“Stop laughing at me,” Rumil huffed. A few moments later he repeated his plea. “I said to stop laughing!”

Orophin and Haldir snickered as Rumil gathered up the arrows he was working on and moved to the other side of the flet, which actually wasn’t very far away, all things considered. The laughter died down, but not before Orophin let out a snort and was rewarded by the sack of feathers being flung at his head.

“I have had much stress lately, and I am not taking kindly to the disposition of either of you,” grumbled Rumil, setting to work on his fletching once again. The other brothers mumbled apologies, but after a few sideways glances exchanged between the two, Rumil threw down the feathers and shaft. “There is going to be another kinslaying if this does not stop.”

“What compelled you to suggest it, Rumil? There are far better tools and weapons to equip them with, and yet, you thought a box of dirt would be a good gift.” Orophin shook his head. “That poor hobbit is as good as dead.”

“He received another gift.” The attention was turned to Haldir, but he did not look up, continuing to work on his pile of arrows. “I wove a rope for him while I finished my last turn on the border. It helped pass the time and I thought it would be helpful for Mr. Gamgee. He seemed quite taken with the rope we have here.”

“So you told Nana your idea for a gift before you went back to the borders then?” queried Rumil.

Haldir nodded.

“Well, then, she could not have thought it a very good gift if she decided he should have both yours and mine.”

Orophin snickered when he saw the hurt look on Haldir’s face. “The Lady told me that rope was a very practical gift.” Rumil mumbled something back, and Haldir spoke sharply to him. “Westron, Rumil, Westron.” There were a few wardens not too many trees over, and Haldir insisted that he and his brothers speak in a language others on the border would not know when having family discussions to pass the time. Sometimes it was orc tongue, and other times dwarvish, but always it was slow, considering Rumil and Orophin were not as proficient linguistically as Haldir was. Today, it was Westron, which Haldir found the most practical considering he hoped one day his brothers would know it well enough on their own.

“It is practical. It just is not a very good gift. Not as exciting as a weapon or as unusual and well remembered as, say, a very pretty little box of soil,” Rumil countered.

Orophin chuckled at this and it was Haldir’s turn to get huffy. “A box of dirt is still a box of dirt no matter what you put it into.”

“Well, it was not just a box of dirt…” Rumil looked up slyly. “I might have scooped up a few mallorn seeds when I put the dirt into the box.”

Haldir finally looked up with his eyes narrowed. “You might have put a few mallorn seeds into the box with the dirt.”

Rumil nodded. “I mean, I * know * I put seeds from some of the flowers… but the seeds from the mellyrn, those are easily missed with how small they are. One or two may have gotten in.”

Haldir blinked. “Rumil, mallorn seeds are this big,” he said, measuring out the size with his fingers. “They are bigger than acorns.”

“Oh,” said Rumil, as if this was the very first time in almost three thousand years that anyone had told him. “Well, then there are definitely some mallorn seeds in the box.”

Haldir turned his head to look at Orophin, who had spent the conversation saying nothing, grinning as he listened to his brothers’ banter. “I suppose your suggestion was a better one.”

“Absolutely.” Orophin tested the bend of a finished arrow before placing it into a pile of ones that were completed. “Did you see that shoddy bow poor Legolas was hauling around?”

“Ah, so you were the one to tell Nana to give him a bow of the Galadhrim.” Rumil said.

“I even carved it myself,” replied Orophin proudly. “Please note, my idea was adequate and no additional gifts were required for our friend, the Prince of the Spider Infested Forest.” Orophin snapped his fingers as if a thought had just come to him. “I bet that is why Greenwood is in such a sad shape. Bad bowyers.”

Haldir picked up one of his finished arrows and knocked it onto Orophin’s head. “You told her she should give him a bow of the Galadhrim? There is a reason we call them the bows of the Galadhrim! You have to be one of the Galadhrim to get one!”

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! Haldir!” Orophin finally caught the arrow and wrenched it out of his brother’s grasp. “You are just sore you didn’t think of it first!” Orophin scolded, waving the arrow at Haldir’s nose.

“No, I am not sore. I just think something as sacred as the bows of the Galadhrim should be kept in the hands of the Galadhrim,” Haldir said in an even tone.

Orophin used the arrow to whap Haldir’s shoulder a few times between words. “Then. I. Guess. He’s. One. Of. Us. Now. Pllllfff.” Orophin tossed the arrow aside after sticking his tongue out at Haldir. Haldir lifted his hand to the opposite shoulder, rubbing the spot Orophin had hit and looking at bit hurt once again. “There. Now you are sore,” huffed Orophin, sorting through the feathers. Haldir picked up his work and moved his base of operations next to his youngest brother.

For a while, things were quiet as they continued their work, watching and listening for foul beasts and noises out of the ordinary. Rumil broke the silence with a question, for though he had helped to see off the fellowship, he had not been at the gift giving ceremony. “Halli, what did she give the dwarf?”

Haldir shrugged. “That I am not sure of. She asked him what he would want as a gift, and at that point, I just walked out of range of hearing. He is a dwarf, he probably would have asked to…burrow under the Great Mallorn or dig a tunnel from one side of Cerin Amroth to the other.”

Orophin lifted his head, grinning from ear to ear. “I know what she gave the dwarf.”

When his face became sore from smiling and he received no answer, Orophin continued. “Would you like to know what she gave the dwarf?”

Rumil answered, “Yes!” at the same instant Haldir shouted, “No!”

Orophin leaned forward toward Rumil, who mirrored his actions. Haldir heaved a heavy sigh, but tilted his head in a better direction to hear Orophin’s words. “He asked her…for a golden hair!” hissed Orophin, eyes twinkling as he smiled madly.

“A golden hare?” Rumil looked confused. “The only ones I have seen are brown or white.”

“Golden hair from what? From her horse? From her hounds? From – Oh!” Haldir’s eyes became wide as he met Orophin’s laughing gaze. “Oh, good gods! And she let him have them?!” Orophin held up three long fingers, one by one. “My word. There goes the woods,” breathed Haldir, tossing the feathers in his hand to the floor of the flet.

Rumil still looked confused, and blinked a few times at Haldir. The eldest waited to see if Rumil would catch his mistake. When he did not, Haldir tugged on one of his side braids. “Hair, Rumil. Not hare.” He moved his hands to his head, making two floppy ear shapes with his fingers as he scrunched up his nose.

“Oh. Oh, right.” Rumil cocked his head to one side. “That does not seem very…sanitary…” remarked Rumil. Haldir said nothing back to this, unsure of whether Rumil had chosen the correct word he wanted to or not, and unwilling to further discuss the subject.

Orophin dusted off his leggings of excess bits of wood and feather before scrambling across the talan so that he was between Rumil and Haldir. He tossed an arm around each of them. Haldir gave him a slightly apprehensive sideways look, while Rumil glanced over but continued to work. Clearing his throat, he said to him in his best dwarven voice, “Ah, but laddies, I forgot to tell you where I asked the hair to be from. As soft and curly as a lamb’s coat and as golden as the sun herself.”

Haldir grabbed Orophin’s arm and threw it from him. “That was just…Oro, that is my mother you are talking about!”

“Ai!” Rumil gasped once he’d translated the words. “Halli! Did he just say-“ Rumil scooted away from Orophin. “That…that was not very sanitary, either.”

“It is most excellent how the two of you squirm over such tiny little things,” said Orophin, reveling in the looks on the faces of his two brothers. “My work here is done,” he proclaimed scooping up the arrows he had finished. “From the looks of the sky, our shift is also complete. Shall I see you both back in the city?” Neither replied, still trying to shake the images from their minds. “Right then.” Orophin tucked the arrows into his quiver and threw down the rope so that he could climb to the ground. Taking one last look back over his shoulder, he added, “I can not wait to see the reaction from Adar when I tell him what Nana gave the dwarf!”