"Adar?" Orophin ran down a flight of stairs with a heavy bundle clutched to his chest. "Adar?" He took a look around the flets on the sixth level and frowned before leaping down another flight. "Adar? Oh, Adar, where are you?"

"Orophin!" Celeborn took note of his son's calls from where he was waiting in the library and frowned when Orophin approached. "What is the matter? Why are you not dressed?"

Orophin shifted from one foot to the other. "I think...I think someone must have mixed something up," he explained, letting the garment he held unfurl to the floor. "This cannot have been meant for me."

Celeborn looked at the rich royal blue fabric that Orophin held and nodded. "That is yours. I had the seamstress finish it last night as the Mirkwood delegation is going to be earlier than anticipated, so I suggest you put it on."

Wide eyed with terror, Orophin did not move. He simply whimpered at the item in his hands. After an incident on the Northern Fences, during which he had calmed the Galadhrim and kept them from mutiny against Haldir (an incident that Orophin, in fact, had started), Haldir had kindly suggested to their father that Orophin be allowed to help at the upcoming negotiations with Mirkwood. Orophin had not had border duty for the last two months while he studied the various treaties and contracts the two realms had. He would spend at least another four months in the city. He liked the position well enough until now. This unexpected turn of events, however, made him wish for the cold comfort of the Northern Fences. "But Adar..."

"What now, Orophin?"

"Adar...it's a dress..."

"They are formal robes, very similar to the ones both Erestor and I wear. I believe you have seen Elrond wear them as well."

Orophin's frown deepened. "It still looks like a dress."

Celeborn raised a brow and smoothed out the fabric of his own robes.

"Oh, but, you look very good in a dress, Ada," Orophin said quickly. "Elrond, also. And Erestor - fabulous in a dress. As for me, I shall not wear this."

All Celeborn had to do was meet Orophin's eyes. He said nothing as the younger elf stared back. Finally Orophin kicked the floor with his foot. "Fine. But I will not wear this after today. One day, that is all."

Celeborn looked back to his reading and turned the page. "The seamstress should be finishing robes of gold and white for you tomorrow. If you find those more to your liking, you may wear either of them for the duration of the conference." Glancing up once more, he added, "You *will* wear the formal robes while you assist me with these negotiations."

"Everybody hates me," pouted Orophin, throwing the robes over one arm. "I will be so embarrassed, walking around in a dress. I do not think I can go out in public without pants on."

"You needn't," Celeborn assured him. "There is enough room for you to comfortably wear the robes over leggings."

"Oh." Orophin held up the velvety fabric, admiring for the first time the black and silver threads that adorned the cuffs and collar with whimsical patterns. "I didn't think you wore pants under your robes."

"I don't." Celeborn plucked a stray particle from his sleeve and dropped it to the floor. "I said there is enough room to, if you wanted."

Orophin stared with his mouth agape. Finally, he heard himself ask the question that had been in his head. "What...do you wear underneath?"

"I don't think you want me to answer that question."

"No, for some odd reason, I really do wish to know the answer."

"Well, I don't want to answer that question."

"I think you just did."

"Just...go put your robes on before I find one of your mother's dresses and make you wear that instead," scolded Celeborn.

Orophin sighed. "I suppose you're going to tell me she doesn't wear anything under her gown when she goes to these dip-plo-ma-tic func- tions."

"On the contrary," Celeborn said, closing his book. "She's almost always wearing leggings and one of those, uhm, what is it called..."

"You've been married how long now and you don't know what to call the thing she wears?" Orophin gave a little smile as Celeborn struggled to come up with the word.

"Oh, you know it's a..." He motioned with his hands a little, "...but there's no..." again, he tried to pantomime the description as he pointed to his shoulders, adding, "...and then that part, across the back...oh, stop it, Orophin, you know what I'm talking about."

"Sure. Of course I do," Orophin said, not really sure at all. "One of those...things..." he mimicked his father's movements a little, smirking. "You know, Adar, if she's really wearing leggings all the time..."

"You can't make any 'she's the one wearing the pants in the family' jokes that Celebrian and Haldir haven't already told me."

"Damn."

"Orophin?"

"Yes?"

"Go put your dress on."

"Why don't the elves in Mirkwood have to wear dresses?" Orophin asked Celeborn, the two of them smiling broadly as the delegation approached on horseback. Though the elleths were clad in long skirts and dresses, the elves wore pants and high collared jerkins in varying shades of green, blue, and gold.

" Because elves in Mirkwood," answered Celeborn, "are not as secure in their masculinity as we are to wear dresses. Robes. To wear robes,” he corrected himself.

Orophin looked hopefully at his father. “I’m not at all secure with my masculinity. Can I move to Mirkwood and wear pants?”

“No.” Celeborn sighed and tried another approach. “Besides, most Mirkwood elves look like girls already. They have to make the males wear pants so that the rest of us can tell all of them apart.”

“I am so telling King Thranduil you said that,” threatened Orophin through smiling teeth.

“Go ahead.” Celeborn lifted his hand in greeting as the first of the riders lifted his own. “He’ll never believe a word you say. No one does. You reputation quite precedes you.”

“So true. I’ll get Haldir to tell him, then. Or Rumil.” Neither of these seemed to faze Celeborn, so Orophin huffed and returned to smiling. A moment later, he quirked a brow and gave his father a sidelong glance. "So, if Legolas wore a dress, he'd be an elf in drag, but when we wear them, we're just elves in dresses."

"If you like, that about sums it up."

Resisting the urge to hang his head, Orophin smiled painfully wider. "Everybody hates me."

“No. Just the select few who love you so,” Celeborn corrected him. “The rest just think you very odd.”

There was no more time for further talk as the delegation pulled in their reigns and dismounted. The head of the group, to Orophin’s surprise, was not King Thranduil. The king was, in fact, nowhere to be seen. It was also not either of the king’s sons, even though he did see Legolas (NOT wearing a dress, he noted) walking toward him. Instead, a rather serious looking elf briskly, yet elegantly, walked to Celeborn and exchanged greetings and plesentries with him. Orophin could make out only the name of this lead negotiator – Lord Thaladir, King Thranduil’s Seneschal – before he was ambushed by Prince Legolas.

"Lovely dress," Legolas told Orophin after the two of them greeted each other.

"Did Haldir tell you to say that, or Rumil?" asked Orophin, still retaining his fake grin. He should have realized the delegation would take the path that would lead them across the Northern Fences.

"Both." Legolas grinned wider. “Although, Rumil took some sort of extra perverse pleasure in it.”

Orophin tilted his head to the side. “I must wonder how they knew of it.” He looked down at the dark blue material that swept across the ground. “It was hidden from me until a few hours ago.”

“They probably have a network of spies set up in the city to note and record all movement of the citizens,” suggested Legolas with a wink.

“A network of spies…that’s not a bad idea…” mused Orophin.

Horses were taken by the grooms and the party was shown to the Great Mallorn for the beginning of the negotiations. As introductions were made, a server rounded the table, pouring glasses of sweat water into goblets set in front of the participants. Orophin couldn’t help wonder if the water was contaminated or not as he lifted the glass to his lips. After a moment of contemplation, he set the goblet back down, not wanting to risk it.

Just over an hour into the discussion and Orophin already found himself bored. Not because of the speeches being made – though, the lengthy explanations regarding trade and the economy of the realms would have made him yawn on most occasions – but because he had already figured out a reasonable solution to the issues that were to be discussed, and would not have a chance to voice his own opinions until the entire Mirkwood delegation was through with their various lists of concerns and suggestions. The lead elf – Thaladir – was fifty minutes into his and did not show signs of stopping anytime soon. Unlike the other elves around the table, he had no notes and no lists. All of his arguments were spoken, and he had either practiced well ahead of time or knew the material well enough not to. Orophin was in awe of his ability to sit, perfectly still, hands folded before him, and flawlessly deliver his speech without pause or repetition. A sudden knock upon the door thankfully stopped the Mirkwood Seneschal from continuing.

The door was hesitantly pushed open slightly.

"My lord?"

Celeborn took note of the page standing at the door and beckoned him to enter. "My lord, Commander Valarda wishes to speak with you, regarding the state of the Southern border." Celeborn nodded to the page before turning to the delegation. "If you would excuse me for a moment, I shall have my Commander give her report." Security was not an issue Celeborn felt ill discussing in front of the elves of Mirkwood. Both realms would help to defend one another if the need arose, and neither had reason nor want to attack the other. Thaladir and Legolas both nodded at the request.

"Lord Celeborn." Valarda stood at attention, giving a run down of the events on the border. If Orophin could have slumped down in his chair, he would have, but his height made such an attempt to hide futile. "...and currently, we have four wardens injured, including my head lieutenant. Captain Haldir's troops were able to provide us with reinforcements, but we are spread thin along the perimeter. The Northern side is less seven wardens, though only one was critically wounded. We are expecting full recovery of everyone, but a total of eleven are in the healing tree right now." Orophin cringed at the news. Much as he wished to offer to return to the borders now, he held his tongue.

“Thank you, commander.” Celeborn addressed the council now, and Orophin focused everything on paying attention to his father and not to his wife’s amused looks as she stood near the head of the table. “If you will excuse me, I need look in on the injured Galadhrim. I will be but a few minutes. Orophin.” Orophin made to stand up at first, but he stopped when his father added, “Please, entertain our guests until I have returned. I shall have more refreshments sent up at once.” Celeborn left the room swiftly.

Valarda lingered, taking two steps toward Orophin’s place. Orophin rolled his eyes as she stood and waited expectantly. Quickly, he made the saddest possible salute in the history of the Galadhrim, placing his hand over his heart, and quickly pretending it was there because of an itch he had to scratch. “Good day. Lieutenant,” Valarda said, and there was no mistake now that she was addressing him. Orophin smiled and gave a slight nod, much to the amusement of most of the Mirkwood delegation.

“Nice dress,” she commented.

Orophin gave her a curt nod and a glare. Apparently, Haldir and Rumil had wasted no time in spreading rumors about his situation to the rest of the Galadhrim.

Valarda smirked and walked up to him, bending slightly to better address him, though there would be no privacy no matter how low she spoke. “I shall stay in our tree here in the city this eve.” Valarda patted Orophin on the cheek, but turned once again before she passed, eyeing him up with amusement. “Wear the dress,” she instructed. She gave Legolas a pat on the shoulder as she came to him, and exited out the back way.

Thaladir watched the elleth walk by with little emotion on his face. “She outranks you,” he said with great indifference to Orophin.

“Yes. Yes, she does,” Orophin replied. “She’s my wife.” A number of the members of the Mirkwood party snickered, including all of the married elves and ellith.

“A border guard as well. In full uniform.” Thaladir picked up his goblet of water.

“Well, they don’t let us guard the border naked,” answered Orophin without missing a beat.

Thaladir considered the words. “How very interesting.” He sipped his water before placing the goblet back in its place.

"I follow my father's example," continued Orophin, "in letting my wife wear the pants in the family."

Thaladir sat perfectly still, showing no sign of emotion. Orophin knew his next comment was not going to win him any points, but by the Valar, he was going to make that elf laugh.

"Me," he added, "I'm not even wearing any pants."

He thought he saw Thaladir's brow twitch, but even that wasn't enough for him.

“In fact,” he continued, “Lord Celeborn – he’s not wearing any either.”

“Any what, Orophin?” Orophin nearly jumped from his seat when he heard his father’s voice. Orophin paled, saying nothing to his father’s blank stare.

“Any pants,” Thaladir answered for Orophin. “He says you’re not wearing any pants, my lord.”

Celeborn laughed deeply. “Why would you say such a thing, Orophin? Of course I’m wearing pants.” Celeborn shook his head at the comment, brushing it aside as if Orophin was but a small elfling having invaded his father’s study during important business. “As it turns out, some of the wardens are quite seriously injured. I will be needed to tend to some of them myself, and will also need Orophin’s assistance, so I am sad to say we shall have to adjourn until tomorrow.”

“May we offer to you our assistance in any way possible?” Thaladir spoke in earnest for the rest of the delegation, and Celeborn nodded.

“Orophin can show you the way and the healers will instruct you on what is to be done. Orophin?” Celeborn expected that his son would stand and help lead the delegation to the healing tree, but Orophin had a confused look on his face.

“Show us then.” Orophin insisted.

“Show you what, the injured?” Celeborn motioned to the doorway. “They are in the healing tree, we shall go to them now.”

“No, no. Show us. Show us that you are wearing pants. Because I was under the impression that you were not wearing any pants.”

Celeborn blinked, and then closed his eyes, remembering the conversation he had had with Orophin earlier. “Very well then.” He lifted up the hem of his robes just slightly. Underneath, the cuffs of his pants could be seen.

Orophin threw his arms into the air. “Well, that’s just fine. And here, I thought I wasn’t supposed to wear any,” he sulked slightly.

“Show us then.” Everyone turned their attention with surprise to the Mirkwood Prince, whose look of amusement was unsuccessfully being masked by his folded hands, which rested upon the table by his elbows. Thaladir sighed, having picked out at least a dozen transgressions in the position and actions of the prince, the lord, and the lieutenant in the last ten seconds.

“Go on. Show us,” pressed Legolas.

Orophin smirked. “Very well then.” He hiked up his robes to reveal barely his ankle. He placed one hand to his mouth in a demure posture and batted his lashes like a blushing maiden as laughter filled the room from the members of the delegation and his father.

All of the members.

All of the members - save for one.

Legolas stepped in front of Orophin, placing a hand upon the young elf’s shoulder. For some time, he merely stared at him, shaking his head. “You do know, I may be forced to pretend I do not know you if ever you come to visit Mirkwood.”

“Ignorance is bliss,” nodded Orophin.

“Truly, you did prove invaluable at the negotiations.”

Orophin nodded. “Yes, I do believe things flow smoothly when a court jester is present.”

“Will you be coming to the meetings held in Mirkwood this coming autumn?” asked Legolas.

Orophin shook his head adamantly. “Only if I do not have to wear a dress.” Orophin took note of the elf that had soundlessly appeared to the right of Legolas and regarded him with a nod of his head. “Safe journey to you, Lord Thaladir.”

Thaladir tilted his head forward slightly, and Legolas smiled quickly and scooted off to say goodbye to a few others that caught his attention. Thaladir took careful note of the prince’s path, and then approached Orophin, holding his hand out before him. Orophin did likewise, grasping the other elf’s arm as his was. “Your wit is an asset to your wisdom. I appreciate the fact we both serve the same side, Lord Orophin.”

Orophin’s eyes widened. “That was a compliment, wasn’t it?”

Thaladir considered his words. “In a manner of speaking. Yes.”

“Sorry, a moment please. I rarely hear compliments. Well, directed to me, that is. It’s difficult when you’re the brother of the prettiest elf, the most beautiful elleth, and the…well, I don’t know what Haldir is, but he certainly seems to think he’s something special.”

Thaladir looked down at their arms. “Proper decorum dictates we have held this position long enough.”

“Sorry.” Orophin released his hold on the seneschal’s arm.

Considering the young elf for a moment, Thaladir leaned forward a bit and quietly said, “You almost had me.”

Orophin furrowed his brow, trying to understand the meaning of the words.

“When you lifted the hem of your garment. Not proper. But I almost laughed. Almost.”

“Almost?” Orophin looked at the ground sadly for a moment, but then he grinned and looked at the elf from Mirkwood. “I could…show you a little more…I’m still…not wearing any pants…” Orophin coyly lifted the bottom of his robe to reveal little more than his ankle, and then winked at Thaladir. Thaladir let out a short chuckle, and Orophin’s grin widened considerably. As soon as it had begun, it ended, and Thaladir was once again the perfectly poised and stoic elf. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!” Orophin danced around in a little triumphant circle, ignoring the robes he was wearing for the moment, his arms raised halfway in the air. Thaladir brushed a few imaginary bits of grass from his pants and tunic as if he didn’t have a grown elf dancing before him in a most peculiar manner.

Legolas ran over, eyes wide in disbelief. “You! You were laughing!” he said, wagging a finger at the seneschal.

Thaladir looked upon Legolas as if the elf had grown wings. “Legolas, ‘tis not polite to point,” he said, using one finger to lower the offending digit of the prince’s hand.

“But you…but you…” Legolas took a deep breath. “But you were smiling! He made you laugh!”

“Nonsense.” Thaladir folded his hands before him. “A bit of indigestion. I shall be happy when we return to Mirkwood, where the drink is something I am more accustomed to and not as rich as the stock here in Lothlorien.”

Legolas planned to pursue the discussion further, but the approach of horses kept him from pressing the matter. Two riders coming from the North were pushing their horses to the limit. One would have thought they were a pair of Galadhrim, come to warn the city of impending danger except for the laughter that could be heard from both of them. Everyone cleared from their path when it was evident neither was going to go around the crowd. One of the riders drew ahead just slightly, breaking free at the last minute.

The elleth gave a whoop of joy as she made it to the Great Mallorn first and knocked her bow against the trunk. “I best you at our race, Captain!” called the musical voice. The elleth was panting slightly, as was the Captain, who slowed his horse, but did not stop it. Both of them steered their mounts around the great tree, laughing and pushing at each other from atop their horses. Celeborn looked upon them both fondly.

“I request another race in the future, when time permits you,” the Captain finally said, marching his mount back to where the delegation was.

The elleth nodded her consent, smiling brightly as she came to a stop next to Celeborn. “I apologize for our tardiness. The orcs were more numerous than we expected. We wanted the path clear for our guests to return home without incident.”

Celeborn nodded, and reached up, grasping hold of the elleth’s hand. “I am sure the guardians appreciated another archer on the border, my love.”

Legolas finally realized who the elleth in the garb of the Galadhrim riding the horse was and rushed over, bowing his head. “Lady Galadriel, I did not recognize – I mean to say, I didn’t –“

Galadriel grinned and waved away the formalities. “Please, Prince Legolas, no need for that.” She handed her bow down to her husband. Her long golden hair was pulled back and tied upon her head, and her face was smudged with grime and blood, but her radiance shone through it all. Dismounting, she made her way through the crowd, saying her farewells to the various elves of Mirkwood.

“I suppose,” said Thaladir to Legolas as they began to ride North out of the city, “one could see the advantage of such a situation as the one the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien have.”

Legolas glanced at the seneschal, slightly confused. “What would that be?”

“Matched height, closely matched in build, similar coloring – they obviously share a wardrobe.”

Laughing lightly, Legolas shook his head. “It is a good thing we are leaving. I believe Orophin is too much of a bad influence for you, Thaladir. I would hate to have you develop a sense of humor and ruin your reputation.”

“Me, your highness? A sense of humor?” Thaladir’s expression was neutral, but his eyes sparkled with pent up mischief. “How absurd.”

“Yes, how,” agreed Legolas as they began the journey home.


In the courtyard, Orophin continued to do his dance. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”

“Slow down, you’ll make us all dizzy,” laughed Galadriel, placing a hand upon Orophin’s shoulder. “What are you celebrating?”

“I made him laugh!”

“Which one?” asked Galadriel, surveying the delegation as they rode away.

Orophin pointed toward the head of the riders. “That one! The grumpy, cranky, grouchy one.”

“Thaladir?” Galadriel looked in disbelief first to Orophin and then to Celeborn.

Her husband smiled and nodded. “Ask him how he was able to get the grumpy, cranky, grouchy one to laugh.”

Galadriel raised her brow, but turned her attention back to her son. “How were you able to get the grumpy, cranky, grouchy one to laugh?”

Orophin grinned and lifted the sides of his robes up to his knees. “No pants!” he shouted triumphantly.

The Lord and Lady chuckled as Orophin did another circle dance, but Haldir snorted, quite unamused. “Sure. I shout that, I lose my privileges for a week. He does it, and you fawn over him as if it’s the cutest thing he has ever done.”

“It definitely ranks in the top ten,” admitted Celeborn.

“When you last yelled ‘No Pants!’,” reminded Galadriel, “it was because you literally had no pants, nor anything else, and were running across the field over yonder, chasing butterflies and being chased by Celebrian. Granted, you were naught more than four or five, but we were not about to allow you to grow up thinking it was appropriate.”

Haldir thought for a moment before sighing. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“Haldir.”

“What?” he asked, looking at Orophin warily.

“I never noticed before…”

“No need to now then. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

“Your build…your face…you’d look simply stunning in one of these dresses!”

“No!”

“And you wouldn’t have to wear pants!”

“Not a chance! I like pants. Yes pants!” added Haldir, taking off.

“I have an extra you could borrow! You’d look great in white and gold!” insisted Orophin as he ran to catch up.

“Get away from me!”

“Come back! Fine, I’ll let you wear the blue one!”

“Ai!”

Across the field Haldir ran, chased by Orophin. Their parents looked on happily. Celeborn drew an arm around Galadriel’s shoulder, pulling her closer to him, while she in turn slipped her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Hold still, Haldir! This blue one will be just lovely on you!”

“If you’re not wearing any pants, the blue one had better stay on you!”

“Well, alright, you’ve twisted my arm, I’ll let you wear the other one. I think gold is really your color, brother.”

“Gold is NOT my color! Red is my color.”

“Adar! You heard him say it! He wants a red dress, let the seamstress know!”

“That’s not what I said, you…you…orc!”

“Warg!”

“Balrog!”

“Your…uhrm.” Both of the brothers stopped dead in their tracks, looking in horror at their parents, even though the word had not been said. Orophin swallowed, looking with panic at Haldir. Across the field, Celeborn and Galadriel gave each other an odd look.

“Come, Orophin, you don’t want to mess your dress.” Orophin agreed quickly, and the brothers raced away and up the Great Mallorn. Celeborn and Galadriel once again exchanged looks of confusion.

“I think this is a situation where we will be better off not knowing,” decided Celeborn.

“A wise decision,” nodded Galadriel. Her hand wandered further down Celeborn’s back. “Ah…no pants today, my lord?” she asked as her hand felt along his robe for the signs of a waistband or belt beneath the fabric. Celeborn slyly shook his head. “Well, what are we still doing here, then?” With that, the last two elves in the courtyard flew up the stairs of the Great Mallorn.

Below, you will find a wonderful strip that was drawn by Mike Tripp, a talented guy who was sweet enough to let us post it here. Is this not cool or what? It was our first official outside fanart! It also was the start of Nitwits: The Elf Chronicles. Whoopie!