Elladan ducked beneath the hanging branches of an ancient evergreen, his eyes scanning the open field for any sign of his brother, but to no avail. He had always feared that this would happen, that Elrohir would become too bold, too sure of his own skill.
Too careless.
And sooner or later as he lurked and pried on the borders he would be caught, and taken � for examination.
But what to do? To assault the stronghold on his own was to court certain capture, yet there was no time to seek aid, even if he knew for a surety that there were allies to be had in this forbidding landscape. He looked more closely at the stunted bushes that dotted the swaying grasses. If he were careful and quiet, mayhap...
A quickly muffled shriek cut short his musings. Elrohir was taken, then, and enduring untold horrors at the hands of his enemies.
At the least they could suffer together.
His resolve hardening, Elladan burst from his shelter and ran full speed toward the nearest shrub, throwing himself down behind the prickly branches. Across the field he scuttled, moving from shelter to shelter, the grass under his feet becoming shorter, the bushes less wild, until he was skirting the edge of a vast garden. He stumbled suddenly, his annoyance tempered by the discovery of a possible weapon, but scarcely had time to inspect the rod before a hand closed tightly on one shoulder and his find was seized in an iron grip.
With a resigned sigh, Elladan turned to face his captor, meeting the glowering gaze squarely.
�I thought �twas near time for you, Master Elladan. Never one without the other,� Taurwen said with grim satisfaction. �And you can just put that stake down, ernilen, ere someone is injured.�
Dropping the weathered wood obediently, Elladan shrieked in turn as the kitchen�s mistress caught his ear in a no-nonsense grip and dragged him to the backdoor bench, where Elrohir already sat in ignominious silence.
�Not a peep from either of you,� the cook warned sternly. �You will sit here like proper young lords until first chimes, or I shall call for Lord Erestor, who will likely have his own methods for dealing with elflings who neglect their nature studies to sneak sweets from the kitchen.�
The twins nodded soberly, sitting straight and still on the hard seat. Few things in Imladris were as frightening as Taurwen riled.
One of those things was Erestor�s wrath.
After a long moment�s silence, Elladan felt something nudge his fingers. He looked down cautiously, then up to meet his brother�s sparkling eyes, a grin to match Elrohir�s own slowly spreading across his face.
Not one, but two dark ginger cookies lay in his hand.
Some things were worth any risk.
*~*~*~*~*
