This time, Legolas is ten and Arwen is seven.

-

Legolas carefully slid towards the group of young maidens sitting on a blanket in the heart of the gardens. He couched in the bushes, his hands cupped gently around his wriggling captive.

When all the unsuspecting victims were leaning in to pick pastries off an ornamental platter, Legolas struck. He tossed his prisoner - his rather large prisoner, by Imladris standards - straight onto the plate, where its eight legs scrambled for hold and a way to escape the light.

As one, the ladies shrieked and launched themselves away from the spider. Or almost as one, anyway. Arwen, the hostess of the little tea-party, watched the bushes where Legolas was hiding with narrow, fiery eyes.

Legolas took a step backwards from her glare, even though he knew she could not see him. A stick snapped, a leaf rustled, and his position was revealed. Her eyes whipped directly to him, and he dove out of the shrubbery and took off running.

“Legolas!” She howled behind him, and promptly snatched up a cream-filled pastry and sprinted after him, prepared to inflict serious damage with it.

-