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The Itch

by Lily Frost

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        "Smile: tomorrow will be worse"

        --Murphy's Laws

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        It was spring in the elven city of Imladris, and as such cleaning was being done. Currently a great deal of bedding was hung over the railings, left by the maids to dry in the sunshine. The air was thick with the smell of flowers, and mischief.

        "Come along Elrohir, we shan't be caught." A voice hissed from the brush nearby where the blankets lay.

        "Yes we will!" Another, nearly equal, voice argued, “Let us wait until dusk."

        “T’will be too late then; they will have brought all the linens in from drying."

        "Elladan, please, just wait."

        "No! Give me that itching powder!" The young elf named Elladan pounced his brother, and from the porch a bush seemed to move. One maid saw this and rushed back into the building, hoping that it was not a bear. After a lot of scuffling, kicking and biting a cloud of dust rose from the brush, followed by a great deal of coughing, sneezing and hacking.

        When at last the cloud had cleared the two identical elves stared at each other with wide, dark eyes on powder-covered faces. Then, slowly, they twitched a little bit, jerking their bare limbs. Elladan made a frustrated sound, scratching at his arm.

        Elrohir did the same, clawing at his face. "Ugh, this is all your fault!"

        "My fault?" Elladan demanded, “’T was you who would not give it to me..."

        It was as such, powder covered and itching, that their father found them. Elrond looked down, not sure that he wanted to know, "What is this that you speak of?"

        "Nothing ada!" They simultaneously cried before they quickly stood up and bolted back indoors.

        Elrond shifted his gaze down to the container they had left in their wake, not daring to touch it, and grinned to himself when he saw the label. They certainly got what they deserved.

        - - -

        Dinner that night, for Elrond, was eventful, to say the least. Well, perhaps it was always eventful when your sons happened to be named Elladan and Elrohir, but tonight was amusing for Elrond. For once the joke was not on him, but had backfired against his sons. They spent the meal desperately trying not to scratch themselves. Elladan had taken to rubbing against the cutlery, and scrubbing his face very hard with his napkin and Elrohir seemed to have developed a twitch. This earned them a rather disturbed look from their mother, Celebrian, and prompted a few giggles from their young sister.

        Elrond grinned to himself, “So, what trouble have you been up to today my sons?"

      “Trouble?" They asked, looking innocently up at him.

        “Why, whatever could you mean by that?" Elrohir twitched as he said it.

        Alas, Elrond could not take anymore of this; he suddenly broke into a loud fit of laughter, nearly spilling his wine.

        “If you please!" Celebrian cried, aghast at her husband’s sudden unseemly behaviour, and angry that she did not know what was so funny. “Tell us, what is so amusing?"

        Before Elrond could quit laughing enough to reply, both Elladan and Elrohir had made their quick leave of the table and gone up to their chambers.

        Elrond explained quickly, “They have become the victims of their own prank, I fear."

        That night Lord Elrond and his wife slept well, knowing that their sons were up to their hands in scratching to do much havoc, and for the night, Imladris was safe. Come morrow, Elrond resolved to mix up some cream for their itch. But for now, all he could do was drift into sleep, laughing still in his mind.

        - - -

        fin

Warning: Mental image of an adult male in wet, white briefs.

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Elladan’s Summer Shenanigans

by Lily Frost

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“I'm gonna�Esoak up the sun 

 I'm gonna�Etell everyone 

 To lighten up.�Ebr />
        --Sheryl Crowe

        - - -

        It was midsummer, and this particular summer had hit Imladris with full force. The normally temperate, pleasant, smiling sun had been replaced with a scorching sphere of brimstone and hellfire that was barely recognizable to the valley’s inhabitants. The Lord Elrond had abandoned his formal robes for something a little bit cooler, and even Erestor admitted that working in the shade or in a basement rather than in a stifling study was a good idea. Needless to say, it was very, very hot.

        This heat had various affects. Suddenly it was harder and harder to find cold drinks, at any hour of the day, and the archery fields were nearly empty. Everyone who was not bound there by duty avoided the stables, for horse manure, though not normally known to be pleasant, is absolutely horrid when it’s been in the sun. The sun itself was avoided at all costs, most opting for the shades or lower floors of the Last Homely House. Many slept in the Hall of Fire, without the fire lit, for the open room did not hold heat like most of the others. As for spirits, the heat made some elves slightly loopy, and others quite cranky, and these were avoided. Indeed, many tempers were soaring with the temperature. Others it made extremely lethargic, and these slept the day through and were awake at night when it was slightly cooler. Elrohir was one of these nocturnal elves, presently passed out on a couch in the hall. Elladan just could not understand how he could sleep in the stifling heat. He prodded his brother, receiving a grunt.

        “‘Ro, wake up.�Ebr />
        “Urgh..�Ebr />
        “‘Ro, I wanna�Ego fer a swim. Come with me?�Ebr />
        “No... sleep more..�EElrohir muttered, burying his face beneath his sweaty arm.

        Elladan pouted, but knew that there would be no persuading his brother elsewhere, so he stood up and stretched, preparing himself for the rather long trek out to the stream where he could swim. Then he paused. The same stream passed right through Imladris, gathering in a pool that was just visible from the courtyard. Normally he would not think of swimming there, for it was highly open and everyone would be able to see him in whatever he choose to swim in, but at the moment he certainly did not feel like walking downstream.

        - - -

        Grinning, Elladan looked from the stream to the stuttering advisor, clutching his papers tightly to his chest, "Lord Elladan.. you cannot do that! ‘Tis.. tis.. ‘tis..."

        "What Erestor?"

        "Improper!"

        "I can go swimming if I want to.. this is my home!"

        "But swimming naked so near the courtyard.. Lord Elladan, if you please!"

        "I am not naked Erestor.. you see, I am wearing my drawers still." Elladan gestured down to the white undergarment, the only thing garbing him now. He had even undone his braids for the swim, and was just ready to dive in when the advisor just happened to wander by.

        Erestor looked feint, "But.. but.. everyone passes by here!"

        "And I do not want to have to walk all the way up stream. So if you please, I am going for a swim."

        "Your father will hear of this!" Erestor cried out as Elladan dove into the water, coming up moments later with his dark hair soaked and a blissful smile painted on his face.

        Elladan swam for hours, diving in and out of the water more like an otter at play rather than the full grown elven warrior he was. Passing maidens gave him surprised looks, a few rushing away quickly, as if offended, while others stood and watched him, admiring him silently until they were admonished by their peers.

        The cold stream water felt wondrous to Elladan, it washed away the sweat and grim that had covered him, and drove the heat from his flesh away. He was lost in the cool water until it was nearly dusk and he was getting hungry.

        Elladan drew himself from the water and sat on the bank, panting and smiling like a wet dog. Then, not wanting to wear his sweaty clothes after bathing, he grabbed them under one arm and started walking back to the Last Homely House, as if there were nothing unusual about a wet elf in Imladris, wearing naught but soaked, white drawers.

        When he passed a group of younger maidens they smiled, and started fanning themselves as he left. Glorfindel witnessed this, though, and it angered him; what did the little half-elf brat think he was doing?!

        “Elladan, garb yourself immediately!�EHe cried.

        Nodding, Elladan went to get into the clothes he carried, starting to pull down the waistband of his drawers.

        “Not here!�EGlorfindel yelled, his eyes going wide.

        With a giggle Elladan left, leaving the cranky Glorfindel in his wake.

        - - -

        “Still asleep like a babe..�EElladan murmured, a Cheshire grin gracing his fair face as he stood above his brother, still not dressed or even dried off.

        Leaning his head over, Elladan ran his fingers through his hair, and then bunched it together and squeezed it like a rag over his brother’s face, wringing it all out over his face and effectively soaking him.

        Elrohir’s eyes flew open wildly and he yelled out. But by the time he could figure out what had happened, Elladan was already half way up the steps to their room, on his way to change.

        - - -

        It was the hottest summer Imladris had ever seen. The sun had been replaced with a ball of fire that was barely recognizable to her inhabitants. This heat made some elves loopy, some cranky and others lethargically tired. For Elladan, it was an excuse to cause mischief, and remind everyone that the heat hadn’t killed them off just yet.

        - - -

        fin

Author’s Notes: Sorry for not updating for so long, but I’ve been out of the country for a long time, and haven’t been too inspired on this one lately... you can expect more, now, though.

This one is not really a prank, but the twins still manage to stir up trouble without even being around. It’s told from Erestor’s perspective. (It can also be safely read while humming the Mission Impossible theme.)

Disclaimer: These characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, but I don’t know if he wants them back after what I’ve done to them. Still, I’ll return the toy soldiers, out of respect.

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Mission into the Interior of The Room

by Lily Frost

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I do not see why Elrond could have not done this himself. These are his sons after all, and this is their room. Moreover, they were the ones who brought the book into the room and so them, or he, should be the one to retrieve it. But they are off in Lothlorien with their mother, and Elrond sent me.

Oh why, oh why, me! Why must I, Erestor, go into The Room to retrieve the dratted record book. Why had they taken into their room in the first place? No, I not wish to know, I am sure.

The Bed Room of Elladan and Elrohir is infamous across all of Imladris. Their parents have asked them to clean it, and even gone in themselves, not wanting to put the burden on a hapless maid, but it was always just as messy the following day, and by now... it is likely impossible. Their floor, outside of the little bit just inside of the door, has not been seen in centuries, and Valar knows what’s started growing in the depths!

My mind conjures images of things with more tentacles than their dozen eyes, and strange modes of transportation. It is a known graveyard for socks and paperwork, and sometimes the smells that emit from there... they use it to brew all sorts of things for their wicked pranks.

I have armed myself with a candleholder from the corridor and a bucket of soapy water, just in case I encounter something of the dreaded, horribly mutated variety.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I press open the door and take a deep breath, stepping in front of it, swinging about the candleholder.

Nothing.

I encounter nothing, and so I put it down and breath a sigh of relief, scanning The Room. The Stench is pretty bad, something chemical and sweaty. What have they been brewing in here?!

I creep in slowly, stepping into the cleared semi-circle about the door and look around me. It’s a mess... to put it simply, an understatement in fact. It’s a disaster! I cannot see the floor beneath all of this, their beds are more like nests, with all the softest junk, and they have hung all sorts of things from the ceiling and about the window. Are those curtains? Well, maybe they once where. About their beds are drawings of their respective interests, and a large, accurate drawing of Lady Arianwe the Well-Endowed Warrior Princess in her usual... it was supposed to be armour, was it not? It certainly did not cover much. “Now then...” I mutter.

A breeze ruffles through, though the... c-curtains are not moved at all in it, and I find myself wondering why and then the door slams shut behind me, ominously. A bit of grey light filters in from the window and in this I examine the room further, looking for the record book.

I feel like I am in a pirate’s cache, or a Dark Lord’s dungeon... though even those likely keep house better than this. Cautiously, I step out into the junk pile, ignoring the sounds it makes and the things that reach up and touch my ankles. I walk past the tower of dirty drawings, the city of forgotten toys and one of the two nest-like beds.

Suddenly, I spot it! It is half buried beneath... oh Valar... the Pile of Lost Socks, whose stench alone can launch a thousand ships and knock down half of the Dark Lord Sauron’s army (and these are orcs I’m talking about!)!

As I approach it I am nearly bowled over and must hold my robe about my face to breathe, even so, my eyes water. I can see the green stink lines coming off of it! How do I do this... how do I do this... I think something in it is moving!

Candleholder in one hand, I summon up all of my courage and approach it, carefully, carefully, barely breathing... I am near. I put my hand on the book, its hard cover reassuring, familiar, under my hand. Slowly, slowly I start to pull it out...

Suddenly there is a spider the size of my foot on my hand, its beady little eyes fixed upon me, hairy limbs spread about it... staring... staring... I grab the book, fling the candle holder and leave, screaming as loudly as I can!

NEVER AGAIN!

“Never again, Elrond,” I tell him. “will I venture into your sons’ room.”

He just grins at me.

- - -

“Elrohir...”

“Mm...?”

“Why is this candleholder from the hall in our room?”

“I have no idea. Arachnia seems pretty upset.”

“You still have that spider...?” Elladan glanced over. “Wow, it’s huge!”

“Isn’t she? Legolas mentioned how big Mirkwood spiders get, and she’s still just a baby!”

- - -

fin