Glorfindel briefly wondered how many mortal lifetimes he’d spent over the Ages lying in wait for someone to walk into an ambush.
He glanced over to where the others were. He looked back to the bend in the path where their target would appear. Not long now... The snow was deep enough that there would be no sound to warn them before he came around the corner.
Wait…
NOW!
Glorfindel quickly threw three snowballs, not waiting to see if he’d struck true before he jumped down with a fourth snowball ready to throw.
SPLAT!
A snowball struck him square in the face, blinding him for a moment.
A high-pitched squeal, and sounds that indicated someone being wrestled to the ground before he could clear the snow from his eyes.
Aragorn was held down by Elladan and Elrohir, while Arwen sat on his chest, gleefully rubbing snow in his face, snow in her hair betraying the cause of the squeal.
Glorfindel bent down to pick up more snow.
The movement drew the attention of the twins and Arwen away from their hapless target, who interestingly enough made no effort to break free.
Four pairs of grey eyes turned towards Glorfindel.
Snow whizzed by his left ear smashing against the tree bowl and splattering him with wet. Estel snorted, shaking his head which only made him even more wet, as the long tendrils slapped his cheeks. Stooping to snatched up a handful of snow even as he moved, feet crunching thru the icy mess. Dodging left, then right and right again he came up against a tree, turned and fired his snowball at the approaching figure. The cloaked shadow ducked aside, the messy ball of snow passed it and sporched down into the snow-pack.
“Rats!” Estel growled and turned to run again. He did not get far though as a pair of snow bullets peppered the back of his head, slid down his neck into his tunic, sending shivers after his shivers. Laughter echoed around the forest as he ducked again, sliding into the darkness beneath a tree root, causing, in his haste to escape, an avalanche of snow to fall down on him from the overloaded branches above.
Silence reigned in the forest for long minutes before a pair of cloaked shadows approached the snow mound that had once been a tree root.
“Estel?” one asked softly. “Do you yet live or should we put up a cairn?”
Silence.
“I’ll gather the rocks,” the other said, his voice not one bit soft or sympathetic, “You go tell Ada we’ve killed the ranger-to-be, Elrohir.”
Twin snickers followed the declaration and was quickly answered by the rumble of snow as the mound began to move.
“I –will – so – kill – both – of – you!”
The twin sons of Elrond turned to run for home, their laughter bouncing from tree and rill and tickling Estel’s ears as he pushed aside the wet mountain of snow.
The trip home to Rivendell for the young human was a lesson in misery. His feet were frozen, his fingers numb, his nose cold and somehow snow had worked its way down his trousers and, having melted, left his leggings a soggy mess. His hair dripped and drizzled into his collar, his coat creaked with the cold and wet and not one inch of the young human could remember the warmth of his bed from that morning.
*What ever possessed me to challenge those twin terrors in the first place?* he thought as he finally climbed the stairs to the Hall of Fire only to see Erestor waiting with a towel and large blanket.
Wonderful! I feel just as wet and shivery as poor Estel. And how sweet of Erestor to be waiting with a towel and blankie. He's a good Elf, our Erestor. :)
And special mention for use of the word "sporched", which is quite possibly the best descriptive word ever for the way a wet snowball smashes into the snow after missing its target. Someone needs to make sure that makes it into the next Oxford's.
Can we have the revenge story, please? *puppy dog eyes*
Spring in Rivendell was always glorious. Thick lush greenery sprang from cliff and valley and filling the air with the early flower perfumes. Sun shone on the walkways of The Last Homely House and the twin sons of Lord Elrond sat munching on winter apples.
“Where do you think he is, brother?” Elrohir asked for the third time.
“If I knew I’d drag him out of his warm cozy bed and dunk him in the Bruinen for good measure. We’ll miss the first fruits festival at this rate,” the ‘elder’ brother Elledan replied.
“So,” Elrohir said, “he’s still abed?”
Elladan shook his head, tossing the apple core to a nearby waiting equine. “No. Our scruffy brother has yet to return from his first long patrol with the edan,” he growled. “He was supposed to be back last night.”
“Oh,” Elrohir replied softly, thinking of all the trouble their younger brother could get in to as well as cause.
Birds chipped happily in the nearby trees and the horses nickered, wanting more apples but still the twin brothers waited. And waited. And waited!
“Ai Elbereth! Enough! I’m leaving!” Elladan cried aloud and rose to his feet, dusting his riding robe with a flick of one hand, he made for the horses.
“Elladan! Elrohir! I’m here!” Estel’s voice shouted from somewhere above them and both elves turned around in place, scanning the courtyard.
“Where are you, muindor-tithen?” Elrohir called out. There was a rustling and scraping and movement in the balcony above and Estel, now called Aragorn, leaned over the stone railing, waving.
“I have just returned with a wonderful surprise for you both,” he called. “I thought you were up here so,…” he shrugged and indicated a large chest at his feet.
Curious, both brothers had returned to the stairs, looking up at their human brother, watching with a touch of avarice as Aragorn hefted the chest, a large and ornate chest with gold scroll-work and embossing, onto the hand rail.
“What is it?” Elrohir asked and Elladan nodded.
“Better be worth missing first fruits, tithen-guen,” Elladan called up.
“Oh, it is!” Aragon laughed and opened the chest, tipping it slowly, watching in rapt amusement as the snow, carefully and deeply packed into the chest, came tumbling down onto the heads of his foster brothers. “A gift, my brothers, from Emyn Utal, still deep in snow!” Aragorn laughed, shook the chest to empty every last glob of snow and then, sliding the chest back to his feet, turned and bolted indoors, his laughter carrying out over the spring trees, early afternoon bird calls and two sputtering snow flocked elves.
Ooh, good! I like having all three siblings ganging up on Aragorn. And with Arwen on his chest, he's definitely not going to struggle to free himself. *g*
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2012-12-21 03:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-21 04:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-21 03:22 pm (UTC)"Because there's nothing like hearing you complain about the weather."
no subject
Date: 2012-12-21 04:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-21 06:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-21 04:17 pm (UTC)What we need now is an elvish snowball fight with a certain ranger as roving target.
LOL
no subject
Date: 2012-12-21 04:55 pm (UTC)We need to make this happen!
no subject
Date: 2012-12-21 08:04 pm (UTC)Waiting.
Glorfindel briefly wondered how many mortal lifetimes he’d spent over the Ages lying in wait for someone to walk into an ambush.
He glanced over to where the others were. He looked back to the bend in the path where their target would appear. Not long now... The snow was deep enough that there would be no sound to warn them before he came around the corner.
Wait…
NOW!
Glorfindel quickly threw three snowballs, not waiting to see if he’d struck true before he jumped down with a fourth snowball ready to throw.
SPLAT!
A snowball struck him square in the face, blinding him for a moment.
A high-pitched squeal, and sounds that indicated someone being wrestled to the ground before he could clear the snow from his eyes.
Aragorn was held down by Elladan and Elrohir, while Arwen sat on his chest, gleefully rubbing snow in his face, snow in her hair betraying the cause of the squeal.
Glorfindel bent down to pick up more snow.
The movement drew the attention of the twins and Arwen away from their hapless target, who interestingly enough made no effort to break free.
Four pairs of grey eyes turned towards Glorfindel.
I like yours better... it's really too cold here to think straight but:
Date: 2012-12-21 08:31 pm (UTC)“Rats!” Estel growled and turned to run again. He did not get far though as a pair of snow bullets peppered the back of his head, slid down his neck into his tunic, sending shivers after his shivers. Laughter echoed around the forest as he ducked again, sliding into the darkness beneath a tree root, causing, in his haste to escape, an avalanche of snow to fall down on him from the overloaded branches above.
Silence reigned in the forest for long minutes before a pair of cloaked shadows approached the snow mound that had once been a tree root.
“Estel?” one asked softly. “Do you yet live or should we put up a cairn?”
Silence.
“I’ll gather the rocks,” the other said, his voice not one bit soft or sympathetic, “You go tell Ada we’ve killed the ranger-to-be, Elrohir.”
Twin snickers followed the declaration and was quickly answered by the rumble of snow as the mound began to move.
“I –will – so – kill – both – of – you!”
The twin sons of Elrond turned to run for home, their laughter bouncing from tree and rill and tickling Estel’s ears as he pushed aside the wet mountain of snow.
The trip home to Rivendell for the young human was a lesson in misery. His feet were frozen, his fingers numb, his nose cold and somehow snow had worked its way down his trousers and, having melted, left his leggings a soggy mess. His hair dripped and drizzled into his collar, his coat creaked with the cold and wet and not one inch of the young human could remember the warmth of his bed from that morning.
*What ever possessed me to challenge those twin terrors in the first place?* he thought as he finally climbed the stairs to the Hall of Fire only to see Erestor waiting with a towel and large blanket.
“I will have my revenge, trust me!”
Re: I like yours better... it's really too cold here to think straight but:
Date: 2012-12-21 08:41 pm (UTC)Re: I like yours better... it's really too cold here to think straight but:
Date: 2012-12-21 11:12 pm (UTC)And special mention for use of the word "sporched", which is quite possibly the best descriptive word ever for the way a wet snowball smashes into the snow after missing its target. Someone needs to make sure that makes it into the next Oxford's.
Can we have the revenge story, please? *puppy dog eyes*
Can we have the revenge story, please? *puppy dog eyes*
Date: 2012-12-21 11:56 pm (UTC)“Where do you think he is, brother?” Elrohir asked for the third time.
“If I knew I’d drag him out of his warm cozy bed and dunk him in the Bruinen for good measure. We’ll miss the first fruits festival at this rate,” the ‘elder’ brother Elledan replied.
“So,” Elrohir said, “he’s still abed?”
Elladan shook his head, tossing the apple core to a nearby waiting equine. “No. Our scruffy brother has yet to return from his first long patrol with the edan,” he growled. “He was supposed to be back last night.”
“Oh,” Elrohir replied softly, thinking of all the trouble their younger brother could get in to as well as cause.
Birds chipped happily in the nearby trees and the horses nickered, wanting more apples but still the twin brothers waited. And waited. And waited!
“Ai Elbereth! Enough! I’m leaving!” Elladan cried aloud and rose to his feet, dusting his riding robe with a flick of one hand, he made for the horses.
“Elladan! Elrohir! I’m here!” Estel’s voice shouted from somewhere above them and both elves turned around in place, scanning the courtyard.
“Where are you, muindor-tithen?” Elrohir called out.
There was a rustling and scraping and movement in the balcony above and Estel, now called Aragorn, leaned over the stone railing, waving.
“I have just returned with a wonderful surprise for you both,” he called. “I thought you were up here so,…” he shrugged and indicated a large chest at his feet.
Curious, both brothers had returned to the stairs, looking up at their human brother, watching with a touch of avarice as Aragorn hefted the chest, a large and ornate chest with gold scroll-work and embossing, onto the hand rail.
“What is it?” Elrohir asked and Elladan nodded.
“Better be worth missing first fruits, tithen-guen,” Elladan called up.
“Oh, it is!” Aragon laughed and opened the chest, tipping it slowly, watching in rapt amusement as the snow, carefully and deeply packed into the chest, came tumbling down onto the heads of his foster brothers. “A gift, my brothers, from Emyn Utal, still deep in snow!” Aragorn laughed, shook the chest to empty every last glob of snow and then, sliding the chest back to his feet, turned and bolted indoors, his laughter carrying out over the spring trees, early afternoon bird calls and two sputtering snow flocked elves.
Re: Can we have the revenge story, please? *puppy dog eyes*
Date: 2012-12-22 06:06 am (UTC)Re: Can we have the revenge story, please? *puppy dog eyes*
Date: 2012-12-22 02:49 pm (UTC)Awesome follow-up is awesome.
no subject
Date: 2012-12-21 11:07 pm (UTC)Methinks this needs a 2nd chapter!