The King was grateful that this party of elves had chosen his own tactic for handling the strange nature of his attire: studious ignorance.  He now had so much faith in the tactic, in fact, that he had decided to studiously ignore the possibility that even now, they could be discussing him in their minds.  Again he wondered why he had agreed to see them.  He had guessed that his brothers’ mode of attack would be to let these elves lead him out of the Citadel to some “prime planting spots,” at which point he would skillfully detain them; but all that they had spoken of thus far was the kinds of trees that were suited to the climes (and soil) of Mount Mindolluin.  He had the sneaking sensation that he had just walked into a trap.

He tried to push the thought from his mind to focus on the subject matter at hand, rather than wondering with not a little trepidation what was now in store for him.  Elladan and Elrohir had taught him everything he knew of tracking, being silent in the wild, informal strategy—which, in this case, meant that they knew everything he did, and they knew him, too.  His mind raced.

They knew I would blockade myself in this room.  I thought they would try to get me to leave before they attacked—if not by smoking me out, then by enticing me.  But they knew I would think that that was their plan, didn’t they?  So they took the risk that I would let a much more anonymous party of elves into the room simply to irk them later on.

But why?

One of the elves was now talking about the thin air up in the mountains.

To distract me, the thought came.  This is not an orc’s den; there was no reason to flush me out if there were some way that they could enter here without my knowing…

No, that was impossible.  He had had his eye trained on the door the entire time, and if elves could pass unheard by even the keenest of Ranger ears, they could not turn themselves invisible.  And this was the only way into the room, unless someone were fool—or daring—enough to try scaling three stories of sheer white marble and enter through the window.  Well, those twins were certainly daring—or fool—enough, but the windows were shut and they could not have opened them silently enough to escape his hearing.  Unless…

He held up his hand for silence.  “Very well,” he said.  “The game is up; wherever the two of you are hiding, you may come out now.”

There was not the slightest raising of eyebrows among the currently visible elves; by this alone Aragorn guessed the veracity of his deductions.  Meanwhile he listened keenly and was rewarded with a slight rustling of silks, then the sound of a latch being lifted, as the twin sons of Elrond emerged from Queen Arwen’s armoire.

“I told you he’d take less than twenty minutes to figure it out,” said Elladan.

“Yes, but you thought it’d be fifteen, and he took only ten,” said Elrohir.

“Ai, once again we underestimate our younger brother’s intellect—and, I might add, his ability to make the most preposterous of garments seem… almost…comely.”

Aragorn ignored them and turned to the elves that were in his room with his permission.  “If the matter can wait, I would much prefer that you not be present while my two immature and wholly disrespectful brothers denigrate me.  I am sure that if you are truly interested they will fill you in on what words and possibly blows were exchanged, though I will not be able to guarantee the truth of their report.  Good day.”

The elves all murmured something about it being no inconvenience at all and that it was rather bold to speak of the Lords Elladan and Elrohir so, but Aragorn’s face remained stony until the last one had left the room.

“That,” said Elladan, “was quite rude.”

The King’s face had transformed into one of fury.  “And what of breaking and entering my private chambers?  Varda’s stars, you could have been…”  In an instant his anger washed away, as he realized the exact implications of his brothers’ act.  Assassins.

Elrohir clapped him on the back with a wry smile on his face.  “It’s better that we test the Citadel’s security than someone who wishes you harm.  And believe me, our endeavors would have been fruitless had the sun been shining when we climbed—or if the ledge to your window had not been as wide.  Even then we had to try several times before the grapple would hold Elladan’s weight.”

“But really,” continued Elladan, “you could not have expected to avoid us all day—we have much more experience at this sort of thing than you do.  It’s much better that you face us now.  Now, who selected this dress?”

“I did,” said Arwen, who had hitherto been content to sit in a corner and embroider.  “One of the city’s seamstresses made it in the belief that I would have hair brighter than the Sun, and it suits him far more than it does me.”

“I am compelled to agree,” said Elladan, taking a few steps back to admire the full effect of the costume.

“I particularly am fond of the elaborate… coiffure,” said Elrohir.  “Your work, I take it, sister?”

“Yes, although it had to be adapted.  It is much harder to arrange braids like that atop one’s head with so much less hair to work with.  Grandmother had three times as much when she wore her hair in this style.”

“Wait…   Grandmother?  Arwen, are you certain?”

“Need we remind you how many more yéni we have lived here, and that neither of us has seen Galadriel wearing her hair in such a fashion?”

“That is because she has not worn her hair in such a fashion since the First Age.  Surely you have heard one of the many meanings of her name—Maiden Crowned with Radiance?  Some have said—though I myself doubt it—that it was due to this very arrangement of her tresses.”

Elladan crowed.  “Ah, but that is too excellent!  And she herself passed on the instructions solely for the beautification of your husband!  I shall have to kiss her when I see her next.”

“Maiden crowned with radiance,” Elrohir was heard to mumble amid a spurt of laughter.  He knelt down in front of the King.  “My lady,” he murmured.

“I was wondering when the three of you would deign to notice me once more,” Aragorn remarked.  “I suppose you were aware of the intrusion, my lady wife?”

Arwen shook her head.  “I wondered if this was what they were doing, but I had as little information to go on as you.  And I would never betray you to them.”

“Thank you.”  While the twins exchanged justifiably outraged looks Aragorn rose to take his wife’s hand in his.

“Oh, dear,” said Elrohir.  “I sense stifling amounts of affection rising from those two.  Shall we take our leave?”

“I believe we shall,” said Elladan, and they left through the front door, bidding the guard outside—whose astonishment was made evident by a thump and a clang audible from two floors away—good day.