Elrond awoke that morning with his head pounding in time with his heartbeat. He blinked his eyes,
and his gaze slowly focused.

The first thing he saw was the ceiling high above. The way it was painted and arched let him
identify it as the ceiling in his own bedroom. He shifted slightly where he lay, winced as even
that small movement worsened the pounding in his head, as well as awakening countless other
twinges from all over his body, in places and muscles he couldn't remember having even *felt* for
nearly-countless years.

Frowning in confusion, he lay still once more, now aware of the hardness at his back that was no
bed, but floor instead.

/What happened last night?/ he wondered. /How did I get so sore?/

As his consciousness solidified, he looked down at himself, saw his three hands resting quietly
on his chest-

/Wait a moment,/ he thought in confusion. /Something isn't right, here. When did I grow another
hand and arm?/

In his dazed state, it took a while for it to sink in that he *hadn't* grown another arm. He
groaned softly when *that* little realization hit him like an axe-blow to the forehead.

/*What* did I do last night?/ he wondered again. Then, with the twisted humor that came so often
with pain, he added, /Or is that *who*?/

He closed his eyes tightly, then turned in the other's arms, ending up on his side. He took a
deep breath, then opened his eyes.

Glorfindel.

With a rush, the lost memories came flooding back into his pounding head and he let out a sigh of
relief, even as he *finally* noticed that both of them were fully clad.

/Oh, yes,/ he thought with a slight smile, even as the golden-haired Elf beside him woke at last
from his dreams. He watched the same confusion he had felt surface in the other's eyes, saw the
recognition of events appear there as well.

Glorfindel smiled weakly up at the other, wincing as he moved. Apparently Elrond wasn't the only
one to suffer from sore muscles.

Their aching muscles temporarily prevented them from leaving the floor where they lay twisted up
together on a colorfully spotted rug.

"My Lord," he greeted quietly. "I find myself in need of liniment this morning. How do you fare?"

Elrond chuckled, stopped with a pained grimace as the sound awoke new pain in his head. "The
same, I fear," he said. "The game was fun, though, was it not?"

Glorfindel nodded. "It was. Perhaps we shall play again sometime?"

"Perhaps," Elrond said. "After my muscles have forgotten."

"Mine as well. The game is quite popular among the younger Elves of the Valley, though."

Elrond shook his head. "There is something wrong with the younger ones these days, Glorfindel,"
he said mournfully. "What is this torture device called again?"

"Twister," Glorfindel said. "Haldir brought it here from 'Lorien."

"I hate Haldir," Elrond said as his sore muscles twinged yet again.

END