Title: Hunter and Prey
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Paring: That would be telling.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda.
Warnings: Slash.
Archiving: Anyone else who wants it, just let me know.
A/N:  This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken story arc, 
although some of the characterizations are eerily similar.  Updates will be 
haphazard, but I promise to finish it.

*   *   *
   
"You are insane."

"Maybe, but think of the rewards . . . "

"He'll kill us both."

"Not if he doesn't figure it out, which he won't if you don't panic and let 
on."

"I am not going to panic."  Elrohir glared at his twin, who looked 
insufferably sure of himself as usual.  "I never panic."

"Not with anyone else, maybe, but you like him too much, I think."  With 
that final comment, which could, Elrohir thought nervously, be taken a 
number of different ways, Elladan slipped off into the night.  His dark 
green clothing soon made him indistinguishable even to elven eyes.  

Elrohir fell back against the mossy rocks behind him, which formed a 
convenient chair overlooking the most spectacular of Imladirs' many 
waterfalls.  He had fled here for a little peace and quiet, not to mention a 
chance to think, but Elladan had followed and ruined the area's usual 
serenity.  How had he managed to get himself into this?  Of course the 
answer was obvious--to have refused would have aroused Elladan's 
suspicions, and that was something he could not afford to do.

Elrohir drew his cloak further around him, not because the night air was 
cold--for despite the approach of autumn, the air still felt balmy to elvin 
sensibilities.  No, he just wanted the feeling of comfort it brought, 
although he would have much preferred a warm pair of arms in its place, 
especially one pair in particular . . . 

He shrugged off that thought as futile, and tried to concentrate on dealing 
with the current problem, nay catastrophe, with which Elladan's prankish 
nature had saddled him.  The cause of it all was the annual hunt, a 
tradition in Imladris going back well over a thousand years, which drew 
elves from all over Middle Earth every autumn.  The Lorien elves came in 
droves, and usually proved the greatest rivals for the Imladris' participants, 
but in recent years a few daring souls had started to come from as far away 
as Mirkwood to try and prove themselves against the best of the best.  
Elrohir supposed that some of these had been a bit surprised at first, when 
they found out that the rules of the game were not, perhaps, as its title 
would suggest.  There were, for instance, no animals in this hunt.

Elrohir watched as the moon rose slowly between the branches of a nearby 
tree, and noticed by its pale light that the night's breeze was causing a few 
dried leaves to tremble on their branches.  By the time the hunters arrived 
in a few weeks' time, the leaves would have begun to fall in earnest, 
coating the forest floor in a crackling carpet sure to give away anyone's 
passage through the narrow pathways.  That was, of course, the point of 
holding the hunt in autumn, when summer's thick green camouflage had 
faded, but before any snow had fallen to muffle the sounds of passage.  
The forest's foliage had been particularly dense this year, prompted by 
extra good rains in early spring, so a veritable deluge of leaves waited to 
tumble to earth.  It was going to be impossible, this hunt, he thought, as a 
single leaf detached itself from the highest point of the tree and wafted to 
the ground at his feet.

The hunt had originated from a desire to better train warriors, and still 
carried that connotation.  Whoever won was widely regarded as the best 
warrior in elvindom, and received equal parts awe and envy from their 
fellows until the next year's game.  Haldir of Lorien had won the year 
before, and Legolas of Mirkwood the year before that, so the elves of 
Imladris were fairly bursting with the desire to win back the honors for 
themselves once more.  Elladan could not have picked a worse year for his 
joke.

Elrohir could still feel the tension in the great hall from that night's 
meeting, which had been carefully contrived to insure that the elders had 
finished their meal and departed, leaving the banqueting hall to the 
revelries of the young, as his father had put it with a smile before retiring 
for the night.  There had followed much whispered debate, leading almost 
to blows when Elladan accused one of the dissenting voices of cowardice, 
but eventually things had gone his way.  After all, they wanted to win.

The decision had been clenched when Elladan had declared that he and 
Elrohir would be the ones to insure that the two main threats to an 
Imladris' victory--the last two winners--were "taken care of," leaving the 
field open for their fellow warriors to triumph.  Elrohir had begun to 
protest; Elladan's plan, although not technically against the rules as 
anything was considered fair in the hunt that did not involve serious injury 
to one of the participants, was risky.  Neither Haldir nor Legolas was 
likely to take well to being removed from the field, and both were cunning 
warriors with a number of tricks up their sleeves.  They were not the main 
reason Elrohir was now wishing that he could manage to break a leg 
before the hunt took place.  No, the real threat was what the master of the 
hunt was going to say about this blatantly unsportsmanlike action.  The 
real problem was Glorfindel.

Elrohir closed his eyes and willed away the image of Glorfindel's livid 
face that had risen up before him.  He was well aware of what his father's 
favorite councilor looked like when enraged, for somehow, Elrohir had 
always managed to infuriate him.  Elladan's pranks were far more frequent 
and mischievous, but it always seemed to be Elrohir who managed to get 
caught.  Glorfindel's bright blue eyes would sparkle and his face would 
flush as he was giving his young charge yet another dressing down.  It was 
a sight that had sent Elrohir into shivers of dread as a young elf; since 
fenneth, however, he had been shivering for quite another reason.  

It had been to keep his annoyingly perceptive brother from guessing his 
feelings for their old tutor--a prospect that caused him paroxysms of 
dread--that forced him to agree with this latest, crazy scheme.  Glorfindel 
would most certainly NOT be pleased if he found out what they'd done, 
but anything was better than having Elladan guess why Elrohir would 
rather be called a coward a hundred times over than displease the hunt 
master.  His brother's impish sense of humor would insure that a banner 
with their names entwined with hearts was spread across the main 
courtyard the day after he discovered the secret.  And that was best-case 
scenario.  No, Elladan must never know.

So, as the circle of excited elves looked on, no one even daring to breathe, 
Elrohir plunged his hand into the velvet money pouch his brother was 
holding out.  Inside, as Elladan had just explained, were pebbles of 
different colors.  The green ones represented Mirkwood while the golden 
ones stood for Lothlorien.  With a fleeting thought that he was throwing 
away any chance of winning Glorfindel's respect--all he'd ever dared to 
hope for--anytime in the next century, Elrohir closed his eyes and chose.  
The pebble was green, indicating that he had just won the unenviable task 
of holding Legolas of Mirkwood captive for the duration of the hunt.  

Looking up at Ithil, which appeared slightly golden this close to harvest, 
he wondered if it would have made any difference which stone he'd 
selected.  They both represented daunting tasks, yet Elladan had looked 
strangely pleased as he regarded his brother's selection.  How anyone 
could be contented at the thought of having to capture Haldir of Lorien 
was beyond him--the very idea made Elrohir feel slightly faint--but then, 
look at his own option.  Honestly, he thought, letting his head fall back 
against the mossy stone, how could things possibly get any worse?

The next day he found out.

*   *   *

"He's going to do WHAT?!"  Elrohir knew his voice had cracked 
alarmingly on the last word, but didn't care.  He was doomed--by Elbereth, 
so very, very doomed--what difference did it make if he suddenly sounded 
like a girl?  By the time Glorfindel finished with him, he'd likely be a 
gelding anyway.  "No.  No no no no no no . . . "

Elladan grabbed him by the collar and shook him.  "Calm down," he 
hissed, kicking the door of his brother's room closed behind him.  "Do you 
want to alert the whole house?"

"Let go of me!"  Elrohir freed himself from Elladan's stranglehold and 
backed away, straightening his robes with a hand that trembled ever so 
slightly.  "Well," he commented after a moment, "that's it, then.  We call it 
off."

"Like hell we do."  Elladan circled around to face him, his expression one 
of the utmost determination.  Elrohir felt the huge wave of relief that had 
just washed over him recede slightly at the sight.  "We gave our word in 
front of the entire officer corps of Imladris.  We back out now and we'll 
never live it down, never get back their respect!  We're just going to have 
to go through with it."

Elrohir batted away the hand Elladan tried to lay on his shoulder and 
glowered at his twin.  "What do you mean, we?  You'll be off pursuing 
Haldir--and don't lie to me, I saw the way you looked last night when I 
drew that pebble!  And the way you couldn't keep your eyes off him last 
year.  How did you do it anyway?  Were there any gold pebbles at all in 
that bag?"

"You're babbling."

"Well I think I have cause!"  Elrohir began pacing up and down his room, 
desperately trying to think of a way out of this.  "Surely the guards must 
understand?  With the substitution, they can't still expect . . . "

"I just talked to them," Elladan replied, shaking his head.  "They want me 
to convey their deepest respects to you and to inform you that, should it be 
needed, they will take care of all the funeral arrangements . . . "

"This isn't funny!"  

"No," Elladan sobered somewhat.  "I know it isn't, but I also know that we 
can't simply back out."

"Then YOU do it!"  Elrohir stopped pacing with a bit of renewed hope 
breaking through the black clouds that had shrouded him.  "This was all 
your idea anyway.  We'll just switch, and I'll deal with Haldir."

Elladan stared at him for a long moment, then burst into peals of laughter.  
He laughed so hard that he finally collapsed onto the bed, gasping for 
breath.  "You?," he finally managed to wheeze, "take care of Haldir 
o'Lorien?  My dear brother, he'd have you dangling from the nearest tree 
limb within five minutes!  I've had a year to plan this and even I am a bit . 
. . "  Seeing Elrohir's expression, Elladan sobered slightly, but his lips still 
had the tendency to quirk at odd moments as he explained.  "All right, I 
admit it.  I did, er, arrange things, at the selection.  But I know Legolas--
he's fair, and he plays by the rules, well, more or less."  Elladan looked 
slightly reminiscent, and Elrohir suddenly wondered what past pranks his 
brother and the heir of Mirkwood had managed together.  He decided that 
he didn't really want to know.  "He wouldn't have been happy, of course, 
but he wouldn't have done something really . . . unpleasant . . . to you if 
you failed."

Elrohir regarded his brother levelly.  "And so, being the selfless, caring 
creature you are, naturally you took the biggest challenge on yourself?"

Elladan grinned.  "Absolutely.  Completely self-sacrificing, that's me."

"You aren't going to tell me what you're really up to, are you?"

Elladan folded his hands behind his head and gazed innocently up at the 
ceiling.  "Let's just say that there was a bit of a bet made after last year's 
game, and that I intend to win it."

"Fine, then I suggest you start thinking of some way of helping me to best 
Haldir, because there is no way . . . "

"Elrohir, please, I'm begging you.  See?," Elladan fell theatrically to his 
knees.  "I prostrate myself in supplication, just don't back out now!"  He 
hugged his brother's legs, almost causing Elrohir to topple over.  
"Seriously, brother, don't do this to me.  I've waited too long for this, and 
who knows when I'll have another chance?"

It took Elladan another ten minutes of wheedling, pleading and promising 
any and everything to gain his brother's agreement, but he finally 
managed.  Elrohir was actually more swayed by the thought of the entire 
guard holding a grudge against him for who knew how many centuries, 
than he was by Elladan's outrageous antics.  His brother's charm, if that's 
what it could be called, had never impressed him much.  He found himself 
almost hoping that Haldir would leave HIM dangling from a tree branch.

After Elladan finally left, still singing Elrohir's praises, the younger twin 
sat on his bed and thought.  All right, he had a problem.  A very big 
problem.  And one, moreover, that he was going to have to solve in the 
scant two weeks until the contest.  It shouldn't be too difficult, he told 
himself; after all, he had time and the element of surprise on his side. 
Didn't he?

*   *   *

Glorfindel watched through the library window as Elladan sprinted down 
the front steps of the palace to greet Legolas and his entourage, calling out 
wild whoops of greeting as he did so.  Try as he might, he had never been 
able to instill in that elf even a modicum of decorum, and the hundred or 
so years since his majority had not dampened his youthful enthusiasm one 
bit.   He saw Legolas glance up at the house and catch his eye, then grin 
and say something to Elladan in an undertone that not even Glorfindel's 
ears could catch.  The two collapsed, sniggering, into each other's arms, 
then walked off in the direction of the statuary garden with their heads 
close together.  They were, of course, up to something; Glorfindel only 
hoped they managed to keep the mayhem to a minimum this year.

Turning back to the room, he was surprised to see Elrond with his hand 
lightly caressing Erestor's shoulder.  They rarely touched, even in such an 
innocuous way, in public; still, as the three of them were the room's only 
inhabitants, perhaps they did not think of themselves that way.  They must 
know that he had long been aware of their relationship--even as discreet as 
they were, it was impossible for someone so often in their company not to 
notice the meaningful glances and special smiles--but had never 
commented on it.  Technically, Elrond and Celebrian were the perfect 
couple, and if the mistress of Imladris happened to be away more than she 
was in residence, apparently no one else thought it odd. 

"Are you looking forward to the challenge, then, Glorfindel?," Erestor 
asked him, grinning wickedly from behind the messy desk.  "After so 
many years as hunt master, it must be refreshing to be able to participate 
for once."

"Don't tease," Elrond chided his lover lightly.

"I'm not," Erestor protested innocently.  "I fully expect our dear seneschal 
to give a good show; after all," he added with a grin, "I have a 
considerable wager riding on the contest!"

Elrond sighed in a longsuffering way, and settled himself on the divan 
beside the desk.  Even though it was his library and his writing table, he 
couldn't get anywhere near it when Erestor was working.  Papers, ledgers, 
books and parchment spilled off every surface and covered a good deal of 
the surrounding floor as well.  How the elf ever managed to keep such 
accurate books in such a haphazard fashion Glorfindel would never know.  

"I am doing this as a favor to Legolas," he repeated, for at least the tenth 
time that day.  He was tired of getting hateful looks from the guards, who 
regarded his decision to agree to Legolas' entreaty to serve as his 
substitute as a personal affront.  Their constant whining since he'd made 
the announcement had made it clear that he would be paying for his 
charitable impulse for years to come--especially if he won.  "You know I 
had no choice, Erestor," he snapped, seeing the amused look on his 
friend's face.  

"Oh, I admit that thwarting Thranduil must have been a deep temptation, 
but it DOES rather leave you in a quandary, doesn't it?  To win or not to 
win . . . to look incompetent in front of your own elves, or to seem a traitor 
. . . "

"That's enough, Erestor."  Elrond murmured, but his lover feigned not to 
hear.

"After all, should you lose, it may look to some uncharitable souls as if 
you took the position as hunt master so you wouldn't HAVE to compete, 
and thereby show what years of inaction can do to once finely honed skill . 
. ."

Before Erestor could finish his sentence, he found himself pinned to the 
wall of the library by one of the spears that usually ornamented the 
paneling above the fireplace.  It had caught the slight amount of loose 
fabric making up the fashionable neckline of his mulberry robes, and 
trapped him so tightly that his breath had been momentarily cut off.  

"I SAID, that's ENOUGH."  Elrond reached up and pulled the spear loose, 
releasing a very irritated looking Erestor, who glared across the width of 
the room at Glorfindel.  

"Dear me," he commented, rubbing his throat, "It seems I touched a 
nerve."

"Not at all, Erestor, I was just demonstrating how easily you'll win your 
bet."

"I didn't say I'd bet ON you, Glorfindel," Erestor commented spitefully.

"Oho!," Glorfindel crossed his arms and regarded his friend through 
narrowed eyes.  "Are you hinting that you think one of those children can 
best me?"

"Oh no, Glorfindel," Erestor commented, straightening his collar in that 
incredibly prissy way that Glorfindel had always hated.  "I'm saying it 
outright.  Haldir will win again this year.  With Legolas forbidden by his 
darling papa to "demean" himself by competing with the lower classes, 
everyone knows that."  Erestor grinned at him.  "Why, I couldn't even get 
odds on you!"

"Couldn't you?"  Elrond's interest had picked up.  He normally ignored the 
regular sparring that went on between his two advisors, but apparently 
they had managed to spark his interest.  "I'll take that bet!"

Erestor glanced at him in surprise.  "You will?"

"Certainly!  I could hardly favor one of the Galadrim over our own, now 
could I?  So what will it be?"  He began rooting through Erestor's piles for 
a spare quill, then paused with it poised over a bit of parchment.  "What 
shall the stakes be then?"

Erestor looked slightly nonplussed, something that only happened to him 
around Elrond.  You'd think he'd know better after so many years, 
Glorfindel thought, biting his cheek to keep from grinning.  After all, 
where did he think the twins received their appalling sense of humor?  
Elbereth knew, he'd never seen Celebrian lose her dignity enough to even 
smile at a joke, much less to plot mischief.  He didn't know what Elrond 
had in mind, but it should be good.  "I . . . that is, I'll have to think on it."

"No, no.  None of that.  You were so certain a moment ago that Glorfindel 
will lose.  Don't tell me you're trying to back out now?"

"Yes, Erestor.  Can it be that my rusty skills worry you?"

Erestor pouted, and put a light hand on Elrond's sleeve.  "Can't we discuss 
this later, melethryn?  I have so much work to do right now . . . "

Elrond ginned in a particularly evil way.  "No, we can't.  Ah," his eyes 
suddenly lit up in the way Glorfindel had long ago learned to fear.  "I have 
it!  Remember that little conversation we had, oh, I think it was a month or 
so ago?  If Glorfindel wins . . . "

Erestor looked appalled.  "Elrond . . . ", he clutched his lover's sleeve 
pathetically.  "You aren't, you can't be, serious . . . "

"What is it?"  Glorfindel looked between them with avid curiosity.  When 
they just stayed, frozen in their places, communicating something without 
words, he snorted.  "I think, considering I am the one being wagered on 
here, that I have a right to know."

Elrond opened his mouth, but before he could utter so much as a syllable, 
Erestor had clamped a hand over it.  "Don't you dare," he gasped.

"Oh come now."  Glorfindel looked from one to the other in growing 
irritation.  "Surely it can't be THAT bad?  Just tell me."

Elrond pried Erestor loose and settled his slightly quaking lover on the 
divan beside him, but shook his head at Glorfindel.  "I'm sorry, old friend, 
but it seems Erestor would prefer our wager kept quiet, at least for the 
moment.  But if you should win . . . "

Glorfindel grinned at the pale secretary, who suddenly did not look nearly 
so insouciant.  "Oh I'll win, Elrond, never fear."  He smiled evilly into 
Erestor's large black eyes.  "I'll make sure of it!"

TBC

  
Title: Hunter and Prey, 2/?
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Paring: That would be telling.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda.
Warnings: Slash.
Archiving: Anyone who wants it, just let me know.
A/N:  This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken 
story arc, although some of the characterizations are 
eerily similar.  Updates will be haphazard, but I promise 
to finish it.

*   *   *

Rumil draped himself across Elladan's lounge and looked up 
at him through long blond lashes.  "You aren't going to 
call it off, then?"

"Absolutely not!  Why, did you want . . . "

"No!  Elbereth forefend!  He's been insufferable ever since 
last year.  If he should claim the prize again . . .," 
Rumil shuddered, Elladan assumed for effect, but given his 
expression it could have been genuine.

"No one can stand him," Orophin agreed, blowing sweetly 
scented smoke in Elladan's direction.  Haldir had started 
his brother on the Hobbit's vice a few years ago, after 
discovering the plant on a trip he took to Gondor for Lord 
Celeborn.  Rumil hadn't taken up the habit, but Orophin was 
already becoming a nuisance with it despite the fact that 
the Lorien delegation had only arrived that morning.  
Normally, Elladan would have thrown a pillow at him, or at 
least opened a window pointedly, but he needed to keep the 
brothers happy.  They were, after all, an integral part of 
his plan.  "I'll bet we could've convinced half the wood to 
help us, prize or no prize, if you hadn't insisted on such 
secrecy," Orophin continued, and then his expression 
brightened.  "I imagine we still could, if you like.  I'll 
bet any number of people would rather take Haldir down a 
peg or two than try for the prize.  It isn't as if any of 
us stand a chance anyway, what with Glorfindel competing."

"And exactly why is Imladris' seneschal contending for 
Mirkwood?"  Rumil shot Elladan a sharp look.  "Everyone's 
speculating, you know--it's the talk of the hunt so far."

Elladan pasted an innocent look on his face and gave what 
he hoped was a convincing shrug.  "You'll have to ask him.  
All I know is that half the guards want to lock him in the 
cellars until the contest is over, and the other half to 
beat him senseless, rather than let him take the prize for 
Mirkwood."

Rumil looked thoughtful.  "Glorfindel in a dim cellar for 
the better part of a day?"  He grinned, "Maybe I'll 
volunteer to, er, guard him, just so he doesn't stub his 
toe in the dark.  Would there be restraints involved, at 
all?"

Elladan smiled.  "Just make sure you leave a will."

Rumil sighed and slouched further down on the settee until 
he was almost prone.  "Just a thought," he muttered.

"So, my friends, shall we get down to business, then?," 
Elladan asked, smiling brightly at his co-conspirators.  
Ah, yes.  This would be a hunt to remember.

*   *   *

One week to go, one week to go, one week . . .

"Elrohir."

"Aughh!"

"I'm sorry!"  Elrohir turned abruptly to find Erestor 
clutching his chest with one hand while he gripped the 
stone wall behind him with the other.  His eyes looked huge 
in the dimness.  "I didn't mean to startle you."  He looked 
almost as surprised as Elrohir felt.

"That's all right."  Elrohir was normally not the nervous 
type, but the past week had been hard, and the damned chant 
that had taken up residence in his mind lately wasn't 
helping things.  Realizing that Erestor's eyes must have 
adjusted to the cellar's darkness by now, he hastily hid 
the length of chain behind his back, but apparently was not 
quick enough.

"He'll never fall for it, you know," Erestor told him, 
almost mournfully.

"For what?"  But even as he said it, Elrohir knew it was no 
good.  He was hopeless at this sort of thing.  After a week 
of planning, he had been unable to come up with anything 
better than following a joking remark he'd heard one of the 
guards make about the cellars.  Successfully chaining 
Glorfindel down here was, he had to agree, about as likely 
as, well, as Elladan being able to deal with Haldir.  The 
only thing that made him feel better was the knowledge that 
they would go down together.

"I, er, could help, you know."

"What?"  Elrohir decided that he must be even worse off 
than he'd thought.  He was obviously having auditory 
hallucinations.  This was not good.

Erestor glided soundlessly forward and gripped the arm with 
the chain in it.  "I think we may have a common goal," he 
said, so softly as to almost count as a whisper.  "At 
least, Elladan seemed to think . . . "

"He TOLD you?!"  Elrohir was incensed.  They had both 
promised faithfully not to tell a living soul.  The only 
chance he had of coming out of this with a whole skin was 
if Glorfindel didn't know it was he who'd ruined things.  
And if Elladan had told Erestor, he might as well have told 
father, too, because the two of them were as thick as 
thieves.

"He doesn't know," Erestor commented, with that annoying 
habit he had of seeming to read minds.  "I haven't told 
anyone and your brother told only me.  He just seemed to 
think you might need . . .," he broke off with a sigh.  
"Look Elrohir.  We agree on one thing.  Glorfindel must NOT 
win.  Correct?"

"Well . . . ,"  amazingly enough, Erestor looked deadly 
earnest.  Could it be?  Was he actually getting an ally?  A 
broad smile appeared on Elrohir's face and a weight seemed 
to lift from him.  He was able to breath deeply again for 
the first time in days.  It must be true; Glorfindel 
wouldn't have sent Erestor to deal with this for him.  If 
he'd heard anything, he'd have taken care of it personally.  
Elrohir tried to ignore the little shiver that thought 
caused.  "You mean it?  You'll help, and you won't tell 
Ada?"

Erestor smiled, a little grimly.  "It's a promise.  Now," 
he said, taking his former charge's arm companionably.  
"Let's go have a chat somewhere a bit more comfortable, 
shall we?  And we'll see what we can do about our mutual 
problem."

*   *   *

"Blackmail is such an ugly word, Glorfindel."  Legolas 
admonished as he finished threading a pale blue ribbon 
through his last braid and tied it off.  Usually he 
eschewed excessive ornamentation, but apparently he was 
feeling festive.  "And if you want someone to blame, try 
father.  He won't mind--he's used to it."

"Did he really forbid you, or is this just a ruse to give 
you a chance to torment me?"

"Oh, he forbade it, all right.  Of course, that was after a 
friend of mine finished telling him about all the 
debauchery that traditionally follows the big event--with 
the winner taking center stage."

"And he believed that?!"  Glorfindel looked at him in 
amazement.  "I always heard Thranduil was a clever one."

"He is," Legolas smiled smugly, "but so am I.  And my 
friend is VERY persuasive."

"I'm surprised he let you come, then."

"Oh, he didn't.  I am supposedly safely enmeshed in a 
tricky diplomatic exercise in Lorien."  Legolas laughed at 
his companion's expression.  "Oh don't worry.  It's being 
seen to--and by one of our best diplomats at that.  I'd 
never let father down."

Glorfindel refrained from rolling his eyes.  He had, at one 
time, been convinced that Elladan had no equal as a 
mischief-maker, but was quickly revising his opinion.  "So, 
what do you have in mind now?  Some new way to make me look 
bad, I suppose?"

"Certainly not!"  Legolas appeared amused.  "I meant what I 
said--I want you to win."

"And that's all there is to it?  You, who won the contest 
easily just two years ago, believe your only chance of 
success now to be a substitution?"

Legolas laughed, a joyous, tinkling sound that was quite 
infectious.  "Oh, Glorfindel, you are a treasure!"  He 
smiled as he drew a silver blue robe over his head.  "I can 
almost understand why . . .," he cut off his sentence 
abruptly.

"Why what?"  Glorfindel watched as Legolas' head emerged 
from the silken folds, blue eyes dancing merrily.  "Oh, 
nothing."  He grinned at Glorfindel's suspicious look.  
"Will you just relax?  Trust me, as long as you go through 
with this, I'll forget all about your little slip up.  No 
one need ever know."

Glorfindel glowered at him, but he knew when he was bested.  
One damned night of drinking with Elladan and Legolas after 
last year's hunt, and one stupid, drunken admission, and 
now one who was little more than an elfling was 
blackmailing him.  It served him right. "You know I have no 
choice," he grumbled.

"That's the spirit!"  Legolas clapped him on the back and 
went humming from the room, obviously very pleased with 
himself.  Glorfindel sighed and rubbed his eyes.  It was 
going to be a very long week.

*   *   *

Haldir stared suspiciously around the huge courtyard.  He 
had schooled his expression to look as if he was merely 
admiring the decorations for that night's feast, but in 
fact, he was sizing up the competition.  As they were doing 
to him, he thought smugly.  Oh, he knew they were plotting, 
all of them hoping to think up a way to knock him out of 
contention, but it wasn't going to work.  He could 
practically taste victory, and no one was going to take it 
from him.  Why, Legolas was so worried about being shown up 
again that he wasn't even taking part this year!  Haldir 
wondered how many others would drop out in defeat over the 
next week.  He smirked to himself; he hoped there would be 
at least a few left to compete against, or it would all be 
so dull.

"Enjoying the festivities?"  Haldir glanced over his 
shoulder to see one of Lord Elrond's sons regarding him 
with an odd glint in his eyes.  Which one was this?  He 
could never tell them apart.

"I wasn't aware that anything was due to begin until 
tonight," Haldir replied easily.

"The formal entertainment will begin at nine, after the 
feast," the unknown Peredhil replied, just as casually, 
"but the real fun has already started."  He leaned closer.  
"They're all watching you, you know."

Haldir smiled smugly.  "I know."

"We expect quite a hunt this year--and as far as I'm 
concerned, you're the star attraction."

Haldir glanced suspiciously at his companion, but saw 
nothing except an open, friendly face.  He preened 
slightly.  It was good that someone could appreciate his 
skill; the Valar knew his brothers couldn't swallow their 
jealousy long enough even to listen to the full account of 
how he'd won the prize last year.  Since neither of them 
had come even close to his total, one would have thought 
they'd have been more attentive, if only to learn 
something.  "You're too kind, er . . ."

"Elladan."

"Yes, of course."  Haldir felt a little foolish, but then, 
the two brothers did look so much alike.  At least Elladan 
didn't seem offended.  "Will you not be participating, 
then?"

"Oh, no," Elladan smiled at him charmingly.  "We know these 
woods too well, you see, my brother and I.  Father feels 
that it would give us an unfair advantage."

"But surely, your guards must know them nearly as well?"

"Oh, no."  Elladan trailed a finger along the carved 
railing of the terrace.  "I don't think anyone, even 
father, knows the grounds and woods as we do.  And 
besides," his expression became somewhat coy, "someone had 
to hide the prize, didn't they?"

Haldir looked eagerly at his companion.  "You mean you . . 
. "

Elladan smiled at him.  "That's right," he looked around, 
then continued in a lowered voice when it appeared that no 
one was watching.  "Don't tell anyone, but we hid it just 
this morning, before the last delegation arrived.  I must 
say, it's in a far more difficult position than last year.  
I told Elrohir that we'd made it too difficult, but he did 
insist . . . "

"But," Haldir's head was spinning.  He had not known before 
who hid the prize, but had assumed it to be Lord Elrond.  
To actually be talking to the one responsible . . . of 
course, it wasn't as if he needed any hints to help find 
it, but if Elladan should accidentally slip up . . . well, 
as they said, all's fair in love and war.  "Isn't it a bit 
risky," he asked casually, "hiding it so early?  What if 
someone stumbles across it?"

Elladan laughed.  "Oh, I don't think that's very likely," 
he remarked.  "It's too chilly to want to get that wet!"  
He stopped and clapped a hand to his mouth, looking 
guiltily over it at Haldir.  "Just forget I said anything," 
he pleaded after a moment.  "I really must cut down on the 
wine with lunch."

"Not at all," Haldir assured him genially.  "In any case, 
with the amount of water in Imladris, that hardly narrows 
the field much, does it?"

Elladan looked relieved.  "You are kind," he said with 
feeling, and there was that odd glint again.  Haldir smiled 
as Elladan moved off to greet more of his family's guests.  
He only hoped that he didn't give anyone else any hints.  
Perhaps he should keep an eye on him, just to make sure he 
didn't slip up again.  After a moment's contemplation, 
Haldir wandered off in Elladan's general direction, as if 
by chance.

*   *   *

How does he DO that?, Elrohir wondered, watching through 
the window as his brother drew Haldir around the courtyard 
as if on leading strings.  He sighed and turned back to the 
task at hand, which was anything but comfortable.  Curse 
Erestor, why had he volunteered him for this?

"I want to make it clear that I am truly insulted," 
Glorfindel was saying.  "I gave my word--certainly that 
should be sufficient."

Elrohir cringed, but did not move from his chair in front 
of the door.  "I . . . I'm sorry, Glorfindel," he offered, 
"but Erestor said most particularly . . . "

"Yes, yes," Glorfindel ran a hand over his hair, which 
glimmered in the lamplight as if made of spun gold.  
Elrohir shook his head to clear it.  Stay focused, he told 
himself sternly.  "I know this is not your fault, Elrohir," 
his companion was saying.  "I shall, however, be having 
very strong words with your father and Erestor upon their 
return."

"They shouldn't be long," Elrohir said, as much to reassure 
himself as Glorfindel.  Ever since he had begun to realize 
that his interest in his old tutor was somewhat more than 
casual, Elrohir had made a point never to be alone with 
him.  In most cases, that had been easy, as meals were 
taken communally and there were usually servants bustling 
about or guests lounging around the common rooms of the 
house.  Glorfindel also stayed busy with his many duties, 
and was often gone inspecting the borders and overseeing 
the guards for days at a time.   This was the first time, 
then, in decades that Elrohir could remember spending any 
length of time alone with him.  So far, Glorfindel's ire 
over being "imprisoned," as he termed it, while Elrond and 
Erestor hid the prize somewhere on the grounds, had 
preoccupied him.  Elrohir could only hope it would continue 
to do so until the others returned.

"So, Elrohir," Glorfindel sounded strangely hearty 
suddenly.  "How shall we pass the time, then?  They could 
be gone for hours."

Elrohir desperately tried not to blush, but it was 
difficult considering the image that had immediately come 
to mind.  "Er," he stared at Glorfindel helplessly, praying 
that his power of speech would soon return.

"Chess, cards, books?  Or would you prefer a nice 
conversation?"  Glorfindel cocked his head to the side and 
looked thoughtful.  "Do you know, I can't remember the last 
time we had a good chat, can you?"

Elrohir just shook his head, cursing Erestor with every 
imprecation he knew.  He had just started on the dwarvish 
ones--his personal favorites as their harsh, gutteral 
sounds were perfect for swearing, when Glorfindel moved his 
chair up alongside and smiled down at him, apparently 
taking his silence for acquiescence.  "So, what shall we 
talk about?"

Elrohir stared at him, his mind suddenly blank even of 
curses, and his tongue feeling twice its usual size.  Oh, 
Elbereth, he thought desperately, help!  A fire, a 
hailstorm, anything to distract him, but the only sounds to 
be heard beyond the windows were the faint clink of glasses 
and the light laughter from the feast.

"So, I hear you're getting quite good with accounts.  
Erestor says you're a great help to him."

Elrohir breathed a sigh of relief.  Accounts, yes, he could 
talk about those.  A nice, safe, boring subject unlikely to 
bring up any untoward thoughts . . .

"Of course," Glorfindel continued, "I told him that he 
couldn't expect to monopolize you forever, as you have 
other talents that should be cultivated.  A stint with the 
guards would do you good, for example, such as your brother 
just completed.  I hear he made a number of friends, and 
probably learned a good deal, too."

Oh yes, Elrohir thought, and the Valar only knew what he'd 
taught them . . . certainly he'd been flush with cash since 
coming back from the borders.  Apparently, the guards had 
not understood the term "card shark."

" . . . settling down."

"What?"  Elrohir realized that he'd lost the thread of the 
conversation somewhere.

"Well, naturally you're too young at the moment for that to 
be a worry.  You've plenty of time to get in some training 
before some pretty maid ties you to her side."

Elrohir choked, but things only became worse when 
Glorfindel moved closer to pat him solicitously on the 
back.  "Are you all right there, Elrohir?"  Elrohir nodded, 
afraid that if he opened his mouth to say anything, he'd 
tell Glorfindel exactly what he thought of the idea of 
settling down with a nice maid--and what he'd like instead.  
Something of his thoughts must have shown in his eyes, 
however, for Glorfindel's expression softened.  "Oh, I 
didn't know it was like that.  Who was she, then?"

"What?"  Elrohir felt his head spin.  This conversation 
felt like it had lasted forever.  Where was Erestor?

"Well, obviously someone upset you."  Glorfindel patted him 
affectionately on the leg.  "Don't worry about it, Elrohir, 
it happens to the best of us."

"Did it ever happen to you?"  As soon as he'd said it, 
Elrohir wished he'd bitten his tongue off instead.  This 
was NOT the type of conversation he needed to be having 
with Glorfindel.  And damn it, why didn't he remove his 
hand?  It felt warm and heavy on his thigh, and was making 
it impossible for him to think clearly.

Glorfindel squeezed his leg slightly and Elrohir almost 
choked again.  His tutor's attention was apparently 
somewhere else, however, for his expression was far away as 
he nodded.  "I doubt if there's anyone who hasn't loved, 
well, less than wisely, at some point."

"Who was she?"  Elrohir wondered if there was some way to 
gag himself before his wayward tongue said anything else.  
It seemed to have a mind of its own tonight.

"He, actually," Glorfindel remarked absently, before 
mercifully getting up and walking to the window.  
Strangely, it still felt as if that warm hand rested on his 
thigh, Elrohir thought blankly, and then what his tutor had 
said sunk in.  No, he argued with himself, surely he'd 
heard wrong.  He couldn't possibly be that lucky.

"I think it will rain later," Glorfindel commented, looking 
up at the sky.  Elrohir sat immobile, as if glued in his 
chair.

Listen, he told himself sharply, you're being ridiculous.  
Even if he DOES prefer males--and you COULD have heard 
wrong--that doesn't mean he'd want anything to do with you.  
You're just going to embarrass yourself.  So stop it and 
follow his lead; talk about the weather or accounting some 
more, anything except . . . "Who was he, then?"  Elrohir 
seriously considered tightening his scarf until he 
strangled.

Glorfindel shrugged, and did not turn back from the window.  
Instead, he hitched one thigh onto the sill and seemed 
content to watch the feast from a distance.  "No one I can 
talk about," he finally answered, after a long pause.

Drop it!  Elrohir lectured himself.  Do NOT ask . . . "Was 
it a long time ago?"  Auughh!

Glorfindel sighed, and for a while Elrohir thought he might 
not answer.  Then he said, very low, "Not so long, no."  
There was something very melancholy in his demeanor as he 
sat there, his shoulders uncharacteristically slumped, that 
made Elrohir feel all funny inside.  He wanted to go and 
put his arms around him, to smooth the lines in his brow 
and to say something witty, or even one of Elladan's 
terrible jokes, just to see him smile . . . He gripped the 
seat of his chair and held on for dear life.  Luckily, 
although his tongue seemed to have been possessed by some 
impish entity, at least his body was still under his 
control.  He could not afford any scenes like that.

"I'm sorry.  He must be an idiot."  Elrohir decided that he 
was going to get very drunk as soon as Erestor got back.

Glorfindel shot him a surprised look, but seemed to take 
the comment all right.  "You're kind to say so.  But I'm 
afraid . . . I'm somewhat older than he is, you see . . . 
," he trailed off, looking glum, and a sudden bolt of anger 
flashed through Elrohir.  Who could possibly be stupid 
enough to turn down Glorfindel?  Could it be one of the 
young guards?  Perhaps an elf not much older than himself?  
He could feel his stomach tightening in response to the 
very idea that someone, probably someone he knew, had 
captured Glorfindel's heart and then been moronic enough to 
throw it away.  While he would cherish it forever, he 
thought passionately.

"Well, whoever it is, he's an utter fool!"  Elrohir didn't 
even try to choke back his response that time.  He was too 
incensed to care what he said.  "I can't imagine anyone 
turning you down!"

Glorfindel looked surprised, and then to Elrohir's stunned 
amazement, he blushed.  At first Elrohir thought it was a 
trick of the light, but no, his companion's cheeks were 
definitely rosier.  Elrohir felt warm and almost dizzyingly 
happy at the thought that he had somehow made Glorfindel so 
pleased.  Just as he was about to speak again, however, the 
door behind him opened, almost knocking him from his chair.

"Oh, my apologies, Elrohir."  Erestor peered into the room 
and grinned at him.  "You did take me literally, didn't 
you?  Just as well not to trust him--he's tricky."

"Well, you won't find this one easily, Glorfindel!," Ada 
commented, looking over Erestor's shoulder.  "We've hidden 
it in a fiendishly clever spot, if I do say so.  Now come 
to the feast you two, before it's all gone.  Those Lorien 
elves know how to eat."

Elrohir followed the two elda out of the room and down the 
hall, but he wasn't listening to their usual banter.  All 
he could see was the curiously vulnerable look that had 
appeared on Glorfindel's face when he had complemented him.  
Turning with another question hovering on his lips, Elrohir 
was surprised to see only an empty corridor behind him.  
Glorfindel was no where in sight.

TBC


Title: Hunter and Prey, 3/?
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: That would be telling.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda.
Warnings: Slash.
Archiving: Anyone who wants it, just let me know.
A/N:  This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken 
story arc, although some of the characterizations are 
eerily similar.  Updates will be haphazard, but I promise 
to finish it.

*   *   *

"All right, all right.  Settle down, you lot."  Erestor 
looked, Glorfindel thought sourly, quite pleased with 
himself in the role of hunt master, and had gone so far as 
to dress the part in carefully tailored buckskins.  Of 
course, the effect was rather ruined by the three- inch 
heels on his highly polished boots and the cascading cravat 
on his green silk shirt, but he seemed oblivious to the 
grins and murmured comments of the guards.  He could afford 
to smile, Glorfindel thought bitterly; it wasn't his 
reputation on the line.  "Now, you all know the rules, I'm 
sure," Erestor commented, "but there have been a few 
adjustments this year, so let's just review them, shall 
we?"

Glorfindel's ears perked up.  Adjustments?  He hadn't 
authorized anything of the kind.  Trust Erestor to wait 
until the night before the Hunt to bother mentioning this.  
He narrowed his eyes at his oldest friend, who was 
continuing blithely on despite the surprised murmur that 
filled the Great Hall.

"Now, I want a clean Hunt," Erestor was saying, thwapping 
his riding crop against one leather-covered thigh for 
emphasis.  Glorfindel refrained from rolling his eyes, but 
just barely.  "There will be no, and I repeat NO, serious 
injuries this year.  You are free to take out the 
competition, of course--indeed, that's half the fun," he 
added, grinning wickedly at Glorfindel as he did so.  Just 
you wait Erestor, Glorfindel thought back, while keeping 
his face carefully neutral.  You'll end by wishing you'd 
bet on me after all.  "However," Erestor continued, looking 
suddenly stern as if for emphasis, "I don't want to see any 
broken bones, concussions, or other significant injuries in 
the healing chambers afterwards, or I will start 
disqualifications!"

There was a discontented murmur throughout the room at 
this, and Glorfindel wasn't surprised.  He had always 
avoided making such a rule because, first, serious injuries 
were rare and had never, as far as he knew, been caused 
deliberately; and second, he had not wanted to offend the 
assembled players by impugning their honor.  Erestor had 
better watch out tomorrow, he thought, glancing around at 
several of the flushed faces of the guards.  They didn't 
look too happy with him.

"Now, the basic rules of the Hunt are as usual," Erestor 
was saying, quite oblivious to the angry looks being 
directed his way.  "There is, somewhere on the grounds or 
in the forest about Imladris, hidden the twin of this," and 
he held up one of the old, tattered battle standards from 
the War of the Last Alliance.  It was taller than he was 
and topped by a worn, gilt crest of a shield covered with 
stars.  There were only two of them left now, the other of 
Gil-Galad's standards having been destroyed on the 
battlefield or lost through the years.  It was the usual 
talisman used for the Hunt for that reason, as it would be 
impossible to fake--Elrond would certainly know.

"The elf who finds it and brings it back successfully to 
the starting line is the winner.  However," and he paused 
dramatically, although why Glorfindel couldn't imagine.  As 
Erestor had said, all the assembled elves certainly knew 
the rules.  "Each Hunter will also wear one of these on his 
or her person," and he pulled out a small, jeweled badge on 
a silken cord, which he waved about in front of them.  "In 
the event that the standard is not found, which has 
happened by my records a total of 233 times in the last 
millennium, then the Hunter who brings back the most of 
these will win."  He grinned rather evilly.  "How you come 
by other Hunters' badges is, of course, entirely your 
affair."  Glorfindel saw the uneasy looks being exchanged 
throughout the Hall and noted that, as always, the tension 
in the room had just ratcheted up noticeably.

"Any Hunter who loses his badge must return to the start of 
the course where he or she will be disqualified.  The Hunt 
will end when the prize is returned or after twenty-four 
hours from the start, whichever comes first.  The signal 
for the Hunters to return will be the usual three horn 
blast from Imladris' trumpeters.  Once you hear it, you 
have one hour to reach the starting line or be 
disqualified."  Erestor paused to consult a small note 
tablet at his side.  "Oh yes," he muttered, almost too low 
to hear, "one last thing.  Due to a desire to keep the 
chaos to a minimum, and to insure that no bystanders are 
accidentally injured as happened last year, we have decided 
only to allow in the field those persons actually taking 
part in the Hunt."

Glorfindel winced as a huge wash of protest swept the room, 
loud enough to actually hurt his ears.  No one was happy 
with this last alteration, it would seem, and he couldn't 
blame them.  It was, of course, possible to get a partial 
view of the proceedings from the upper stories of the Last 
Homely House, which was why those residents with the higher 
balconies usually hosted large parties in their rooms for 
the more sedentary types, with wine and critical commentary 
flowing more freely as the day went along.  As Hunt Master, 
Glorfindel had often floated from party to party, many of 
which rather ran together anyway, giving his judgment on 
that years' likely winner.  This year, of course, he would 
be in the field, starting at every sound and probably 
getting pounced on by half of Imladris' enraged guards.  
Still, he thought with a grin, Erestor might end up having 
it even worse, as all the frustrated youngsters who would 
normally have taken to the field to watch their favorites 
ended up crammed back into the house.  He was almost sorry 
he wouldn't have the chance to see it, as the chaos back 
here might actually rival that on the field for a change.

*   *   *

"All right, can we panic now?"  Elrohir had grabbed his 
stunned looking twin and dragged him from the Great Hall 
before anyone could intercept them.  They were presently 
huddled in a broom closet, not wanting to waste time trying 
to make for their rooms on the far side of the house.

"I . . . it will be all right . . . I just need to think."  
Elladan sat on an upturned bucket and stared blindly at the 
wall.  After a long silence, he looked up at his furious 
twin, who looked like he was contemplating thumping him 
over the head with a broom handle.  "We're in trouble."

"Oh, do you really think so?"  The sarcasm fairly dripped 
from every word.  "And why would that be, then?  Because 
neither of us is signed up for the Hunt, perhaps?  Because 
we won't even be allowed in the field tomorrow?  Because we 
now have to grab them tonight and hold them somewhere, 
somehow, with no advance preparation and the clock ticking 
away?!"  Elrohir kicked the bucket on which his chagrined 
looking brother was sitting, almost dislodging him onto the 
floor.  "I KNEW something like this would happen!  WHY 
would Erestor do this?  I thought he was supposed to be 
helping!"

"It must have been Ada's decision, although I can't imagine 
why he would change the rules like this, especially so 
late.  Unless . . . "

"He suspects."  Elrohir finished his brother's thought.  
"Erestor MUST have said something."

"He wouldn't betray us--he wouldn't!," Elladan insisted, 
seeing his brother's skeptical look.  "Listen, he and Ada 
have some sort of bet going on the outcome of the Hunt.  I 
saw him looking dejected last week and asked him why, and 
he told me--that's when I enlisted him to help us.  He's 
bet against Glorfindel, and Ada has bet on him.  He 
WOULDN'T betray us, Elrohir, or he'd lose his bet, he knows 
that!"

"So how do you explain it, then?"

Elladan looked sulky.  "How should I know?  Maybe he talks 
in his sleep . . ."  He broke off at his brother's confused 
expression.  "Oh come, Elrohir!  You can't tell me you 
didn't know!"

"K-know what?"

Elladan looked shifty.  "Nothing, forget I said anything.  
Listen, there's a simple way out of this--we'll just go 
sign up for the Hunt.  Erestor's Hunt Master, so even if 
father doesn't like it, he can't very well stop us.  Then 
we'll be in the field as we expected."

"Yes, but what if someone takes our tokens before we can . 
. . "

"Well, we'll just have to make sure they don't.  After all, 
who knows these woods better than we do?  And anyway, we 
won't be in the field long.  All we have to do is stay 
close to our prey until we can separate them from the pack, 
then act as planned.  This really isn't a serious problem 
after all; I don't know why I was so worried.  Just 
stunned, I suppose.  Anyway," he rose decisively, "I'm 
going to see Erestor and make sure he signs us up 
immediately."  He clapped Elrohir on the shoulder.  "Don't 
look so glum--everything will be fine!"

*   *   *

Elladan's step was jaunty going back to his rooms, for all 
was back on track.  Erestor had apologized profusely once 
Elladan managed to drag him away from the hoards of new 
Hunters who had surged forward after finding out that 
joining up was their only ticket to a front row seat.  As 
he had thought, the change in the rules was Ada's idea, but 
Erestor swore he couldn't possibly know anything.  "Not a 
word, Elladan--I swear I haven't breathed a word!"

Elladan tended to believe him, as it would certainly not be 
in Erestor's interest to betray them.  Of course, he 
needn't have done so in so many words.  Ada was, after all, 
one of the best at picking up on non-verbal clues that 
Elladan had ever seen, and he certainly knew Erestor like a 
book.  He probably didn't know anything for certain, but 
had noticed enough to make him suspicious and to cause him 
to throw a spanner in the works.  But all for nothing, 
Elladan thought smugly, for Erestor had immediately signed 
he and Elrohir up as Hunters, thus bringing everything back 
into equilibrium again.  Now all he had to do was get a 
good night's rest so as to be on top form tomorrow . . .

"Well, hello traitor.  We wondered when you'd decide to 
return."  Elladan heard the door to his room click shut 
behind him just as Rumil's voice rang out through the dark 
chamber.

"Rumil, is that you?"  A taper flared a second later, 
illuminating the furious features of Haldir's younger 
brother.  Elladan didn't need to turn around to know that 
it was Orophin guarding the only exit.

"Of course it's me--don't tell me you didn't expect this 
visit?"

"Er, no, actually.  Shouldn't you be off resting before the 
big event?"

"Shouldn't I be resting?,"  Rumil's voice had taken on a 
high, mocking quality.  "Yes, I'm sure you'd like that, 
wouldn't you?  Do you hear, Orophin?  He thinks we ought to 
toddle off to our chambers like good little elflings, and 
wait for him to put his so clever plan into effect 
tomorrow."  Elladan heard what could only be described as a 
growl from behind him.

"Is-is there a problem here?," he asked, spreading his 
hands beseechingly to Rumil, who, despite his obvious 
anger, had at least retained the power of actual speech.  
"Because I'm sure it's all just a misunderstanding."

Elladan felt a large, warm body come up behind him, while 
Rumil moved closer to bracket him from the front.  "Oh?  
Just a misunderstanding?  No," he said thoughtfully, "I 
think miscalculation would be more apt, wouldn't it, 
Orophin?"  Another growl sounded in Elladan's ear, causing 
him to flinch slightly.  "You see, dear traitor, you should 
have made certain that Lord Erestor didn't reveal your 
little secret so soon.  He could have made the announcement 
tomorrow just before we all take the field, and that might 
have caught us off guard enough for your plan to have had a 
chance at success.  But now," and he smiled gently into 
Elladan's surprised face, "we have all night to think up 
what to do with you, don't we?"

"You'll wish you had never tried to use us, Peredhil," came 
Orophin's voice from behind him, and the level of malice in 
it made Elladan wish that he'd revert to growls again.

"Use you?," Elladan forced a laugh.  He was relieved to 
hear that it sounded almost genuine.  "No, no.  You are 
having me on, aren't you?  We're on the same side here."

"Oh, are we?  Well, refresh my poor memory then, would 
you?," Rumil asked, in mock sincerity.  "Because I was 
under the distinct impression that the only thing you 
wanted from my brother was to win that stupid bet, which, I 
might add, I just asked him about and--surprise--he never 
heard of it!"

"W-what?"

"Oh, yes, didn't have any idea what I was talking about.  
And that, my dear Elladan, taken together with the fact 
that you, it seems, will now be competing tomorrow 
yourself, and everything begins to look rather different, 
doesn't it?"

"You planned to use us to help you remove Haldir--your 
biggest competitor--and clear the way for an easy Imladris 
win," Orophin chimed in, his voice ruffling the hair about 
Elladan's ears.

"Don't bother to deny it!," Rumil added, seeing Elladan's 
stunned look.  "It wouldn't surprise me to find out that 
you've arranged something equally evil for poor Glorfindel!  
Does Legolas know what a lucky escape he had?  Tell me," 
and Rumil sidled even closer, to the point that their noses 
were less than an inch apart, "do you plan to take the 
prize for yourself, Peredhil?  Are you going to betray your 
own guards as well as us?"

Elladan was thinking quickly, but he had to admit that it 
looked bad.  He hadn't taken the time before to view 
Erestor's announcement from the Lorien perspective, which 
obviously had been a mistake.  Why Haldir didn't remember 
their bet, however, was another issue all together, and an 
even more worrying one.  Of course, they had been drinking 
rather heavily at the time, but as he remembered everything 
quite well, he couldn't imagine why Haldir did not.  Unless 
he was lying to try and get out of it, but that did not 
seem his style.  And come to think of it, he hadn't seemed 
to remember Elladan very well when they'd spoken at the 
welcoming banquet, although Elladan had assumed that he was 
merely being funny.  But maybe not.  And that, of course, 
would ruin everything, for Elladan really had no interest 
whatsoever in who won the bleeding prize.  The only prize 
he was after was something quite different.

"Look, my dear friends, really," he spread his hands in 
supplication and put on his most appealing face.  "You must 
believe me--I had no idea that Erestor was about to make 
such a change to the rules.  I swear to you that my only 
interest in the proceedings is as I outlined to you.  I 
signed up for the Hunt solely because it was the only way 
to arrange to be in the field so as to put our plan into 
operation.  As to why Haldir does not remember our bet, 
why," he shrugged, "I cannot tell you as I have no idea.  
We were drinking at the time, it is true, but I cannot 
believe that such an elf as Haldir could have been so 
affected by a few bottles of wine.  They did not interfere 
with my memory, I assure you."

Rumil looked suddenly thoughtful, and Orophin stepped back 
slightly, allowing cool air to touch Elladan's back, which, 
he then realized, was drenched with sweat.  "Haldir has, 
er, a slight problem with wine," Rumil said musingly.  "He 
always has been silly about it--we often tease him because, 
of course, so little else affects him."

Elladan nodded, wanting to keep them on his side.  "Yes, 
well, that explains it, doesn't it?  He just can't 
remember."

Rumil eyed him speculatively.  "But doesn't that rather 
ruin your plans, then?"

Elladan nodded slowly; he had a point.  "It does, actually.  
Naturally I had assumed . . . "

"Oh, but we can fix that," Orophin piped up, clapping him 
between his damp shoulder blades.

"How?"

"We'll just go wake him up."

*   *   *

Haldir was having a very nice dream.  It involved, among 
other things, a waterfall, a picnic lunch and a very 
attractive youth who wasn't wearing much.  They had just 
reached the dessert phase, and Haldir was eyeing his 
companion and the bowl of strawberries in cream with rather 
lascivious intent, when he was abruptly snapped back to 
reality.  A split second later his attacker was face down 
on the bed, with Haldir's knee pressing painfully into his 
lower back.   It wasn't until he heard Rumil's amused 
laughter from behind him that he let up slightly on his 
captive.

"And that, dear Elladan, is why we let you wake him," Rumil 
chortled.

"What is the idea?"  Haldir glared at his two brothers, who 
were lounging by the door to his rooms with identical 
amused grins on their faces.

"We need to talk to you, brother," Rumil replied, "or, 
rather, Elladan needs to do so, don't you Elladan?"

"Mmmphh."

Haldir realized that, despite the fact that he had lessened 
his hold, Elrond's eldest was still pressed somewhat 
forcefully down into the mattress, and quickly removed 
himself.  Elladan flopped over onto his back, gasping for 
breath and apparently unable to speak.

"Oh very well," Rumil said, with an exaggerated sigh, "I 
guess I can do it.  You see Haldir," he commented, moving 
forward with an expression of barely withheld glee, "It 
seems that you've forgotten a little something.  And since 
tomorrow is the big day, we thought that it was only fair 
to remind you in advance."

Haldir looked from his two rascally brothers to the still 
gasping Elladan with considerable suspicion.  "Forgotten 
what?," he asked slowly, wondering what new trick this 
might be.  Of course, he knew they didn't want him to win, 
but if they thought that losing him a bit of sleep was 
going to make a difference, they were in for a considerable 
surprise.

"Oh, merely that, if you don't manage to win tomorrow, big 
brother, there is a little something you owe Elladan, who 
is betting against you, you see.  It all has to do with 
some wager you made at last year's closing feast, after 
downing a bit too much of Lord Elrond's good wine, 
apparently."

Haldir glanced at Elladan in time to see a dull red flush 
spread over his handsome features, but the younger elf 
raised his chin defiantly nonetheless.  "And what, pray 
tell, do you get if I lose?," Haldir asked him.  After a 
few second's hesitation, Elladan told him.

The resulting roar of outrage woke most of the occupants of 
the house who had retired and frightened many of the 
others.  However, a party of Imladris' guards, who had met 
in the courtyard for one last drink before going to bed, 
were the only ones who witnessed the opening sortie of what 
would be a most memorable Hunt.  A startled looking Elladan 
came flying out the window of a second floor chamber a few 
second's later, his formal dinner robes rippling out behind 
him.  He managed to grab the edge of the slanted roof and 
ended up making a rather fine landing a few yards from 
them.  But before they could clap in appreciation or he 
could collect himself, two more figures came hurtling 
through the air and landed rather heavily on top of him.  
After a few confused moments, the three managed to separate 
themselves and, with much cursing and muttered comments the 
guards couldn't quite make out, hobbled back towards the 
house.  The guards grinned at each other, and clinked 
glasses.  Oh yes, the Hunt was on.

TBC


Title: Hunter and Prey, 4/?
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: That would be telling.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda.
Warnings: Slash.
Archiving: Anyone who wants it, just let me know.
A/N:  This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken 
story arc, although some of the characterizations are 
eerily similar.  Updates will be haphazard, but I promise 
to finish it.

*   *   *

Elrohir glanced over the long line of Hunters to the spot 
where Glorfindel was standing.  He looked, if anything, 
rather bored.  Elrohir had never felt less so himself, and 
could feel his palms sweat as he nervously tugged at the 
grey ribbon around his neck from which his small token 
dangled.  Like the other Imladris' contestants, his had a 
silver center stone; the Mirkwood contingent had a green 
one and Lorien's was gold.  Glancing about, he was very 
glad that he didn't have to stay in the field for long, for 
some of the other Hunters were looking at him almost 
hungrily.  He'd forgotten just how large some of the 
military types were, and no doubt they were thinking that 
relieving him of his token would be an easy way to warm up.

One who was standing fairly close--a silvan from Lorien--
even grinned at him, before dropping his eyes to the token 
he obviously expected soon to be his.  Well, nothing doing.  
Elrohir wasn't going to leave the Hunt in shame and have 
his father, currently seated on an upper balcony of the 
house with a beaming grin on his face, look at him in 
disgust as he was disqualified.  No, he might not be 
planning to win, but he couldn't afford to lose either.  He 
intended to make sure than he and Glorfindel were still in 
the field when the final call sounded, and thus keep their 
honor intact.  Maybe, he thought speculatively, it wouldn't 
hurt to insure that the two of them had also amassed a few 
tokens before he took them out of things, so to speak.

"All right, everyone get ready!"  Erestor shot Elrohir a 
significant look as he held up a bright red handkerchief 
and waved it around.  "When the trumpets sound, the field 
is open.  Good luck to you all!"  A second later, he 
dropped the handkerchief and three silver trumpets sent 
their song flying over the Hunter's heads.  Immediately, 
all hell broke loose in the previously orderly lineup.  
Some of the Hunters--mostly the smaller ones-- sprinted 
full out for the tree line, apparently having decided that 
finding the prize first was their only chance to win.  
Elrohir had passed some of these the night before on his 
way to bed, huddled together in a stairwell discussing in 
hushed tones the various places where they were "sure" the 
standard had been hidden.  He knew that any of the more 
obvious guesses were almost certainly duds, as his father 
had hidden the prize this year and his thought processes 
were nothing if not subtle.

Elrohir suddenly noticed that many of the Hunters were not 
running off to begin their search for the standard, but 
were employing other tactics.  As usual, some groups were 
working in packs to prey on their fellows; once a large 
number of the weaker contestants had been eliminated, they 
would turn on each other.  This year, however, some sort of 
agreement seemed to have been reached by the Imladris' 
guards, who were letting the Lorien and Mirkwood groups 
battle it out between them--with the result that thirty or 
so elves had lost their tokens within five minutes of the 
Hunt's start.  Most of these, however, were the novices who 
had hurriedly joined the night before after Erestor's 
pronouncement; it looked like they'd be watching things 
from the house after all.  At least they don't have far to 
walk back, Elrohir thought, dodging past the grasping arms 
of one of the Mirkwood hunters, then ducking under those of 
the determined looking Silvan.  The two, he saw happily, 
ended up running into each other, with the Mirkwood Hunter 
then managing to tug the other's token over his head, much 
to the Silvan's outrage.

Nimble in a way that the larger Hunters were not, Elrohir 
threaded his way through the battles happening all around 
him toward where Glorfindel still stood.  It was only as he 
drew near that he realized just why Imladris' guards were 
making almost no effort to enter the main fray; they 
obviously had a different priority.  As Elrohir watched, a 
large circle of them closed in on Glorfindel, who was 
looking remarkably unconcerned about that fact.  Elrohir 
was torn; on the one hand, he had promised to keep 
Glorfindel from winning, and so technically should stand 
aside and let the guards do his work for him.  On the other 
hand, however, something inside him rebelled at the thought 
of seeing his mentor disqualified--which had never been 
part of the plan--and the sight of so many against one 
enraged him.  Anyway, he argued with himself, had he and 
Erestor spent so much time thinking up the perfect solution 
only to have the guards make it irrelevant through the use 
of blunt force?

Before he really thought about what he was doing, Elrohir 
slipped through the steadily shrinking circle and pelted 
towards Glorfindel.  He wasn't sure what he could do, 
really, as they were still seriously outnumbered, but just 
knew that he wanted to be with him.  Before he could say 
anything, however, Glorfindel grabbed his arm and hissed at 
him to go back.  "Now, Elrohir, get out of here!  You don't 
understand!"

Elrohir merely shook his head dumbly, before a billowing 
cloud of grey-blue smoke unexpectedly enveloped the two of 
them, obscuring everything in the surrounding area from 
view.  He only knew that Glorfindel still had hold of his 
arm because he could feel strong fingers pressing into his 
flesh; he couldn't see anything, nor could he speak.  He 
heard shouts and curses all around him, but couldn't have 
added to them even had he wanted to, as he had accidentally 
inhaled a large amount of the smoke and was currently 
choking on it.

He felt Glorfindel tug him off to the side somewhere, and 
he followed blindly, with eyes watering and choking gasps 
coming from his throat.  He could vaguely tell when they 
left the cloud behind, for things suddenly became lighter, 
but his eyes didn't seem to want to focus properly and he 
was half bent over, trying desperately to clear his lungs 
of the noxious fumes.  "Run!," Glorfindel shouted at his 
ear, then dragged him forward at such a quick pace that 
Elrohir would have had trouble keeping up even under normal 
circumstances.  He tried to protest as they pelted along, 
to explain that he couldn't see and was half incapacitated, 
but he still could not manage to draw a deep breath or to 
speak.  Finally, after what felt like an age, they slowed 
down, and Elrohir could hear the faint, merry tinkle of a 
brook somewhere nearby.

"Here," he heard Glorfindel say from above as he was forced 
to his knees.  A wet cloth was laid over his eyes, which 
immediately stopped them from stinging.  A few seconds 
later and a container of some sort was held to his lips and 
Elrohir gratefully took a long drink of clear, cool water.  
Oh, yes, this was bliss.  "Is that better?"

"Much," Elrohir managed to say and, removing the cloth from 
his eyes, found that he could actually see again.  Things 
were still a bit blurry, but he rather thought that another 
rinsing should take care of that.

"Good."  Elrohir looked up, not expecting from the mild 
tone to see the look of rage that had suffused his tutor's 
face.  "Because you are now going to tell me just what in 
Mandos you thought you were doing, or I'll take this," and 
Glorfindel's hand closed over his token, "right now and 
send you back to the house with the other elflings."

Elrohir smiled weakly.  Familiar territory, this.  It 
seemed that he was in trouble yet again.

*   *   *

Haldir had been so tense for so long, that hearing the 
trumpets sound was almost a relief.  Until, that was, he 
realized just how many hungry sets of eyes were focused on 
him.  As last year's winner he had, of course, expected to 
be the chief target, but it was still a bit unnerving.  He 
had a split second to reflect in gratitude that weapons 
were not allowed in the hunt, as otherwise he'd have 
certainly been pinned to the ground by at least a dozen 
arrows by now, before they were on him.

"This way!," the cry rang out just as two huge Mirkwood 
types, neither of which he knew, converged on him from 
different angles.  He ignored the hand that was waving 
encouragingly at him from the sideline--for he well knew 
that no one in this teeming mass was his friend--and darted 
to the left.  His pursuers followed, with one of them 
making a gesture at someone behind him.  A brunette female 
dressed in Mirkwood attire grabbed him around the throat 
from behind, but he managed to flip her over his head and 
into the path of one of the bruisers in front of him.  She 
screamed in outrage and turned, lithe as a cat, in what 
looked like midair.  He ducked a split second before she 
reached him again and she went sailing over his head, but 
not before he'd deftly removed the green token from around 
her neck.

After that, things became so confused that Haldir almost 
ceased to consciously think at all, and just concentrated 
on ducking, spinning and, in a few cases, leaping over his 
opponents' heads in an effort to clear the melee.  He 
didn't have time for this, not this year, he thought in 
irritation, as he swatted away another attempt to grab his 
token.  Grasping the would-be thief's arm, he sent him 
careening into two of the Galadrim, thus opening a hole in 
the jostling crowd.  Not wasting any time, he tore past the 
battling pairs and ran for the forest line, well aware that 
several Hunters had peeled away from the pack in pursuit.

Haldir jumped into the nearest tree and, when he felt a 
slight shudder in its limbs caused by a Hunter climbing up 
behind him, swung around and caught his pursuer with a foot 
to the chest.  The Galadrim was knocked completely out of 
the tree, but somersaulted gracefully to the earth without 
noticeable injury.  He immediate began to climb back up, 
but Haldir's mocking laughter stopped him.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Verron?," he asked, 
dangling the Hunter's token from his hand.  "It's against 
the rules you know!"

Verron's free hand scrabbled at his chest, unable to 
believe that it was gone, then he glared upwards. "How did 
you do that?  Your hands weren't anywhere near me!"

"Ahh, my friend," Haldir tutted slightly, "I am sorry but I 
don't have time to give lessons at the moment.  Perhaps we 
can talk before next year," and turning, he vaulted into 
another tree as Verron stared disbelievingly after him.  
Haldir waited until he was well out of sight before tossing 
aside a long, thin stick.  He'd used it to relieve his 
fellow guard of his ornament as he'd climbed up the tree.  
He then tucked the little disk into his pouch with the five 
others he'd managed to collect so far, and dropped lightly 
to the ground.

He looked about, but no one else seemed to have followed.  
That made him somewhat nervous, as he could have sworn that 
he'd heard two pairs of feet pounding after him.  Yet he 
would certainly hear anyone who tried to pursue; dry leaves 
covered most surfaces, piling in dips and gullies in masses 
several feet deep in spots and sending an unmistakable 
warning of anyone's approach.  He had heard many elves 
complaining about this in the last week, but Haldir himself 
preferred it.  His hearing was considered excellent, even 
for an elf, so there wasn't much chance that anyone was 
going to be sneaking up on him.  And he was not even 
slightly interested in pursuing them.  No, for that 
foolish, infuriating Elladan had done him the favor of 
slipping that clue as to the standard's whereabouts, giving 
him an advantage over the rest of the field this year.  Let 
the rest of them waste their time collecting tokens.  None 
of that would matter when he brought the standard back.

Stopping himself from whistling only by the exertion of 
considerable willpower, Haldir struck off jauntily across 
the forest.  It had been more than four hundred years since 
anyone had managed to win the prize two years in a row, but 
he was going to break the  record, he was sure of it.  Lost 
in happy thoughts, he never noticed the silent shadow that, 
after giving him an ample head start, drifted into the 
woods behind him.

*   *   *

Legolas accepted a refill from Lord Elrond and sipped it 
daintily as he watched Haldir dart across the open space 
towards the tree line.  Legolas was rather pleased that he 
had managed to elude the Hunters so far.  Although he was 
uncomfortable with the thought of  Haldir winning again, 
especially after all the crowing he'd done after last 
year's victory, he also much preferred a good Hunt to a 
mediocre one and Haldir was always such fun.  Remarking on 
that fact to Lord Elrond, he saw the elf's dark eyes 
crinkle in that attractive way of his as a smile spread 
across his face.

"You actually intend doing nothing, then," he teased.  
"Except sitting here and enjoying the show while the others 
win all the glory?"

Legolas grinned, and took another sip of his wine.  It was 
an excellent vintage, but he was determined to go easy on 
it nonetheless.  He had certainly had enough proof of the 
dangers of becoming too inebriated in this house.  "But, my 
dear Lord Elrond!," he protested prettily, "To do otherwise 
would be to go against my father's strict instructions!"

"And being here at all does not?"

Legolas feigned shock.  "Are you insinuating that you'd 
tell?"

Elrond settled back in his chair.  "Most certainly not.  I 
greatly enjoy your presence, Legolas, as you know.  I would 
hardly do anything to help remove it."

Legolas smirked and glanced over the railing to where 
Erestor was being jostled around by the crowd of Hunters 
still trapped near the starting point.  It looked a great 
deal like some of the pushing, shoving and tripping he was 
undergoing was deliberate.  "Have you convinced him yet?," 
Legolas murmured, so quietly that the half dozen elves 
seated behind them noticed nothing.

Elrond moved slightly forward, seemingly enthralled by the 
all out brawl going on below.  "It's as we planned," he 
murmured into his wine goblet.  "As long as Glorfindel
wins . . . "

Legolas drained the rest of his glass and sat it down on a 
nearby table with a purposeful thump.  Stretching, he rose 
lightly to his feet.  "Well, Lord Elrond," he said, back to 
his normal tones, "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll just 
go and mingle down below."

Elrond looked up at him, a slight smile tugging at his 
lips.  "You'd have a much better view from here," he 
protested.

Legolas glanced out onto the field to see Glorfindel and 
Elrohir disappear into a haze of battle smoke.  He supposed 
that, technically, that didn't count as a weapon and so had 
to be allowed.  Clever of Glorfindel to have thought of it; 
it made one wonder what else might be up his sleeve.  He 
glanced down at Elrond, whose long form was draped 
elegantly over his chair.  The older elf obviously had full 
faith in his seneschal, and intended to enjoy the day, 
confident in his abilities to win his bet for him.  
Legolas, however, was too restless to take that option, and 
besides, it wasn't as if the other side wasn't cheating for 
all it was worth.  He had seen Erestor closeted with 
several dozen of the guards after his speech the night 
before, and recognized a number of them in the bemused 
looking circle presently blindly feeling its way across the 
field amidst clouds of noxious fumes.  It wasn't the guards 
who particularly worried him, however.

His eyes narrowed as they followed the stumbling figure of 
Elrohir as he and Glorfindel took advantage of the guards' 
confusion to make a run for the trees.  When he had first 
agreed to help Elladan in his absurd plan to get his 
brother and Imladris' seneschal together, Legolas had 
discounted the elfling's abilities, assuming that, as he 
told Elladan, Glorfindel would surely have him tied to a 
tree within a few minutes if he tried to interfere with 
him.  "It isn't as if I don't want to help, melethryn," he 
had protested, "but I don't see how this is supposed to 
work.  If you want them to spend time together, lock them 
in a room and put a guard--or possibly five or six--on the 
door.  I simply don't understand how this is supposed to 
help."

Elladan had shaken his head and propped his feet up on 
Legolas' hassock.  "You don't know my brother, gwador," 
he'd replied.  "He tenses up around Glorfindel to the point 
that he can barely carry on a decent conversation."  He 
looked disgusted for a moment, then laughed.  "I've tried 
everything, you know--all year I've worked my poor fingers 
to the bone trying to get those two together, but nothing 
works.  If Glorfindel enters a room, Elrohir is just 
leaving it.  If I get injured and can't ride out to oversee 
the borders, Elrohir manages to find someone to do it--but 
never himself!  If I manage to move the seating arrangement 
around so that they are stuck next to each other at every 
meal, they both resolutely talk to their neighbor on the 
other side or across from them--never to each other!  It is 
enough to drive a person completely mad!"

"But, are you entirely sure that Elrohir really is taken 
with him?  It doesn't sound much like it to me."

"I'm sure."  Elladan had sounded certain.  "I know my 
brother, and trust me, he's just as helplessly attracted to 
Glorfindel as vice versa, but neither of them have the 
sense to see it!"

"That still doesn't explain how my giving my place up to 
Glorfindel in this year's hunt is going to aid your hopes."

"It will help, my dear Legolas, because Elrohir is one of 
the most stubborn elves I've ever known.  Once given a 
task, he'll stick to it no matter what--and this task will 
throw he and Glorfindel together for the better part of 
twenty-four hours.  If they can't figure out that they're 
made for each other in that length of time, then I wash my 
hands of them."

"If Elrohir can manage not to get left up a tree," Legolas 
had murmured.

Elladan smirked.  "Trust me, my friend, you don't know my 
brother.  I assure you that he is far more skillful than he 
looks."

Which was, of course, exactly what was worrying Legolas 
now.  Within a scant few minutes, not only had Elrohir 
dodged at least six different attempts on his token, one of 
them by a warrior Legolas knew to be among the most 
skillful in Mirkwood, but had also managed to get towed off 
the field by Glorfindel himself, who would now probably 
consider him his charge seeing as how he'd half blinded him 
with battle smoke.  It wouldn't surprise Legolas at all if 
Glorfindel even decided to team up with Elrohir, without 
knowing what the little miscreant intended, thus giving him 
the perfect opportunity to lead him into whatever trap 
Erestor had helped to create.

Legolas looked down again to see Erestor swatting fussily 
at the hands and elbows that kept "accidentally" bumping 
him.  Oh, yes, lovely, crafty Erestor had had well over a 
week to make all kinds of plans, and his position as Hunt 
Master gave him the added advantage of being able to rule 
virtually anything legal.  So no, Legolas could not say 
that he shared Elrond's optimism.

Yet Legolas had a pressing need for Glorfindel to win, one 
he hadn't bothered to mention to Elladan.  After all, 
Elrond's proposition had been made--to Legolas' delighted 
surprise--after he had fulfilled his bargain with Elladan 
by giving up his place in the hunt.  He was, therefore, 
perfectly within his rights to do whatever he could to see 
that Glorfindel won.  And, he reminded his conscience, he 
had never promised Elladan not to interfere, and the prize 
for managing Glorfindel's victory was just too high to 
refuse.

"Legolas," Elrond commented gently, bringing him back to 
the present, "I believe you're blocking the view."

Legolas turned with a smile to the elves behind him, and 
sketched them a little bow.  "My apologies," he said 
lightly, "and to you as well my Lord.  If you will excuse 
me?  I think I'll just go . . . get a bit of exercise."

He departed the royal box with Elrond's amused laughter 
still echoing in his ears.  Legolas grinned as he lightly 
skipped down the main staircase.  This ought to be fun.

TBC




Title: Hunter and Prey, 5/?
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: That would be telling.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda.
Warnings: Slash.
Archiving: Anyone who wants it, just let me know.
A/N:  This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken 
story arc, although some of the characterizations are 
eerily similar.  Updates will be haphazard, but I promise 
to finish it.

*   *   *

Elladan paused in the underbrush, waiting silently while 
several Galadrim passed within feet of his location.  The 
main body of the Hunt must have moved into the woods by 
now, for he'd seen no fewer than twelve Hunters of 
different types in the last half hour.  Haldir, however, 
had managed to avoid all of them handily, which rather 
impressed Elladan.  He'd been confident of his own ability 
to stay hidden; although Imladris' guards knew the border 
regions like the back of their hands, they were largely 
unfamiliar with the area around the house, and the Mirkwood 
and Lorien Hunters were in completely unknown territory--
yet he had grown up playing in these woods.  He was 
surprised that Haldir was able to make his way so easily, 
however, almost as if the forest itself was helping him.  
Which it had better not be, he sternly informed a nearby 
tree, which managed to look as innocent as a tree could as 
it fervently denied the accusation.  You'd better be 
telling the truth, he warned it silently, but couldn't help 
a brief grin at the thought that the sexy Galadrim had 
managed to subvert even the foliage of Imladris.  I didn't 
stand a chance, did I, Elladan mused.

Despite his charm and skill, however, Haldir was not 
perfect, for Elladan noticed with glee that he was doing 
exactly as expected and heading straight for the falls.  
When Elladan had planted his little clue the week before, 
he had counted on Haldir remembering it and deciding that 
his best bet for another win was to focus on the standard.  
After his previous victory, everyone would be looking to 
eliminate him, thus dropping his chances of survival if he 
concentrated on gathering tokens.  Finding the standard 
would, however, obviate that necessity, and so Elladan 
watched as Haldir began a systematic check of the 
waterfalls, edging ever closer to the place he so desired 
him to be.

In a way, Elladan almost regretted having to arrange things 
this way, as he admired Haldir's uncommon skill, and would 
have liked to see if he could manage a second win if given 
a fair chance to do so.  However, he was not charitable 
enough to permit any such thing when it meant allowing the 
gorgeous Galadrim to slip through his fingers yet again.  
Elladan had been smitten with the silvan guard since he'd 
first seen him a decade before.  Haldir's regular missions 
for Lord Celeborn had insured that he was rarely able to 
take part in the Hunt, and although he'd participated a few 
times as Elladan was growing up, it had not been until he 
almost won the thing a decade before that he'd caught 
Elladan's eye.

Elladan sighed when he thought of the futile pursuit that 
had followed.  The problem was that the Lorien faction 
usually only arrived a week prior to the game, and Haldir 
was completely focused on his participation that whole 
time.  Unlike some of the others, who used the opportunity 
to flirt, drink and dance their way through the intervening 
days, Haldir could not be bothered with anything except the 
Hunt itself.  Elladan had tried everything to gain his 
attention, but to no avail.  Provocative outfits were 
useless, as Haldir didn't even notice them.  Innuendos, 
likewise, went unheard by one whose complete attention was 
taken in formulating his battle strategy.  Even a blatantly 
worded offer two years ago had received the humiliating 
reply of a vague look and a, "maybe later, Elrohir," 
infuriating Elladan who, despite what everyone said to the 
contrary, was not a copy of his brother.  It had been after 
that that he decided more drastic measures were called for.

The difficulty lay in the fact that the Lorien guards left 
the day after the Hunt each year, giving Elladan very 
little time with Haldir when he was not focused on the 
game.  He'd therefore immediately latched onto him after 
his win the year before, taking advantage of the fact that 
Haldir was very happy to talk about each and every move 
he'd made on the way to victory to anyone who would listen.  
After several hours and a couple of bottles of his father's 
best wine, Elladan had finally received the opening for 
which he'd waited so long.

"But I will win again next year, too," a rather confused 
looking Haldir had told him, blinking blearily in his 
general direction.  "So you're bound to lose."

"Then you should have no trouble agreeing, should you?," 
Elladan had reasoned, with his best "trust me, I'm your 
friend" smile.  In the end, Haldir had done exactly that, 
just before he passed out and had to be carried off to his 
rooms by a group of Galadrim.  Elladan had been ecstatic, 
and fairly danced back to his own chambers.  True, it was 
frustrating to have to wait yet another year for his prize, 
but then, Haldir of Lorien in his bed for a night was worth 
waiting for.  Yet it was also something, he mused, as 
Haldir finished his exploration of the Chiming Falls and 
moved on, that he had yet to earn.  Slipping through the 
woods with the silence acquired from years of sneaking up 
on his brother, Elladan followed his prey toward Rainbow 
falls, and the surprise he'd carefully arranged for him 
there.

*   *   *

Elrohir trailed after Glorfindel along an almost 
indistinguishable path through the undergrowth, wondering 
as he did so just how to steer him towards Erestor's trap 
without it looking too obvious.  He'd already overcome one 
hurdle by persuading him to take him along, despite the 
fact that Glorfindel had been furious with him for 
swallowing so much of the smoke.  "You went through 
training--you know better!  You are supposed to hold your 
breath when it comes at you, not gulp it down!"  Elrohir 
had let the angry words slide off him, mainly because he 
was pleased to note that Glorfindel had obviously been 
concerned for him.

The really tricky part of his task was still ahead, 
however, Elrohir reminded himself.  Somehow, he had to keep 
Glorfindel from knowing that he was a part of Erestor's 
plan, for he didn't even want to think of the consequences 
otherwise.  And, although their plotting had seemed at 
least feasible in the secretary's rooms in the palace, it 
was much less so now.

Elrohir was so lost in his thoughts that he bumped into 
Glorfindel, who had stopped suddenly in the middle of the 
path.  He received an impatient look for his clumsiness, 
but nothing more as they were both concentrating on the 
distant sound of a few leaves crunching under a light 
tread.  Without any need to speak, they both melted into 
the shadows under the trees, careful to tread only on tufts 
of grass as they did so.  A few moments later, a party of 
Galadrim came by, obviously still hunting as a pack, but 
making surprisingly little sound considering that there 
were five altogether.  Elrohir had assumed that Glorfindel 
would let them pass by and had taken to the shadows only to 
avoid being seen.  It was with considerable surprise, then, 
that he witnessed his companion tense as they drew level, 
then launch himself out of the bushes at them.

It took Elrohir a few seconds to join the fray, so startled 
was he by the seneschal's actions, but when one of the 
Galadrim managed to get into a position to flank 
Glorfindel, Elrohir acted without thinking.  Hooking a foot 
about the silvan's legs, he toppled him into a ditch beside 
the path, then grabbed his token before he could get his 
feet under him again.  By that time, Glorfindel had 
disposed of the other four.  All five staggered off 
muttering imprecations a few moments later, their pride 
more bruised than their bodies and their tokens left 
behind.

Elrohir stared at the pretty gold stone in his trophy with 
a feeling of pleased accomplishment.  He hadn't actually 
planned it this way, but as he'd thought back at the 
starting line, a few tokens would at least make he and 
Glorfindel look better to the guards later on.  Besides, he 
couldn't deny that it had been fun.

He looked up to find Glorfindel regarding him with an 
expression of tolerant amusement.  "Enjoying yourself, 
Elrohir?"  He nodded in response, having, as usual, a 
problem articulating much in Glorfindel's presence.  This 
was much better than that nightmare conversation a week 
ago, however, for at least this way Glorfindel had 
something to concentrate on other than him, and so he could 
relax a little.  Looking about at the blue sky overhead and 
at the smiling, carefree face of his companion, Elrohir 
could only wish that this day could go on forever.  He felt 
wonderfully light and almost giddily happy, and wondered 
when he'd get another chance to spend this much time with 
his old tutor in future.  Probably never, he suddenly 
realized, as, under different circumstances, he could 
hardly take the risk.

As they started back down the path, Elrohir wondered if it 
really mattered that he lead Glorfindel towards the trap 
immediately.  After all, he'd only promised to keep him 
from winning; nothing had been said about how or when he 
did so.  Erestor had apparently assumed that he'd want to 
get it over with as soon as possible, but then, it really 
would make more sense to drag things out.  If he had helped 
Glorfindel for the better part of the hunt, wouldn't he 
suspect him less of having anything to do with his 
entrapment later?  Yes, Elrohir thought happily, that was 
definitely the smart move, and it would also allow them to 
amass a large number of tokens, and so look at least 
reasonably competent even when they ended up losing.  
Still, it was damned annoying that he'd agreed to help 
Elladan out with this; remembering how easily Glorfindel 
had handled the Galadrim, he felt sure they could win 
otherwise.  He laughed at the thought of Elladan's face if 
they came back with the prize, and barely managed to muffle 
his reaction behind a hand before anyone could hear.  
Glorfindel noticed, however, and grinned happily at him 
while ruffling his hair.  "We're going to take the prize, 
Elrohir," he whispered confidently, "I can feel it!"

Elrohir fairly skipped down the path after him, pushing 
aside his guilty feelings for the moment.  He'd worry about 
all that later.  For now, he just wanted to be happy for a 
little while.  What a wonderful day this was turning out to 
be!

*   *   *

The rushing sound of water obscured everything else as 
Elladan slipped through the rocky pass leading into the 
cave under the falls.  It had been a favorite playground 
for him as an elfling, and he and Elrohir had spent many 
hours there replaying his father's discovery in a similar 
cave so long ago, or just eluding the guards who'd been 
sent to round them up for dinner.  Other elves knew of its 
existence, of course, but none of them were among the 
younger generation, as Elladan and Elrohir had considered 
it their private preserve and had told no one.  Since the 
Hunters were almost exclusively drawn from the younger set, 
he thought that its location was probably safe, and of 
course, there was little chance of a Lorien or Mirkwood 
contestant figuring out that it was here.  Not that it 
mattered, Elladan thought with a grin--were any of the 
other Hunters to stumble in here and find Haldir, it was 
extremely unlikely that their impulse would be to let last 
years' champion loose.

Elladan paused before rounding the final turn in the short, 
rocky tunnel that led into the main cavern.  Victory, 
especially one so long postponed, was very sweet, and 
should be savored.  After a moment, Elladan took a 
steadying breath, for Haldir was NOT going to be pleasant 
about this, and stepped into the dimness.  It took a few 
moments for his eyes to adjust, and then he just stared.  
Two things were immediately apparent: Haldir had managed to 
elude the trap he'd set for him, whether by chance or 
design Elladan wasn't sure, and he had the standard in his 
hand.

Elladan boggled at it, his mind unwilling to accept what he 
was seeing.  What was it doing here?  He had, of course, 
lied to Haldir about having been the one to hide it.  
Glorfindel usually did the honors as Hunt Master, but, as 
he was competing this year, other arrangements had had to 
be made and Ada had done it.  Elladan had only told Haldir 
what he had in the hopes of luring him here, where he'd be 
trapped until the Hunt was safely over and Elladan had won 
the bet.  He had never in his wildest dreams thought that 
Ada might choose this very spot in which to hide the prize, 
thus insuring that Elladan had as good as handed Haldir a 
victory.

He must have moved slightly, or perhaps Haldir had simply 
finished admiring his prize, for he glanced up and spotted 
Elladan.  For a few seconds they merely looked at each 
other, then Haldir lunged.  Elladan wasn't sure if he was 
trying to thank him, kill him, or merely get past him, but 
one thing was sure, Haldir could not be allowed to get back 
to the starting line with the standard.  Technically, he 
hadn't won until he crossed that line, and Elladan had no 
intention of letting that happen.  Diving for Haldir's 
legs, Elladan managed to get a grip on one ankle and he 
held on for dear life.  Haldir hobbled towards the cave 
entrance, viciously kicking at Elladan all the while, but 
just as he'd almost broken free, he suddenly stopped.

Elladan, who had just taken a nasty jab to the nose--with 
the result that his vision was rather blurred for an 
instant--did not immediately realize what was happening, 
until he heard Rumil's familiar, mocking tones.  "Well, 
well, strategy pays off in the end, it would seem."

Elladan looked up, never so glad to see any two elves in 
his life, and offered Haldir's brothers a lopsided grin.  
He'd probably have a hell of a black eye tomorrow and it 
felt like his jaw needed partial realignment, but thank 
Elbereth, he'd hung on until help could arrive.  "It took 
you long enough," he commented to Rumil, who flashed him a 
grin before stepping forward and laying his hand on the 
standard.

"Do be a good boy, there, Haldir, and don't put up a fight.  
You were outwitted fair and square, you know, and the prize 
is ours."

Elladan released Haldir's foot and scrambled backwards, 
well aware that the concept of giving in gracefully was not 
in Haldir's vocabulary.  He'd just managed to get clear 
when Haldir tore the standard from Rumil's grasp and spun 
it about, using the end that was normally planted in the 
ground as a makeshift spear.  It was, as Rumil's suddenly 
cautious expression made clear, quite sharp.

"Come, come, Haldir--it's a standoff at best!  Three 
against one and there's no back way out of this cave.  
Elladan chose well."  Elladan would have preferred for 
Rumil to leave him out of this, as the look Haldir shot him 
then could have melted glass.  Suddenly, a night alone with 
him sounded more scary than seductive to Elladan, who 
offered him a weak grin but wisely said nothing.

"There's at least twenty-one hours left," Haldir reminded 
his brother in a nasty tone.  "A great deal can happen in 
that time, Rumil."

Orophin, whose presence Elladan had almost forgotten, 
apparently decided that he didn't want to wait that long, 
and abruptly rushed his brother from the right.  Haldir 
swung the standard about like a fighting pike, preparing to 
meet the assault, but in doing so took a step backwards and 
the next minute was dangling from Elladan's trap, the 
hidden noose of which had been painted the same color as 
the cave floor and hidden among some rock chips.  It had, 
Elladan noted now, caught the same foot that he himself had 
earlier grabbed.

Rumil was too bent over in helpless laughter to do anything 
for a few moments, but Orophin quickly relieved Haldir of 
his prize and, fingering it almost reverently, stepped back 
to the cave entrance.  Elladan breathed a sigh of relief 
and grinned at Orophin.  It had all worked out after all, 
something he would not have counted on a few minutes 
earlier.  Rumil eventually managed to get his breath back 
and wiped his streaming eyes.  "Priceless," he gasped, 
leaning against the cave wall, "utterly and completely 
priceless.  Orophin, old son, we shall drink out on this 
story for years to come."  Orophin just smirked, his hands 
still petting the standard as if it was a favorite dog.  
Rumil pushed himself away from the wall, and walked over to 
the dangling Haldir, who was thrashing about in apoplectic 
fury.

"This is cheating," Haldir finally managed to say in 
between graphic descriptions of what he was going to do to 
his brothers when he got loose.  "He already knew where the 
standard was--he helped to hide it!  He can't compete after 
that, so the whole Hunt will have to be replayed!"

Rumil glanced at Elladan, who shook his head.  "Father hid 
it," he protested.  "He just happened to do so in the same 
place I'd already set the trap.  Great minds thinking 
alike, I suppose . . . "  He trailed off at another ream of 
curses from Haldir, to the effect that no one would believe 
such tripe.

"This whole thing was fixed so that Imladris could win!"

Rumil smiled at that, and backed away from his brother, who 
had come perilously close to getting a hand on him as the 
vine attached to the ceiling stretched under his weight.  
"Oh, I doubt that protest will hold up, brother, especially 
after Orophin and I are declared champions."

Elladan felt himself suddenly grabbed from behind, and 
before he fully realized what had happened, someone was 
wrapping a vine similar to the one he'd used to trap Haldir 
around his hands.  "What . . . what are you doing?!," he 
demanded, staring around at Orophin as if he'd gone mad.  
"This isn't funny--let me go!"  In response, Orophin merely 
dragged him over to a large boulder and tied him down.

"Oh, we will," Rumil assured him, "just as soon as we've 
returned this wonderful artifact to Lord Elrond.  Such 
priceless relicts shouldn't be left laying around, should 
they?"

"You really thought you could fool us?," Orophin asked him, 
picking up the standard once more from where he'd dropped 
it in his attack.  "We don't know what game you're really 
playing, Elladan, but if you like Haldir so much, you 
should enjoy the next few hours in his company."

"We'll send someone back for you . . . eventually," Rumil 
added, laughing at his outraged expression.  "Cheer up, 
Elladan, you just won your bet!"  Then the two brothers 
worked together to wrap several lengths of vine about 
Haldir's thrashing form, eventually managing to trap his 
arms to his sides, before leaving the cave arm in arm.

"That is . . . this . . . ," Elladan struggled against his 
bonds in impotent fury, words failing him for the first 
time in his short life.  For those two lunatics to leave 
him, Elladan of Imladris, trussed up like an animal, to 
await the moment when his own guards would have to release 
him . . . he shuddered, half in rage and half in horror, at 
the very thought.  They would never let him forget this--
never!  His reputation was ruined.  As he began to look for 
a way out of such a horrible fate, Haldir abruptly started 
laughing.  Elladan worried that all the blood rushing to 
his companion's head might have caused an odd reaction, for 
he was very red in the face, but decided after staring at 
him for a few minutes that his amusement was genuine.  
"What is so funny?"

"You are.  We are.  This whole thing . .  .,"  Haldir moved 
his head and shoulders about in a gesture that caused him 
to start spinning in lazy circles.  "Of course," he 
commented in a thoughtful voice after he'd managed to stop 
the parabolas with a foot to the side of the cave, "it's 
really you I feel sorry for."  Elladan watched in amazement 
as Haldir slowly used his feet to climb up the wall of the 
cave, moving from indentation to indentation in the rough 
rock with seemingly little effort.  "After all," he went 
on, "*I* won the Hunt last year.  Even should I lose this 
time, which of course I have no intention of doing," and he 
hooked a leg about the top of a small overhang, causing the 
vine about his leg to sag as his weight came off it, "I 
will still be a past champion.  No one can take that from 
me.  You, on the other hand," and he levered himself up to 
a seated position, "will forever be the prince who was 
bested on his own home ground.  And within just a few 
hours, too."  Haldir rubbed the vines imprisoning his arms 
on the jagged stones behind him for a few seconds while 
Elladan thought about that.  Within a surprisingly short 
span of time, the bonds snapped and he immediately ripped 
the vine about his leg in two before jumping lightly to the 
ground.

He approached Elladan's form, which Orophin had draped in a 
very uncomfortable way over the boulder, with a calculating 
look on his face.  "Of course, the centuries of humiliation 
you're facing probably don't worry you.  I'm sure you'll 
manage to get used to the snide remarks and the winks and 
nudges as you walk past, in a ten year or so . . . "

"Are you just going to stand there and gloat?" Elladan 
demanded, "Or would you still like to win this thing?"

Haldir smiled at him, a gleam coming into his silver-blue 
eyes.  "What did you have in mind?," he asked softly.

Elladan grimaced.  "Let me loose and find out."

TBC



Title: Hunter and Prey, 6/?
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: That would be telling.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda.
Warnings: Slash.
Archiving: Anyone who wants it, just let me know.
A/N:  This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken 
story arc, although some of the characterizations are 
eerily similar.  Updates will be haphazard, but I promise 
to finish it.

*   *   *

Legolas watched as Elrohir and Glorfindel set yet another 
trap for the hapless Hunters.  He rather liked the 
alliteration of that, and decided it must be true when you 
considered how many tokens the Imladris' twosome had 
amassed in just the hour that he'd been watching.  As it 
had taken him almost that long to find them in the first 
place, he could only imagine what their combined total must 
be at this point.

He stifled a giggle as Glorfindel paused to help Elrohir up 
a tree with a hand to the younger elf's backside.  It was 
odd, Legolas thought in considerable amusement, that the 
healthy young acrobat he'd seen besting half a dozen 
Hunters on his own, suddenly needed as much assistance as a 
tiny elfling.  And it wasn't even that tall of a tree!  
Glorfindel didn't seem to mind giving the aid, however, and 
indeed took rather a long time about it.  It appeared 
Elladan had been right about the attraction on both their 
parts.

Legolas wondered what they were doing, and watched with 
interest as the two settled into the arms of several 
evergreens that grew near one of the main paths.  It took 
him a while to figure it out, but, as a nervous looking, 
lone Hunter came by and unwittingly stopped almost 
immediately under their hiding spot, he was given a 
demonstration.  It seemed that, instead of hunting down 
their prey as they'd been doing so far, they had decided to 
take it easy and let the players come to them.  A couple of 
hooks made out of shirt fastenings and a few bits of thread 
set them up as fishermen, allowing them to snag passing 
tokens with a deftness that insured that their owners never 
missed them.  The jumpy young silvan, who started at every 
bird call and cracking leaf, didn't notice when his golden 
token was lifted right over his head and disappeared into 
the greenery above.

Legolas settled down to watch the proceedings with a grin 
on his face--that was one tactic he was ashamed he'd never 
thought of--but although he was enjoying himself, something 
about all this worried him.  It just didn't make sense that 
Elrohir was making no effort whatsoever to lead Glorfindel 
towards the trap Erestor had set for him.  They were, in 
fact, on the other side of the grounds completely, which 
was why it had taken Legolas so long to find them.  Well, 
that and the fact that he had to insure that no one saw 
him, for otherwise there'd be a serious dust up as he 
wasn't signed up to participate in the Hunt and had no 
right to be there.  His father might even hear that he'd 
taken part after all, which would definitely not be good.  
Thranduil was actually quite lenient with his youngest son, 
but when he gave a direct command he expected it to be 
obeyed.

Legolas pondered Elrohir's inexplicable behavior while idly 
observing two of his fellow Mirkwood warriors be relieved 
of their tokens without either noticing what had happened.  
On the one hand, he had no desire to interfere if Elrohir 
had decided not to go through with his part of the scheme; 
on a level playing field, Legolas was confident of 
Glorfindel's ability to manage a win.  That was especially 
the case as Elrond had hidden the standard himself this 
year and had assured him that no one was likely to find it.  
That meant that tokens would probably decide the winner, 
and Glorfindel was well ahead of the field there.  On the 
other hand, Elladan had seemed quite sure that Elrohir 
would do what he viewed as his duty and follow the plan, 
and he should know his brother.  And seeing the complete 
trust Glorfindel obviously had in his young helper, that 
could spell disaster.  Legolas didn't want to cause any 
trouble between them, as they seemed to be getting on so 
well, but he also REALLY wanted Elrond to win his bet.  As 
much as he hated to do it, then, it didn't seem that he 
could avoid interfering.  He only hoped Glorfindel wasn't 
going to take it too badly.

*   *   *

Elladan and Haldir expertly stalked the two Galadrim 
through the woods.  They had been helped in the task of 
catching them up by the fact that Rumil and Orophin were 
being very careful not to be seen by other Hunters and thus 
possibly relieved of their prize.  They had gone slowly, 
thinking their captives still safely bound in the cave, and 
had jumped off the path whenever they so much as heard a 
twig break.  Yet Haldir's knowledge of his brothers' 
abilities and Elladan's acquaintance with these woods 
insured that the two thieves never heard their pursuit.

Haldir caught his companion's eye and gestured towards the 
left.  His eyes gleamed with excitement, and Elladan felt 
an answering power thrumming through his own veins.  He 
nodded and silently slipped around to the far side of the 
path along which the brothers had just passed.  Using 
grassy knolls, a few protruding rocks and the roots of 
trees as stepping-stones, he managed to traverse the leaf-
strewn forest without the faintest noise to give him away.  
He listened carefully, but to his surprise heard no sound 
from Haldir who was presumably matching him on the other 
side of the road.  By the time Elladan was in position 
several dozen yards ahead of the brothers, he had begun to 
worry that Haldir had been accosted by some other Hunters 
and taken out of the game, leaving him to manage as best he 
could on his own.  Just as he was becoming seriously 
concerned, however, his searching eyes caught a glimpse of 
silver-gilt hair in a tree overhead that indicated Haldir's 
presence.

Elladan waited with bated breath until Rumil, who was now 
carrying the standard, was within three feet of him, then 
leapt from his hiding place and tackled him around the 
legs, knocking the slightly built elf completely off his 
feet.  They careened into Orophin, who danced back out of 
the way, but the force of his assault knocked the standard 
out of Rumil's grasp and it skidded up the path a few 
yards.  Before either brother could react, Haldir dropped 
out of the tree, grabbed it, and with a laugh of pure 
enjoyment, ran full out up the path towards the house.

Elladan tripped up Orophin as he made to follow, buying 
Haldir a few extra seconds before the Galadrim regained his 
footing, then jumped up after Rumil clawed his way free of 
his hold and ran after them.  The Galadrim could run like 
the wind, but Haldir was only a silver blur as he tore 
towards the finish line.  Expecting his next sight of 
Haldir to be his triumphant face as he was congratulated 
for a second win, Elladan was understandably surprised to 
find himself tripping over him a few seconds later.  And 
not only Haldir--for Rumil and Orophin lay in the path, 
too, having stumbled over a vine that had been stretched 
across the pathway by some enterprising Imladris guards.  
One of them picked up the standard, looked at it in 
disbelief for a second, then turned to run, a huge grin 
breaking out over his features.  Elladan, who had vaulted 
back to his feet by then, thwarted this intention by 
grabbing the end of the pole and hanging on.  After a brief 
tug of war, during which the others regained their footing, 
he wrenched it from the guard's grasp and ran like hell.

"Elladan!," he heard Haldir's enraged tones echo behind 
him, while an even more ominous silence came from the 
others whose footsteps he could hear gaining on him; they 
obviously weren't going to waste breath telling him off.  
He didn't care, however--the fever of the Hunt, which he'd 
heard about so often but never before understood, pounded 
through his veins and all he wanted was to WIN.  They'll 
never catch me, he crowed to himself, for no one knew these 
woods like he did, and he knew a way to lose them after the 
next turning . . .

All of a sudden, Elladan felt the standard soar away from 
him.  As he watched in disbelief, it was caught up into the 
trees as if by magic and disappeared.  What the . . .

"Where is it, what did you do with it you little . . . ," 
Haldir had reached him and seized the front of his robes, 
lifting him completely off the ground as he shook him 
furiously.

"There it is!," Rumil pointed skyward, "Glorfindel has it!"  
Haldir dropped Elladan with a thump as they all gazed up at 
Glorfindel, who was standing on a tree limb far above their 
heads and looking at the prize in his hand in a bemused 
sort of way.  A split second later, Rumil was halfway up 
the tree with Orophin only inches behind him.

Glorfindel watched them come with a smile of delight 
spreading across his handsome features.  "Elrohir, catch!," 
he sang out, as Rumil came within feet of him.  As Elladan 
watched in stunned incredulity, the standard sailed over 
all their heads to be deftly caught by his younger brother, 
who for some reason was also standing in the branches of a 
nearby tree.  Elrohir glanced down at him, winked, and then 
he was off.  Rumil catapulted from Glorfindel's tree and he 
and Orophin sprinted after him, with Haldir and the guards 
hard on their heels.  The sound of their combined footsteps 
must have alerted everyone in the vicinity that something 
important was happening, for shouts rang out immediately 
from all sides as others scrambled to join in the final 
race.

Elladan didn't bother, knowing full well that there was no 
way any of them would catch Elrohir in these woods.  His 
brother easily knew them as well as he did and, while 
Elrohir might not have much in the way of brawn to his 
credit, he was as fast as lightening in a race.  If they 
wanted to exhaust themselves, fine, but Elladan couldn't be 
bothered.  Besides, he suddenly felt very tired.  The manic 
excitement that had filled him just seconds before drained 
away, and he sighed.  Elrohir was even now insuring that 
Haldir would lose his bet, thereby technically giving 
Elladan what he had craved for so long.  But after the 
events of the day, Elladan had no hopes left of claiming 
the only prize in all this craziness that he'd ever wanted.  
He fell back against the carpet of leaves and flung a hand 
over his bruised eyes.  What a perfectly lousy day it had 
been.

"Glorfindel, hurry!"  Elladan removed the arm to see that 
Legolas had emerged from the nearby woods and was looking 
anxiously at the seneschal, who dropped lightly from the 
tree at the sound of his name.

"Legolas!  You aren't supposed to be here!  What if someone 
sees?  We'll be accused of all kinds of treachery."  
Glorfindel retained his beaming smile, however, and looked 
at the two of them kindly.  He had apparently had a good 
time.

"Yes, yes, but you have to get going!  Elrohir is going to 
ruin everything!"  Before Elladan could open his mouth to 
say a word, Legolas continued, "He's going to betray you!"  
Elladan looked in horror at his friend, who was trying to 
pull Glorfindel down the path in the direction of the 
madcap parade, which had by now receded into the distance.  
"Come on!"

"Legolas, shut up."  Elladan put as much force into his 
words as he could, for he saw the happy light begin to fade 
from Glorfindel's face as he started to understand.

Legolas ignored him.  "Come with me!  There's still time if 
we hurry!"

Glorfindel refused to be shifted, however, but crossed his 
arms and looked stubbornly at Legolas.  "He'll circle back 
'round, once he's lost the others.  You don't understand--
we're partners."

"No, it's you who doesn't understand!"  Legolas nudged 
Elladan with his shoe.  "Go on, El, tell him!"

Glorfindel looked down at where Elladan lay, still sprawled 
in the dust, and grimaced.  "I might have known.  What have 
you two been up to, then?"

Elladan looked from Legolas' frantic face to Glorfindel's 
steadily darkening one and sighed.  It didn't look like any 
of his plans for today were going to work out.  "He, er . . 
. that is, I . . . you see, Erestor . . . "

"That's enough."  Glorfindel held up a hand and his face 
looked suddenly tired.  "You don't need to say any more.  
He isn't coming back, is he?"

Elladan sighed again as Legolas gave a disgusted snort and 
ran up the path, obviously intent on trying something 
himself.  Gods but he wished he'd stayed in bed today!  
"No."  He wanted to explain, desperately wanted Glorfindel 
to understand that this whole stupid plan had not been 
Elrohir's idea.  He wanted to tell him how his brother's 
eyes followed him about Imladris as if he could see nothing 
else; wanted to describe how, when Glorfindel entered a 
room, Elrohir looked as if the sun had just come out.  But 
he didn't, seeing from the expression his old tutor wore 
that this was definitely not a good time for explanations.  
"I'm sorry, Glorfindel."

His father's seneschal shrugged, his pale face now wearing 
no expression at all.  "No matter.  It's all a part of the 
Hunt, isn't it?"

Elladan felt miserable, and for a moment cursed his 
brother's stupidity.  Ok, yes, keeping one's word was an 
important thing, but how blind was he not to see that some 
other things are far more so?  Please come back, Elrohir, 
he begged silently; you may just be running away from your 
best chance at what you've always wanted.  But the woods 
stayed silent, until, a few moments later, an immense shout 
echoed from the direction of the Last Homely House.  A 
moment after that, three trumpet blasts rang out, signaling 
the end of that years' Hunt.  "Elrohir, you're an idiot," 
Elladan murmured, as he watched Glorfindel walk slowly up 
the pathway towards the house.  "And for that matter, so am 
I."

TBC


Title: Hunter and Prey, 7/7
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: That would be telling.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda.
Warnings: Slash.
Archiving: Anyone who wants it, just let me know.
A/N:  This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken 
story arc, although some of the characterizations are 
eerily similar.  Thanks to those who reviewed!.

*   *   *

Elrond knew something was wrong as soon as he saw his 
youngest son come pelting down the main forest path towards 
the finish line.  He was running fleet as a deer despite 
holding the awkward standard in his hand, while a whole 
host of elves tried to catch up with him.  It was obvious 
to Elrond that they would not be able to do so, for Elrohir 
had too much of a head start, and he glanced down from the 
balcony to see an expression of surprised delight flood 
Erestor's face as he came to the same conclusion.  His 
secretary smirked up at him before beginning to thread his 
way through the suddenly tense crowd of spectators towards 
the finish line.

Elrond scanned the elves running behind his son, but there 
was no sign of Glorfindel, although an infuriated looking 
Legolas appeared near the back of the group.   Elrond left 
his chair and, heedless of his dignity, dropped off the 
edge of the parapet and landed lightly on the ground.  By 
the time he'd made his way through the crowd, however, an 
ugly scene had already broken out.

"But . . . but you have to!," Elrohir was yelling at a 
flushed Erestor. "It's part of the rules!  I can declare 
myself a substitute for anyone I choose!"

In his agitation, Elrohir was flailing his arms about, 
causing the standard he still gripped to wave in wide arcs.  
The onlookers just ducked whenever the staff came flying at 
their heads, however, instead of moving back; they weren't 
going to miss witnessing this even in spite of a risk of 
decapitation.  Elrond was about to order them back for 
their own safety when Erestor's next words caused every 
other thought to fly from his head.

"The rules are whatever I say they are.  I am Hunt Master 
this year, young Elrohir, if you will recall?  And I am 
awarding the crown of victory to you."  He moved forward 
and tried to place a golden circlet on Elrohir's dusty 
locks, but the young elf knocked his hand away.  The crown 
went flying, but Elrond plucked it from the air rather 
handily and moved closer.

Elrond stared in surprise as he reached Erestor's side.  
His usually natty secretary was disheveled to a degree that 
had never before been seen.  He'd lost one of the heels to 
his fashionable boots, causing him to have to stand at an 
awkward angle.  The cravat of his once nice silk shirt was 
askew, most of it bunched under his left ear, and his 
buckskins were torn in several places.  He had a rather 
fevered look in his eyes, but also the air of someone who 
has triumphed over numerous obstacles and now sees the end 
of his trial in sight.  Elrond had a sudden sinking 
sensation in his stomach; he somehow did not think Erestor 
was going to be reasonable.

Elrohir did not seem to have noticed the ominous signs, 
however, and was glaring at Erestor with every indication 
of the onset of a tantrum the likes of which had not been 
seen since the twins were toddlers.  Before he could begin 
to tell the secretary what he thought of him, however, his 
pack of pursuers slammed into the crowd at the finish line, 
throwing some bystanders to the ground, and all of them 
seemed to have something to say at once.  The cacophony was 
increased a few second later when the Imladris guards 
became aware of just what Elrohir was trying to do and 
began roaring their displeasure.

Elrond usually had no difficulty establishing order by his 
mere presence alone, but tempers were flying so high at the 
moment that he doubted most people were even aware that he 
was there.  Deciding to revert to an old battlefield 
tactic, he climbed up on one of the herald's shoulders and, 
grabbing his trumpet, sent an ear splitting blast echoing 
across the field.  It caused most of the crowd to cry out 
in pain and cover their sensitive ears, but it also got 
their attention.  "If we may adjourn to the chamber?," 
Elrond asked after a few seconds, and without waiting to 
see that he was followed, stomped off in the direction of 
the council hall in high annoyance.

It took almost half an hour, but at last something 
resembling an orderly session was achieved.  Elrond ignored 
the hundreds of elves who had crowded into the small open 
courtyard and the many others sitting on nearby roofs and 
hanging off balconies.  His attention was focused on the 
sorry looking group standing before him in the circle's 
center.  It was to his utter annoyance that his two sons 
looked far the most disreputable of the lot.  Elladan was 
sporting two black eyes and his nose looked to be slightly 
off center, which had certainly not been the case that 
morning.  Elrohir looked as if he had tried to clean 
himself up at some point, but rings of black smoke still 
clung on around his eyes, giving him the slightly startled 
look of a raccoon caught in some nefarious midnight 
escapade.  Indeed, out of the rest of the group that 
included Haldir and his two brothers, Glorfindel, Erestor, 
a representative of the guards, and Legolas, only the 
latter was his usual pristine self.  Everyone else looked 
like a pack of men crawling in from a two-day bender, a 
fact Elrond barely refrained from pointing out to them.  
Things were bad enough without adding to the already huge 
gossip potential here.

"All right.  I will ask a question of a particular person, 
and that person--and he alone--will answer, am I clearly 
understood?"  The group looked defiant, but all stiffly 
nodded.  Arguing with the master of Imladris when he was 
obviously in a snit was not a smart move.  "Very well.  
Elrohir, I believe you had a petition for the Hunt Master?"

"It isn't a petition!," Elrohir commented, moving forward a 
step and resuming his glare at Erestor.  "It's my right and 
he knows it!"

"Erestor?," Elrond repressed a sigh at the mutinous look on 
his secretary's face.

"Lord Elrond, as you know, the position of Hunt Master was 
put in place forty years after the origination of the Hunt 
to guard against just such an incident as this.  It has 
always been custom . . . "

"But not a requirement!"  A red faced Elrohir broke in, 
seemingly even more incensed over the condescending tone in 
the Hunt Master's voice.

Elrond really couldn't blame him, as, much as he loved 
Erestor, even he had to admit that the elf could be 
extremely irritating when in one of his more sanctimonious 
moods. "Let him finish, Elrohir," Elrond chided, and was 
rewarded by a smirk from his lover.  He sighed inwardly.  
Erestor would be less pleased later on.

"Thank you, Lord Elrond.  Now, as I was saying, it has 
always been customary for any substitutions to be announced 
PRIOR to the game.  Legolas' request that Glorfindel take 
his place in the Hunt was therefore allowed as perfectly 
right and proper, as long as Glorfindel agreed, which of 
course he did."  A low growl came from the direction of the 
guards at this reminder, but Erestor ignored it.  "However, 
no request was made or even mentioned about Elrohir 
becoming in turn Glorfindel's substitute, and indeed, as 
Glorfindel himself participated in the Hunt, allowing it 
would be in effect placing TWO Glorfindels on the field, 
giving him an unfair advantage over the other Hunters."

The guard on Erestor's right clapped him on the back in 
approval, and for the first time that day, the Imladris' 
guards were shooting looks of admiration in his direction.  
Elrond knew perfectly well why this was, of course, for if 
Elrohir was awarded the crown in his own right, then 
Imladris could claim the victory, something that would go 
to Mirkwood if the honor went to Glorfindel.

"Do you have anything to say about Lord Erestor's 
pronouncement, Lord Glorfindel?"  Elrond could not, in 
truth, see a way out of this himself, but hoped the game's 
traditional master might be familiar with some loophole he 
had missed.

His hopes were dashed the next minute, however, when 
Glorfindel distractedly murmured a negative.  Elrond felt 
slightly put out with him, as he barely seemed to be paying 
attention.  Instead, he kept glancing at Elrohir, who 
blushed every time their eyes met and hastily looked away.  
At Glorfindel's comment, however, Elrohir stared at him in 
amazement and the two exchanged what could only be regarded 
as a significant look.  Elrond felt the beginnings of a 
headache start behind his eyes, and decided that he really 
didn't want to know what might be going on there.  He could 
only be grateful that Celebrian was not around, as she 
would not react well to the hint that she could not expect 
grandchildren from yet another of her children.

"Well, then, my Lord, I take it that my ruling stands?"  
Erestor was looking smug.  Elrond would have liked to choke 
him, but decided that events would soon mete out much more 
punishment than anything he could do.

"Very well, Erestor," Elrond gave in as gracefully as 
possible under the circumstances.  "I hereby confer the 
title of Master Hunter on Elrohir of Imladris, to be held 
until he shall be called upon to defend his title exactly 
one year from today."  At the announcement, a surge of 
people, some laughing, some grimacing, and all seemingly 
wanting to talk at once, converged on Elrohir, who was 
quickly lost in the sea of heads.   Elrond sat back on his 
throne and caught Legolas' eye across the hall.  The imp 
sighed with a hand to his heart, then shrugged and blew him 
a kiss before disappearing from the room.  Erestor, who had 
fled the circle to avoid even more jostling, smirked at 
Elrond, having obviously caught the display.  Elrond just 
shook his head.  Poor Erestor.  He almost felt sorry for 
him.

*   *   *

Elladan sat on his bed and looked with distaste at the 
sumptuous robes laid out for that evening's feast.  It was 
tradition that all Hunters attend, and usually he was 
pleased to do so.  It was a merry affair enlivened by tall 
tales of supposed exploits (which this year might even be 
true as it would be hard to outdo the facts).  It was 
normally a happy and relaxed way to end the festivities.  
This year, however, his mood hardly permitted him to look 
forward to it, as he would certainly be expected to recount 
his "heroics" to the laughing crowd.  He had no desire to 
look the fool any further, nor to see Haldir, whose mood 
was unknown but was unlikely to be good.

He sighed, and began pulling the burnt umber satin over his 
head.  He supposed he should go if for no other reason than 
to offer moral support to Elrohir, who was almost certainly 
going to be given a hard time by the guards.  Of course, he 
HAD won them the title, which might mitigate their 
annoyance somewhat, but then, as he'd been awarded it only 
over his loud protestations and after teaming up with the 
elf whose performance he was supposed to be undermining, 
things could get a bit tense.  Elladan felt responsible for 
his brother's participation in the whole lamentable affair 
in the first place, and couldn't leave him at the mercy of 
the guards all night.

He checked his reflection and batted a stray braid out of 
his face.  He refused to attempt any special enhancements, 
as elaborate braiding would only draw more attention to his 
battered face; it had now turned a brilliant purple and 
orange that, oddly, complemented his robes.  He grinned 
weakly; did he know how to accessorize or what?

Leaving his rooms behind, Elladan walked a few doors down 
to his brother's chambers.  They could go to the ball 
together and present a united front to any detractors.  Not 
accustomed to knocking at his brother's door, which was 
always open to him, Elladan sailed right on in, wondering 
if he'd have to fish Elrohir out from under the bed and 
force him to go.  It would only be worse if they postponed 
the inevitable, after all.  "Come on, Elrohir, hiding won't 
do any . . . "

Elladan broke off in utter shock, staring at the two 
figures on the bed, who scrambled for clothes and coverlet, 
but not quickly enough.  Elrohir looked, well, thoroughly 
debauched, with his bottom lip red and swollen and his body 
gleaming with some sort of edible oil--peppermint, by the 
smell.  His partner seemed more concerned with covering 
Elrohir to save him embarrassment than in hiding his own 
condition, which was . . . impressive.  Elladan had never 
viewed his old tutor as a sex object before, but quickly 
considered updating that opinion as Glorfindel, blond hair 
mussed and face flushed, stood to order him from the room.  
Elladan whistled in admiration, but quickly brought himself 
under control as the glare directed his way promised 
retribution later.  He briefly considered pointing out that 
their absence from the ball would certainly be commented 
upon, but thought better of it as Elrohir threw a pillow at 
his head.  He decided that they couldn't go in their 
current state anyway, for even properly dressed and 
coiffured, there could be no doubt about their recent 
activities.  They both looked far too . . . energized.

With a broad grin breaking out over his face, Elladan spun 
smartly on his heel and made a rapid exit, but not before 
glancing back to see Elrohir reach up and pull his new 
lover back into his arms.  Well, perhaps the day hadn't 
been an entire disaster, after all.  In somewhat renewed 
spirits, Elladan started down the hall towards the 
ballroom.  He would bluster his way through this alone 
somehow; after all, he consoled himself, it is only one 
night and will soon pass.  He had worked himself up to 
quite a state of bravado by the time he reached the top of 
the stairs, and was concentrating on the exact wording of a 
few choice put downs for the guards, when he was jerked 
inside a nearby room and slammed against the wall.

"What the . . . "  A warm tongue stopped further comments 
and a hard body melted against his own.  Elladan was a 
fairly practiced seducer himself, and therefore tried to 
pay attention to the technique used to strip him out of his 
robes without breaking bodily contact, but was never able 
afterwards to explain it.  He felt a warm hand between his 
bare thighs, pushing them open, and a waft of peppermint in 
the air--what, had there been a sale?--right before he was 
penetrated by someone who most definitely knew what they 
were doing.  He would have protested--they hadn't even had 
dinner yet--but intense sensations were soon interfering 
with normal brain activity.  What the hell, he finally 
decided, wrapping his legs tightly around whoever-it-was 
and holding on for the ride, he hadn't wanted to go to the 
damn ball anyway.

Quite some time later found Elladan sitting atop a puddle 
of umber satin--which would most definitely need to be 
cleaned--and staring at the dimly lit profile of Haldir of 
Lorien.  He thought up several witty things to say, then 
abandoned all of them as he was not sure what had just 
happened here.  He half expected Haldir to get up, make 
some casual remark about having paid in full, and take off, 
leaving Elladan to locate another robe and come up with a 
good excuse for being late.  When that didn't happen, he 
found himself at a loss to know what to say, and this was 
such a novelty in itself as to further confuse him.

"So, er, no hard feelings?"

Haldir looked at him in silence for a few seconds, then 
grabbed him round the neck and pulled him close once more.  
"Elladan, you are SUCH a prat," he murmured, before 
dragging him into another deep kiss.  Well, all right then.

*   *   *

"I kept you from doing something incredibly foolish, 
Elrond, but not without exerting a considerable amount of 
energy and undergoing all sorts of calumnies in the 
process.  I hope this whole unfortunate affair has taught 
you a lesson."  Erestor pointedly kept his back to his 
lord, concentrating instead on watching through the study 
window as Legolas Greenleaf and his entourage rode out of 
Imladris.  Apparently, Thranduil's youngest had decided a 
quick retreat might be prudent, as too many people had 
noticed his return with the other Hunters.  No doubt he was 
off to arrange a convincing cover story before his father 
heard any unfortunate rumors.  And good riddance, too, 
Erestor thought glumly.  Thranduil's youngest was a walking 
temptation to all who saw him, and his presence never 
failed to cause some type of uproar.  Beauty like that 
should be banned.

Erestor felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and the next 
moment a familiar pair of lips were nuzzling his neck.  He 
shifted, caught between irritation and pleasure, but ire 
won out and he moved away, doing up the collar of his 
formal attire as he did so.  "We don't have time for that 
now; you know perfectly well that you have a ball to host."  
He glanced at Elrond and wrinkled his nose.  "You need to 
get cleaned up; being fashionably late is one thing, but it 
is shortly going to appear that you don't care about your 
guests."

"I don't."  Elrond, still clad in his casual amethyst robes 
from the morning, walked over to the bar and poured himself 
a drink.  "They have been quite well entertained today, I 
think, and there is food, drink and music enough for them 
to fully enjoy the farewell gala without me."

Erestor humphed; he should have expected this.  "Just 
because you lost . . ."

Elrond quirked an eyebrow at him.  "Is that what you think?  
That I'm being a sore loser?"

Erestor fidgeted, playing with a corner of his sapphire 
robes.  He didn't really like bright colors, especially for 
evening wear, but Elrond had given the ensemble to him and 
he'd thought it diplomatic to use it.  "Well, you seemed 
upset all day; what else am I to think?"

Elrond chuckled and poured himself a refill.  "Actually, 
Erestor, I am just feeling sorry for you.  It was quite an 
opportunity and now . . . "

Erestor glowered from under his perfectly plucked brows.  
"Opportunity?  You know, Elrond, I thought we had a better 
understanding than this, I really did.  If you've . . .
well . . . tired of me, and want to move on to someone new, 
you could simply say so, you know.  All this betting 
business . . . I hate to say it, but it was really rather 
common of you."  Erestor wasn't in the habit of speaking so 
freely to his lord, but he had been deeply hurt by Elrond's 
suggestion.

"Melethryn!," Elrond set down his glass and came over to 
pull the reluctant secretary into his arms.  "You know I 
love you.  Why would I want anyone else?  You are confusing 
things, Erestor."

Erestor bit his lip, but did not relax into the encircling 
arms.  It was time they had this out.  Tearing away, he 
went over to the bar and tried to give himself something to 
do by pouring some wine, but he only managed to slosh it 
all over the place.  Giving up, he set the bottle down with 
a thump and turned to glare at Elrond, hurt tears 
shimmering in his black eyes.  "Then why all this?!  Why 
did you even bring up having someone else share our bed, if 
you are not tired of me?  I would never make such a 
suggestion to you!"  Elrond's lips quirked, and Erestor 
briefly contemplated throwing the bottle at him, but it was 
too good a vintage to waste.  "If you will excuse me, my 
lord," he said stiffly, "I believe I have duties to attend 
to."

He tried to sweep from the room, but Elrond caught him by 
the upper arm before he could do so and pulled him into 
another embrace.  "Erestor, listen to me," and the sound of 
his voice and the brush of a hand through Erestor's hair 
was deliberately soothing.  "I was approached by someone at 
last year's Hunt, asking if you were . . . available.  This 
person found you, how did he put it now?  'Exotic and 
enticing,' I believe were the terms used.  But not wanting 
to cause any unpleasantness by upsetting my chief advisor, 
and, I suspect, not wishing to embarrass himself were you 
already attached, he came to me for advice.  I gently 
commented that I thought you were, er, otherwise occupied, 
and that it might be well if he looked elsewhere for his 
entertainment."

Erestor looked up uncomprehendingly, as he couldn't see 
what any of this had to do with Elrond's ridiculous bet.  
"I felt," his lord continued, "perfectly justified in 
telling him this, for surely you and I are very satisfied 
with our relationship.  But I couldn't help but notice 
during the rest of the Hunt that your eyes were prone to 
linger on the individual in question, and his on you.  I 
began to feel that I might be depriving you of a memorable 
experience, a fact which didn't seem fair considering that 
you have never attempted to interfere with my and 
Celebrian's relationship.  And so, I began to reconsider."

Elrond laughed at his secretary's scandalized expression, 
and dropped a kiss on his full, red lips.  "And so, when 
the time neared for this year's Hunt, I began to wonder how 
I could make the offer to you without having you feel that 
you were in any way betraying me by accepting.  After a 
time I thought I had it, and last month approached you with 
the idea of a threesome, but seeing your immediate 
distress, I dropped the subject.  I have known you long, 
Erestor, and have never known you to be one to try new 
things easily, so I wondered if your refusal was one 
genuinely meant, or simply because of your tendency to 
favor the tried and true over the unknown.  In the end, I 
decided to approach your admirer with the idea and see how 
he took to it, for if he declined there was no point in 
going on any further.  But he seemed to be extremely, er, 
positive, about the idea, and so the only question left was 
how to persuade you to agree.  I admit the ruse about the 
bet was a tacky one, but it occurred to me so suddenly that 
I had done it before I fully thought about how you might 
perceive the offer."

Elrond kissed his lover on top of the head before moving 
away to retrieve his glass.  "But I entirely understand 
now, my dear Erestor, that you genuinely did not want 
anything to do with my scheme, and of course I respect your 
wishes. But I hope you will understand that it was well 
meant, and not hold it against me or Legolas.  He does so 
admire you, you know."

"L-Legolas?"  Erestor sat down rather suddenly on the edge 
of the window seat, his head spinning.  Elrond and Legolas, 
at one time, seeing to his pleasure . . . and he had turned 
it down?!

The cry of anguish could be heard as far away as the 
stables, where it caused a mini stampede among the horses.  
It perhaps explains why no one wanted to question too 
deeply why the host, winner and several key players at that 
year's most memorable Hunt, never did show up for the 
farewell ball.

The End