Author's Note:

Sorry for the long delay, folks! Writing humour is not easy when your life is behaving bizarrely. But here at last is the long-awaited Next Scruff Chapter™!! And yes, the spelling of Counsel is intentional, and I freely admit to snitching the idea (if not the execution) from Jocelyn's "A Little Nudge Out the Door." If you want to know what I mean, go look; it's over on ff.net. (smile) Special thanks to my beta, al!

**********

There was feasting and merriment that evening in the halls of the House of Elrond, for young Frodo Baggins was determined by the Master Healer himself to be safe, clearly out of harm's way for the moment. The last of the expected arrivals had shown up for the great Council called by Elrond on behalf of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth, and as far as the Elves were concerned, that called for a feast at least as grand as the ones held on prior nights for other groups of visitors.

Aragorn and Arwen, both gorgeously turned out in beautiful matching outfits of silvered damask and black velvet, joined Lord Elrond and his senior household folk at the high table, along with Mithrandir, Glóin and Gimli, the five Hobbits, Boromir of Gondor, and numerous other folk--Men, Elves, and Dwarves alike. Legolas Thranduilion, of course, took his now-accustomed seat next to Aragorn, and was sporting yet a second handsomely tailored robe, this one of a fine brown slubbed silk with deep, mithril-piped trim of moss-green velvet, the whole accented with tasteful but lush accents of silvery Elven embroidery in patterns unique to the House of Oropher. With everyone else wearing their best and finest, it was an amazingly glittering gathering--a brave show of force calculated, should the Great Eye indeed be turned toward Rivendell, to make Sauron the Deceiver think twice about even conceptualizing a plan to take on such folk.

Curiously absent, however, were the two sons of the House. Elladan and Elrohir were nowhere in evidence by the time Elrond simply gave up on the likelihood of them appearing and gave orders for the servants to set forth the lavish banquet. Nor, oddly enough, had they shown up by the time dessert was served--and Lindir, in particular, was crestfallen, for the centerpiece of the sweets table was something he himself had labored on for much of the day. It was a beautiful confection of puff pastries, sweet biscuits cut into fantastical shapes, and the whole decorated most cunningly with many different flavours and colours of icing, so that looking at it from even close-to, one would have to admit it was the very model of Elrond's Last Homely House, nestled into a Bruinen Valley made of cake and more decorative icing, with a little river of gelatin in between, complete with whipped-cream rapids. Ah well, no matter; the perianneth were more than appreciative enough to make up for two missing young Elf-lords, and Lindir seemed mollified by the many admiring rounds of applause he received just before the servitors began whispering amongst themselves as to how precisely one went about serving a very large edible house....

"Where, exactly, are my sons?" Elrond murmured to Glorfindel, who happily accepted a slice of bridge and embankment from one of the servants. The Lord of Gondolin glanced over to where Glóin was now tucking into a sizeable portion of the food-depicted edge of Elrond's private gardens.

"Right about there, the last time I saw them--about where Glóin's fork is," he said helpfully. Elrond stared rather owlishly at the plate in front of his seniormost Dwarvish guest, then turned and stared for good measure at Glorfindel, just as his chief-of-staff delicately took a piece of spun-sugar bridge from his plate and popped it in his mouth. Shaking himself slightly--I need to get out more, I can clearly see that, he thought--Elrond sighed.

"And what, pray tell, was so pressing in the gardens that they would forego dinner? Especially with so many important visitors extant?" he asked, knowing in his heart of hearts that he would dread the answer. Unaccountably--at least to Elrond's mind--Arwen burstinto a torrent of giggles; Aragorn exchanged a look brimful of mirth with an equally amused Legolas, who caught Elrond's eye very briefly and looked away.

Was that a snort? Did I actually hear the son of Thranduil snort?

"Is there something you three would like to tell me?" Elrond asked patiently in Quenya, but with a sliver of underlying steel in his tone. The three glanced between themselves again; Arwen gave him a placid, blinking smile and shook her head.

"I do not believe so, nín Adar," she murmured gently in her melodious voice, and demurely took a forkful of the library porch.

"Did you have something you needed to tell Lord Elrond, Legolas?" Aragorn asked, his voice under marvelous control even for a Ranger. Legolas's blue eyes widened to a level of almost annoyingly impossible innocence, and he blinked several times, slowly and deliberately.

"Nothing I would like to broach until the Council tomorrow," he said, bland as a Billikin. "In fact, I haven't a doubt in all Ennor that it can wait until then. Or longer." He gave Aragorn one of those smiles that could seize a Man's heart out of his chest. "Was there something you wished to share with his Lordship, Estel?"

"Why, no. No, I do not believe there was, nín mellon."

"I know where your sons are, Lord Elrond," Glóin put in from the other side of Glorfindel, who sat as usual to Elrond's right. He did not, of course, understand a lick of Quenya--but he had overheard the prior request to know the whereabouts of his sons, and he caught the many levels of meaning to the interaction between Aragorn, Arwen, and the son of Thranduil as only someone could who had encountered the Twins the previous afternoon. "At least, if what your sons told me is in fact the clue to the riddle."

Elrond felt a prickle between his shoulder blades that generally signalled one of three things: a mental communication from his august mother-in-law, an enemy blade about to be inserted between said shoulder blades with attitude, or the advent of some piece of information decidedly in the category of over-sharing. As Glóin did not even slightly resemble Galadriel, and nothing had occurred so far as Elrond knew to make himself an enemy of the aged Naugrim, he sighed and steeled himself for the third possibility. Glóin plus Twins just could not be a happy equation any way you put it. But the smile he managed to ladle onto his face before turning politely to face Glóin was sufficiently genuine that even Glorfindel was impressed.

"My sons are extremely fond of riddles," he said, and patently ignored the smothered snort of amusement from Legolas back to his left. "What exactly was the nature of the one they shared with you, Lord Glóin?"

Glóin proceeded, with the occasional helpful aside from Gimli, to regale the table with the details of their encounter with the Twins that morning in Elrond's gardens. Being a rather thorough creature, he of course omitted no detail--for one can never tell what an Elf will or will not find to be a pertinent fact, therefore it is best to be precise. Legolas fought an increasingly futile battle with his own sangfroid to the point where he ended up dropping his napkin on purpose so he could disappear under the table for the briefest of moments. When he surfaced, he seemed calm enough, though his eyes glittered with unshed tears of amusement.

"... and then they informed us--to our utter astonishment of course!--that hunting Wood-Elves is something they do every chance they get!" Glóin was saying as Legolas sat back up straight and tried to breathe normally. "Why, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I thought they were always hunting Orcs!"

Aragorn lost it at about that moment, and made the error of attempting to cover his laughter by coughing decorously. The cough became real, however, and Arwen, giggling helplessly, only made it worse when she pressed a goblet of water into his hands--and he tried to swallow and breathe at the same time. Elrond pointedly ignored all three of them, managing to rather neatly convince himself he had never managed to make the acquaintance of these three bizarre strangers at his very own High Table--all the while making a mental note to have them beaten within an inch of their ability to sit for a week, which would be a particularly amusing punishment for the two who absolutely had to be at Council in the morning.

Of course, they'll only enjoy it just to annoy me, Elrond grumbled inwardly. Perhaps I shall make them cook for the Hobbits instead....

"Do you have any idea, Lord Glóin, where my sons might be at this moment?" the Lord of Imladris asked, wonderfully calm, as if he were requesting the Dwarf to pass the strawberries. Glóin shared an indecipherable look with Gimli, who harrumphed into his tankard and shot a significant grin at the Prince of Mirkwood.

"As they were tracking that youngster over there," Glóin rumbled at an unnecessarily loud level, jerking a thumb toward Legolas, "I would recommend you inquire of the son of Thranduil where he has been of late--and work backwards from this very spot." He managed rather impressively to make the Elven-king's very name sound like a cross between an unmentionable disease and a spate of bad weather in Esgaroth, which was no mean feat considering how mellifluous a name it was, all things being considered.

Legolas gave him a look that was uniquely Thranduilion: innocent, affronted, devastated, and painfully amused, all in one. Elrond and Glóin gave the young Prince much the same stare of disbelieving appreciation; but not for nothing was Legolas his father's son. It went without saying that he would rise to the occasion.

"Good my lords, I cannot begin to fathom of what it is you speak," Legolas murmured genteelly, pressing his right hand (complete with damask napkin) to his heart as if he had been mortally stricken and yet realized it was his royal obligation to make some sort of appropriate speech before expiring of shame. He gave Glóin a sorrowing look of affectionate regard that would have brought a lesser Being to its knees sobbing for forgiveness at the very concept of wronging so dear and charming a creature. "If Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir were seeking me, they had but to inquire of the servants--or find one of my Mirkwood advisors," he continued, bearing down as he noticed Glóin beginning to crack. "I cannot comprehend how anyone would think anything less than that they were simply conducting a very thorough search, in order to ascertain that a guest in their father's home was safe and sound. In fact, I am sure it could not possibly be anything more than that."

He ducked his chin slightly and actually had the temerity to bat his eyes; Elrond did not know whether to hug him or slap him. However, Glóin blinked as if he had been blindsided by an entire southbound flight of the Great Eagles of Manwë. He opened his mouth to say something--and it was very clear from the blank look in his eyes that he had not the merest idea of what he was going to say--but no matter, as nothing came out. Legolas tilted his head slightly to one side and leaned forward slightly.

"Lord Glóin?" he murmured kindly. "Are you well?"

"I--uhh--yes. That is, I mean--I--believe so." Glóin gave a pretty impressive harrumph himself, and took the mug his son pressed into his hands. "I am certain you are right, youngster. Doubtless the Twins will track you here--uhh, search for you diligently--and arrive here at any minute."

"Doubtless," Legolas said with deferent politesse.

"Let's not overdo it," Aragorn whispered so softly that only Elven ears could hear. Driven snow was in the look Legolas levered upon him, direct and disconcertingly innocent.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you could possibly mean," the Prince lied through his straight white teeth. Aragorn skewed his mouth sidewise in a disobliging grin, giving him a 'later for you!' kind of look in return.

Elrond strove mightily and eventually mastered a desire to drop his forehead forcefully--several times--down onto the table. Such demonstrations were just never helpful.

He glanced to his left: Legolas had nodded with great civility to the elder Dwarf and was now calmly continuing with his dessert, while Aragorn and Arwen followed his example. To his right: Glorfindel was decorously offering to refill Glóin's tankard, which the Dwarf was only to happy to let him do. Everyone else was studiously avoiding Elrond's eyes, and had apparently opted instead to give great praise to Lindir for the dessert.

Probably the best thing in the long run,

  the Elven Lord thought, sighing inwardly. This will be a LONG dinner. Even when it is over, it will be a long dinner....

**********

"Had you asked me, I'd have long since pointed out the lateness of the hour."

The speaker was Elrohir Elrondion; his tone was liberally laced with smug civility as he addressed his twin brother. Elladan was examining the signs he thought he had discovered at the foot of a straight old oak tree, tall and fine, with many skyward-stretching branches. Said Elladan made a wonderfully casual show of pretending he had shared his mother's womb with naught but water, therefore of course there was no non-rooted being to whom he could possibly be speaking. Elrohir cleared his throat meaningfully.

"I would further have expressed the opinion that dinner is long since underway," the younger twin said, just a bit louder. "Since all expected guests have arrived, I have no doubt the meal is nothing short of sumptuous."

Elladan stared hard at the oak, and patted its trunk.

"I think it shall rain tonight, my rooted friend," he murmured. "After the recent dry spells, you would doubtless appreciate a good steady drink--is that not so?"

"I would appreciate a good drink of wine," Elrohir grumbled, sitting down on a handy boulder. "Doubtless the wine at dinner tonight is exquisite."

"I think the Mirkwood folk went hunting last eve, and on into the early hours," Elladan pointedly informed the oak. "That is surely where the Prince has gone. You know which prince I mean, of course?"

The oak shivered its branches with delight, and Elladan chuckled. "Yes, I see that you do. Well, I smelled venison cooking a while ago, so I am now certain of my thoughts."

He whispered, but of course Elrohir heard perfectly. Reaching over, he poked his brother in the hip. "Stop ignoring me. It is excessively rude."

"What a lovely evening to go a-hunting the wild Thranduilion," Elladan announced to the sky. "Such a rare creature, even moreso here than in Mirkwood. There are two of them there, I hear--but of course not a breeding pair, for they come of the same sire and dam."

Elrohir tackled him to the ground in a fit of pique.

"Ai!" observed Elladan, feigning surprise.

"I said, stop ignoring me!" Elrohir exploded, introducing the flat of his hand to the side of his twin's head. "Why can you not simply face it? You have no earthly idea whither Legolas has gone. We might as well give up, go home, have dinner--"

"And not bother to find out what that one-sixteenth Moriquendi lunatic of an archer has done with poor Estel?" Elladan snapped, executing a neat roll and ending up seated across his brother's body. Elrohir stared up at him in Elrond-like annoyance.

"We put that one-sixteenth Moriquendi lunatic up to this, if you will scruple to recall," he growled right back. "Do not scowl at me, you know it to be so! And anyway, Estel is a grown Man, a Ranger--quite capable of defending himself. A fact, I might point out, that we have generally been in the habit of ignoring over the last few years."

"Twaddle," Elladan retorted elegantly.

"Nothing of the sort. Estel is very capable--

"No, twaddle that we've been ignoring his capabilities. We know them perfectly well--we simply choose to act otherwise, as we know how amusing he can be when riled." Elladan showed his teeth in a charming, if somewhat feral, smile. "As, I might remind you, is dear Legolas. And we have not successfully maneuvered him into a good fireworks display in easily the better part of a quarter-century."

Elrohir glanced to one side where a young coney jumped out of the brush and hopped away, annoyed at their noisy disturbance of his evening graze. "Given what happened last time we provoked him so, I would have thought riling Legolas was near the top of your standing list of things better left to Glorfindel."

"Nay, for we made Glorfindel cope with him last time; fair's fair," Elladan riposted, grinning. "Mayhap it is Erestor's turn?"

"But I like Erestor!"

"All right then--Arwen can deal with him. We know Legolas is a complete fool for her--all she has to do is cock one eyebrow, and he's done for." Elladan rolled off his twin and helped him up. "Come now, admit it. It would be amusing to see how much progress the lovely celair-heneb has made with his 'fell Elf-Lord' lessons. With a teacher like Thranduil, eventually Legolas should prove to be a great deal of fun!"

"You have an odd idea of fun," Elrohir snorted. His brother grinned, scoffing at him.

"It has taken you this long to figure that out?"

They stared at one another for a long, silent moment. More rabbits bounced about their feet, then sped off into the underbrush; Elladan suddenly just could not help it; he began to laugh. Eventually Elrohir gave up and joined him; they stood there, clinging to one another, laughing like fools. The rabbits, taking them for such, merely looked disgusted and disappeared as quickly as they could.

"Look you now," Elladan said, still chortling, as he regained the power of speech. "I think I do know where he went."

"Legolas?"

"No, Mithrandir's pet dog!"

"Didn't know he had one."

"Elrohir--"

The younger twin grinned evilly. "I knew you meant Legolas. I just could not resist. I'm not a complete idiot, you know!"

Elladan patted him on the cheek, rather harder than he needed to. "Nay, you are but a partial idiot--for completion would suggest you have all your wits, however few, always about your person," he jibed. Elrohir stuck his elegant nose into the air.

"I am not the one who cannot finish my sentences," he countered. His brother stared.

"What?"

"You started to say you knew whither Legolas has gone--and never finished. We do need to find him, if you insist on locating Estel."

"Do we?"

Elrohir blinked. "Do we not?"

"Nay. Not necessarily." Elladan held up a long forefinger. "I, for one, do not believe our blue-eyed little leaf is even still with Estel."

"Your fingers are longer than mine," Elrohir complained mildly, staring owlishly at his brother's hand. He cleared his throat. "Well then--where would he be, if not with Estel?"

"Who knows? Eating dinner perhaps, or having another bath while everyone else eats. You know how he loves hot water."

"As do I," Elrohir sighed wistfully. "So then--where shall we find Estel?"

"I believe we shall find him behind the waterfall," Elladan announced, perhaps a little over-dramatically. Elrohir threw up his arms, amused and annoyed all in one.

"Which waterfall, of the numerous we have in Imladris?" he demanded. Elladan wiggled his eyebrows.

"The waterfall," he said with emphasis. "The one that runs the fastest and coldest--and is therefore perfect for a quick clean-up."

"And... Legolas will have left him there... for what reason? To make him hate water even more than he apparently already does?"

But he was speaking to his brother's back, for Elladan had already started off in the direction of 'the waterfall'. Hurrying to catch up, the younger twin called out:

"And how would he have kept him there? Tied him up? I don't know about this, Elladan! It is extremely unlike Legolas to do such a thing. Elladan? Brother!"

There was no response as the elder twin marched grimly on. Sighing, Elrohir accepted the kindly sympathy of a willow tree he passed as he followed gamely on.

"No one ever listens to me," he griped disconsolately. "I do not know why I bother to give counsel, when none will ever receive it!"

**********

Arwen linked her arms through that of Legolas and of Aragorn and led the two of them off to the balcony outside the dining hall--the very same balcony where they had chatted with the Twins the other night.

"It is so peaceful this evening!" she murmured, taking a deep breath of the cool, fragrant autumnal evening. "I wonder, do you suppose it has anything to do with a distinct lack of brothers about the place?"

"Oh, I don't know about that," Aragorn chuckled, glancing across at Legolas. "I occasionally have brotherly feelings for our fair guest from Mirkwood, and believe there is reason to think he might return such affections."

"Well, but I think she means the twins," Legolas said, his eyes brimming with mirth. "After all, I haven't tormented you with pranks and tricks since--oh, at least ten years ago!"

"That nonsense this morning was not meant to count, I take it?" the Dúnadan enquired politely. Arwen looked at them both in calculation.

"What nonsense this morning?"

"Oh, nothing," Legolas murmured, staring up into the night sky and grinning privately. "But do let me suggest that after you two are wedded, you manage each night to fall asleep before he comes to bed. He is not a quiet sleeper."

"Planning on us being childless?" Aragorn grumbled. Legolas laughed outright.

"Such relations need not only take place at night, Estel!" he protested. "Nor need they be confined to beds! Really--you are lacking in imagination for one raised by Elves!"

"You have my permission to stop now," Aragorn retorted.

"Oh, your permission!" Legolas hooted with amusement. "Estel, you simply must come to Mirkwood with me after the Council is over. We will overcome your Noldor upbringing, and see to it that the Evenstar of the Elves has a happy, dare I even say blissful, wedded life!"

Aragorn turned several shades of pink and red, but fortunately Arwen had pity on him.

"Legolas Thranduilion, if you do not cease tormenting my Estel this instant I shall tie your braids into very bad knots and dip them in pine pitch!" she threatened, advancing on the much-younger prince. "Do not force me to hurt you!"

"I can defend myself," Aragorn insisted, but the two Elves were ignoring him completely, as was their wont when a good pretend argument was in the offing. Undaunted in the slightest by her grim demeanor, Legolas went nose-to-nose with Undomiel and laughed in her pretty face.

"You do that, tithen muinthel, and I will knock you on your shapely rump over by the manure pile," he retorted. "Do not tell me I cannot do it either, for it has been accomplished before!"

"Tithen?" she repeated. "Who exactly are you having the temerity to call tithen, my little pen-neth? I changed your clouts for you the first time you visited in Imladris, and do not forget it!"

"That is a kettle of fish I do not wish to dip into," Legolas chuckled. "Nearly every Elf in Ennor is older than me, and most of them are far too fond of reminding me of this fact! But I do think it a low blow, to speak of baby clouts."

"I do not even wish to consider you as an infant," Aragorn said, shivering. "I daresay you were a gorgeous, delightful, charming little hellion who always got his way. And for some reason, that terrifies me."

"Oh, but he was adorable!" Arwen protested, mercurially changing that quickly to come to Legolas's defense. "And he was not a hellion at all! Well--at least not all the time."

Legolas grinned shamelessly. "I do believe there was an extended period during which I could have been said to be both a hellion AND not entirely wrapped too tightly," he put in wryly. "But that is neither here nor there." He glanced out over the balcony into the darkness of the gardens. "I am becoming somewhat concerned for the twins, however. Having them out of sight for this long is not a good idea."

"Worried?" Aragorn teased. Legolas nodded.

"It is the prudent thing to be."

"Oh, they have probably long since given up," Arwen retorted, taking each of them by the arm once more to continue their stroll. "They have probably bathed and gone into the kitchens to find something left over from the delightful dinner they just missed. I daresay we shall see them in the Hall of Fire shortly."

Legolas and Aragorn shared a significant look over her head--she was tall for a female, but not as tall as the two of them--and many a thought was communicated in that single glance. Neither of them had the slightest delusion that the twins could have given up so easily--nor, as Legolas possessed very specific information concerning their merry chase, was the Prince of Mirkwood likely to believe his friends had simply surrendered. It was not in their nature--especially not where Legolas was concerned.

"I have no doubt they will surface again soon," Aragorn said comfortingly. Legolas chuckled again, deeper this time, more portentously.

"Surface," he murmured, glancing off toward a certain waterfall. "What an interesting word...."

**********

"I hate to say this," Elrohir said, the expression on his face giving the exact opposite impression from the words he spoke, "but I told you so."

Elladan stood in the river, sodden as a rainy day, up to his thighs in cold water and muddy from the churned-up bottom of the Bruinen here below the great waterfall. The look he gave his twin would have stopped an Orc in full charge, or an Uruk-hai on its mating run; but Elrohir only burst out laughing.

"I told you they were not here!" he laughed, holding his gut and bending over in helpless loud amusement. "I told you Legolas would not be here, nor would Estel; I told you he's probably home having dinner, and I daresay that is right where we shall find him! Them! Whatever! The important thing is, I told you so!"

"Thank you for pointing that out," Elladan said, in a flat deadly tone that any enemy of Elrond would have recognized instantly. "Now will you help me out of here?"

"I told you so, and you did not heed me," Elrohir continued, pointing and chortling. "Now who is the fool?"

"Elrohir. Give me your hand and help me out. I'm past my ankles in muck."

"Thranduilion, gerin le si!" Elrohir exclaimed, doing a scathingly accurate imitation of his brother's tone and stance upon the previous morning. "You are such a prat!"

Elladan stared at him with the same patient calm an assassin might display while observing his intended target. "All right, I am a prat," he agreed, still in that Doom-laden Elrond voice. "I am a prat, and you were right. You gave me excellent counsel, and I heeded you not. Is there anything else you would like me to say?" His voice began to rise with considerable ire, and there was a dangerous glint in his grey eyes. "Or are you going to give me a hand out of this damned river?"

"Oh, all right, you needn't act like a baby," Elrohir chuckled, moving closer and extending a hand. "Here--let's get you out of there. I'll even let you have my cloak, since you have been so magnanimous as to recognize that I am right for a change."

He should have seen it coming, of course. In after hours, as he contemplated this night and its ramifications (though by now it was nearly dawn, so long had they been at this idiotic errand!), that one fact would be a ray of shining obviousness to Elrohir: he should have seen it coming. But until Elladan was seen (and felt) to be pulling back rather than attempting to use that brotherly hand to lever forward... until Elrohir actually looked into his sibling's eyes and realized the glint of danger was actually one of devilry, it never occurred to him that his cold, wet, muddy brother would wish to do anything other than get out of the river and head back to the House to get warm and dry and clean....

"AI!! Elladan!!!"

There followed a terrific splash; both twins ended up in the river then, one on his backside (Elladan) and the other face-down (Elrohir, something else he should have seen coming). Sputtering and cursing, Elrohir fought free of his brother's hold and tackled him in the water.

"You misbegotten son of an Orc's nightmare encounter with a Warg!" the younger twin raged. He reached down into the river and came up with a handful of mud, dark and rich and rocky; Elladan's eyes widened.

"Elrohir--don't--"

But it was too late. Elladan took the mud dead-centre to the face, up the nose and in his mouth. Spitting and furious, he ducked Elrohir into the water and gave him a personal introduction to the mud's locale of origin, first-hand (which is, of course, always the best and most empirical method of observation, after all...).

Because they were both already wet, and tired, and silly with weariness and hunger, the incident went on far, far longer than it needed to. By the time they both finally made it to the riverbank, they looked and smelled quite thoroughly dreadful; all they could do was laugh, which of course they did.

"And we wanted Estel to clean up!" Elladan hooted, laying back on the sward and roaring with laughter. Elrohir stretched out beside him, likewise laughing.

"At least there are no Naugrim here this time!" he exclaimed, which set them both off again. At length, sodden and mucky, they decided it truly was time to give up and head home to face whatever amusement Estel was likely to dole out upon them--and justly so, they agreed.

Breakfast was over for all but the household's most slugabed denizens by the time the sons of Elrond made it home that cool morning. As they approached the Last Homely House, they heard the bell that signalled all major events, the better to assist in regulating those who lived and visited there. The Twins stopped in their squishy wet tracks and stared at one another in dismay.

"Father's Council!" they exclaimed at almost exactly the same moment and in the same tone.

"That is the quarter-hour warning bell!" Elrohir elaborated in stunned horror. "We will never be ready in time!"

"And we certainly cannot attend looking like this!" Elladan complained, throwing down his sodden cloak and accoutrements. "Father would kill us, and rightly so!"

"Why yes," said an all-too-familiar voice above them from the entry stairs. The twins froze. "Yes, indeed I would...."

They turned, mirror-imaging each other, to stare sheepishly up at their lord father. Elrond of Imladris stood at the top of those stairs, flanked by Erestor and Glorfindel....

TBC...

Heh heh heh....

Translations:

perianneth = Hobbits
Naugrim = Sindarin for the race of Dwarves
nín mellon = my friend
nín Adar = my father
celair-heneb = brilliant-eyed (M-e equivalent of bright eyes...)
tithen muinthel = little sister
Thranduilion, gerin le si! = son of Thranduil, I have you now!