Drabble 61
It was infinitely clear to every Elf in the near vicinity of the kitchens that Estel, two years old, had found pans. And a wooden spoon. And that he was now banging the two together most heartily, without sparing a thought for the Elven ears he was ruining.
Elrohir peered around the door, hands pressed protectively against the sides of his head. His eyes alighted on the sight of his spoon-grasping brother, who sat happily on the floor, surrounded by pots of varying sizes. His mouth hung open, and every now and then he sucked in a huge breath. It was obvious that he was screaming along to his 'music', but even Elrohir's sharp ears could pick nothing up. The head cook sat in a corner of the room, seemingly unaffected by the mind-blowing racket before her.
Definitely a mother, Elrohir thought sourly. No one else could take such a noise. Or maybe she's just dead. He glanced to the side as a dark head, identical to his own, popped up beside him.
'This proves that at least one of Glorfindel's stupid sayings is true,' Elladan commented in a loud voice, having observed Estel's inaudible squealing. 'Actions speak louder than words.'
A/N: This is a quick thing I wrote after hearing my brother putting lunch dishes away this afternoon. I never knew it was possible for someone to drop so many metal measuring cups on a tile floor, or clank cutlery together so noisily. Oh well. You learn something new each day, right? Hope you enjoyed!