No Such Luck
by Firniswin

Main Characters: Aragorn, Legolas, Elladan, Elrohir
Rating: PG
Pairings: N/A
Genre: Humor
Length: Short story
Summary: When Aragorn begins to act superstitious around the number thirteen, Legolas is hard pressed to prove to his friend that this certain number is just like every other -- but will he be able to prove it to the gullible human?

This story was written for Parma's thirteenth fanfiction challenge.

Legolas leaned forward, both silver -- blue eyes on the rugged human before him who was sitting anxiously as Elrohir stacked logs into the ever-burning fireplace in the Hall of Fire.

The elven prince quirked an elegant eyebrow as his friend licked dry lips and began to pant fearfully.

The younger elven twin, totally unaware of his frantic human brother, continued to count the logs as he felt the warmth that pushed from the licking red and orange flames.

"Ten, eleven, twelve…" He reached low down for the very last log and was about to heft it into the fire as well when Aragorn stood from his seat and nearly dove for the "accursed" log.

"NO!" he shrieked in panic, and Elrohir slipped as the young ranger bowled him over, landing both of them on the hard stone floor against one of the many chairs.

Elrohir blew the hair from his face and glared coldly at his little brother, who now lay sprawled in the young twin's lap, hair cascaded over his face and silver eyes hidden beneath.

"Estel," he breathed. "What on Arda was that?"

Legolas stood to his feet and nodded his consent. "Yes, mellon nin. I have to agree that I have never seen such stupidity and foolishness before -- and definitely not over a log…"

"Oh, I have seen worse." Elrohir pushed Aragorn off him and accepted Legolas's outstretched hand. "Try Elladan, he's always pulling stunts like that."

"Number thirteen -- where is it!"

The human was shivering as he rose to his feet, looking around the room for the log in question.

"What's with him?" The elven prince licked his lips and folded his arms, watching the frightened human with mirth glittering in his eyes. "Why's he so--"

"Strange?" Elrohir finished coolly. "I don't know, he just got back from an errand to a neighboring town, maybe he learned some odd native culture that has to do with logs and the number thirteen?"

Aragorn spun and pointed a finger his eyes squinted in frustration. "Not logs! It's that number -- thirteen." He clapped a hand over his lips and panted, his hands nearly shaking with adrenaline. "It's cursed!" the ranger shouted beneath his hand.

"A curse?" Elrohir smacked his lips and sighed in disbelief, almost smiling as he took a step forward and put a gentle hand on his little brother's shoulder. "Estel, the number thirteen is just a number -- there is no curse on it."

"That's what they want you to think!" the human nearly shouted with a fear in his eyes that spoke volumes.

He was shivering so hard now that he had to stagger to the nearest chair and sit down. Once he had, he found the thirteenth log on the floor and watched it with weary silver, blood-shot eyes. "It's bad…"

Aragorn's eyes shot to both elves and he began to shake anew, this time with terror so fierce that his words were wavering. "I counted thirteen tunics in my closet last night, so I threw one out the window…" he announced, his hands clutching the chair's arms.

Legolas was about to speak but was cut off by Aragorn's incessant blabbering: "Thirteen rafters above my bed -- I don't know how to get rid of those, but don't worry -- I'll think of something…"

"Elrohir…" the plea was more of a whine and the younger twin sighed with a sad smile.

"I know, Legolas." He rolled his eyes and with a warm smile turned to Aragorn, his eyes aglow.

The human shrunk back, gulping as his grip tightened on the arms of the chair. "What are you doing?" He shrunk as the elf moved closer. "Elrohir? Elrohir!"

"Estel, what do you see?"

The human harrumphed and for a moment, Elrohir thought he was back to his normal self. "I can't see, 'Ro. You have a blindfold so tight around my temples, I can scarcely think!"

Snickering, the twin looked to Legolas. The prince, though unsure, held tighter to the four reigns, making certain that none of the beasts spooked. He nodded undecidedly and the twin pulled the cloth away from his younger brother's pale face.

The human might have been thrilled, had he not first noticed the tight ring of horses that was surrounding him and Elrohir.

He started and was about to ask when he suddenly noted the odd number. He began to count and gave a shriek, trying instantly to find a way out of the mess he had so unfortunately been placed in.

"Thirteen!" he whispered, terror welling from within. "There are thirteen horses surrounding me!"

"Yes, so?"

The human shook his head, a knowing smile coming over his face. "Oh-ho, no! You did this!"

His elven brother smiled and pointed to himself proudly. "Yes, I did. And I want to also point out, little brother, that nothing has yet happened that is of the utmost disaster."

Aragorn stood absolutely still a moment, seeming to contemplate the words. But Elrohir quickly found the truth when he whimpered pitifully and shouted: "THERE ARE THIRTEEN HORSES SURROUNDING ME, AND YOU DO NOT FIND THAT THE LEAST BIT DISASTROUS!"

"No, as a matter a fact, I don't. Do you, Legolas?"

Sighing, the prince shook his head. "No. In truth, I am rather enjoying the company of these thirteen marvelous beasts."

This did not faze the man for he was quickly trying to find a way out of the ring.

"Elrohir! PLEASE!"

"Aragorn," the twin began, putting a careful hand on his brother's shoulder and making sure that the ranger was looking into his eyes, "there is no such thing as bad luck."

"Yes, there is! And," he breathed out, "we are standing in the middle of it!"

Elrohir rolled his eyes and shifted away, waving to Legolas. The prince whispered elvish to the horses and they followed him compliantly, not even acting angered or upset, maybe a little dejected, but not upset.

"What have you against me that you would do such horrors!" the man cried as he fell to his knees in anguished sobs. "I am ruined! Ruined because of your disbelief in the luck and bad luck!"

"Luck is a configuration of the mind, little brother." The twin bent down, trying to touch the man with a gentle hand. But Aragorn would not have it, he pulled away and swatted at the hand as if it were a bee with its sting at the ready.

"Don't touch me! I am already in such a horrible mess as it is! No need to burden me with your horrible bad luck!"

The elf backed away but slowly the wheels in his mind began to turn and before lone a smile had crept onto his once angered features. He sighed restfully and with and skip took the step between him and his brother and bent down so he could look face to face at the young man, his eyes sparkling like dew in the new morning sun.

"Estel," he queried carefully, placing a thin finger up to his elegant chin.

The young man looked up with no hope in his sad eyes. He breathed out a disgruntled groan and raised himself up, raising a brow at his brother's oddly pleasant mood.

Seeing that Aragorn was paying at least a pinch of attention, the Elrondion licked his lips and shifted his sly, silver eyes back to the stables. "Was Legolas not in the ring with us?"

The man nodded firmly, not quite understanding the foolish question. "Of course he was, he was holding the horses -- well, some of them."

Feeling confident and excited that his brother had caught on, even in his semi-frantic state, the elven twin raised himself up. "Well then, you wouldn't mind wagering me somethin'?"

Narrowing his silver eyes, ones so similar to his elven brothers', he lowered his brows and rolled his eyes. "What kind of wager, Elrohir?"

Cutting right to the chase, Elrohir had found, was the best when dealing with things like this. "I'm willing to bet you two of Ada's best bottles of wine from Dale that nothing will happen to Legolas as he comes out, therefore proving that there is no such thing as luck!" He smiled, and before Aragorn could say a word, added: "After all, he was touching the horses to! He's gotta have the worst luck of all of us -- if there is such a thing..."

"Of course there is such a thing!" the man gasped, and with a frown, he put his hand forward. "I'll bet my Dowahan's best bridle that something does happen to our poor Mirkwood prince!"

With a sly smile, Elrohir slapped his hand forward and clasped it tightly against the young human's. He shook it vigorously and chuckled. "I've always wanted that bridle!"

"I know," the man groaned and rapidly pulled his hand away as Legolas came walking through slowly, singing a song softly to himself and breathing deeply the cool fresh air. Both friends leaned forward as the Mirkwood elf continuously made his way, unscathed and untouched, through the Rivendell Stable.

Elrohir had his hands folded as he sat patiently, eagerly awaiting the beautiful bridle that his brother had promised. It will look absolutely splendid on Fwalalaith, he thought with a broad grin.

His pleasant thoughts were interrupted when the prince stepped upon the threshold of the barn, his light hair glistening in the light of the sun. He was about to step outside when something small flew through the air and surprisingly smacked him hard in the temple.

Reeling back, Legolas clutched to where his head had been hit, frowning in confusion as he tried to concentrate.

But none looked as Elrond's youngest twin did.

Elrohir stared openly, hardly able to believe what he was seeing! His mouth dropped open and his silver eyes went wide as he stood to his feet and began to look for the source of the blow.

He turned when a rustling in the bushes caught his attention.

"Did I hit anybody?" The voice the younger twin recognized as that of Elladan, his twin and the older of the two. The older elf's face emerged and he looked about, instantly seeing the prince who was still clutching his head and looking dazed from the surprise.

"Elladan?" he stammered. And Elrohir was about ready to lunge at his twin, rage easily showing in his eyes. But, he was stopped when his younger brother started to laugh, his eyes watering as he fell back and began to guffaw hysterically.

"What's with him?" Elladan seemed totally bewildered by his youngest brother's interesting behavior and he chuckled dryly.

"If I were him, I would be laughing to." The younger twin growled as he tightly grasped his twin's wrist, effectively pulling him from the greenery and hauling him towards the cellars. "Come!" he snarled. "I have some wine to pilfer..."

"Not from Ada's cellar! You will get whooped so hard, you won't know what hit you!"

"No such luck, Elladan. No such luck..."

END