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“Do you recall the first time we went spooking together in Rivendell?” questions Lindir of Melpomaen. The scribe nods.

“That was the year that Lady Celebrian came to spend the fall and winter,” replies Melpomaen. “She brought the tradition from Lothlorien.”

Lindir strums a few chords on his lute. “We sure had a lot of fun back then,” he said to Tallasinde, who was leaning up beside him, blowing on her hot cider to cool it.

“I remember a haunting night that turned out fairly amusing in our later years,” says Melpomaen, resting against a great pile of pumpkins with Vilya. "Your sister's first hayride," he adds to the dark haired elleth beside him. "Do you recall that year, Lindir?"

“Oh...” Lindir grins. “That took us quite a lot of work, didn’t it, Figwit?”

Melpomaen laughs. “Indeed it did, Lindir. Indeed it did...”



“I don’t think we should just let them go on this alone,” Celebrian whispered to her husband. “Who knows what sort of devilish things Lindir and Melpomaen have rigged in the forest.”

Elrond shook his head. “Nonsense. Haunted hayrides aren’t ever very scary. Besides, the rest of the parents are all letting their elflings get into the wagon without a fuss.” He lowered his voice. “Arwen already feels out of place with her peers, she will socialize better if you allow her these small freedoms.” Howling and ghostly sounds came from within the trees, and the elflings on the cart shivered, or their eyes grew wide as they looked to the darkening woods as Glorfindel lit the lanterns of the wagon and whispered a few words to Asfaloth.

Arwen, who had been clutching her father’s hand and trying to push the mouth of her dragon costume open enough to see better looked up and said, “I think I want to stay here with Nana.”

“I thought you wanted to go this year,” Elrond said, crouching down so that he was eyelevel. “There will not be another hayride until next autumn.”

Arwen shifted a bit. “I don’t know. I want to go, but...”

“Do you want your mother with you?”

“No!” Arwen bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

“What if your brothers came along?” asked Elrond.

Arwen nodded. “That would be good.”

“Elladan! Elrohir!” Elrond waited for his twin sons to approach. They were well past their majority, but did not always act as such. “I’ve changed my mind about the hayride. You may go- but, I am warning you,” he said, wagging a finger. “Do not try to further scare the elflings. Whatever Lindir and Melpomaen have planned was approved by Erestor. I will not have a group of irate parents at my door this evening.”

“Oh, that’s no fun... I don’t want to go, then,” pouted Elladan, and Elrohir nodded.

“You’ll go to keep an eye on your sister,” scolded Elrond, “and you’ll go because I said so.”

Elladan huffed and Elrohir rolled his eyes. “Come on little dragon,” he said, picking up his sister. “Let’s get this over with.”

- - -

“Old sheets.”

“Wet string to make the cobwebs.”

“Those spiders are fakes.”

Elladan and Elrohir continued the commentary that had been happening ever since they were out of earshot of the adults. The elflings were looking bored and were concentrating less on the ride and more on how long before they reached the end of it. Asfaloth had turned his head and snorted a few times at the rude pair in the back of the wagon.

Within the trees, two elves were fuming.

“I can’t believe they’re doing this!” hissed Lindir, stomping his foot. “Do they realize how long we spent putting this together?!”

“No, they’re spoiled brats,” Melpomaen said, glaring through the trees. “You know, they wouldn’t be doing this if their father was here.”

Lindir looked suddenly at Melpomaen. “No. No they wouldn’t. Here.” Lindir shuffled through a basket that was keeping their few extra props hidden. “Wrap this sheet around you like a robe.”

“Why?”

“Because... I have a plan...”

- - -

“How much lamer can this ride get?” questioned Elladan as they passed by a number of animal skulls that were hanging in the trees. He picked up a rock that was in the cart and pitched it at one of the skulls, knocking it out of the branch.

Elrohir was half napping, and the rest of the elflings were looking absolutely bored.

“Elladan! Elrohir!” boomed a voice.

The twins both sat straight up and were startled to see their father in the path. Asfaloth reared up, but only enough to look scared, not enough to upset the cart.

But it was not their father, for it was Melpomaen, who in the darkness drew up his height and masked his voice. Both Elladan and Elrohir were clutching one another.

There was a pause, and only the barest bit of expression could be seen, and it was not one of happiness. “I shall deal with you both later,” growled Melpomaen in the best rendition of Elrond he could muster, and then, he backed away into the darkness.

“Well, they didn’t fall out of the cart like you had hoped,” Melpomaen whispered to Lindir as the cart moved on. “They did shut up, though.”

“I can’t wait to watch them tonight. They will be avoiding their father like the plague!” chuckled Lindir.

“You two are in Trou-ble,” sang out the little dragon in the cart as it went past.
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