“How could you lose him?” Elladan demanded. “He is hardly small.”
“He was right here,” Elrohir insisted, pointing to a chair that sat accusingly empty. “I went to get another round, and when I returned, he had vanished. I swear, ‘Dan, I was gone but a moment.” The elf-knight’s eyes narrowed ominously as he caught sight of the telltale nips and bruises on his brother’s throat. “And where were you, tôren? I was not appointed his guardian.”
“Busy,” Elladan answered briefly, managing to look at once guilty and inordinately pleased with himself. “I was busy.”
“Busy plying a tavern wench,” Elrohir snipped, his annoyance struggling against a grudging sense of envy. “Ada will be none too happy with that, either. We need no trouble with the townsmen.”
“There will be no complaint, I wager,” Elladan retorted smugly, earning a snort of disbelief from his twin. “But none of this delightful banter is solving our riddle. Where is he?”
A hand on his arm drew Elrohir’s attention to a buxom serving girl – likely the serving girl, from the way she glanced at Elladan as if he were a particularly luscious dessert. Ignoring his brother’s smirking grin, the elf-knight smiled encouragingly, arching one elegant eyebrow in question.
“I reckon yer friend is well,” the maid said with a giggle. “I seen him head down-cellar with Lanea.” Looking up at the twins through impossibly long lashes, she added, “Fancy there bein’ two! If ya need some help passin’ the time...”
“I fear we must find our friend and head home,” Elrohir replied with apparent reluctance, biting back a grin at the disappointed expression that flickered across Elladan’s face. “Maybe next visit, hmm?”
“Come on, then,” Elladan said with a resigned sigh, watching the maid move away.
“You know where the cellar is, ‘Dan?” Elrohir teased mercilessly. “I had no idea you were so interested in the workings and ways of a tavern.”
The elder twin did not dignify the remark with an answer, instead leading the way out through the side door of the barroom and into a narrow hall, which ended abruptly in winding stairs. Descending the stairs carefully behind his brother, Elrohir found himself in a large earthen cellar, the walls covered with bottles and kegs. As his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, he caught sight of their missing companion.
He was naked, lying as if in a swoon on a heap of filthy rags. For one terrible moment, both twins stood in shock, then Elladan snorted, pointing to a second figure, nearly concealed by the bed of discarded towels and tablecloths. It was the maid Lanea, snoring gently in the sleep of the completely sated.
Torn between amusement and aggravation, Elrohir stepped forward and shook their recalcitrant charge, who woke to the accusing chorus of his mentors’ voices.
“Estel!”
*~*~*~*~*
