Elladan stared at his brother in disbelief. “You want me to do what?”
“Do hurry, tôren,” Elrohir said, unbraiding his own hair and slipping off the shining mithril beads that dotted the dark strands. “’Tis almost time for first chimes.”
“Nay,” Elladan said, his hands closing protectively on his own blue-studded braids as Elrohir reached out impatiently. “I will not do it, ‘Roh.”
The younger twin ignored his brother’s protest, slapping away the hovering hands. “Let me fix your hair, and...”
“Nay,” Elladan repeated, his brow creasing above a burgeoning pout. “I will not wear your beads and run naked through the hall, just so you can steal an extra dessert!”
“Two extra desserts,” came the cheeky reply.
“’Roh!”
“Do you want to swipe the treats from under Taurwen’s nose, then?” Elrohir retorted blithely, already sliding the silvery metal ovals onto his brother’s quickly reforming plaits. “I would be glad to run through the hall...”
“Of course not!” the elder twin snapped, exasperated. “I do not want to do this at all!”
Elrohir smiled sweetly. He had been saving his most convincing argument for last. “There are strawberries, ‘Dan. Strawberries, with honey and cream.”
“’Tis no matter what the prize,” Elladan returned archly, sounding every inch Elrond’s heir. “I will not...”
He stopped suddenly, and there was a moment of thoughtful silence.
“Strawberries? Truth?”
