Eledu swiftly made a campfire and sat down carefully after setting his bow, scimitar, and spear aside. “Sometimes, I wonder how it would have been to have been born in the First Age,” he mused. “I mean, think of it – all of the history, the great Elves who were there.. it had to be a glorious time. It always makes me wonder – what did our fear do before our hroa came into being?”

Ellonur was already seated, and stared into the fire, his head tilting slowly. “I like now better,” the younger Elf decided.

“But you have no idea how then was,” pointed out Eledu.

“Probably not as much fun. No one came here to the Shire – well, no Elves did. And fashion was terrible; rose and purple dye were not even discovered until recently.”

“Well… true,” he admitted.

“And if a male Elf walked around in a dress back then? No, sir, not allowed,” said Ellonur sadly.

Eledu nodded slowly. “There were robes,” he pointed out as he tended the fire.

“But robes do not flow and twirl and spin quite the way that dresses do! Oh! And the music!” Ellonur pulled a face. “Dreadful.”

“Now, now, some of it was quite good,” argued Eledu gently. “I have a few favorites from the First Age.”

“Probably slow and boring and not good for dancing,” Ellonur said with a pout.

“Not so!” Eledu stretched out his legs and tilted his head back to enjoy the sun. They had spent the morning practicing with their bows again – well, Eledu had been practicing. Ellonur spent more time picking wildflowers to braid into his hair, which he was doing now. “Have you ever heard Laer Cú Beleg?”

“Not that I can recall,” answered Ellonur. He was already on his fourth flower.

“It is a beautiful song – very sad. It was said to have been written by Turin; a lament for Beleg Cuthalion. Turin had killed Beleg on accident – something he excelled at.” Eledu suddenly sat up when he felt Ellonur slide his hand into his hair to draw part of it back. “What are you doing?”

“Listening to you tell me stories. Turin, rotten child, killed his playmates.” Ellonur reached forward for the hair again, but Eledu sat up straight.

“No, not that, with my hair.” He narrowed his eyes, seeing the flower and the grin that Ellonur was wearing. “No.”

“Oh… please?” Ellonur twirled the bloom between his fingers. “We could match – it would be fabulous!”

“No,” said Eledu, shaking his head.

“If you let me do it, I promise to try shooting that dreadful bow again after lunch.” Ellonur sniffed the flower and added, “I would let you have me all afternoon.” He winked.

Eledu sighed and reclined again. He was certain that he heard Ellonur let out a squeal of delight, but ignored it. “You have to actually try this time,” scolded Eledu as Ellonur fussed with and braided his hair.

“Mmhm, sure,” Ellonur answered distractedly. “You make a very lovely canvas. I think your hair is darker than mine!”

“Except for the grey hairs you and Bainith keep giving me,” he mumbled to himself.

“I want to hear more stories,” declared Ellonur. He scooted closer and coaxed Eledu to rest his head upon his knee so that he stayed steady as the crown of flowers was woven into his hair. Eledu made sure to check about for witnesses before doing so.

“Do you know of the Noldorin mounted cavalry?” he asked, closing his eyes sleepily.

“Something of that sounds familiar.”

“Which part?”

“The Noldorin part. So what did they do?”

Eledu settled an arm over his eyes. “The horselords of Gondolin were led by Lord Glorfindel, while the mounted archers in Hithlum followed Fingon.” He stopped to yawn, and then added, “Fought a dragon once…”

“Oh? Which one?” Ellonur waited a few moments. “Eledu?” He carefully lifted Eledu’s arm up and smiled as he settled it back down. “Naptime instead of archery? Well, if you insist,” whispered Ellonur as he set to finding more flowers around them to tuck into Eledu’s braids.