to be a restless spirit!'

He also ducked offstage. Glorfindel continued to speak.

'Night fell, and the cries of spirits were heard in the stillness.'

'Squawk!' went Elladan.

'No, I said spirits, not parrots!'

'Oh, sorry. Wooooo!'

'That's better. Anyway, Tugdir went around with his sword drawn because it is said that for just this one Equinox night spirits can touch their beloved Middle-earth. He hoped he wouldn't encounter any real spirits.'

'I hope I won't encounter any real spirits,' Elladan said, with said white sheet with eyeholes on his head. 'No, spirits aren't real, it's all children's stories my parents told me to scare me. They loved scaring me. I think it's because they were Nazgûl, but let's not go into that. Although it would explain why they went abroad a lot.' A well timed bump made Elladan jump. He burst into tears. 'Nana!' he cried and ran offstage.

Elrohir was also in his white sheet, inching around slowly, his wooden sword drawn.

'Thaurdir was also wary of spirits, because he had seen one in his childhood,' Glorfindel said in a slightly scornful voice.

'No, it's true!' Elrohir protested. 'I did see a spirit! It was a flea that lived on Huan, Hound of Valinor, when he died!' Naturally, this raised a big laugh from the crowd. 'You all just ask Lord Elrond! It bit me too!'

Elrond was standing at the back watching, laughing, holding his hands up in protest when the crown spun around. 'It bit me!' Elrohir continued. He sauntered up to the nearest elf-maiden in the crowd with a big lecherous smile. 'Want to see the scar? It's on my-'

'Thaurdir was still on the lookout for spirits,' Glorfindel interrupted.

Elrohir whirled around. 'My foot! I was going to say it was on my foot!' There was another bump and Elrohir shrieked. He wandered around carefully with his sword drawn. He peeked around the left edge of the sheet just as Elladan entered on the right side. They both inched backwards until they bumped into each other. They turned around and screamed in sync, 'Argh! A spirit!'

They raised their swords and started to fence, both of them displaying skills honed over thousands of years. It was a delight to see. Once, when Elladan's sword hit Elrohir's particularly hard, the last four inches of Elrohir's sword flew off into the crowd, which was definitely not expected. Elladan laughed with everyone in the crowd and Glorfindel quipped, 'There you have it, ladies and gentlemen: conclusive proof that Thaurdir has the shorter sword.' Elrohir started laughing, totally forgetting about the play. He turned around and pointed his broken sword at Glorfindel.

'Watch it, you, or you'll have no sword by morning.'

Everyone, actors and narrator included, was dissolved in laughter and struggling to continue.

'The spirits were still fighting,' Glorfindel choked out.

'Oh, right,' Elladan said. He and Elrohir dipped their swords into the open bottles of the red mixture, meant to be blood, and started painting each other where their swords struck the sheets. Streaks of fake blood were everywhere, even on their faces and hands. Elladan even managed to write his name on Elrohir's sheet.

'It was a fight to the death,' Glorfindel said.

Elrohir managed to thrust his sword in between Elladan's arm and chest, Elladan acting like he had been stabbed in the heart.

'Oh, hang on,' Elrohir said. He pulled his sword out, coated it in fake blood, and placed it under Elladan's arm again. Elladan smiled.

'Can I die now?'

'By all means, brother.'

Elladan stumbled, in the process pulling his sheet off. Elrohir gasped and pulled his own sheet off.

'Tugdir!' he cried.

Elladan dramatically sank to his knees and Elrohir caught him, holding him in his arms. He stuck a glob of red onto the place where the wound was supposed to be, over Elladan's heart. Elrohir pretended to weep over the body.

'Oh, Tugdir, Tugdir! I have murdered thee! That which I love most, my friend, the one two whole minutes older than me!'

Elladan cracked an eye open. 'I'm not dead.'

'Thy blood is on my hands!' Elrohir showed his sticky red hands to the crowd. 'I am so moved by my guilt I have reverted to old speech!'

'I'm not dead!'

'My life is not worth living, having killed one so dear! Goodbye cruel world!'

Elrohir coated Elladan's sword with fake blood. 'Now I throw myself upon thy sword, where I am supposed to be! I farewell thee with a kiss.'

'Oh, don't kiss me, I don't know where that mouth's been!'

Elrohir tried to control a giggle. 'Goodbye!' He dramatically pretended to fall upon Elladan's sword, draping himself over his body.

'I'm not dead, you silly fool!'

'Tugdir did indeed die with his noble friend,' Glorfindel said.

'Oh, did I?' Elladan asked.

'Yes.'

'Oh, all right, then.' Elladan then closed his eyes and let his head droop.

'So that is the end of the tale of the great warriors, Thaurdir and Tugdir, who were eventually undone by their own stupidity. The moral of this story, boys and girls, is that if you see someone wandering around in a white sheet in this Equinox night, actually make sure they are spirits before stabbing them. The end!'

All four actors stood and took a bow, to the thunderous applause of the crowd, who were now on their feet. Celebrían smiled and called for silence.

'How nice you all are! Now, while you were all watching the play, the cooks were nice enough to both make you all some sweets and to hide them all over the House. Search everywhere, for they are hidden everywhere, even in the trees. There are plenty for all. Good luck!'

Everyone cheered and immediately ran off to search. Elladan and Elrohir were mainly concerned with throwing the hardening fake blood mixture at each other, their hands and faces and tunics coated with the sticky red mixture. Farothwen, Glorohtar and Beleglor stayed behind with Elrond as the others rushed off to search for sweets. Beleglor was still giggling as he approached the twins.

'Who wrote that? It was awful!'

Elrohir laughed. 'Oh come on, Beleglor, it wasn't that bad! We wrote it long ago, with Glorfindel. It was meant to be scary but it turned out funny. One year we decided to perform it and we've done it every year since. You would have thought everyone would be sick of it by now.'

'I'm certainly not,' Elrond said. 'Glorfindel's tantrum is the best bit of acting I've ever seen.'

Elladan leaned over to Farothwen. 'We wrote that part. The only reason it's funny is because it's true.' She laughed.

'Are you all going to search for sweets?' Celebrían asked. 'You should, there's plenty there. Elladan and Elrohir, you should wash. That stuff wouldn't taste very nice, I'll wager.'

'Probably not.' They washed it off their hands at a nearby small fountain. They decided to leave it on their faces to add to the effect. Elrond and Celebrían gave them each small red sacks to gather the sweets in.

'Check the trees,' Celebrían said, 'everyone's gone back into the House. But don't stray too far into the forests! Who knows what spirits walk in the wilds.' She smiled.

Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, Farothwen and Glorohtar ran off into the trees, searching every nook and cranny for that elusive piece of chocolate or bit of rock. Beleglor stayed behind.

'Will you not look, Master Beleglor?' Elrond asked.

Beleglor shook his head. 'No, my lord. Maybe next year.'

The five Elves went into the forest, plucking sweets from branches, birds' nests and squirrel-holes, as the rest were in the House. Their sacks were soon bulging, as they had the woods all to themselves. Arwen wandered ahead to a stream with a small waterfall running into it. She knew there was a natural cave behind the waterfall, and she wondered if there was anything hidden there. She and her brothers had entered into a contest as to who could find the most sweets.

Farothwen was getting into the spirit of the festival, carefully plucking a sweet from a nook in a nearby tree.

'Elrohir?' she asked.

'Yes?'

'Have you ever truly seen a spirit?'

He laughed. 'No, but I can tell you a story that Glorfindel told me as a child, about two spirits who are meant to haunt Imladris.'

Elladan's eyes lit up. 'Ooh, I love this one. You tell it so well. Come on, let's sit down.'

Farothwen, Glorohtar and Elladan sat on a fallen log while Elrohir sat on a tree stump across from them.

'All right, this story is not for the faint of heart. Are you ready?'

'Yes,' Glorohtar smiled.

Elrohir cleared his throat and began. 'A very long time ago, before the world was broken and Beleriand slipped beneath the seas, two Elves lived, and their names were Mordir and Dollwen. They were in love, and they were betrothed, to be married in the spring. Everyone was very excited, it had been a very sad time and this had given the people hope.

'Mordir and Dollwen were walking in the forests on the Equinox night, a night exactly like this. It was dark, but the sky was clear and the moon full. They were alone, the others feasting in the halls above. They walked alongside a river, just talking and planning their wedding. All of a sudden they heard a cry, which sounded like a maiden weeping. They found a maiden sitting on a rock beside the river crying. Dollwen touched her shoulder and asked her what was amiss. The maiden looked up, and it was not a maiden, but a monstrous spirit. She looked as if she had been dead for many years, her rotting flesh hanging limply off her bones, her eyes empty sockets, her teeth yellow and sharp. Her dress was of rags, and she smelled of the sea. There was a large hole in her rotting breast, caused by a sword, her death wound. Her bony hand seized Dollwen by the throat and dragged her away. Mordir could not stop her. Dollwen was screaming for him, but he could not help her as the spirit took her away into the night.

'He ran back to the halls and said that Dollwen had been taken. It was too late in the night to search for her, and some were suspicious. His story seemed to be false, and it did not make sense. By first light they began the search, and they searched all day and found nothing but a strip of fabric from Dollwen's red dress under a tree. Some were beginning to think that Mordir had killed her and buried her nearby, but it was by now too dark to start digging. They went back to the halls to eat, but they were interrupted by a terrible howling which sounded like a wounded animal or a woman screaming.'

At this point, Glorohtar jabbed Farothwen in the ribs, she being so involved in the story that she screamed, which also made Elladan shriek. Glorohtar and Elrohir started laughing. Farothwen hit Glorohtar in the side.

'Glorohtar!'

'Ow, you hit my bruise!'

Elrohir smiled and waited for the laughter to stop before he continued. 'Yes, it sounded just like that. Anyway, Mordir took off into the forests before anyone could catch up to him. The moon was covered by cloud, there was no stars and hardly any light. No one could see him, and he could not see anything but he followed the howling. A breeze was blowing in the trees. He could hear a creaking noise, and he didn't know what it was. He thought it was the trees, but suddenly the clouds parted, and the moon shone, and then he saw…' Elrohir masterfully trailed off.

'What did he see?' asked Farothwen eagerly.

Elrohir smiled and dropped his voice to a low whisper. 'He looked up and saw Dollwen, hanging by the neck from a tree, swaying in the breeze. He screamed and dropped to his knees, crying at her feet. The people who had found him there took that as a sign of guilt, and on that night they hanged him, right beside Dollwen. The next day they cut the bodies down and buried them under the hanging tree, as they called it.'

'Who hung Dollwen?' Glorohtar asked.

'The spirit, of course,' Elrohir replied. 'She had put a charm on the body for it not to be seen until the sun went down the next night, for on Equinox night the spirits have the gift of touch once again until dawn when they travel back to the Halls.'

'Why them? Was it deliberate or random?' Farothwen said.

'Deliberate,' Elrohir nodded. 'The spirit was a young maiden who died in the slayings of Alqualondë. Mordir and Dollwen were of Fingolfin's people and Mordir took part in the slayings. The spirit tried to kill as many as she could who took part, following the Noldor from Nargothrond down to Lindon and Eregion, and eventually even came here to Imladris. Everyone knew to avoid the rivers on Equinox night, because that's where she lived, to be close to the sea. Apparently in the early days of Imladris one Elf went missing. They never found his body but they say that on the next Equinox night they saw three bodies hanging from a tree in this very forest: Dollwen, Mordir, and the missing Elf. They say that the missing Elf was the one that killed her. You could see it from afar, as Dollwen wore a blood-coloured dress. And that it why we wear the same colour on Equinox night.'

Glorohtar looked around. 'Which tree?'

Elrohir grinned. 'The one you're sitting on. But you needn't fear, none have seen the spirit ever since the Elf went missing. They say that since she killed the one who killed her, she finally retired to the Halls in peace, her task done. And that's it.'

The three on the log burst into applause. 'Well done, brother,' said Elladan, who had heard the story a thousand times but still enjoyed it. 'You'll make a good story-teller yet.' He looked at Farothwen and Glorohtar. 'I wonder if you'll give us any children to frighten.'

Farothwen laughed as she stood up. 'You are not telling that story to my children, ever. Come on, let's go. I bet everyone else is far ahead of us in terms of sweets.'

Arwen edged closer to the waterfall, only lit by the light of the moon, a clear night. She could hear talk and laughter of the others behind her, Farothwen screaming as Glorohtar startled her intentionally. She very carefully walked across the rocks, careful not to slip, getting slightly wet from the spray of the waterfall. She ducked her head into the cave and smiled when she saw a sack of sweets sitting in a little alcove on the wall of the small cave. There was a note attached: 'May this be for the Lady Arwen, with love from Rhiwloth of the kitchens'. Arwen laughed. Rhiwloth was a maiden who worked in the kitchens, teaching her to cook when she was a girl, and she was the only one who knew of this cave.

'Thank you, blessed Rhiwloth!' Arwen said, taking the sack and carefully making her way out. She could no longer see or hear the others ahead of her as she walked back into the forest. She heard a noise behind her on the bank.

When she turned around, she saw an orc inching towards her in the moonlight. She wanted to run, but then she realised that it was Elladan playing a trick on her. It was easy enough for him to follow her; his woodcraft was excellent.

She stood with a hand on her hip. 'Elladan, come on, take those clothes off. I know it's you.'

He seemed not to hear her, inching closer, his weapon raised in the moonlight, light shining off the metal.

'Elladan, what are you doing?'

No answer. Coming closer. Dried blood on the sword in the light.

Arwen's voice shook. 'Elladan, this isn't funny, stop it!'

His arm was drawn back, ready to strike.

'Elladan?'

The orc swung. Arwen ducked, turned and ran. 'Elladan!' she screamed. As she ran through the undergrowth, she tripped on a hidden root and fell with a howl of pain. She had hurt her ankle. The orc was right behind her. She landed on the grassy ground. The orc stood over her, weapon raised, ready to bring down. She screamed.

Elladan looked around. 'Where's Arwen?'

Elrohir shrugged. 'I don't know.'

'She probably went ahead,' Glorohtar said.

'I hope not,' Elrohir replied. 'I don't want her to beat me.'

Farothwen chuckled, and they all went back to searching in silence. A sudden scream rent the air.

'Elladan!'

He froze. 'Arwen,' he whispered. Elrohir took off into the undergrowth, towards the stream, Glorohtar following. Elladan ran down, Farothwen behind. Elrohir listened for anything, not being able to see where his sister was. She screamed again. She was close.

'Arwen!' Elrohir cried. 'We're coming!'

Weaponless, Elladan picked up a large and heavy rock. It wasn't much, but he hoped it would help. Suddenly he saw her, sprawled on the ground, the orc above her, about to bring its sword down on her. Elladan's rock hit it on the head, which wasn't enough to knock it out, but it diverted its attention to Elladan. The orc charged forward, but Elrohir grabbed it in a stranglehold from behind and swiftly snapped its neck. Farothwen and Glorohtar carefully helped Arwen to her feet, Glorohtar supporting her as she could not put weight on her right foot. Elladan looked relieved.

'Arwen, are you hurt?'

'I hurt my ankle.' She tried to walk on it but she cried out in pain and nearly fell, Glorohtar steadying her. Elladan picked her up and carried her in his arms.

'I'm sorry I did not see you go,' he whispered.

'I should not have gone alone. I am sorry.'

'Do not be sorry, my sister. Just be glad that you are not hurt, or worse.'

They quickly went back to the House, unseen by everyone else, enjoying the festivities. Glorfindel was in the courtyard, telling the same story that Elrohir told. Glorohtar slipped into the crowd and quietly told Elenion that Arwen had hurt her ankle. They quickly and quietly came and met everyone in the healing rooms, where Arwen was sitting on one of the beds.

'Lady Arwen, what happened? Are you hurt badly?' Elenion asked.

'I fell over a tree root in the woods. It is not serious but it hurts very much.'

Elenion knelt down and very carefully took Arwen's red slipper off. Her ankle was already beginning to swell. He very gently examined it, making sure it wasn't broken, trying unsuccessfully not to hurt Arwen, who was holding Elrohir's hand.

'It is very tender,' Elenion said, 'but it should heal within a few days. Try not to walk on it, and it will be very swollen and bruised, so do not be alarmed.' He carefully wrapped a bandage around it and tied it up. He held his hand out to steady Arwen as she slipped herself off the table onto the ground.

'Can you walk?' Elladan asked.

Arwen nodded. 'I think so.' She limped out, using Elladan as a crutch. They slowly made their way to the courtyard, and Glorohtar got her a chair. Glorfindel was delighting in telling revellers back from the sweet hunt gruesome stories about spirits. This particular one involved a stray Elf who was disemboweled and dismembered by a vengeful spirit – usual children's fare, of course. Arwen had held onto her sweet bag the whole time and started eating the chocolate, saving the harder rock until later. Elrohir and Elenion stood in the background softly debating over whether to tell Elrond about the Orc, Elenion winning out, going to fetch Elrond.

Farothwen sat on the ground beside Arwen, listening to Glorfindel's macabre stories as everyone quietly munched on sweets. These stories were completely new to her, so she made the appropriate faces of horror and disgust. Arwen smiled as she watched her. This Equinox night was highly eventful after all.