In Twilight

A/N: Another big thank you to my wonderful beta reader, Ilye. Many apologizes for having touched a number of your pet peeves of slash writing in just three chapters, love! Forgive me; I'll make to correct as many as I can in future chapters.
And a big thanks to all the readers who have been keeping up with this story and my others. For those wondering, yes there is more coming to Starry Sky as soon as I finish studying for/taking the GREs. Getting into graduate school is a pain and a half, but I'll be back to writing when it's done so please be patient a little longer.

/ / denotes thoughts.
~~~~~~~~~~ denotes changes in scene or POV.


Chapter 3: Target Practice
Summary: Not wishing to be idle while staying in Mirkwood, Elladan and Elrohir decide to join the sons of Thranduil in their daily practices with the border patrol.

Nearly two weeks had passed since Elladan and Elrohir had arrived in Mirkwood. They found their stay most enjoyable, spending time recounting tales of hunts and feasts to eager young elflings fascinated with the dark twins, or spending hours in the small but engaging library, reading up on Sindarian lore that they could not find in their father’s vast study or library. Some days they spent riding in the area surrounding the elf home. They were amazed at the aged trees that covered the Greenwood forest, marveling at the natural beauty of the place. Mirkwood was similar to Imladris, yet different all the same. The old trees made them feel like children again as, at times, they would abandon their steeds and attempt to climb the aged oaks, beeches, birches and cedars.

But, after a time, the twins found themselves becoming weary of such activities, and sought out new ones lest they become restless and idle. They were eager to hunt, especially if the target were Orcish in origin, but knew that, while they stayed in Mirkwood, Thranduil was their guardian; this was his realm and they were guests, so his rules and orders would be obeyed. Asking the king to allow the twins to ride in his border patrol would be out of the question. Deciding they needed some physical activities to strengthen their limbs and weary their minds, Elladan and Elrohir set out with bows and quivers in tow into one of Mirkwood’s designated target spots. They were laughing as they recounting their training years in Imladris before their majority as they neared the spot, only to find themselves faced with the three woodland princes and a band of young apprentice patrol guards.

“Elladan, Elrohir, what brings you out and about this early after morning meal?” Arondil greeted as the twins approached, clad in the garments of Imladris’ border patrol. Though it might have been more practical to wear the greens and browns of Mirkwood, they found it much more comfortable to wear the colors of their home, and the garments they had spent so long breaking in. The princes didn’t seem to mind, and their young charges seemed awed by the dark pair.

“Restlessness, meldir,” Elrohir replied. “We grow weary of a still life. Our father is a lore master, and, while we enjoy company among numerous scrolls and books, the outdoors suits us better. We need something to occupy our minds and strengthen our limbs. Tis a pleasant day, and some archery will do us a world of good.”

“You have made impeccable time then,” Celeron said with a smile, gesturing to the half-dozen patrol apprentices gathered behind him. Young eyes were fixed on the dark elves in wonder and amazement, for few elves of Mirkwood possessed the dark complexion both twins sported, nor had any of them seen twins so alike. “Today is when these elflings are to learn the way of the bow. Perhaps a demonstration from marksmen of the valley will give them a sight to behold, for I am told Imladrian elves are as quick as those of both these woods and the golden one.”

“Is that a challenge I hear?” Elrohir asked with a grin, eyes twinkling as he turned to his brother, who gave him a similar smirk.

“I dare say it is! But nay, not against myself. I am only a fair shot, far better with the sword than my bow. Perhaps Legolas would make a more worthy challenge.”

“Again you flatter me, gwanur-nîn,” the youngest prince said, leaning casually upon his bow. Yet his eyes sparkled in mirth as Elladan found himself almost drowning in their very depths. “And you are being modest. I accept your challenge, with grace. Though I warn you, I am counted among the best archers her the the Greenwood. Few can best my precise aim.”

“And Elladan is the best in Imladris,” Elrohir countered, a devilish grin spreading across his features as he noticed his brother gaping at him. “Many an Orc have tried to run from us, but all were felled by the strumming of Elladan‘s bow and the swift flight of his arrows.” A deep flush colored the tips of Elladan’s ears in his embarrassment; he could not believe his brother had just accepted a challenge for him! Nor could he imagine Elrohir to ever be bragging about his accomplishments. Before he could say something, however, he found Legolas’ eyes trained on him.

“What say you, Elladan?” he asked. Swallowing thickly, Elladan stilled his breathing, his hands clenching for a moment around his bow before he turned eyes to the prince.

“I accept,” he said simply, watching as delight registered across Legolas’ delicate face. He felt another flush creeping up on him, but willed it away as he watched the golden-tressed prince slip a green feathered arrow from his quiver, nocking it to his bowstring before drawing back. His movements were elegant, his eyes fixed on their target, a thick beech tree nearly three hundred feet away. It would see that he had practiced his technique for centuries until the motions became flawless and graceful, his aim precise. There was but a second’s pause before he released, the arrow whistling faintly in the air before stabbing into the bark with a faint thud. Applause erupted around the young prince as it was noted he had struck the notch in the wood he had been aiming for.

“Impressive,” Elladan said as Legolas stepped back, allowing the dark-haired warrior to take his turn.

~~~~~~~~~~

Legolas found it difficult to keep his eyes still as he stood behind Elladan, watching as the warrior took his turn. He had been fascinated by the dark, enchanting beauty since the moment he had ridden up with his brother. Elrohir, too, was just as enticing, but there was something in Elladan that Legolas found most appealing, yet he could not determine what it was he was drawn to. The young prince often found himself fighting his own rising blush as Elladan colored whenever he felt he was being embarrassed in some fashion. Often times the prince would catch himself gazing down at the warrior from his balcony as Elladan and Elrohir explored his family’s kingdom. As each day passed, he found it more and more difficult to keep his eyes anywhere except trained on the elder twin.

As Elladan made ready his shot, Legolas found his eyes roaming the other’s body as they have done many times before. The peredhel twin was tall--slightly taller than most elves. In the last couple of weeks, Legolas had noticed that the twins were slightly less keen to sounds and smells than the other elves were, sometimes noticing how they shivered faintly when a particularly cold night breeze blew. Such behavior he also attributed to the mannish blood in them. However, as he watched, he noted that Elladan still retained his elven elegance, his movements light and graceful as he planted his feet and set up his shot. The muscles of his back could be seen growing taut through his dark wine-colored tunic as he drew back his bow, the elven instrument creaking just faintly. He paused for a mere heartbeat before releasing the string with a twang, the arrow sailing in the air before stabbing next to Legolas’, a mere hair’s breadth to the right of the notch. A unified intake of breath was heard, for none thus far had come so close to the prince’s arrow before. The twin shot another arrow a moment later, this one landing just a notch above his own, and closer to the prince’s. This they knew he had done to prove his first shot was not some luck of the draw.

“Well done!” Arondil exclaimed, coming forward and clapping Elladan firmly on the shoulder whilst the apprentices circled the princes and their guests. “Never have I see such a shot from another other than my brother. You are indeed a great marksmen Elladan.”

“Now I must say you are flattering me,” Elladan replied. “Twas luck, nothing more. Legolas is still a better shot.”

“You humble yourself far too much, gwanur-nîn,” Elrohir said with a snort. “Come now, even Glorfindel cannot best you, and he taught you! Sometimes I believe you are far too modest for your own good.”

“I concur,” Legolas said. “From my point of view, that was an excellent shot. But how are you at swordplay?”

“Do I hear yet another challenge?” Elladan asked, his brother’s devilish grin now coming to him. Legolas’ silvery voice broke out into peals of laughter, a sound Elladan wished he could hear many more times.

“I do believe so,” the young prince replied. “But not against me. Nay, I am good with the sword, but Celeron is better. A trial against him would be far more entertaining. Do you not agree, Arondil?”

“Aye, this I would like to see,” the eldest replied. “Celeron can be arrogant, if I might say so.”

“You may not!” Celeron exclaimed, folding his arms across his chest with a huff. “I am merely an excellent swordsman, who has not discovered a worthy opponent yet. It is not my fault I have a naturally keen talent with the blade, one few can compare to, much less overpower.”

“See? Arrogance indeed.” Arondil’s teasing words brought a pout to his brother. Such a childish action brought laughter to the group.

“Perhaps I may cut that arrogance down to size, so to speak,” Elladan said with a bit of mirth in his voice.

“Ha! We shall see! Draw your sword!” Celeron then proceeded to draw his own blade, doing so with an elaborate flourish that sent another ring of laughter through the group. Obliging him, Elladan handed his bow and quiver to his brother as he drew his own sword, the silver blade glittering in the light, bringing out the golden vines etched along the sword’s length in sharp contrast. He allowed Celeron the first strike, parrying with ease before making one of his own as the rest of the group settled themselves onto the forest floor or fallen logs nearby, giving the opponents adequate space to duel within.

Their exchange continued, a smile creeping across Celeron’s face as he noticed he had indeed found a worthy opponent. Elladan was aware of him and the swings of his blade, but his attention was focused elsewhere. He was more aware of a pair of eyes trained to his back, the same pair he had felt on his person while he set up his shot. Knowing who they belonged to, Elladan could feel his heartbeat quicken as he thought of Legolas watching him intently. What was it about the slightly younger elf that drew so much of Elladan’s attention? Was it his beautiful voice, or his equally beautiful face? Elladan wasn’t sure, never aware of the growing emotion blossoming within himself.

Likewise, Legolas was unaware of the same emotion flooding his chest, his person. He found himself gazing endlessly at the dark form sparring with his brother. His hands clenched and unclenched on his knees every time Elladan narrowly avoided the swing of Celeron’s sword, always stepping aside at the last moment. The young prince unknowingly chewed the inside of his cheek as he watched in anticipation, and a touch of apprehension, growing uneasy from his seat on the fallen log. He misread Elladan’s sudden stumble as a trip over an unexpected root, but his left hand companion knew otherwise.

Elrohir’s eyes were also trained on his brother, but he read something in his movements that Legolas could not. Elladan was slightly sluggish in his moves; normally he was quick and rarely lost his footing. The narrow misses had worried Elrohir, since his brother usually avoided such blows long before the other ever thought of making such a move. He began to wonder whether or not his twin was feeling well that day when he caught the sudden flicker of Elladan’s eyes directly to his right. He turned to the young prince seated next to him, quickly noting the apprehensive state Legolas seemed to be in as he completely ignored Elrohir‘s stare. Realization suddenly dawned on the younger twin. He had noticed his brother becoming a little more absentminded each day since their arrival in Mirkwood. Only Elrohir would notice Elladan’s awkward silence when his brother was normally lively and loved conversation. He began to wonder. Might his brother be…? But, if so, Elladan didn’t seem to realize it himself yet. And if he were, might Legolas also…? It would seem so as he observed the young prince.

Elrohir suddenly became aware of a pair of ocean-blue eyes peering at him over Legolas’ head. His gray gaze locked with Arondil’s, the other smiling at him, unnoticed by his sibling. It was a mischievous smile, one Elrohir knew quite well. So, someone else was suspecting the same as him. His eyes twinkled, bringing a nod from the other. Wordlessly they agreed to let things run their course, but when they got impatient then, and only then, would they intervene on their respective brother’s behalf.

“Ha!” The sudden shout brought both Elrohir and Arondil back to the present in time to see Elladan clip Celeron with the flat of hladelade on the other’s backside as he stepped aside to avoid a blow. With a yelp, the silver haired prince fell unceremoniously onto the forest floor, spitting out dirt and leaves. His look of utter surprise and shock only sufficed to bring laughter to the group around him. Sheepishly, he accepted the hand Elladan offered and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

“I have been bested this day,” Celeron said with a dramatic sigh and a flourish of his hand. “I have met my match. Do with me as you will. Have your way with me as I am at your command. But please, be gentle.” His suddenly feminine act brought more laughter and merriment to the group, so much so that it took some time before they quieted down again.

“My brothers, it seems we have some real competition on our hands,” Arondil said, rising from his seat, and clapping Elladan on the shoulder again. “It would appear that Imladrian elves are well-versed in the art of war craft, as well as lore. We have some fine warriors in our midst.”

“You flatter us with your words,” Elrohir said, the twinkle still in his eyes. “Today was merely a stroke of luck for Elladan to come so near to Legolas’ mark and best Celeron at his own game. Another day might prove otherwise.”

“Are you saying you won by mere luck?” Elrohir grinned at Arondil’s challenging tone, a silent understanding passing between the two.

“Nay, for I say on any other day we both would have bested you twice over.” Arondil laughed in response.

“And they call us arrogant. So be it! I invite you to accompany us each day as we train the apprentices. Perhaps we shall become friends, or maybe more.”

“I accept!” Eln stn stared in surprise at his brother and his eagerness to accept the offer. He knew his twin too well; Elrohir was planning something, and Elladan got the funny feeling it revolved around him. He turned to see Legolas gaping at his own brother in a similar fashion. It would seem the youngest twin and the eldest prince were indeed cooking up something in their minds.

/This stay,/ Elladan thought as the twins and princes turned their attentions to schooling the patrol apprentices, /is turning out to be the best decision Ada ever forced us into. Can it get any better than this?/


Translations:
Meldir-Friend
Gwanur-nîn-My brother