Fanfic100: JRR Tolkien - Elladan/Elrohir

Title: The Mistake

Author: Minuial Nuwing

Fandom: JRR Tolkien

Characters: Elladan Peredhil/Elrohir Peredhil

Type: FPGen

Prompt: 033 – Too much

Word Count: 591

Rating: G

Summary: A prank backfires, and Elrohir pays the price.

Disclaimer: Only the quirks and perversions are mine. Everything else belongs

to the creator-god of Middle Earth, J.R.R. Tolkien. I am awed by his gifts and humbled by

his vision. I promise to clean them all up and return them with smiles on their faces

when I am done playing!

Author's Notes: None, except the fluff gets pretty deep.

*************************

The Mistake

~Imladris 480 III~

Elrond lifted the quill in mid-stroke, his attention drawn by the agonized groans

issuing from the anteroom. Someone was in pain. Surely the staff should have directed

the injured elf to the Healing Halls rather than the Elf-lord’s study...

Another poorly stifled yelp interrupted his annoyed musings and Elrond rose swiftly to

his feet. ‘I know that voice,’ he thought, his heart skipping a beat as he flung

open the door to the front chamber. “’Rohir! What has happened, ionen? Where are you

injured?”

“My shoulder,” Elrohir ground out, his lips pale in a nearly colorless face. Despite

the young elf-knight’s best efforts, a hissing moan escaped as his father gently probed

the tense muscles.

“It is dislocated,” Elrond announced briskly. “The arm must be reseated, and soon.

‘Adan, fetch the miruvor from my desk. And a glass.”

Carefully releasing his brother, the elder twin hurried to do his father’s bidding,

returning quickly with the cordial and a large goblet. “I could not find...” he began,

but his apology was waved away by the distracted Elf-lord.

“This will serve well,” Elrond said, pouring the wineglass nearly full of miruvor.

“Drink this, pen neth.”

“’Tis rather a big glass, Ada,” Elladan offered, his eyes wide. Though his personal

experience with the fiery cordial was scant, he had seen much consumed over the

centuries. And this was no ordinary serving his brother was sucking down greedily.

“’Twill be rather a big pain,” the healer retorted. Taking the empty glass from his

younger son, he smoothed Elrohir’s tousled hair soothingly, biding his time until the

first flush of color brightened the elf-knight’s face and the bunched muscles began to

relax under his searching fingers.

“Hold him, ionen,” the Elf-lord instructed, sparing an encouraging glance for the

elder twin. Laying both hands on the injured shoulder, he closed his eyes, willing a

wave of healing energy into his son’s body. Then, with a forceful tug and twist, he

settled the arm back into place.

A cry unlike any Elladan had ever heard burst from Elrohir’s mouth, his body suddenly

rigid before going limp in Elladan’s arms. Tears standing in his own eyes, the young elf

looked to his father. “Ada? What...”

“’Tis alright,” Elrond reassured him. “He has lost consciousness, but all will be

well. I must bind the arm to his side for a time, so that the shoulder may heal.” As

he worked at fashioning a sling and swathe for his younger son, the Elf-lord turned an

inquisitive gaze on the elder. “How did this come about, ‘Adan?”

“He fell from the barn loft.”

Looking at his son in amazement, Elrond raised one expressive eyebrow in a demand for

more detail.

”’Twas only to be a joke,” Elladan began, braving his father’s sigh to continue. “We

meant no harm. We thought to surprise Glorfindel, and swing from the haymow just as he

arrived, you see, dropping in front of him.”

“’Twould be something of a shock for the horse, as well,” the Elf-lord pointed out

mildly.

“Aye,” the elder twin admitted, his cheeks flushing. “But ‘twas no matter, because

just as we tied the knots, ‘Roh stumbled, grabbed the line and swung over the beam.”

“Your knots did not hold, then?” Elrond asked in surprise, his brow furrowing.

“Nay, they held,” Elladan replied, his cheeks burning even brighter.

“Then how in the name of Manwë did ‘Rohir end up on the ground?”

Elrohir’s eyes opened slightly, a lopsided grin spreading across his flushed face.

“Too much rope.”