When they had been very small elflings, the twins had each been gifted with a small set of silver cutlery, ideal for such tiny hands. Although the boys had decided several years ago that they were large enough to struggle with the unwieldly 'grown-up' implements, there were times when they would use their old spoons and forks - most noticeably at the breakfast table, where the tiny spoons were the ideal size to scrape all the last bits of white from inside the eggshell.

~*~

"I want to come second!" Elladan smiled cheerfully at his mother, using the butter knife to slice off the top of his egg with an overenthusiastic swish.

Celebrian frowned slightly at his words, but the effect of this was missed as both twins turned their attention to their father who had just managed to catch the flying piece of eggshell mere fractions of a second before it could collide with his shirt.

"That was quick, Ada!" Elladan's eyes widened and his voice held a distinct note of awe as his father calmly placed the eggshell back on his plate. If someone could catch things like that, then surely they would be able to just pluck arrows from the air.

"Do it again, Ada!" Elrohir waved his hand across the table, trying to grab the knife from his brother's hand. "Let me have a go! Elladan!"

"Can I try with arrows?" Elladan held the knife above his head with a smug expression, enjoying the chance to aggravate his brother. "No! I had it first! Please Ada? Is that why the orcs never killed you?"

"Elladan." Celebrian shook her head firmly and removed the knife from her eldest son's hand, simultaneously using her other hand to settle Elrohir back into his seat. The younger twin had been leaning far over the table in his attempts to grab the knife and he had stained his clean tunic with smears of strawberry preserve and breadcrumbs. "If you do not eat quickly, you will be late!"

Both boys looked rather anxious at their mother's warning, and began shovelling yolk-covered bits of bread and butter into their mouths, hardly speaking in their determination not to lose a single moment where they could be chewing. The young trainees would have a special morning of fun and games culminating in the archery contest and a special picnic. Then they would be allowed to watch some of the older elflings demonstrating their skills in the afternoon. Neither twin wanted to be late.

Chuckling quietly, Elrond shared an amused look with Celebrian then turned to his boys. "No, Elladan, arrows are too fast to catch. It is easier to dodge or duck if you hear an arrow coming."

Elladan nodded slowly as he finished chewing and swallowed his mouthful, but the moment that his mouth was empty his brow furrowed a little in puzzlement.

"Oh." Elladan paused, sucking on the cool metal end of his spoon as he concentrated, trying to put his thoughts into words. "Are you good at dodging, Ada?"

"I suppose I am quite good." Elrond set his own spoon down on the side of his plate as he considered his son's query. Something in the child's tone told him that there was more to the question than one might have thought. "Why do you ask?"

"But better than everyone else?" Elladan persisted, sneaking his elbows up onto the tabletop. "Better than all those people that died?"

"Better than Glorfindel?" Elrohir added helpfully and shrugged as Elladan shot him an annoyed look. "Glorfindel died too."

"Glorfindel does not count." Elladan said firmly, glaring at his brother. "Glorfindel fought a Balrog."

Grinning at the obvious pride in Elladan's voice and making a mental note to tease his friend about it later, Elrond shook his head. "No, Elladan. I was no better than many of my friends. Many-a-time I was lucky to avoid getting badly hurt. No matter how good a soldier anyone is, they still must be sensible and make wise choices, and even then much is determined by chance."

"Oh." The twins shared a rather puzzled look then Elladan turned to his father with a frown. "But that makes no sense, Ada! It would not be fair if it were just chance. Maybe you were better than them although you did not know it."

"Yes," Elrohir supplemented eagerly, "Perhaps they were slow at running or they did not wear their armor."

"No, boys." Elrond smiled sadly and shook his head slowly. "Many of those who have died were better warriors than me. In matters of life or death, little matters save for the wishes of Iluvatar."

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other, each clearly disbelieving their father's words. Then Elrohir looked curiously at his father.

"How does Iluvatar choose then, Ada?" Elrohir traced a small finger around the embroidered flowers on the trim of the tablecloth. "Why did you not die?"

Elrond paused for a moment or two, then smiled around at his family and spoke simply. "I am lucky."

~*~

"Iorwë!"

"Andúnë!"

With two cheerful cries, the boys raced away over the grass towards their friends with scarcely a glance behind them. Soon they were welcomed by happy voices and excited laughter, and within a moment or two were lost amidst the crowd of milling elflings. Left behind on the path that led down to the large meadow where the events were being held, Elrond and Celebrian looked at each other and smiled.

"They grow older." Elrond commented blandly, raising one eyebrow slightly and his mouth quirking upwards into a grin as he offered his wife his hand. Both boys had done their share of dragging as they had been hurried down to the meadows, and they had had precious little time to linger under the trees or admire the morning sunlight playing on the still water of the ponds.

"One day they shall leave us behind." Celebrian bit her lip slightly as she scanned the small crowd of identically clad elflings for sight of her sons. "I hope that all shall go well today. I worry for them."

"They shall learn." Elrond grasped Celebrian's hand in his, and smoothly slipped his fingers between hers. "They have grown this summer."

"Yes." Celebrian turned her gaze from her boys to look down at her hand, then smiled up at her husband. She waited for a moment to wave at the little cluster of children regardless of the fact that her sons were nowhere to be seen, then skipped merrily down the path, leading her husband into the privacy of the cool shadows under the birch trees. "Yes, they have."

~*~

"I can see a castle."

"No, it is an eagle's head. . . carrying a pipe," someone else said dreamily, gazing up at the lazy clouds drifting across the bright blue of the sky.

"Or Mithrandir, but without his hat and a bigger nose and no hair." Elrohir suggested a little sleepily, screwing up his eyes against the brightness of the sky. The meadows were filled with the lilting notes of a traditional dancing tune, and if he looked straight across his stomach, down towards the lower reaches of the valley he could see the blurry shapes of small figures prancing and skipping and weaving in-between each other. They were wearing tunics of the same colours as the blue of the cornflowers or the pinks and purples of the wild geraniums or the light yellow of cowslips, and with the smell of the dry grass and moss and the rustling of the leaves behind him, he could almost pretend that they were flowers being blown in the wind.

"This is boring!" Elladan complained, prodding his brother in the stomach and causing the younger twin to jerk hurriedly into a sitting position. "All they do is skip and jump and then start all over again. It is stupid. Everyone will have gone to sleep by the time that we get a turn!"

It had been decided that on this occasion, the girls should have the first chance to display what they had learnt. This meant that the twins' training groups had to sit quietly on a little hillock under the shade of some trees as they waited for their turn. Although their training masters had allowed them to expand sitting into sprawling on their backs to find shapes in the clouds, or shutting their eyes and fumbling their hands around in the air as they attempted to play 'sitting-tag', or even tossing small pebbles at a larger stone some distance away, many of them were finding this rather difficult.

"It is pretty." Elrohir looked back at the dancing elflings. He could see them more clearly now that he was sitting up, and they were all smiling and laughing as they did the moves. It looked quite fun, now that he took a closer look, and they would have to be very quick to avoid bumping into one another or to all lift up their arms at the same moment. He had enjoyed the dancing the previous evening, but this looked even more fun. They did not talk to each other as they did there, and the dancing elflings were not wearing the long gowns that the elf-maidens wore, so they could move unhindered. Perhaps, if he asked, Andún's sister would teach him some of the moves. Or maybe Ammë would know. "I think it would be fun."

Elladan sighed loudly and gave him a pitying look. "They are girls."

Elrohir shrugged slightly and wrinkled his nose at his brother. "It still looks fun."

"It looks boring." Elladan objected, then turned scornfully to his brother. "Everybody would think that you were a girl if you wore a pink tunic."

"Ada wears pink." Elrohir said with a small hint of triumph. But his Ada was a lot bigger than his Ammë, and he wore shirts under his robes rather than a tunic for all to see. And everyone knew that Ada was a boy. If Andúnë braided his hair like a girl and wore a purple tunic, then he would look just like his sister - everyone said so. He did not think he would want people to think that he and Elladan were brother and sister by accident.

"He does not!" Elladan exclaimed loudly, earning himself a warning glance from the training master. Lowering his voice to an exceedingly audible hiss, he bent closer to his brother's ear. "He wears pale red, and only sometimes!"

Elrohir smiled rather smugly at his brother, knowing that this would infuriate him more than anything else he could possibly say. Then, when it looked as if his brother was just about to snap and get everybody into trouble, added soothingly, "I would not have to wear pink anyway. I could dance wearing my training tunic if I wanted to."

"You would look stupid though."

~*~

Finally, as mid-morning approached, all the elflings had a chance to shine, running back and forwards along ropes and throwing and catching small wooden balls or beanbags. Seated comfortably in the shade of a large oak tree, Elrond watched his sons with a badly disguised hint of pride. Galadriel and Celebrian had drifted off somewhere, to help set out the milk and apples for the snack before the contest perhaps, or maybe to join in with some of the mothers who were teaching their eager children some new steps or dances. Of the family from Lorien though, Celeborn had decided to stay with him, and together with Glorfindel, the three of them sat peaceably under the trees, watching the younglings play.

"They move so quickly for elves so small." Celeborn said blandly, looking around at the elflings with an interested air, so that is was impossible for either of his companions to guess who or what had sparked the comment. "One would not think that they would yet be so agile."

"No," Elrond did not lift his eyes from watching his youngest son dart through the long grass, chasing a ball, "It seems but a moment ago that they found their feet."

"It was." Glorfindel said simply, closing his eyes and leaning backwards to stretch, handily avoiding the rather jealous glance that Celeborn gave him. Although the Lord and Lady of Lorien had spent as much time as they could spare with their daughter and her family, there had been many precious moments that had been missed.

"I still remember. . ." Elrond broke off from his reminiscing to draw his breath in sharply as he watched his elder son dash across a rope at a speed best described as unwise. "Be careful, ion nîn."

The three older elves watched silently as the elfling reached the other side and leapt down to the ground without a moment's hesitation. Relaxing slightly, the three elves' faces lit up with a trio of proud smiles before they remembered themselves, and returned to suitably unconcerned expressions.

"The children manage well, do they not?" Glorfindel said casually, leaning back against the trunk of the tree, turning to look at a particularly tiny child making valiant attempts to walk on his hands lest anyone guess which elflings he was particularly proud of. "They all do."

"That they do." Celeborn smiled brightly as Elrohir took opportunity of a momentary break in play to wave at them. "Their parents must be very proud of them."

Almost secretly, Elrond smiled.

~*~

"Mithrandir?"

The Istar looked up to find one of the twins standing above him, silhouetted against the brightness of the sky. He was munching on an apple, and held two beakers in his free hand, and the pocket of his tunic was sagging under the weight of another fruit.

"Child?" Mithrandir held out his hands to take the two wobbling beakers before they were dropped. "Come and sit."

Gratefully Elladan dropped down onto the grass beside the wizard, and after a second or two's squirming leant his head against the old man's arm. "Ada said that I was to give you this."

"My thanks, Elladan." Mithrandir took the proffered apple, recognizing the boy now by the graze on his knee and his characteristic troubled expression. Moving a little so that he could slip an arm around the child's back, Mithrandir took a big bite of the apple and smiled down at the boy. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Elladan nodded, then scowled and shook his head.

Mithrandir's bushy brows rose inquisitively, but he said nothing, merely waiting.

"I need some magic!" Elladan said fiercely at last, throwing his apple core into the bushes with all his strength. "I need you to make magic for me."

"Oh?" Mithrandir sucked in a cheek thoughtfully as he finished his apple then, like Elladan, threw his core into the bushes. As it flew, the core cartwheeled in mid air and gave off a flurry of green and gold sparks. Finally Mithrandir turned to the elfling with a chuckle. "Is that enough for you, Master Elladan?"

Elladan looked at him, and gave him a rather false smile. It seemed rude not to seem pleased after someone had done him a kindness, but that was not what he had meant.

"Did that not please you?" the Istar's voice was kind and merely curious rather than annoyed, and Elladan found himself wavering over whether to tell him the whole story, "What magic would you wish to see?"

"I. . ." Elladan looked pleadingly at the old man, then lowered his voice and began talking quickly. "I need to be braver, Mithrandir. I want to not care what other people think."

"Oh?" Looking faintly surprised, Mithrandir pulled the child into a tighter embrace.

"Culr. . . some other people were saying things about me. That I was a show off and that if I did not win then everyone would laugh and know that I was no good really and just think that it was because I was stupid and then everyone would be ashamed of me and not like me any more."

Elladan took a deep shuddering breath and blinked twice before continuing. "And then I would have to stay in the bad training group for ever and ever and Glorfindel would stop helping me because I would have been a bad influence. . . a bad reflection on him and then everyone would think that he was a bad teacher because I was bad at archery and then he would not be Captain of the Guard anymore and it would be all my fault and I would have spoilt everything."

Gulping, Elladan burrowed his face against the rough grey fabric of Mithrandir's sleeve, then at a strange noise from above him looked up reproachfully. "Are you laughing?"

"No." Mithrandir admirably swallowed his amusement and looked down seriously at the boy, using two fingers to smooth the wrinkles out of the Elladan's forehead. "What did you wish me to do?"

"I needed magic, Mithrandir!" Elladan repeated with a note of frustration. "I need to be braver. Make me not care what they say!"

Mithrandir looked at him a moment, and suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Elladan added, "Please?"

The other boys were already gathering back into a group around Ildruin, the training master, and if Mithrandir was not quick then he would have to go. What was the point of being a wizard if you were too slow to use your magic anyway?

"Elladan," Mithrandir shook his head, then gently pressed his clenched fist against the child's chest, "I cannot give you that magic. It is a magic that you will find within yourself."

~*~

The children had scampered out onto the field by now, where maybe a dozen training targets had been set up ready for them. They had gathered in a small circle around the tall elf in their midst, and were listening intently as he explained the rules to them.

As he crossed the meadow towards the shady spot under the tree that Celebrian had chosen as the perfect picnic place, Celeborn watched as the training master lightly rapped each child on the head, assigning them a number that would tell them whether they would go first or second. Some boys, especially the smallest ones, were wriggling and jiggling from foot to foot, barely able to stand still long enough to be counted. Others, including his Elrohir, were standing stock still, heads held proudly high as they waited their turn, their impatience and excitement shown only in the dancing of their eyes. As he watched, both twins stepped forwards with a few of other boys, evidently having gained the same number. Feeling a slight pang of regret that the twins would have to compete against each other so soon, Celeborn forced himself to turn aside and head toward a figure clad in white sitting stiffly in the shade of one of the trees. Whatever the outcome of the twins' good intentions, it was beyond his control by now.

"Curunír." Celeborn nodded his greeting and sat down beside the old man, handing him a beaker of milk that was accepted with a rather sour thanks. He was not particularly fond of the Istar, wise though he was, but his wife held little love for him and made no attempt to hide her feelings, so in the interest of keeping the peace he often attempted to smooth things over. "How fare you?"

"It is somewhat tedious." Curunír shuffled against the tree trunk where the bark of the tree was digging into his back. He was old and weary and sitting out here in the stifling heat on the hard sun-caked ground was far from comfortable. "I am not of good temper to watch elves too small and simple to yet be of any significance. Did you not find it wearisome?"

"Nay, I was watching my grandsons." Celeborn said with a smile. It felt good to say it, and with a wide smile he repeated himself. "My daughter, Celebrian's sons, Elladan and Elrohir. I am very proud of them."

~*~

Elladan took his place on the field, feeling rather nervous by now. Although normally he enjoyed having an audience and making people talk about him, he thought that just this time it might be nicer to have the contest in private without everybody watching him. If things went wrong, he would rather not have everyone see how bad he was.

To his left and right, the other elflings were taking arrows from their quivers and fitting them to their bows as carefully as they could manage. He knew that he should do the same, but somehow he could not stop fiddling with the loose bit of hemming on the edge of his tunic. He had been picking at the scab on his knee earlier, and now it was a little bit sore and a thin trickle of blood had leaked out from around the edge. It did not matter though, for he liked having scabs. They were his badges of his adventures. Once, when he had tripped from the diving rock he had had scabs on his knees and elbows for nearly a month.

"Elladan," Ildruin's hand came to rest momentarily on his shoulder, startling him into looking up at the training master with a distinctly guilty expression. "Are you ready to start?"

"I am sorry, hîr." Elladan hurriedly wiped his palms on his shorts and reached behind him to take an arrow from his quiver. "Nearly."

"Pay attention, Elladan." Ildruin reminded him kindly, before passing on to help another boy who had managed to knock a feather from one of his arrows and was quite upset about it.

Soon though, all was ready, and the meadow seemed to fall quiet except for the distant rushing of the river and the chirruping of the birds high up in the trees. The first six or seven elflings stood poised in silence, waiting for Ildruin's call before shooting.

"Aim." Ildruin quickly glanced behind the targets for a brief second before returning his attention to the boys under his command. While all the families of Imladris enjoyed this day, and for many youngsters it was the highlight of the summer, it was more than usually nerve-racking for those in charge. Many children would attend, and with a grandson of his own barely into his second year, he well understood the fear that someone very small would manage to inadvertently wander into the line of fire. "Release!"

Moving with very nearly the smooth speed and coordination as the archers of the Imladris Guard, the children released their arrows. He ran a quick glance over the targets and motioning to the boys to tell them that they should prepare for their next attempt, noticing that while most had done rather badly on this first rather nervous shot, Elrohir had managed to hit the centre, and far away on the other side of the field, his brother had done nearly as well. Elrohir was smiling and was chattering happily to his neighbour, but Elladan looked far from content.

Anxious to see how well his brother had done, Elladan shuffled in line, stood on tiptoes and craned his neck to try and catch a glimpse of Elrohir. If only they could share a smile or a wave he thought that he might feel a bit better.

"That was not very good," someone hissed vehemently from behind him, and Elladan spun round to find Culromen glaring at him, "Your brother shot it right in the centre."

Elladan frowned, and clenched his arrow in his fist with unnecessary firmness. While he did not think that Culromen would be able to see Elrohir from here if he could not, the older elfling was an inch or so taller.

"Is he better than you?" Culromen persisted with a rather unpleasant smile. "Is that why your Ada is watching him not you?"

"He is watching me!" Elladan protested, but when he looked back it was to find that both his mother and father had their eyes on the opposite end of the field. Feeling somewhat aggrieved at this betrayal, he kicked unhappily at the ground and declared loudly, "And I am not really trying anyway. It is Elrohir's turn to win!"

He did not have to try if he did not want to. And if he did not try his best and everyone knew it, then it would not matter if he lost. At least not as much. And nobody would ever know that Elrohir was really truly better than him.

"I shall not be trying hard today." Elladan repeated at last, as loudly and as arrogantly as he could manage. As long as Culromen did not guess, at least one thing would be better.

"Pay attention please, Elladan." Ildruin reminded him slightly less kindly, hurrying on to remind Iorwë to tie his shoelaces.

~*~

Lounging on the grass, watching the tips of the tall birch trees sway languidly in the wind and beneath them the dozen or so competing elflings, Glorfindel let time pass. It was warm down in the valley, and the grass was soft and dry. Lying on his front and resting his chin on his folded hands he could watch the twins at his leisure, smiling slightly at the depth of concentration on their faces.

Elrohir he saw now, while rather better than could be expected for a child of his age, was not the archer that Elladan had described to him. Indeed he knew that even when not trying quite as hard as he could manage, the elder twin should manage to win this contest with ease. Unfortunately though, Elladan seemed to be doing his best to be just as bad a competitor as he had described himself to be.

Although he could not fault the child's aim or technique, which were, as usual, as near perfect as the child could make them, the boy seemed to be aiming away from the centre. His arrows hit the second or third ring of the target with perfect regularity, and after a little while, Glorfindel began to notice a pattern in the child's aim. Grimacing a little in frustration, Glorfindel touched his forehead to his hands, inhaling in the wild smell of the grass and the sweet scent of the wildflowers. Of all the things that the child could have done to annoy him, nothing frustrated him more than anyone who did not strive to complete everything to the best of their ability.

"Elladan is doing well." Elrond strolled over to his friend's side and dropped down into the grass beside him, nudging his elbow into Glorfindel's side until the Balrog-slayer rolled over and sat up. "He had matured this summer."

"He has?" Glorfindel pursed his lip disapprovingly at the elfling who had just run over to the target to retrieve his arrows and allow another boy to take a turn.

"Aye." Elrond nodded and leant against the blond elf's shoulder as he watched his boys file neatly over to the side of the field where they sat down in a straight line, no longer having any difficulty in obeying instructions now that it was their turn to take part. To his immense satisfaction, Elrohir had managed to come top in this round, and to his relief even Elladan had managed to get through to the next round. "Last year we would have had tantrums by this time. He is trying hard now, and I have never been more proud of him."

Glorfindel wrinkled his nose, and could not help but pull a face. "If he were trying, aye."

Elrond gave his friend a curious look at the disgruntled words. He had suspected that Glorfindel would become frustrated with the child if he did not live up to his exacting standards, but Elladan seemed to be trying hard enough for him. In any case the Elladan that he loved could often be frustrating and beyond understanding. "He is not?"

"No, Peredhil, he is not! I have not spent hours with him this summer to teach him to shoot with all the skill and precision of a particularly thick skulled dwarf. . ." grumbling a little, Glorfindel fell silent for a few moments, then added in a voice that held more annoyance than Elrond had ever heard from him before, "He is not even trying to aim. I would sooner be proud of. . . that thing!"

"Herith." Chuckling at the sheer exasperation in his friend's voice, Elrond pushed himself up to his feet and wandered over to the elfling that Glorfindel had indicated. Herith was a perpetually sleepy looking child, and was well known among the healers for his habit of sucking on pebbles. There had been unfortunate incidents when the pebbles had mistakenly been swallowed or stuck up his nose, and from the bulging shape of the child's cheek he had not learnt from these episodes.

His frustration fading as he watched his friend kneel down beside the little boy and speak gently to him, Glorfindel could barely resist sniggering as Elrond held out his palm and Herith obediently spat out the pebbles. Ignoring the look that Elrond gave him, which would have surely slain the Balrog even if he had not, Glorfindel lolled back on the grass, smiling to himself as he watched his lord returning the child to its owners. It had always been beyond Elrond to avoid helping anyone in need.

~*~

When the training master called, Elladan trooped back onto the archery range with the other five elflings, rather noticeably wearing a grim scowl. He had not intended to get through this far. Nobody had ever told him that he would do well. He had only tried hard enough to avoid being so obvious in his lack of effort that he would be scolded, but now everyone would think that he had tried, and then they would think that he was bad when he lost, not merely lazy.

Feeling rather confused now, Elladan turned back to look at his family and friends that were gathered around under the trees watching them. Mithrandir had told him that he would find what he needed to be brave inside him, but he just felt rather hollow and empty. It was not brave to pretend that you were no good to avoid failing. He had always been scornful of the elflings that were afraid to try the big swing in case they fell in the water. And this was just the same.

But then, Mithrandir was not looking at him at all. He was talking to Lord Cirdan and ignoring everyone else, and he had not told him where inside he should look. It was difficult to find things quickly if you did not know where they were. Celeborn and his Ada would never know that he had not been trying hard, for they thought that he was no good at archery, and Ammë and Galadriel would not know anything about weapons anyway. At least he hoped that they did not. Ammë had been rather good at fencing for a girl, and when Galadriel had told him a story about her brothers she had seemed to know quite a lot about bows. More than he did, really. Although he had not said so.

In fact, the only person that would know was Glorfindel. But perhaps it was Glorfindel's fault anyway, because he had never told him that he was good at archery. If he had known then he could have tried even less hard, and he would not have this problem now. Biting his upper lip with a distinctly guilty expression, Elladan peeped across the training field to where he knew the blond elf would be sitting. Glorfindel was looking at him too, and for a few brief seconds their eyes met before the elfling looked down at the ground again. He had thought that Glorfindel would be angry or frustrated, but he had just looked disappointed. Disappointed and ashamed of him.

His eyes filling with tears, Elladan scuffed the grass under his feet with his battered moccasins. Now that he thought about it, there was one other person that would know, and that was him.

"Elladan," Ildruin's voice was quiet and understanding, and before he fully knew what was happening, Elladan found the training master kneeling down before him, gently turning him to shield him from the onlookers. "What bothers you, little one?"

"I. . ." Elladan sniffed, concentrating on the way that the training master's long silver braids were shaded in the sunlight. If Ildruin was nice to him right now then he was sure that he would begin to cry. "I. . . I do not know what to do."

It sounded stupid now that he had said it, but instead of getting angry with him, the training master merely patted his shoulder comfortingly.

"Try your best." Ildruin smiled encouragingly at the boy and got to his feet, making a mental note to have a longer talk with the child at a more suitable time. "Just try your hardest, Elladan. It is all that we can ask of you."

And since there seemed little else to do, Elladan did.

~*~

"That is better," Glorfindel said with satisfaction and a rather smug smile as Elladan's fifth arrow joined the others in the centre of the target. While he was far too well mannered to resort to declaring that he had told Elrond so, he could not resist turning to the Lord of Imladris with a rather pompous smile. "I said that he was not trying his hardest."

Elrond turned his gaze from his sons for a moment to look at the blond elf, then returned to looking anxiously at his sons. "You have taught him well, my friend. But I fear that this will not end well."

Now that there were only a few elflings left in the game, those that were still competing were sneaking looks at each other's targets, wondering whether it would be they that would be allowed to take the bow home with them. Although Ildruin had rather providently stationed the twins as far apart as was possible, Elrond had seen Elrohir glance towards his brother's target and the crestfallen expression that had crossed his face. This would be difficult for him.

Before long the round ended, and amidst the cheering and the excited chattering of those elflings that had been sent back to join their friends, all heard a penetrating and high-pitched young voice speaking clearly and with shocking hate, "You are a liar, Elladan."

Groaning, Elrond shut his eyes a moment and shuffled back across the grass to sit next to his wife. Somehow it always had to be his sons who caused the scenes and upsets. None had ever commented on it, preferring to politely overlook the difference, but once or twice there had been careless mentions of the children's bloodlines. While he did his best to ignore such whispers, he knew that at times it upset his wife. They sat in silence, hand in hand as they watched all elflings slowly leave the field except for their twin sons.

"They shall be in the final." Celebrian said with a note wavering between rightful pride and despair. "Please let them behave."

Elrond gave her a worried look, and stretched out his arm across her back, cuddling her closer to him.

"It does not come from you, Elrond Peredhil." Galadriel's voice sounded in his left ear, causing him to jump inelegantly in surprise. "Nor from whatever blood you may carry."

Elrond gave her a questioning look, then sighed deeply. He opened his mouth to reply, when Galadriel broke in again.

"There was one summer when Celebrian wished to lead the dances under the Mallorn trees. . ."

"Ammë!" Celebrian protested hastily, colour rising to her cheeks. "I am sure that Elrond does not wish to know that story. It happened long ago."

". . .the dances under the Mallorn trees," Galadriel continued smoothly, smiling at her daughter, "And she would practice each day in the gardens before supper, but then on the day, one of her little friends. . ."

"Tathwen." Celebrian said darkly. "And she was not my friend."

"Yes, Tathwen, she took Celebrian's place in the chain and then when it came to the turn of throwing petals it was she that was allowed to carry the basket with the pink flowers."

"And you threw the white petals?" Elrond turned to his wife with an expression of amused interest. He had heard few tales of her childhood, especially those that painted her as more than a mere doll, and since many of his friends and relations had chosen to avail her with all she could wish to know of the humiliating times of his youth, he was more than a little curious.

"I. . ." Celebrian bit her lip and although she smiled a little, she flushed deeply and began admiring her fingernails. "Not exactly."

"She threw a tantrum," Galadriel said with a smile, a certain note to her voice suggesting that she was actually rather proud of her daughter's actions, "I have never known a child to screech so loudly, and then she threw herself on Tathwen and. . ."

"Ammë!" Celebrian gave her mother a pained look. "I was but weeks past my fourth begetting day!"

"Yes, you were but small." Galadriel paused and smiled softly at her daughter. "You fell asleep on your Adar during that feast, and he carried you up to bed."

"Oh." Elrond said, hoping that he had managed to conceal his alarm at his wife's actions under his apparent calm. "And from whom did that come?"

"The temper?" Galadriel said thoughtfully, looking off into the distance with a slight smile. "I would not know."

~*~

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other uneasily as they stood side by side before the targets. It seemed very silent in the middle of the big field, and both boys suddenly felt rather lonely.

"I hope you win, 'Ro." Elladan said earnestly, looking pleadingly at his brother, who had remained rather distant and aloof throughout the change in positions. "I want you to win."

Elrohir scowled at him, looked over his shoulder to check that Ildruin was not within earshot, and leant over to whisper maliciously in his brother's ear. "I hope that you lose."

"Are you both ready?" Ildruin strode between the two children gently adjusting them into the correct position and causing a hurried end to their conversation. "We are very proud of both of you."

He had emphasized the both as much as he could, but it did not seem enough to pacify the twins who seemed to be in the middle of some argument. "I am sure that you will not let us down."

The twins looked at each other then spoke together, "Yes, Master Ildruin."

"Good." Ildruin said a little sternly, then stepped back a short distance. "Ready. Release!"

The first arrow was always the hardest to aim, and to Elladan's relief it landed firmly in the centre marking. Perhaps a little closer to the left than was perfect, but close enough for a start. Smiling a little now that he had settled into the swing of things, he fitted his second arrow to his bow and patiently waited for the call.

This second shot was better than the first one, and it was much closer to the centre point than the previous one. Feeling rather excited now at the prospect of maybe even winning himself, Elladan was eagerly reaching for another arrow when he caught sight of his brother. Elrohir looked so sad and miserable, and his shots were not as good as Elladan had expected them to be. In fact they had barely even reached the edge of the target.

Feeling confused, Elladan gave Elrohir a little smile. Perhaps he would be able to beat Elrohir after all. But then Elrohir had been so excited about winning, and a little voice inside of him was whispering that it would be mean to beat him now. But maybe they could draw. Drawing would be fair. And they could share the bow, and everyone would be happy. At least he hoped they would. All he had to do was make it easier for his brother to catch up with him. That would cheer him up.

Elladan's third shot landed with perfect accuracy in the fourth ring from the centre. Ignoring Ildruin's questioning glance, Elladan beamed proudly at his brother, only to find that a tear was running down Elrohir's cheek. Despite his attempt to allow his brother to gain points, Elrohir had managed to miss the target altogether this time, rather unsurprisingly since the younger twin's eyes were misted with tears and he was shaking slightly. Meaning to move across to comfort his twin, Elladan was just about to set down his bow and run over to his brother's side when Ildruin called for their next turn.

Maybe if he just managed to shoot this right on the very edge so that Elrohir could catch up. He was sure that Glorfindel would understand. Or at least not be too angry. And maybe if he explained everything to Ildruin after the contest, he would stop looking so annoyed. And then everything would be all right. But Elrohir was crying too hard to aim now, and his arrow did not even reach the target.

Sighing, Ildruin stopped the contest and knelt down between the boys, placing an arm around each of their shoulders. Elrohir face was awash with silent tears, and Elladan had gone red and was looking increasingly sulky and stubborn - a sure sign, Ildruin knew, that he was deeply unhappy.

"It is but one more shot. Just one more." Feeling as if it was beyond him to deal with this without the boys' parents being present, the training master decided that it would be best to draw the contest to a close without delay. "Can you do that? Elrohir?"

Elrohir gulped and nodded miserably, looking as if his entire world had collapsed around him.

"Good." Ildruin handed him a piece of cloth with which to mop his face, and turned to the elder twin. "Elladan?"

Elladan nodded unhappily, treating him to a ferocious scowl. There was nothing that he could do now to make Elrohir win, and he did not want everyone to think that they were stupid. He would do one last shot that would make everyone proud, but he would never ever like archery again.

"Good." Ildruin led the children back to their places and got to his feet. He hoped for the sake of the onlookers at least, that there would be no more tears or tantrums. "Ready. . ."

Both boys shot at once, one blinded by tears and other looking close to shouting or screaming with frustration and misery. The moment that the shot was done and his arrow had dug into a patch of dry earth some distance away, Elrohir flung his bow roughly on the ground and raced away over the worn grass to the safety and comfort of his parents. His Ammë had got to her feet and was running towards him now, and in just a moment he would be in her arms and things would be better. Sobbing loudly, Elrohir buried himself into his mother's body and let himself be carried back to his family and be cuddled back to some small degree of calm.

Alone on the field, Elladan gripped his bow tightly and looked up unhappily at Ildruin, unsure of what to do. Everyone in his family was grouped around Elrohir, and nobody would want to be kind to the person that had made him so upset. Taking pity on the elfling, Ildruin held out a hand for the child to hold onto. It had been an excellent last shot, but he did not feel that the child would want to hear that right now. A short break before the awarding of the bows seemed in order, and while the boy's parents seemed fully occupied he could see Glorfindel strolling towards him, ready to receive the child.

"Come now," Ildruin helped Elladan gather up the arrows into both the quivers and then handed him over to Glorfindel with a half-anxious and half- apologetic grimace. "He is a little upset."

.