Disclaimer: Not mine and no profit is being made.

A/N: This may not even be possible as far as canon goes, but I go
where the plot bunnies lead. Considering that I mix movie-verse and
book-verse at will, my stories should probably be considered AU
anyway. My research sources are The Encyclopedia of Arda and the
Silmarillion. Please be aware that there is no birthdate given for
Thranduil, Oropher, or Celeborn.

~

Thranduil followed his father dutifully through the twisting garden
paths of Gil-Galad's residence in the Havens of Sirion. Oropher had
been at loose ends since the fall of Doriath and thus the family was
visiting the High King in search of a purpose. He resigned himself to
an afternoon and evening of dull politics and watching his sire reign
in his temper at the machinations of the other lords present. The
only saving graces were that his father's cousin, Celeborn, would
also be in attendance and that Gil-Galad`s table always boasted the
finest wine that could be had in troubled times. Thranduil had always
liked Celeborn best of all of his father's kin and he had developed a
refined palate when it came to wine at a very early age.

He saw Oropher glance back at him and nod approvingly. Thranduil
stood a little straighter. His father's approval was everything to
the young elf. Slightly more than a handful of years past his
majority, Thranduil was still in that awkward, unfinished state that
most adolescents pass through. Already as tall as his father, he had
yet to put on the muscle that would finish out his tall frame. When
fully grown, he would be on the brawny side for an elf but now he
just looked skinny and stretched out. It was a source of discontent
to him that he still had not attained his full growth. He grumpily
mused that his thoughts would be taken seriously by more than just
his father if he looked more the adult.

As he followed his father, a faint whispering caught his attention
and he paused, half his attention on his parent so that Oropher did
not get too far ahead of him that he would notice Thranduil lagging
behind and the other half on the conversation that he could just make
out.

"Are you certain that he will be passing this way?" the first voice
whispered.

"Of course I am certain! I checked the meeting time twice and this is
the most convenient route to reach the meeting," the second voice
replied, a bit more muffled than the first and betraying a bit of
annoyance at the first speaker.

"Very well then, pass that bucket up to me and I will tie it in
place," the first speaker said.

"Do not spill it on me, lack wit! If I enter the hall smelling of
slops we truly will be caught!" the second voice exclaimed
indignantly in sotto voice.

"You should have chosen a bucket that was not so full then, dolt!"
the first voice shot back equally indignantly.

Thranduil grinned, they sounded as if they were quite young. He
caught up with his father long enough to give the excuse that he
wished to see to certain bodily needs before he entered the meeting
and received Oropher's permission to do so. As soon as his sire was
out of sight, Thranduil doubled back along the path until he was
within a few yards of the whispering elflings. Employing all the
stealth he had learned under the instruction of his tutor and weapons
master, Luinloth, he crept around the perimeter of the thicket the
whispering was coming from until he had a clear view of the mischief-
makers.

He started in shock as soon as he saw them, for they were mirror
images of one another. He had not thought that they could be brothers
when he heard them, elves did not bear children close enough in age
for that and twins among elves were exceedingly rare. In seeing them,
he knew who they were. He also noted that their trap had no hope of
succeeding in anything other than covering both of them with the
contents of the bucket and revealing them to their target. Silently,
he climbed to their level before he spoke.

"It will not work, you know."

Both elflings jumped and stared at him. Thranduil merely grinned,
mentally giving the one seated on lower branch credit for having the
presence of mind to steady the bucket when his sibling's grip slipped.

"Yes it will," the one on the higher limb stated sticking his chin
out defiantly. "My brother's plans always work."

"Hush, brother," the one on the lower limb whispered furiously. "We
do not know his intentions!"

"My intentions," Thranduil said, still grinning, "were to find out
who is the unfortunate target and if I agree that he deserves that
designation, to assist you in your task."

"Brethilrif," the elfling on the higher branch replied naming a
particularly stuffy and superior elf on Gil-Galad's staff. "He
forbade Elrond entrance to the library even though he has been told
that Elrond takes good care of the books. He is just being malicious
because Elrond knows more of the histories than he does."

Thranduil nodded thoughtfully, he had had the unfortunate experience
of running afoul of the same elf on occasion and had little respect
for him.

"Very well, this is what you need to do," he began, drawing both of
them close. Within minutes, the trap was set and the three
conspirators were on their way to their respective destinations.
Thranduil endured his father's disapproval at his tardiness with good
grace, mainly due to his anticipation of Brethilrif's arrival. The
twin elflings, he noted, appeared beside Gil-Galad shortly after and
looking as if butter would not melt in their mouths. It was all he
could do to keep his expression impassive.

The door of the hall opened with a crash moments later to admit a
bedraggled and furious Brethilrif. He was drenched with the contents
of the bucket and smelled like a privy. The only change in expression
that Thranduil allowed himself was the raising of his eyebrows. It
was good for him that he controlled his reaction, because his
father's eyes went from Brethilrif to Thranduil immediately.
Apparently satisfied that his offspring had nothing to do with the
pompous elf's state, Oropher allowed a wry smile to appear on his
lips. He had no liking for the sodden elf either.

Thranduil snuck a look at the twins and was amused to see them
mirroring his expression. They are good at this, he thought.
Brethilrif was sputtering an accusation at Elrond, who merely arched
a brow at him and replied that he had much better things to do with
his time, such as studying. That hit a nerve and reduced the soaked
and stinking elf to an apoplectic fit. From his vantage point,
Thranduil could see Elros digging his nails into his palm in an
effort to maintain his serious expression. He was also amused to see
Cirdan, standing just beyond Gil-Galad, chuckling at the scene
unfolding before him.

The High-King deftly defused the situation and sent Brethilrif to
bathe and change clothing before directing everyone else to their
seats. Elrond and Elros, having fulfilled their responsibilities by
appearing to greet everyone, were dismissed with a kind word. Elros
scampered off without hesitation, but Elrond elected to stay, taking
a seat by Thranduil. He gave the elfling a conspiratorial wink and
received a brief grin in return. He caught Celeborn's eye then to see
his cousin grin and shake his head.

Perhaps this meeting would not be so dull after all!

The End, for now.