“Good night, Elladan,” said the final ranger to leave the campfire, returning to his tent.
With an indignant look, the peredhel hissed after him, not wishing to awaken the others, “I am Elrohir.”
“Whatever,” mumbled the man, turning back the flap of his tent. “G’night.”
Elrohir continued to glare at the entrance to the tent until his brother returned. “The nerve of some of them,” he grumbled.
“Some of who?” asked Elladan, sitting down beside his twin.
“Them.” Elrohir snorted and picked up a stone, pitching it angrily into the flames. “I swear, they really care nothing about us as individuals.”
“Ah, that. Yes, well, it is difficult to tell us apart. Some days, I get up, look forward and wonder who brought along the mirror, until I realize – ‘tis only you.” Elladan laughed lightly as Elrohir stood up and walked away from him. “I am only kidding, dear brother. I can tell you from me. Your cheeks are not so high as mine, and there is still that scar beneath your eye from so many years ago.”
Elrohir returned with a sharp hunting knife. “Perhaps that is so, but these men cannot see a difference. I am tired of it.” He handed the knife to Elladan. “We need to do something so that they can tell us apart.”
Looking at the weapon, Elladan asked, “So... you want me to carry around both of our knives?”
“No!” Elrohir huffed and paused, listening to be sure no one was awakened. “I want you to cut my hair.”
“We just cut our hair last month,” Elladan reminded his brother as Elrohir sat down with his back to him.
“Shorter,” explained Elrohir. “Like Estel’s.”
“But... then someone might mistake you for him,” reasoned Elladan.
With a sigh, Elrohir said dryly, “Estel has a beard, you nitwit.”
“Not when he tries to impress Arwen,” mumbled Elladan as he unsheathed the blade.
Growling in the back of his throat, Elrohir added, “And make sure you cut it so that everyone can see my ears. That might help clear up confusion.”
“Right. This should be good.” Elladan bit his lower lip and tried to figure out where to start. “If I mess up, no disowning me, alright?”
“What?” Elrohir frowned as something brushed his shoulder and a clump of dark hair fell to the ground. “Wait, do you know what you are doing?”
“Do I LOOK like a barber to you?” shot back Elladan, fearing now that he might have completely made a mess of things already.
“What are the two of you doing?” It was Estel, awake and out of his tent. He came to the fire, shaking his head as he looked over his brothers. “Elladan, hand me the knife. You have caused enough damage.”
“He told me to,” defended Elladan as he stood up.
Picking up the hair from the ground, Elrohir’s face took on an even sadder look. “Ada is going to be so pissed.”
“He never has to know. We will keep hunting orc until it grows back. Until then, you cannot go wandering about looking like an orc gave you a haircut.” Estel sat down behind Elrohir and surveyed things. “Come here, Elladan, watch so that next time you can do this for El.”
Sitting on the ground with a sigh, Elladan said, “Sorry, El. I should have told you I had no clue what I was doing.”
“My fault,” Elrohir admitted. “I more or less made you.” As they talked, Estel evened up the rest of Elrohir’s hair, cutting it above his shoulders. When the knife was handed back to him, Elrohir looked sadly at the ground. “Ada would have a fit.”
“He will never know,” said Elladan and Estel at the same time.
Estel picked up the hair and tossed it into the fire so that it would not be used by any foul creature to track them. Elladan poured water into a pot and handed it to his brother so that he could look at his reflection.
Giving a little hum of uncertainty, Elrohir said, “Well, it is different.”
“It certainly is. I doubt there will be any difficulty telling the two of you apart anymore,” said Estel.
“Thank you, brother,” said Elrohir, clasping Estel’s shoulder with his hand.
“You are most welcome,” answered Estel.
