The Forfeit
by SkyFire

Rating: PG
Summary: Glorfindel really should have known better.
Genre: Humor/angst...

1: In this ficlet, I'm making Elladan the older of the Twins. As far as I can remember, it was
never specified, so one guess is as good as another....

2: I had been reading a story somewhere, can't remember which one, and this little 'bunny
plopped itself into my head. It was just too wierd to let go. ;o)

3: Thoughts are in / /.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. *sob* Plotbunnies *are* mine, though. Don't steal 'em --
feed 'em! They like eating feedback/reviews! For that matter, so do I! ;o)

The Forfeit
by SkyFire

"Elladan, can I not just-"


"What about-"

"No, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel sighed, struggled to sit still as Elladan continued his actions, fidgeting at the
small tuggings at his hair as he stared straight ahead at one of the walls of his rooms in the
House of Elrond.

"What if I-"


The golden-haired Elf-lord sighed again, resigning himself to the day's humiliation, internally
railing at himself all the while.

//I know better than that,// Glorfindel thought ruefully, wincing as another section of his hair
was bent the wrong way by Elladan's hands. //I *know* that the only time Elladan offers a bet is
when he is *certain* he is going to win.//

Elladan smirked to himself as the Elf sitting in front of him fidgeted in place yet again. Then
his hands finished their task and he stood back to admire his handiwork. His smirk spread,
turned into a smile. His eyes sparkled with barely suppressed laughter.

"Finished, Glorfindel," he said simply.

Glorfindel looked over his shoulder at Elladan, frowning at both the twin's expression and the
way his hair moved. It was just *wrong*. //What did that smirking peredhel do to my hair??//
"Elladan-" he tried again.

But the twin only shook his head. "You agreed to the bet," he said, grinning. "It's too late to
change that now."

The blond sighed, then stood. He walked over to his mirror. He looked into the glass, stared,
eyes wide and horrified.

The laughter Elladan had been holding back escaped when he saw the look on Glorfindel's face.
Many long moments later he managed to get himself back under control. Wiping away tears of
laughter, he spoke. "You must leave your hair like that until after supper," he said with a grin,
"and you cannot hide here in your rooms all that time, or go around avoiding people. You must go
about your normal daily affairs."

"I know," the blond growled, body rigid and face red with humiliation. "But, Elladan, *pigtails*?"

It was true. The blond's hair had been parted straight down the middle, then gathered into one
ponytail sticking straight out on either side of his head. Together, they made the mighty
Elf-lord look....

"Elladan, I look like a child!" A last, desperate plea.

Elladan looked him over in amusement. "Yes." He stood, walked to the blond's door and opened it.
Halfway through it, he paused, looked back at the other. "It is nearly time for breakfast," he
said with a last grin, then left.

Glorfindel sighed once again, looked himself over in the mirror. He brushed imaginary wrinkles
from his tunic, then turned. Straightening his shoulders, he walked to the door that led out
into the hallway. Another pause to steady himself, then he stepped out of his room and made his
way down to breakfast.

One of the longest days of his life had begun.


//One more course, Glorfindel,// he thought to himself. //One more course. You can make it.//

The blond Elf-lord kept his eyes fixed on the table in front of him, not looking up to meet the
eyes of any of the other eaters. But not being able to see their reactions to him did not stop
him from overhearing the multitude of conversations his appearance had sparked. And it did not
help that delegations from three other Elven realms were sharing the table as well. They were
speaking amongst themselves with as much amusement as any from the Valley itself.

//One more course,// he repeated as the plates from the previous course were taken away prior to
the last course being brought in. //Elladan is lucky that Elrohir is between he and I, else
Elrond might have to extract my fork from his firstborn later....//

The one-time balrog-slayer grit his teeth as he waited impatiently for the meal to finish. Were
the servants taking more time than usual this evening?? Surely, they'd always been faster than

Elrond, sitting on the other side of the Twins from Glorfindel, was starting to worry that the
other's reddened face might be becoming permanent; he hadn't seen it otherwise all day. The Lord
of Rivendell cast a speculating glance at Elladan, then back at Glorfindel. When he had asked
the blond about his sudden change in hairstyle while they worked in his study as usual that day,
the only response he had gotten was a growled "Bet. Elladan won." and a *Look* that convinced
him that any further questions or comments on that subject would be a *bad* idea.

//One more course.// That was like to a mantra in Glorfindel's mind, endlessly repeating. //One
more course.// He let out a nearly silent sigh of relief when the dishes for the final course of
the supper were placed in front of the people seated at the table. //Nearly done,// he thought.
//And about time, too. If *one* *more* person had come up to me, flicked one of the ponytails
and told me how *cute* I looked....//

Elrohir looked over uncertainly as he heard a noise- was that a *growl*?? -from Glorfindel's
direction. The look on his one-time tutor's face convinced him that edging his chair over closer
to Elladan- and consequently away from Glorfindel -was a good idea.

Elladan looked to his brother as Elrohir moved closer to him, crowding him on that side.
"Elrohir, move over," he hissed quietly.

"Have you seen Glorfindel's face?" Elrohir whispered back. "I am *not* sitting closer to him
than I absolutely have to. Can you move over some more?"

Rolling his eyes slightly, Elladan didn't move his chair a single inch. "Elrohir, you're
exaggerating," he said, then cut off abruptly as he caught sight of the blond Elf-lord's face.
Glorfindel was staring at the fork in his hand, then at Elladan, with a speculative look on his
face, a- to Elladan, at least -sinister gleam in his eyes. He swallowed drily. "Maybe not," he

Elrond looked over as his sons both edged their chairs nearer to him, then moved their plates as
well. There was now a foot-wide gap between Elrohir and Glorfindel. Elrond shook his head
silently, his eyes dancing with amusement. Elladan would never learn, would he? The dark-haired
Lord of Imladris smirked faintly through the final course of supper as he thought of the ways
Glorfindel could get even with Elladan for the day's humiliation.

The last morsel of dessert had barely passed Elladan's lips when he stood, quickly asked to be
excused, then ran out of the dining hall without bothering to wait his father's permission,
Elrohir hot on his heels.

After that, the rest of the diners finished their desserts and left the hall both singly and in
small groups to go to their rooms and freshen up before gathering together again in the Hall of
Fire as was Elrond's custom.

Elrond himself remained seated as his guests left, until only he and Glorfindel remained in the

Glorfindel swallowed the last bite of his food, wiped at his mouth with his napkin, then looked
around the room. Seeing that no one save Elrond was there, the blond's hands reached at once for
his hair and the ties placed there by Elladan. Several pulled hairs and choice curses later, his
hair was freed of its unnatural confinement. He let out an audible sigh of relief, then looked
over at Elrond's soft, rumbling chuckle, raising one golden eyebrow in question.

"You look a mess," Elrond said simply.

It was true. Finally released from its unusual confinement, Glorfindel's hair was a tangled mess
that stood well out to either side of the Elf-lord's head.

Glorfindel growled, tried to comb his hair back into place with his fingers, failing miserably.
He scowled. "I am going to get him for this," he muttered. Then he seemed to remember just *who*
it was he was talking to. A faint blush spread across his cheeks. "That is... I... He... I

"Glorfindel," Elrond said calmly, mostly successful in suppressing the grin that was trying to
spread across his face. "I know what you meant. And I wish you well in it. It is about time
that someone got back at Elladan for one of his pranks. Only the Valar know how many times I've
been tempted to do so myself." He grinned, then his face became serious once more, though his
eyes still sparkled merrily. "But you must promise me one thing."

"My Lord?"

"Let me know where and when you plan to do so, hmmm? I wouldn't want to miss it."

Glorfindel grinned at the dark-haired half-Elven lord before him. "I promise," he said.


No, I don't know what Glorfindel and Elladan's bet was about-- though I have no doubt at all that
Elladan rigged it somehow. I also don't know how Glorfindel is going to get even with him,
though suggestions might spark a continuation-fic... and/or a 'prequel' ficlet (about the bet
itself).... *grin*

In the meantime, click the button down there and let me know what you thought of this ficlet, all
right? Hey, even anonymous smileys or a simple 'I liked it!' make me happy! :oD