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Hunting  by Nilmandra

Thank you to daw the minstrel for beta reading this chapter

Chapter 9: Win, Lose, Draw

In the darkness, Elrohir lay curled on his side on a sleeping couch, his mind reviewing the events of the day. He could still hear music and laughter coming from the Great Hall, where the feasting and dancing continued.  The food had been delicious, the music beautiful, the Hall decorated gaily with flowers and the king had welcomed them publicly and warmly. Yet, Elrohir had not entirely enjoyed the night. Elladan had been distant from him and spent most of the evening speaking with the other warriors who would participate in the competition the next day.  Elladan and Garthon were to lead tracking parties on a hunt where they would have to overcome certain obstacles, recover lost elves, find various tokens and attempt to capture a wood-elf scout who would seek to evade them and return to a designated safe area near the training grounds.  Elladan and his team were planning their strategy and schemes for winning the competition.

In all the long years of his existence, Elrohir could not remember being excluded from his brother’s life.  They had been apart at times, on separate missions, or one injured while the other was not, but never had they been together in the same place, yet apart.  The dull ache in his heart was proof of the rarity and painfulness of the experience.

A soft sigh escaped him as he thought back to his words earlier that day. He had told Elladan he could not be angry on his behalf. It had seemed the right thing to say, given Elladan’s anger at Elrohir’s illness.  Mostly he had wished to avoid having Elladan angry with Glorfindel or their hosts. But in his wish to free Elladan from needing to be angry on his behalf, he had damaged his relationship with his twin. His heart heavy, he finally drifted into restless sleep.

* * *

“How long do you plan to make Elrohir suffer?”

Elladan turned abruptly at the words spoken behind him.  Glorfindel stepped into the light cast by the lanterns hanging from the stone walls and walked to within a step of him, his arms folded casually across his chest.  Elladan turned away to face the darkness of the hall ahead of him, a sigh escaping him as his shoulders slumped slightly.

“That Elrohir should suffer was not my intention,” he finally answered. “But as he reminded me, I am not responsible for him.”

“He did not wish for you to be angry on his behalf, or for you to seek retribution for him.  While you are not responsible for him and never have been, you have not been so careless with his feelings since you were an elfling small enough for me to tuck under one arm.”

Glorfindel’s words struck Elladan like a blow to the chest, for he recalled the long-ago incident where Glorfindel had done just that. He had been wrong then, and he knew he was wrong now. 

“Why are you angry at him, Elladan?”

“I am not angry at him,” responded Elladan hotly. He turned to face Glorfindel, and felt his flash of anger recede at the calm face that met his.  He closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment. “I am a little angry at him. He has been wronged and he does not care. I am angry because I am more concerned for him than he is for himself.”

Glorfindel was silent for a long moment, and then asked, “Do you think Elrohir cares less for you than you do for him?”

Elladan shook his head. “No.”

“Twins you may be, Elladan, but you are very different,” said Glorfindel gently. “You are the fierce one, loyal and strong and courageous. You exude those qualities and none are left wondering what is important to you or how you feel. Those qualities exist in Elrohir too, but they appear differently.  His love is gentler and more forgiving.”

“He is as strong as mithril beneath that exterior, though,” argued Elladan.

Glorfindel laughed and wrapped his arms around Elladan.  “Loyal Elladan, you are defending him even to me!”

“He is my brother,” said Elladan simply.

“I caused more bruising on Elrohir’s back than the wood elves did.  Do you wish to fight me also?” asked Glorfindel seriously.

“No, that was my fault for letting him do something when I knew you would flatten him for it.” Even as he spoke, Elladan heard the hypocrisy of his words. Had he and Glorfindel not just agreed that he was not responsible for his twin? He sighed. “So why am I not angry with you, as I am with the wood elves?”  He thought for a moment, his question rhetorical and Glorfindel wisely silent.  “They do not love Elrohir like you do.”

Glorfindel smiled, and Elladan recognized that smile as that of his old tutor when he would properly translate a phrase into Quenya or succeeded on the training grounds.  “They meant no harm to Elrohir, any more than they meant harm to you.  They protected their princeling and humored themselves at your expense, but that is part of who they are. I promise you they will play hard tomorrow and they will expect the same from you.  Should you flatten Sadron, they will laugh. Should they again flatten you, they will laugh harder.  Enjoy the games the way the wood elves play them – just don’t scare their little prince.”

Elladan smiled in spite of himself, for he had just heard his captain give him permission to play by rules that had tossed him into the dirt and nearly sent him to the dungeons. “Just remember to do this for yourself,” Glorfindel added, “and not from some misguided thought to avenge Elrohir.  His injuries are from the orcs, not elves.”

“I must go speak to him,” said Elladan suddenly. “I have made him miserable.”

Glorfindel grinned.  “I should not say this, but the wonderful thing is that you know with Elrohir that he will forgive you.  Instantly.”

Elladan looked at their friend and captain in mock surprise.  “So you are admitting taking advantage of his forgiving nature? You tease him knowing full well he will forgive you?”

Glorfindel cuffed him gently. “Of course!  But I also tease him because he enjoys being teased. I believe it is a trait he inherited from your mother, for neither you nor your father particularly like it.  Your mother, on the other hand, loves it and gives as good as she gets.”

Glorfindel squeezed his shoulder in parting as he stopped at his own room, and Elladan continued to the next one.  Elladan entered silently to see his twin sleeping, curled on his side with his arms both folded against his chest.  He studied the face that was so like his own, but that covered up a fëa and heart so very different.  He had never thought of it as Glorfindel said, but Elrohir did like to be affectionately teased. And he always forgave, and seemingly forgot any transgressions against him.  And I am right too, for this quality does not make him weak, it makes him strong.

Elladan changed from his borrowed finery into his sleep tunic, but instead of going to his own sleeping couch, he pulled back the covers next to Elrohir, and lay down beside him.  Wrapping his arms about his brother, he was saddened to feel the tension in his twin’s muscles. But as he continued to hold and comfort his sleeping brother, he rejoiced to feel Elrohir settle into his arms and relax.  A smile on his face, Elladan drifted into sleep.

* * *

Elrohir woke to a soft blowing on his face. His eyes gradually focused on an elfling with blond hair leaning on the edge of the couch, so close to Elrohir that their noses were nearly touching. A broad smile appeared on the elfling’s face.

“Elrohir!  You have to get up.  Lathron and I need your help,” whispered Legolas none too softly.

Elrohir felt warm and comfortable, and realized he was wrapped in his brother’s arms.  A smile to match Legolas’s spread across his face as he shifted slightly so he could see Elladan.  Whatever had been bothering Elladan had passed, and he had his twin and best friend back.  Even without words spoken, he heard the apology conveyed by the arms that held him close.

“Do not wake Elladan,” directed Legolas. “We are going to help hide tokens and set up obstacles, and they cannot know what we are doing.”

Elrohir extricated himself from Elladan’s arms, then washed and dressed under Legolas’s impatient eye.  Finally ready, he cast one last thankful glance at his twin, and then took Legolas’s offered hand and followed him from the room. Legolas stopped outside the door, glancing back inside.  “You forgot your sword and bow and arrows.”

Elrohir paused, confused, but returned inside to strap on his sword belt and place his quiver and bow on his back.  He was not a participant, but evidently the child had been instructed to see that he brought the items with him.

“Lathron says I am to bring you to the training fields.  I cannot go there alone, but if you are with me then I can,” explained Legolas as he skipped along next to Elrohir.  “We will have breakfast with the warriors and then get to work!”

Lathron was waiting for them, as promised, along with Rawien and Glorfindel, who would judge the event.  Elrohir was surprised to notice that Lathron, who also was not participating, also was armed with sword, bow and knives.  He motioned to the weapons and asked, “Are we going far from the grounds?”

Lathron smiled rather sadly. “No, but we do not go unarmed anywhere except the patrolled areas near the homes and palace. Orcs and spiders seldom come with many leagues of the stronghold, but it is not unheard of.  Even the elflings carry daggers when they play on the forest edge.”

Elrohir felt his respect grow, along with a matching sadness, that life could be so uncertain in the woodland realm that all would be armed.  But, Dol Guldur was again occupied, orcs roamed the southern woods and spiders ventured closer and closer.  He felt a sudden gratitude for the safety of Imladris and realized he took that safety for granted.

Breakfast was set out at a table next to one occupied by Rawien and Glorfindel.  They had maps and a variety of items laid out, and were discussing where the items should be placed.  Elrohir recognized the helpers as Ethiwen and Tinánia, whom he had met at lunch, Lathron and Legolas, Galithon, one of the King’s guards, whom he had sat next to at the feast, and Meren, who had tended him in the woods.  They ate as they listened to the captains review the competition.

“There are warriors already out setting up the obstacles,” said Rawien.  “We will hide the tokens and show you where you are to await your ‘rescue’.  You must remain in pairs for safety reasons. We will begin the morning with an archery competition, followed by a swords contest.  A light lunch will be held and then you will take up your positions.  A horn will announce the start of the tracking.”

Across the table from him, Lathron sat with Legolas in his lap, one arm firmly around the little one’s middle to keep him in place.  Legolas was bouncing and straining to see, yet Lathron appeared undisturbed by the bundle of energy in his arms.  He calmly ate, talking with those around him.  Elrohir had to admit that Legolas, while unable to sit still, was otherwise quite good.  He was quiet and eating, despite all the movement.

Soon all were on their feet, tokens in hand, and Elrohir picked up his share. He was turning to follow Lathron when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Glorfindel smiled at him, and Elrohir leaned into the arm that wrapped gently about his shoulders.

“Let me see your back,” said Glorfindel.  He stepped behind Elrohir, lifting his tunic to inspect the discolored skin.  Already the bruises were beginning to fade. “You are healing.”

“Camnesta thought within just a few days the bruises would be gone,” agreed Elrohir.

“Did you speak to Elladan last evening?”

Elrohir shook his head.  “No, but whatever was bothering him seems to have passed.”

Glorfindel sighed. “I am sure he will apologize today, Elrohir.”

“I do not need an apology; I only needed my brother back,” insisted Elrohir.

“He needs to apologize, Elrohir. He took his frustration out on you and the guilt of that will weigh upon him if you forgive him without him asking for and admitting his need for that forgiveness.”

“I need to let him apologize because doing so helps him?”

“Yes,” answered Glorfindel with a smile.

“Then I will let him apologize,” answered Elrohir slowly. “However, that does crimp my plans to use his guilt to my advantage.”

Glorfindel began to laugh, the sound rising in volume as he looked at the gentler of the twins.  Elrohir winked at him and moved off to join Lathron and Legolas.  Of course all I wanted was my brother back, but do those two think me so innocent that I would not make Elladan do all my camp chores on the way home in payment?  He grinned to himself.  All was right in the world and he would not be washing any dishes or collecting any firewood on the return journey.

* * *

Elladan was listening to Bregolas explain the competitions and rules to the competitors when he saw those helping set up the tracking event return from their work.  Elrohir and Lathron each had Legolas by a hand, and the elfling was skipping along and then allowing them to swing him forward when he planted his feet and quit walking.  He met his twin’s gaze and allowed all of his emotions to be evident in the bond he shared with his brother.  He felt the forgiveness offered and his heart sang with joy now that their relationship was again right.

“All competitors in the archery competition, you may begin your warm up now,” finished Bregolas.

A cheer arose from the gathered crowd and a horn was sounded announcing the beginning of the first competition. Elladan watched as Garthon and Nathrion moved with a whole cadre of wood elves to the field, and his competitive spirit felt a surge of disappointment that Elrohir was unable to participate. Nathrion was quite good, but he had yet to beat Elrohir in a competition.

The contest consisted of each warrior shooting arrows in rapid succession at a series of fixed and then moving targets.  The fixed targets were at varying distances and heights, and the moving targets the warriors would have to watch for.  To Elladan’s surprise, the first contestant was not a warrior, but a child he had seen at lunch the previous day.

He watched as the young elf moved into position.  She was momentarily distracted by Legolas, who was jumping up and down and clapping for her.  She waved to him, and then Lathron moved the child out of her peripheral vision with what Elladan thought must be clear admonishments to be silent. Several of the warriors spent some time explaining to the elleth the position of the targets and then launched a sample moving target so she could see how that would work.  Elladan noted that one of the warriors was Meren, the she-elf who had tended Elrohir in the wood several days earlier.

“That is Tinánia.” Elladan didn’t take his eyes from the child, but turned slightly to see Bregolas standing near him. “She is not even old enough yet to be a novice, but is quite skilled with a bow. It pleases the warriors to include her today and let everyone see how proficient she has become.”

Rawien called for Tinánia to start, and Elladan watched as she loosed arrow after arrow in quick succession, hitting all of the stationary targets.  The moving targets quickly followed and she fared less well, but still managed to hit nearly half.  She finished, and the crowd cheered for her.  A large warrior lifted her high in the air and sat her on his shoulder and marched her around the perimeter while another retrieved her arrows for her.

“She is quite good,” admitted Elladan.  “Do you train all of your children so young?”

Bregolas shook his head, but all he said was, “Tinánia is special.” He waited until she had left the field and then beckoned to her.   He held out his arms to her and she dashed to hug him.  “You are becoming so good I will have to be sure to always announce my presence around you!”

Tinánia laughed with the prince and then ran off to join her family.  “Hello, Sadron!” she called.

Sadron waved at her as he joined Bregolas and Elladan.  “Watch out for that one, Elladan.  She is skilled with that bow and nearly skewered the prince with an arrow once.”

“Ah, it was a flesh wound,” laughed Bregolas. “Tease her and I will allow her to use you for target practice.”

“I dare not cross her mother or Tathiel. They would serve me for dinner,” admitted Sadron.  He whispered to Elladan, “Are Imladris mothers as protective of their children as our mothers are?”

Elladan did not know what the incident was of which they spoke, but a sudden vision of Celebrían in full mother mode came to his mind and he answered, “My mother can reduce the mightiest warriors to their knees if one stands between her and one of her children.”

The participants were now warmed up and moving through the trial at good speed.  Nathrion showed well, and was in the lead when Elladan saw Meren step into position.

“That is Bellion behind Meren,” whispered Sadron.  “No one can beat him, although Meren has come close.” As Sadron spoke, Meren began to fire, and Elladan held his breath as she took the lead, every target hit dead center and every moving target knocked from the sky.

Bellion cheered for her, then moved into position himself.  At Rawien’s command, he began firing, grabbing arrows so quickly that the motions blurred.  He also hit every target with precision, and the crowd fell silent as they waited for the Rawien to announce which elf had won. 

“For the first time in many centuries, we have a new winner in an archery contest,” announced Rawien.  “Meren has finally beat Bellion, though it was by just the width of a feather quill.”

Elladan was silent as he watched the wood elves cheer Meren.  She bowed gracefully, and then Bellion grabbed her in a bear hug.  There was much laughter as Bellion seemed genuinely glad to have been beaten by this particular competitor, and then Elladan saw Elrohir moving to congratulate Meren as well.

“What are you thinking of so seriously, my friend?” asked Sadron.

“I am trying to picture my sister with a bow, beating any of the Imladris warriors in a contest,” admitted Elladan, his voice betraying how likely he thought such a scenario. “Do you have many female warriors?”

“No,” answered Bregolas.  “We actively train any female who wishes to be trained, but if they marry or have children most do not serve in the defense of the realm.  They are able to, though, should the need arise.  As you can see, they are as skilled as our males.”

Elladan was silent.  Arwen had been trained by their father and Glorfindel, and she could handle the weapons should she ever have to defend herself.  He had never considered that she would fight, though, or go to war.

“Our females defend the home territory. The need arose during the Last Alliance, when the wood elves lost so many warriors.  Our females filled in wherever there was need at home, and at times when Shadow has threatened us they have fought.  Meren, Elunell and Ethiwen all have recent battle experience, and now so too does my sister, Elenath, who is with a patrol in the north. Tinánia will enter novice ranks when she comes of age, and we currently have one elleth among the novices.  Several hundred more of our female elves have completed warrior training throughout this age and could serve if needed.”

The shock Elladan was feeling at this news must have shown on his face, for Bregolas laughed softly.  “I wish there was no need, now or in the future, for our females to fight, but they are willing and competent, and we are proud to have them stand next to us.”

Elladan wondered how he would react if he were beaten by a she-elf at swordplay.  He could see Elrohir standing with Meren, both examining her bow, and he had to admit to himself that Elrohir would take such a thing far better than he would. I suppose if an elleth could fight with a sword like Meren handles the bow, I would not mind. The little voice inside laughed.  You do not like to finish second to anyone and to be bested by a female would be a vicious blow to your ego.

Fortunately, Rawien called for those in the sparring matches to prepare and Elladan was able to push all those thoughts aside.  “Sadron,” he said suddenly, “are there are any females participating in the sparring?”

Sadron laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.  “No, my friend. Ethiwen is quite good, but is not participating today.  She is an instructor, for the most part now, and does not compete.” Elladan sighed slightly in relief. 

As he warmed up, he was reminded of a scene that had happened centuries earlier.  It was a dangerous time, and Elrond had worked with both Arwen and Celebrían, to ensure if danger came near Imladris they would be able to defend themselves.  Elladan and Elrohir had led the defense of Imladris while Glorfindel had led a force against Angmar.  He remembered Elrohir sparring with Arwen and their mother, and admitting they were stronger than he had imagined.  His strength was greater than theirs, but Elrohir had said that was only because he practiced more. Elladan had thought Elrohir was merely being generous in his praise, but now he wondered if Elrohir had been being honest.  The twins had watched Arwen and Celebrían spar together once, their movements so graceful it had seemed more a dance than a fight. Suddenly Elladan was glad that they could fight, and even more so, he was glad they had never had need to.  The thought of evil marring their fair skin in any way was enough to make his blood boil.

A smile of pleasure crossed Elladan’s face as he looked at the roster to see who he was paired with for the first round.  Laerion.  The elf who had sat on his back and ground his nose into the dirt.  He glanced around, looking for his competitor, and a smiling Laerion stepped forward to him. Immediately, Elladan shifted into warrior mode, assessing the way the elf moved and how he carried himself.

“Mae govannen, Elladan,” said Laerion.  “We are in the first position, to the right of that oak. Are you ready?”

Elladan grinned. “I am.” 

The call to begin came moments after the two were in position, and Elladan reacted quickly, thrusting aggressively at the grim-faced elf before him. Laerion parried the thrust and attacked all in one return motion.  Elladan was distantly aware of a crowd gathering, but all of his thought was bent towards the opponent before him.  While Laerion was very competent with a sword, Elladan noted a weakness in his method of blocking then thrusting, always from the right.  He tested his theory several times, and then thrust particularly hard as he stepped forward.  As Laerion parried the blow and attacked, Elladan stepped back and then swung his sword in a cutting motion from the left.  Laerion managed the block, but was thrown off balance and Elladan pounced, knocking the elf’s feet out from under him and lightly touching the tip of his sword to Laerion’s chest as the elf landed hard on his back.

The sounds of the crowd cheering gradually invaded Elladan’s consciousness as he stood over Laerion. He drew in a great breath, realizing he was both sweating and breathing heavily from the competition, and withdrew his sword and held a hand out to the elf on the ground.  Laerion accepted the hand and allowed Elladan to pull him to his feet.

Laerion groaned as he stood, then bowed slightly to Elladan.  “Good match, my friend,” he gasped as he drew in a full breath.  Elladan saw the elf look to the sideline and then flush slightly.  “You have found my flaw and now my captains shall spend their days training it out of me.  I guarantee you I will come to know this patch of ground well in the next weeks.”

Elladan laughed genuinely, remembering how Glorfindel had done the same to him in his younger days and then remedially as needed. He had loved the sword best and every hour of practice had honed the skills he prized.

The winners of the first matches were allowed a period of rest, and then paired for the second round.  Elladan felt his blood rush with excitement as he won each match and found himself advanced to the final round. At the announcement of the final contestants, he stepped forward and found himself facing the elf he would fight in the final bout, and a mixture of anger and frustration flared in him.

The elf was Thranduil’s firstborn and heir, Bregolas.  Elladan seethed.  If merely scaring the littlest prince with his looks was enough to be flattened and nearly thrown in the dungeon, what would happen if he nicked or beat the crown prince?  He walked to where Glorfindel and Elrohir sat, wiping his face with a cloth as he went. 

“I hope you have a good explanation prepared for Adar and Naneth why you are bringing home my dead body from Mirkwood,” he grumbled.

Glorfindel laughed as he handed him a cup of water to drink, while Elrohir slipped an arm about his shoulders and squeezed him reassuringly.

“Remember there are options other than winning or losing,” Glorfindel reminded him.  He grinned at Elladan’s quizzical expression and then turned and pushed him gently out on to the field.

* * *

Bregolas groaned as he looked upon his final competitor.  He turned to where Lathron and Legolas were watching him, Legolas bouncing into his arms as he walked to them.

“Bregolas, you are going to be the winner!” exclaimed Legolas, adoration in his eyes.  “No one can beat you!”

Bregolas rolled his eyes at Lathron.  “When was the last kinslaying?” he asked plaintively. “I will not give the match, yet who knows who may descend on me if I beat the son of Elrond and grandson of Celeborn and Galadriel.”

Lathron laughed.  “Figure out some solution that involves neither winning nor losing,” he suggested, then extracted Legolas from Bregolas’s arms and pushed his older brother on to the field.

* * *

Glorfindel leaned against the stately oak, watching Elladan and Bregolas duel.  He believed that, given time, Elladan would win the match. Several times he had seen Elladan bypass an opportunity to win the match, and once Bregolas had done the same.  They would eventually wear each other down and one of them would be forced to take the win.

“Elladan is a superb swordsman.”

Glorfindel shifted slightly so he could see the speaker in his peripheral vision while keeping his eyes on the match.  He nodded slightly in acknowledgment of the other’s words, and the elf continued, “Bregolas’s greatest strength is with the bow, as we prefer to fight primarily from the trees. He is adept with the sword, but eventually Elladan will win.”

“Elladan tends to be slightly hotheaded. I am glad he sees there are things more important here than winning,” replied Glorfindel with a slight smile.

“Bregolas is waiting,” replied Thranduil casually.

No sooner had Thranduil spoken than both dueling elves stepped slightly towards the other and their swords clanged in one final meeting. For a moment there was silence, then the crowd began laughing and cheering as the two lowered their swords and bowed to each other.   Thranduil and Glorfindel watched as their protégé’s were surrounded and congratulated, for all saw the political gain of the sons of their lords dueling to a draw. 

Glorfindel’s eyes were drawn to one small figure who apparently did not think so.  Legolas began walking slowly to his father, his feet dragging and his head drooping. He buried his head into Thranduil’s robe, and Thranduil reached down to scoop up his youngest child.

“Why are you unhappy, Legolas?” asked Thranduil softly.

“I wanted Bregolas to win,” replied Legolas sorrowfully. “No one can beat my brother, Ada, no one.”

“No one did, little one,” replied Glorfindel with a merry laugh.  He grinned as the small head popped up from Thranduil’s shoulder. “Bregolas did not lose.  Today he and Elladan both won.”

“Lathron says we have to be nice to our guests, so I suppose it is acceptable for Elladan to win too,” replied Legolas, his small brow furrowing as he considered his words.

Glorfindel and Thranduil burst into laughter at the same moment, causing Legolas to smile and perk up, for it was obvious he enjoyed making his father laugh.

“Elladan will be glad you find it acceptable for him to win too,” said Glorfindel gleefully.  “And Legolas, when you are grown up, you must come visit Imladris. I assure you that Elladan and Elrohir would love to show you as good a time in their home as you have shown them in yours.”

Thranduil laughed until tears streamed from his face at that, and Legolas joined him, already clapping his hands in anticipation of one day going to visit his friends at their home.

“May the Valar protect all who are nearby,” laughed Thranduil.  His eyes glittered dangerously then, as he turned on Glorfindel. “Though you will find my sons are not easily bested by anyone.”

“Indeed they are not,” replied Glorfindel agreeably. His eyes strayed to the twins he thought of as his own sons.  Nor are ours.

Legolas wiggled down from Thranduil’s arms and raced back to his brother as he saw the contestants moving off towards the picnic set up on the lawn.  He maneuvered his way between Bregolas and Elladan, and taking each by the hand, skipped along with them as they went to wash and prepare for lunch before the afternoon competition began.

* * * * *





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