“You are jealous!”
Elladan turned to look out over the gardens, idly rubbing the crumpled green ribbon between his fingers. “I am not,” he retorted unconvincingly.
“I did not know that you fancied her,” Elrohir said more gently, laying a hand on his brother’s arm. “Surely you believe that, tôren? Had you but spoken, I would never have...”
“Never have what?”
“Never have pursued her,” the elf-knight finished quickly. “I did nothing to dishonor her, I swear it.”
Elladan looked down at the bit of woven silk that had shaken his world. “I do not,” he said at last, bringing a frown of confusion to Elrohir’s face.
“You do not what?”
Elladan’s eyes were bleak as they met his brother’s puzzled gaze. “Fancy her.”
