Chapter One – Nearly Home

As their horses splashed across the river that marked the northern boundary, Elladan leaned back in the saddle and stretched his legs with a sigh.

“Glad to be back?”  Elrohir asked.  He too stretched, easing the knots out of his shoulders and neck.

“Nearly back,” Elladan corrected.  “But yes, very glad.”

It was good to be so nearly home.  They were returning to Imladris after two weeks on their first real patrol – two weeks spent riding north and east along the banks of the Mitheithel, then south again through the foothills of the Misty Mountains.  Two weeks of scorchingly hot weather, two weeks of sleeping on the hard, sun-baked ground.  Two weeks of dull, routine, boring riding, with no hint of any excitement to relieve the monotony. 

Elrohir sighed.  “I know.  I expected … oh, I don’t know.  Something more.”

After years of training and practice, excursions with other novices within the boundaries of Imladris and intensive drilling with weapons and in unarmed combat, he and Elrohir had been excited by the prospect of their first real patrol.  He was grateful that Glorfindel had at least allowed them to undertake it together, for he knew that would not always be the case.  It had been made very clear that they should expect no special treatment.

While he was not precisely disappointed with the way it had gone, after all the preparation and anticipation they had both expected it to be more eventful, more dangerous, more … challenging.   He could see the same sense of anticlimax in Elrohir.  “Something more exciting, you mean.”

“Mmm.”

One of the older warriors glanced back at them with a laugh.  “You will soon find more than enough excitement on patrol!  Believe me, a quiet duty like this is rare – and welcome.”

Elladan knew enough about the life of a warrior to know that Eilenach was right, but if he was entirely honest with himself, he knew he had entertained some immature fantasies of performing heroic deeds and proving his worth to the rest of the patrol by saving them all from some hideous, unspecified fate.  He caught Elrohir’s eye and shared a grin, then looked away from Glorfindel’s knowing smile.  The golden haired warrior knew them both far too well.   He had known them since birth, and had always been a friend, advisor and confidant – and, when the twins were younger, the instigator of a certain amount of elfling mischief as well.   Here on patrol though, or when they were training, he was a strict and exacting superior officer, and Elladan was careful not to forget it.

With a glance at Glorfindel for permission, Elladan slid off his horse’s back and knelt by the river.  He was hot, sweaty and dusty, and the water felt deliciously cool and refreshing as he splashed it over his face and head.  He drank deeply, then let Gilfein drink as well.  The river was the last boundary, and they were now within the borders of Imladris itself – though it would be another day before they reached home. 

It was cooler beneath the pines that bordered the river.  The dark boughs blocked the sun, and fallen needles formed a thick, silent carpet under the horses’ hooves that was a welcome change from the dry and dusty land they had been crossing. Thick, lush grass grew along the banks, and the horses eyed it eagerly as it was the first grass they had seen since leaving the Hoarwell.

Glorfindel looked up at the late afternoon sun, shading his eyes with a long hand.  He gave a single nod.   “We will camp here,” he announced, to a general murmur of approval from the other warriors.  “Then it will be a half-day’s easy ride down to Imladris tomorrow.  Ilmarin, it is your turn to prepare supper.  Rimmon, you help him – see what you can catch.” 

Elladan and Elrohir immediately began the necessary tasks of setting camp with the ease of an already familiar routine – gathering pine cones and fallen branches for the fire; collecting water from the river as it splashed over rocks and moss before disappearing into a deep gulley; setting out bedrolls and blankets in the most comfortable spots.  As he spread the last bedroll on a thick cushion of pine needles, Elladan could feel a spot between his shoulder blades itching as Glorfindel watched them, and tried not to look up as the captain approached them.

“Elladan, you will take the first watch, then Ilmarin.  Elrohir, you have the final watch – the last one of this patrol!”  Glorfindel regarded the twins, and then nodded.  “You have done well, both of you.”

Elladan tried to hide his surprise at this unexpected comment.  Glorfindel gave praise rarely, and never where it was unwarranted.  To have earned it now meant they had done something right in the Captain’s eyes.  Unable to prevent a pleased smile, he glanced at Elrohir, and saw a similar expression mirrored there.   “Thank you, Captain,” they both responded.

“Well,”  Elrohir whispered as Glorfindel turned away to his horse, “I wonder what prompted that?”

Elladan groped beneath the bedroll and removed a stray pine cone which would dig into someone’s back if left.  Throwing it onto the pile for the fire he shrugged.  “I have no idea,” he confessed, “but it was certainly a surprise.”

Rimmon soon reappeared with a brace and a half of rabbits, and was greeted with a cheer.  Game had been scarce in the bare foothills of the mountains, where the only signs of life had been an occasional eagle soaring overhead – and no elf would dream of hunting the great birds.  Instead they had existed on carefully rationed dried meat, grain and waybread.   Here in the sanctuary of Imladris – even on its northernmost border – game was more plentiful.   Rimmon presented the rabbits to Ilmarin with a bow.  “Here you are – though with your cooking, the dried meat might be preferable!”

Ilmarin grinned, quite unoffended.  “You go ahead and finish the travel rations, then – there will be more fresh meat for the rest of us.”

Despite Rimmon’s teasing, the rabbit was roasted to perfection, flavoured with a handful of aromatic cresses and herbs Elrohir had found growing beside the river.  With the last of the waybread and cool, fresh water to drink it seemed a feast equal to anything they might find in Imladris on their return.

Supper was a lively meal.   Here within the borders of Imladris discipline was relaxed a little, and Eilenach and Rimmon vied with each other to tell ever more hair-raising tales of patrols they had experienced. 

“You think this patrol was uncomfortable?”  Eilenach asked.  “Just wait until you see the cold desert above the Ettenmoors!”

“Or the marshlands between the Hoarwell and the Bruinen.  The midges – ”

“ – and the mud – ”

“ – get everywhere.”

“At least it stayed dry this time,”  Eilenach continued.  “I have been on patrols where we rode through a deluge for the whole month, when the rain got into everything.  I can still remember having to sleep in wet bedding.”

“But the worst,”  Rimmon said in a low voice, “was the patrol my first Captain told me about, when he was just a novice.”  His voice dropped to a whisper.  “It was a long time ago.  They were on foot patrol through a dense, dark forest, walking in single file along the narrow pathways.  And when they halted for the night, the elf who had been at the back … was gone.  Just gone.  They searched and called, but never found any trace of him.”

The others fell silent as Rimmon settled into his tale.  “No one slept that night.  They all kept watch, sitting with their backs to the fire and staring out into the darkness.  There was nothing to be seen, and not a sound was heard, but when morning came …”  Rimmon gave a dramatic pause.

“What?”  Elrohir asked in a hushed voice.

“Another elf was missing.  No one saw him go; no one saw what took him.  No one heard him cry out – but he had vanished into thin air.”

Elladan caught himself looking over his shoulder into the shadows beneath the trees and cursed.  Elrohir stretched as if to ease a cramp in his leg and edged a little closer to Elladan.  Even Ilmarin looked rather pale.  Only Eilenach and Glorfindel appeared unmoved by the story.

“After that, of course, they abandoned the patrol and decided to return to Imladris with all haste.  They set off through the forest, keeping close together – and yet, when they halted at noon, there was another missing.  As you can imagine, no-one wanted to be at the rear of the patrol – so they drew lots.  My Captain, who was a novice then, drew the short straw.  But his Captain changed places with him – and he was never seen again.” 

Rimmon paused again.  “Only two ever returned to Imladris.  What happened to the others, no one knows.  Nothing was ever found.  No trace.  No tracks.  And no one ever had any idea as to who – or what – was responsible.  But whatever it was, it may still out there – somewhere.”

Silence fell as Rimmon ended his story.  Elladan was not the only one who jumped as a pine cone gave a sudden crack as it split open in the dying embers of the fire. 

Glorfindel stirred and got to his feet.  “Thank you for terrifying everyone, Rimmon,” he said in a dry tone.  “If the elflings have nightmares tonight I shall be holding you responsible.”

Elladan bit back the automatic protest that he and Elrohir were not elflings.  He was not going to rise to Glorfindel’s bait.  Elrohir twitched at his side, but he too remained silent.

Glorfindel glanced at the twins and then smiled.  “We should rest now,” he said.  “The sooner we set out tomorrow, the sooner we shall be home.  Elladan, you have the first watch.”

As the other members of the patrol settled down to sleep, Elladan damped down the fire.   The night was warm, and they would have no need for it, and it would be easier to see into the deep pools of shadow beneath the pines without its distracting glow.  He told himself he did not need its comforting flicker to ward off the horrors of Rimmon’s tale.

Ilmarin nodded at Elladan as he pulled off his boots.  “I will see you later, young one.  Remember to wake me – though I for one will be glad to sleep undisturbed once we get back home!  I hate the middle watch,” he grumbled. “I cannot sleep properly before, and I cannot get back to sleep after!  Curse Rimmon anyway – if I do sleep I shall have nightmares.”  He settled down with his back to Elladan; and despite his complaints and fears soon seemed to fall asleep.

Elrohir yawned and stretched.  “I cannot wait for tomorrow,” he said.  “I cannot wait to bathe and finally be free of this clinging dust, and to have an unbroken night’s sleep in a real bed!”  He lay down on top of his blankets, head pillowed on his arm.  “Goodnight, El.  I will see you in the morning.  Do not fall asleep!”

Elladan threw a pine cone at him in reply. As the camp settled around him, he sat quietly, listening to the silence.  The terrors of Rimmon’s tall tale faded with the peace of the night.  It was warm and still, and a crescent moon shone down through the pines, casting dim shadows on the ground.  As he waited and watched he began to hear the soft noises of the night – the faint splash and gurgle of the stream; the hoot of an owl, distantly answered by another; the eerie bark of a fox. 

He never minded taking a night watch duty, and in fact relished the time alone.   The two weeks of the patrol had been spent in the close company of his companions – riding together, eating together, sleeping together; and while it was pleasant company, he had never spent so much time so intensively with anyone else apart from Elrohir – and anyway, his twin’s constant presence was different.  Always in Imladris there was space to wander and be alone, and his own room to retire to at the end of the day.  This peaceful time to himself was a blessed relief, and he wished he could spend the rest of the night in solitude and quiet contemplation.

He paused, considering. Why not?  There was no need to disturb the others and wake them for their watches – he could do it alone.  They were all tired at the end of the patrol and the long, sticky days.  Why not leave Ilmarin and Elrohir to sleep?  He could easily stay awake all night, and would enjoy the solitude – and Ilmarin would enjoy the unexpected rest.

His mind made up, he sat down on a boulder at the edge of the campsite as the owl drifted overhead on silent wings.  The peace of the warm, sultry night seeped into him, and he began to relax after two weeks of being constantly alert.  His senses told him that no danger threatened, and he knew nothing evil could cross the river into the valley. 

The silence deepened.  The owls had flown elsewhere, and the fox, with a last triumphant bark, had gone back to its den after a successful night’s hunt.  Midnight passed, and with it the time when he should have woken Ilmarin.  He wondered if the other warrior would wake instinctively, but Ilmarin did not stir.  Elladan rose to his feet with a yawn and stretched, then paced around the perimeter of their camp.  The other members of the patrol still slept – Elrohir sprawled face down, one arm embracing his pillow; while Glorfindel lay on his back where it looked like he had fallen asleep while contemplating the heavens. 

Elrohir should be waking for his own watch now, and he muttered something in his sleep, whispering into his pillow.  Elladan crept closer; silent on the soft, thick pine needles and knelt next to his brother with a grin.  Elrohir often talked in his sleep, semi-coherent mutterings that usually made no sense at all.  One of the most enigmatic had been the previous night’s bizarre comment, ‘But the cat was blue.’  Elladan hoped he would again hear something he could tease his brother about later, but with a final indecipherable mumble Elrohir subsided into sleep again.  

Disappointed, Elladan returned to his perch on the boulder.  Dawn was not far off now, and he watched the fading stars move overhead in a slow, mesmerising dance as they dipped towards the horizon.  Gradually the hypnotic movement of the stars, his weariness, and the quiet balm of the night crept up on him in a subtle assault, and he slid into sleep.

To be continued

Chapter Two – The Morning After

“On your feet, Elrondion!”

A voice roared through his dreams, and Elladan was on his feet and standing to attention before he was even fully awake.  As the fog of sleep cleared he saw Glorfindel standing before him, blazing with fury.   The realisation of what he had done hit him with all the force of a dwarf’s hammer, and a sick, leaden feeling settled on his stomach as if he had eaten one of his mother’s rock cakes.  “Glorfindel, I …”

Glorfindel’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward, looming even more closely.  “Elladan?  This should be Elrohir’s watch!” he hissed.  “Where is he?   Why is he not on duty?  Have you slept the whole night away?”

Resisting the urge to step back from the force of Glorfindel’s anger, Elladan had to swallow before he could answer.  “I did not wake him, nor Ilmarin.  He is still asleep.  Glorfindel, do not blame him for this!  I … ”   he faltered as he realised he did not have an adequate excuse for a breach of discipline of this magnitude.  “I am sorry,”  he ended humbly.  At home, whenever he or Elrohir incurred Glorfindel’s wrath, they would beg his forgiveness, but not here.  For this, Glorfindel would not, could not, forgive him so readily.

“You did not wake them?  Why not?  You had orders, Elladan!  Did you think Elrohir incapable?  Did you think to spare him the task?  Or do you think yourselves above such petty matters as discipline and commands?”  With each question, Glorfindel’s fury rose.  He did not shout, but his cold rage lashed at Elladan, who could only stand and weather the onslaught.

“No.  No …” he stammered.  “No.”  He was acutely aware of Elrohir, awake now, staring at them from his tangle of blankets on the far side of the fire’s cold ashes.   Elrohir knew better than to intervene, though it had been a harsh lesson for them to learn.  His eyes were fixed on Elladan, silently pledging his support despite his obvious dismay.

“Then what?”  Glorfindel persisted.  He waited, and Elladan knew that somehow he had to find an explanation for his foolish, insubordinate behaviour.

He drew a deep breath.  “I – I wanted the time alone.  It was so quiet, so peaceful – I just wanted to enjoy the solitude, while everyone else was asleep.  And I thought I would let Ilmarin and Elrohir rest.  So I did not wake them.”

“Then I shall be having words with them as well,”  Glorfindel said coldly.  “Ilmarin has been a warrior long enough to know that he should be awake and ready for his watch.  He should not expect anyone else to wake him!  Elrohir needs to learn that too.”

“Glorfindel, please!”  Elladan protested.  His own actions were bad enough, but he had never imagined that Ilmarin and Elrohir would also be held responsible for his foolishness.  “The fault is mine.  Do not blame them.”

“Do not presume to tell me what to do!”  Glorfindel snapped.

Deeply ashamed, Elladan looked down, feeling his cheeks burn.  Everything he said seemed to make this hideous situation even worse.  “No, captain.”

“Good.  Now, as you are so keen, you will take the watch for what remains of the night, and then prepare breakfast for us all.  I will consider what further punishment you deserve. ”

“Yes, Lord Glorfindel,”  Elladan whispered.  He raised his eyes slightly.  “Will – will you inform my father of this?”

Glorfindel’s eyebrows rose.  “Why would I do that?  I am not in the habit of informing my warriors’ parents of their disciplinary record.  You are not a child, and should stop acting like one!  You are a member of this patrol, and would do well to remember that.   You must take responsibility for your own actions.”

Elladan nodded slightly in response, though he knew it made no difference.  Elrond would know.  There was little that escaped his father’s notice, and he knew he would tell his parents himself anyway, for his honour would not allow him to keep the truth from them.   And yet despite Glorfindel’s rebuke his heart lifted a little and he felt marginally better at the subtle reassurance that he was still regarded as a warrior and part of the patrol.   “Thank you, captain.”

Elrohir had risen now, and stood some way behind Glorfindel listening silently; eyes flicking from Elladan to Glorfindel and back again.

“Do you have something to add, Elrohir?”  Glorfindel enquired without turning.

“No, captain.  Just … well, I am awake now.  May I take the watch with Elladan?”

“It is a little late, as this is supposed to be your watch!”  Glorfindel retorted. 

Elrohir flushed.  “Yes, captain.  And captain …”

“What?”

“I am at fault as well.   I knew I had the final watch.  I should have woken for it.  Elladan is not solely to blame.”

Glorfindel snorted.  “I will decide who is at fault here.   Goodnight.”

Elladan opened his mouth to say more, but thought better of it as Glorfindel glared at him.  “Goodnight, captain.”

“Goodnight, captain,” echoed Elrohir.

As Glorfindel returned to his blankets Elladan sank slowly onto his rock with a deep groan.  Elrohir merely shook his head in despair.  “El, you are an absolute idiot!”

o-o-o

Elladan sat in morose silence as the sky lightened. How could he have been such a fool?  And what would his parents say?  They would be so ashamed of him.  Feeling full of guilt he ignored Elrohir’s attempts to talk to him, until after a while Elrohir gave up and he too fell quiet. 

As the sun rose above the distant peaks of the mountains the others began to stir.  Ilmarin woke first.  He yawned and stretched, and glanced at Elladan in surprise.  “Is it morning already?  Have you kept watch all night?  Thank you, but it was perhaps not wise.  If Glorfindel found out …”

“He already knows,” Elladan interrupted, speaking at last.  He took a deep breath.  “I tried to stay awake all night, but he found me asleep on duty.”

Ilmarin winced.  “Oh,” he said with a long sigh.  “Elladan, you should have woken me!”  Then he shook his head. “No, I should have woken anyway.  I knew it was my watch.  Let me talk to him.”

“No, Ilmarin.  Thank you, but this is my fault.  And my responsibility, as Glorfindel pointed out.”

Ilmarin responded with a sudden grin.  “Well said.  I think you will go far, despite this beginning!”  Then just as quickly he grew serious again.  “You made a mistake, Elladan, as we have all done at times.  It will not be the last.  But if you learn from each error, each mistake, you will become an excellent warrior – and one day a leader.”  He glanced at Elrohir.  “Both of you.”

Elladan blinked and nodded sheepishly.  He had been expecting condemnation from the rest of the patrol, and Ilmarin’s understanding support came as a pleasant surprise.  “Thank you.”

“That is, if Glorfindel does not kill you first,” Elrohir muttered as Ilmarin disappeared towards the river to wash.

“I would deserve it if he does.  El, why did I do it?” Elladan demanded.  “We will be back at home tomorrow – no, today – and everything had gone so well!  Why did I have to ruin it all?  Now I am in disgrace, Glorfindel hates me, and I have let you and everyone else down.”  He sighed.  “I have let Glorfindel down.”  Far, far worse than his own sense of failure was the deep shame he felt in knowing that he had disappointed the captain.

“Glorfindel does not hate you,” Elrohir pointed out.  “He is angry – but he has been angry with us before.  And of course you have not let me down!  You have never done that.  You never will.”  Clasping Elladan’s shoulder he pulled him to his feet.   “You proved yourself an idiot, but I already knew that,”  he finished cheerfully.  “Come – I will help you prepare breakfast.”

Elladan smiled as he bent to re-kindle the fire.  “El – thank you.  Not just for breakfast.  For everything.” 

His smile faded as Rimmon approached them.  “Elladan, I just heard what happened.  Is it true?” 

“Rimmon, I …”  Elladan drew a deep breath.  “Yes, it is true.  I’m sorry.  I …”

Rimmon shook his head, his expression grave.  “Oh, Elladan.  But I blame myself, of course.”

Elladan stared at him in surprise.  “How is it your fault?  You did not have the watch at all last night.”

“I had no idea my tale would terrify you so, child.   That it made you so afraid to sleep you felt you had to keep awake all night … I am sorry.  I hope you will not have nightmares tonight as well.”

“No, it was not that!”  Elladan protested indignantly.  “I …”  he stopped and cursed silently as Rimmon began laughing at him.  “Rimmon, you orc!  Elrohir, shut up!” he added as Elrohir tried unsuccessfully to hide his own laughter.

“Sorry, El!”  Elrohir said unrepentantly.  “It was not your story that kept my brother up, Rimmon,” he explained.  “Glorfindel’s tales were the only ones that gave us nightmares when we were children.  Do you remember him telling us about the Balrog?” he added to Elladan.

Glorfindel.  Try as he might, Elladan could not imagine what he could possibly say to the captain to make things right between them again.

o-o-o

Glorfindel eyed Elladan steadily.  He looked pale but resigned, and returned his gaze without flinching.  He also looked tired, but Glorfindel had little sympathy for that.

Eilenach walked past on his way to the river, carefully ignoring them and Glorfindel glanced around the campsite.  He could see the other patrol members busy stowing their gear and tending to the horses, but the occasional curious glance came their way, and Elrohir’s ears almost seemed to twitch as he strained to listen.

“We will go this way,” he told Elladan, indicating a track that led steeply up through the pines.   Setting off without another word he climbed towards a rocky outcrop that faced back towards the mountains, and Elladan trailed silently in his wake.

Glorfindel knew he pushed the twins hard, both because of who they were, and what they would become.  As Elrond’s sons there could be no hint of favouritism, or accusations of an easy passage through the rigours of training.  One day they might well lead the forces of Imladris, or rule the valley itself.  For that, they needed the dedication and respect of all who followed them – a respect that had to be earned, not merely given.  He demanded more from them than from any other novices he had ever trained, and they had never disappointed him, rising to each challenge with relish and surpassing even his own high expectations.  They had endured this rather uncomfortable patrol without a word of complaint and performed all the necessary, routine tasks – even the more unpleasant ones like digging latrine pits – willingly.  He was impressed with how quickly they had fitted in with the others, who had initially had reservations about having their lord’s sons joining them. 

At times he wondered if he expected too much.  They were young yet, barely two years past their majority, and still had much to learn; but age and experience and their own determination would turn them into excellent warriors and leaders.

His musings had taken them to the top of the path, and they were now out of sight of the camp.  He halted at the foot of the rocks and turned to face Elladan.  “Well?”  he asked at last.  “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Elladan moistened his lips.  “Nothing, sir.”

“You have nothing to say in your defence?”

“No, sir.  I fell asleep on duty.  I left the patrol unguarded and vulnerable to attack – I put everyone at risk.”  Elladan sighed.  “I was foolish.  I do not defend my actions.” 

Glorfindel nodded slowly.  “I am glad you realise the consequences of what could have happened.  The fact that we are sheltered within the borders of Imladris does not excuse you, nor does the fact that you had the best of intentions in seeking to spare others from the watch.  That decision was not yours to take.”

“No, captain.”  Elladan hesitated and then added, “Glorfindel …”

“Yes?”

“I am sorry.  Truly sorry.  I let you and everyone else down.  I am sorry I disappointed you.”

Glorfindel sighed, his anger fading.  He loved the twins as if they were his own sons and it was hard to remain stern when Elladan was so dejected and despondent, especially when he could see what troubled him the most.  “You did not let me down, Elladan,” he said more gently.  “You let yourself down.  You made a foolish decision that might have had serious and lasting consequences.  Not only did you leave your companions temporarily unguarded, but by remaining awake for most of the night you are now tired, and your judgement and reactions may be impaired if we had to fight.  That could also put your companions at risk.  There is a reason why the watch is always shared, Elladan.”

“Yes.  I understand now, though I did not think of that before.”

Seeing Elladan’s obvious sincerity and regret, Glorfindel was satisfied at last.  “You made an error of judgement, but many far more experienced elves have done that.  I want you to learn from this.  You have already shown me that you have considered some of the consequences of your decision, but you must learn that our actions can have many outcomes.  Some are obvious and expected; some we know could occur if chance or mischance prevails.  Sometimes we take a calculated risk; and sometimes the consequences are quite unforeseen.”

“I should have thought,” Elladan admitted.  “I should have thought about all of that.   I think I knew it was probably not wise, but never imagined I would put everyone else at risk.  I should have listened to myself.  And I know if I had told Elrohir he would have said I was an idiot.”  He paused.  “He said it anyway.”

Glorfindel smiled as he reached out to touch Elladan’s shoulder in reassurance.  “Then learn from this.  There will undoubtedly be times when you do have to keep watch all night – perhaps if your companions are injured – and times when it is necessary to fight, then march through the night and fight again; and you will learn that, too.” 

Turning away, he pointed back through the trees.   “Now come.  The others are waiting for us.  No doubt Elrohir will have packed your gear for you, so we can be away immediately.”  He headed down the steep track silently, pausing to speak only once more.   “Elladan.  You have done well on this patrol, despite this. With a little more age and experience I have no doubt that you will become exemplary patrol leaders – and who knows, I may soon find my own position in jeopardy!”  

With a chuckle, Elladan smiled as he shook his head.  “Not for a very, very long time, I hope!” 

There was a definite spring back in Elladan’s step as Glorfindel followed him back to camp, but he still had to consider what further discipline to impose.  He never meted out meaningless, wasteful punishments.  Any penalty imposed would always have a useful goal, for pointless punishment only fostered resentment.  But what would be suitable for Elladan?  Additional weapons training was pointless, for his skill and fitness already outstripped the other novices; and many of the more experienced warriors as well.  Stable duty was always a possibility, and a week of grooming, hoof-picking and mucking out tended to quench the highest spirits.  It had never worked for Elrohir though, for he loved the company of horses too much.

Suddenly Glorfindel laughed to himself.  There was something he knew Elladan hated above all else – the routine of paperwork.  “There is one last thing,” he announced as they reached the clearing, where Elrohir stood waiting anxiously at the foot of the path.  “We return to Imladris this afternoon, and you will write a full report of this patrol.  I want it on my desk by tomorrow morning.  And then you will prepare the schedules, duty rosters and routes for all the patrols for the next two week cycle.”  He almost smiled at the flash of dismay that crossed Elladan’s expression, followed by a determined resolution.  He paused to let his verdict sink in, and then flicked his eyes sideways as he added, “You will not help him, Elrohir.”

There were twinned sighs. 

“Yes, captain.” 

“No, captain.”

“Good.  And Elladan?”

Elladan gave him a wary look.  “Yes, captain?”

“Do not disregard orders again.  Let this be the last time.”

Elladan nodded vigorously.  “Yes, captain!”

As they rejoined the patrol and set off down the track which led back to Imladris, Glorfindel sighed.  He had no doubts at all that in time Elladan and Elrohir would both make excellent leaders.  He just hoped he would survive the experience.

The End