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The elegant black stallion stamped a front foot, then a back foot, lifted his tail high, then danced sideways as if in eager anticipation of events to come. A very recent curry combing meant his coat was gleaming in the light of the oil lamp that was hanging above his loose stall.

“Stand still, Gilroch,” said the young elf, whose hair also gleamed in the lamplight, “I’ll never get your mane braided if you don’t.”

Being a horse, Gilroch did not exactly laugh, but he lifted his lip high above his top teeth so that Legolas imagined that he was laughing anyway. The golden haired elf laughed with the horse, and then put the wide toothed comb in his hand to good use, smoothing the black mane and then braiding it before adding several dwarven made mithril clips. He was about to begin working on the tail, when the stall door swung open and he was joined by another young elf, this one dark haired and dark eyed and carrying a hoof pick.

Gilroch lowered his head as if in greeting and then lifted one foot as if holding it out to be inspected. Gaearon inspected the horse’s shoe, carefully removed a small pebble, then moved on to another hoof.

Not looking up from his task, Legolas asked, “How fares Daeroch?”

“He is looking fit as ever and anxiously awaits your ministrations,” Gaearon laughed. “He does not like to be outshone by Star Face here.”

Legolas chuckled at the moniker, for Gilroch meant “Star Horse” a name given him because of the perfect white star on his forehead.

“He needn’t worry,” Legolas said, “I have stars for him as well.”

Reaching into his pocket he held out several silver star shaped clips meant for Daeroch’s mane. No doubt that would satisfy him, for he was a vain creature, and for good reason! He, along with his matched partner, were truly magnificent.

Both young ellyn had no doubt that their particular charges eclipsed every other horse currently in the stable, and most likely every horse on the whole Island, for Gaearon’s father, Master Forodren, was the best of the best when it came to breeding race horses, or hotbloods, as he called them.

Forodren and Gaearon had joined Legolas and Gimli some years ago when they had first built their house at Car Annun, Master Forodren as their head stable master and Gaearon as a groom, though Gaearon had also been trained by Gimli to work in the forges as well. It was often said that Master Forodren loved his horses more than he loved people, and in most cases it was entirely true. He may have had one or two folks he cared for equally to his horses, but he never liked to admit it.

Despite the disparity in rank between Legolas, who was a King’s son and Lord of his own domain, and Gaearon, who was the son of a stable Master and who worked as a hired hand, the two had become close friends, as was true of Gimli and Forodren. Neither Gimli nor Legolas cared much about rank or tradition, so it did not seem odd to them, even if it did seem so to others, which it often did. The two of them were used to controversy, however, just by the nature of their own unusual friendship , so they never paid much attention to such things, at least for the most part. So even though Car Annun had all sorts of livestock, including several horses that belonged to the Lords there, no one minded when Forodren had asked to keep his own pair of hot-bloods that would belong exclusively to him and that he intended to train as competitive race horses. Gimli had even added onto the stables and designed and built special stalls for them, and then hired another hand to help Forodren when Gaearon was busy in the forges with him.

It had become quite an exciting pastime for all four of them, for Gaearon had been handling horses since he was big enough to climb on a pony’s back and Legolas also had a special affinity for the creatures, which meant Forodren, who often seemed rather stern, had a soft spot for his young lord. In fact, often as not, Forodren had the two younger, smaller ellyn ride the horses when they were raced, to decrease their burden and therefore increase their speed, and their chance of winning. Gimli enjoyed the excitement and watching the lads race, so that was how the four of them had ended up in Kortirion, where an annual special race was held every spring.

Folks would come from miles around to watch and place bets on their favorites. It was the biggest event of the season in Kortirion, Tol Eressea’s biggest city, so city pride meant the participants were very well taken care of and the festivities began a few days before the event.

Special grooms were hired by the city to care for the horses, but often the owners would allow only themselves or those they trusted dearly to care for their charges. Normally Forodren would have done all of the care himself, but he had managed to strain a shoulder his first day in the city, which was why Gaearon and Legolas were taking care of Daeroch and Gilroch. Master Forodren would not have some “ham handed fool” laying a finger on his darlings, and even leaving them with his own son and beloved young lord, he would come later to check that all was well and nothing had been missed, though Gaearon and Legolas were slightly offended that he felt the need to bother, for it wasn’t as if either of them were novices. They both knew there was no point in arguing, though, for to do so would only earn them a sharp tongue lashing from Master Forodren and, for Legolas at least, a sound scolding or worse from Gimli if he got to hear of it. The dwarf was a big believer in young folks respecting their elders in spite of rank or position-which was one of the issues on which dwarven and elven society seemed to agree. Legolas considered himself to be fully a part of both cultures and experience had taught him that the two societies were more alike than he had believed years ago, sometimes very much to his dismay!

Whatever the case, it had been a good day so far. He and Gaearon had taken the horses out for some vigorous exercise and then brought them back to pamper them and make certain they looked their best for any passersby who might happen to glance into the stalls and see them. It would never do to have them seen in anything other than pristine condition! It was a matter of pride, and both young ellyn felt proud as they went on with their task, that is until they heard a derisive snort coming from a passing pair of ellyn.

Cultin and Lison were brothers, similar in age to Gaearon and Legolas and sons of the King of a portion of land near the shores of Ekkaia, where it was cold year round and the black water lapped at the land. Being from Aman seemed to make them think they were superior to a Prince of a minor settlement on Tol Eressea, and certainly far above a hired stable boy! They had made that more than clear the last time Gaearon and Legolas had seen them at a horse show in New Lothlorien. Not only that, but they had insulted Gimli, and neither Gaearon nor Legolas was willing to put up with that, no matter than Gimli claimed he did not mind at all.

“I have a thick skin, and it will not do for the two of you to sink to their level!” The dwarf had insisted. “Let it go, lads.”

But that hadn’t mattered. When more insults were thrown about, the two ellyn had been on the sneering pair as quick as a wink, and no parental figures had been pleased one bit, not even when it was explained just exactly what was said.

“I’ve already told you, it doesn’t matter what was said,” Gimli had scolded, once he’d gotten the lads alone. “You were told to let it go and rubbing those young rascals’ face in the dirt is not the way to do so! I will not have you behaving like common hooligans! ”

That was just the beginning of what turned out to be a blistering scolding from the dwarf and It did not make pleasant hearing. Both youngsters had been staring at the floor when the lecture ended with Gimli informing his charge that he would be required to stay within arm’s reach until they returned home under threat of dire penalties.

Forodren had had less to say and merely grasped his son by the ear and lead him off for a more private discussion that was carried out with very little actual talking and still ended with him having to stay at his father’s side until they returned home. The stable master was not unfair, but he was quite strict, and he did not often give second chances when it came to disobedience. Legolas had even felt a little guilty that he had gotten off easier, but not so much that he had wanted things “evened out” when Gimli had offered in order to ease his guilt. Still he felt fortunate that his guardian was often more merciful than some, but he knew very well that while Gimli might offer second chances, there was no possible way he would be offering a third, which is why he shared a frustrated glance with Gaearon when they saw the two brothers enter the stables.

Legolas bit his lip and went on with his combing, recalling at least for the moment, the warning that he had been given before they even left home.

“No doubt those two young reprobates from Aman will be in Kortirion for the race, but I tell you now that I will not tolerate another unseemly display,” Gimli had reminded him. “Any trouble at all involving those two will be very swiftly and very firmly dealt with, if you take my meaning.”

He had, of course, understood the dwarf’s meaning, but it was made clearer to him anyway for Legolas hadn’t turned away fast enough when rolling his eyes at the completely unnecessary warning. Gimli saw it and interpreted it as cheek. so he lowered his brow ominously.

“If you value sitting in comfort, Elfling, you will heed what I say,” He growled “or if you feel it is beyond you to behave, you can stay home.”

Since missing out on the fun was not something he wished to do, Legolas agreed to stay out of trouble, something that had been fairly easy to do sitting in front of the fire in his own sitting room with his dwarf breathing down his neck. Here where he could hear the haughty voices of the two miscreants who had caused trouble for him before, it was much harder to keep his word, especially when they never even bothered to keep their voices down or to hide their mocking laughter.

“Did you see that, Lis? That powder puff of a prince and his loyal drudge trying to make their mules look like proper hot bloods!”

“I’ve even heard that the servant’s brat will even be riding in the race,” Cultan replied, “As if he can compete against his betters!”

Incensed at the insult to his friend, Legolas forgot all about earlier threats and promises and leapt to his feet to put an end to such abuse, but Gaearon prevented him by blocking his way and grasping him firmly by the shoulders. He spoke softy but intensely.

“You mustn’t! Because I cannot let you take them on alone and Ada will kill me if I get involved with fighting them again. He has already made that clear, and he never breaks a promise.”

“But Gaearon…”

“Legolas, please! It isn’t worth it. Besides, we’ll show them up in the race yes?”

Sighing, Legolas reluctantly agreed.

“ Of course we will,” he said, “but they needn’t think they can get away with their insults. Come on.”

Walking over to the neighboring stall where the brothers were checking over their own pair of horses, Legolas stepped directly in front of them, not bothering to mince words or pretend to be polite. The words that the brothers had said were meant to be heard and were meant to intimidate, so he merely let it be known that that would not be the case.

“Just to let you know, this “servant’s brat” and his “mule” could beat the pair of you blindfolded and with both hands tied behind his back.”

The brothers exchanged amused looks, as if they had been hoping for such a reaction.

“Oh dear, we have hurt the little princeling’s feelings by insulting his lickspittle?” Culton mocked.

Before he could take a step forward to wipe the smirk off Culton’s face, Legolas felt Gaearon squeeze his shoulder firmly, reminding him of his promise not to fight, so he gritted his teeth and took a deep breath instead.

“No one’s feelings are hurt,” Gaearon calmly explained. “though I suspect yours will be when you're thoroughly trounced by a little princeling and his lickspittle at the race in a few days. These are the fastest horses on the Island, which you will see soon enough!”

“Why wait?” Lison challenged. “We could have a race of our own tomorrow when we take them out to exercise them, if you two aren’t afraid to pit your “island” nags against proper stallions from the mainland.”

Legolas and Gaearon exchanged glances, for they both knew how Master Forodren felt about his beloved charges, and how he would react to them being what he would considered mishandled in any way shape or form. Getting caught in such an act was too dreadful to contemplate, and yet to say so in front of the two sneering reprobates was maybe even worsel. It was not a matter to take lightly. They hesitated a second too long, for Lison caught on to their concern and like any bully, began to pick at it.

“Oh I see. You are afraid to ask permission to take them,” he laughed. “Afraid to make Ada cross are you? Or in your case…”

Before Lison finished what he was about to say, Gaearon interrupted him.

“Actually it is just that I was thinking a straight race does not truly test the horse’s mettle. Why not measure more than speed by setting up an obstacle course with barrels and hurdles? That will be a truer test, unless mainland steeds don’t know how to jump. I have helped train this pair and I-we- don’t need anyone’s permission to race them.”

Legolas offered his friend an amazed look, for it was a bald faced lie and Gaearon had been the one so adamant about staying out of bother. But even though he had grown up without peers to get into trouble with, Legolas had quickly learned that a young ellon always had to back up his friends, no matter how ridiculous his boasts, nor how likely i twas to lead to trouble for said friend or for himself. So he just schooled his features and joined in setting the time and place to meet the next day, and then just hoped that Forodren and Gimli would never get to hear of it.

At least they had avoided an altercation, he thought, but that only lasted until he and Gaearon had turned to leave and Culton snickered to his brother.

“Imagine that pair thinking they had a chance against our House, with such low born heritage. The dark one is nothing but the son of an uppity servant. Have you seen his father, Lis? Proud face like he’s got a right to compete with his superiors, and it being allowed to begin with! As Adar said it is shocking what these Islanders have lowered themselves to these days.”

“So true,” Lison agreed, “But at least that one isn’t being fostered by a filthy Naugrim…”

Before he could finish the sentence, both Legolas and Gaearon had turned back, fully intent on smashing some heads against the ground until the brothers took back their hateful words, but they only got as far as the stall gate before they were both stopped short by a hand firmly grasping the back of each of their tunics.

“Enough!”

That was Forodren’s voice, and he did not sound the least bit pleased, though his next words were aimed at the other young elves.

“Master Culton, Master Lison, I suggest you finish with your task and return to your Adar. I am sure he would not like to find you have been messing about near these fine animals. As for you two,” here he gave his two captives a little shove toward the stable door. “you had best take yourselves outside and wait while I do a final check on the horses. I’ll be with you very soon and then we can go back home and discuss exactly what is going on here.”

Outside the two young elves fidgeted a bit and shared a worried glance, that said everything they were thinking without them having to speak a word. There was nothing to say really, for they both knew they had managed to step into bother up to their necks all in the matter of a scant few minutes, and for more than one reason. They were likely in trouble with Forodren, and probably Gimli, but it wasn’t only that that worried them.

Having been the ones to offer the terms of the unofficial race the next day, they could hardly back out without seriously losing face in front of those pompous twits from Valinor. The challenge had to be answered no matter the risk, and it was quite a risk since they had already been warned many times to stay out of trouble. Still it was unthinkable to back out now, no matter how unwise it had been to let false pride rule them. Some way or other they would have to be there for the unofficial race.

That was if Master Forodren hadn’t overheard too much of their conversation. If he had…well no one wanted to think about that possibility…but even if he hadn’t, neither young elf was certain of his immediate future. If they managed to get away unscathed tonight, which seemed unlikely, there was every chance of being watched like a hawk tomorrow, which would put an end to their plans. Plus they were not at all certain that they weren’t both in for a very serious, and likely fairly one sided, discussion once they returned to Lord Elrond’s townhouse. It wasn’t as if either Gimli or Forodren had been unclear about the consequences of disobedience ever, and especially in this instance.

Legolas at least had a slim chance that Master Forodren would not tell Gimli about their near skirmish with the sons of Gorvon, but it was a very dim hope at best. Forodren and Gimli had become thick as thieves over the years, and Forodren was not the sort to tolerate foolishness and unfortunately it was unlikely that he would hide from his friend something he would want to know himself about his own son. Still Legolas held out more hope than poor Gaearon did of surviving till morning unpunished, though it wasn’t enough of a hope to prevent his backside tingling in anticipation when Forodren joined them and demanded an explanation. Before either of them found their voice to explain, Forodren held up his hand.

“Never mind. We shall wait until we return home so Lord Gimli can hear as well,” he said, causing Legolas ray of hope to go glimmering. “There is no point in you having to explain yourselves twice. Now march!”

Forodren left little chance for them to do much else, for he grabbed each by a forearm and walked determinedly toward the house, which was only a short way from where the horses were stabled.

Legolas briefly fantasized about demanding to be unhanded. He was, after all, technically Forodren’s employer, but then he thought about Gimli’s getting to hear of him attempting to pull rank on the stable Master just to save his own skin and knew his guardian would have something to say about that! His earlier thoughts regarding the similarities between dwarves and elves returned to mind. Legolas had been brought up from very early childhood to respect his elders and listen to their guidance no matter their position, especially if that elder was fully trusted by his parent. He knew very well that that was one of the rare things that Gimli and his Adar were in complete agreement about, and Gimli trusted Master Forodren as much as he trusted Lord Elrond, which was saying quite a lot! So he squashed that pipe dream as quickly as it had come up and resigned himself to his fate with a sigh.

Too soon he found himself sitting next to Gaearon with a very severe looking pair of parental figures across the table from them. When they were commanded to explain what had taken place, it felt like a waste of breath to attempt to do so. There was really nothing they could say that made any difference in Gimli or Forodren’s mind. They had been fairly and very specifically warned about the consequences of getting into any trouble involving Gorvon’s sons. Still, it was also not an option to keep silent, so in spite of it being pointless to the outcome of the discussion, the whole story was eventually told.

Unfortunately for the two miscreants, their belief that any explanation they attempted would be fruitless turned out to be painfully true. Insulting words were not reason enough to justify an altercation (unless it was to defend a lady’s honor, according to Gimli) and they had been warned about what to expect should such a thing happen. So no one was surprised with the eventual result of the evening.

True, Forodren had intervened before they had come to blows, so the penalty was not as severe as it might have been otherwise, but it was still enough for both young elves to choose to sleep face down that night. There was no chance to talk to one another afterwards, but before they parted they shared an anguished look, not from fear of any physical chastisement, but because they both knew they were in for even more bother if they were to get caught in their unsanctioned race the next day, but worse yet was the thought that they would have to forego said race because of being kept under a strict parental eye. That was more mortifying to consider than all the rest. They would never be able to hold their heads up in front of Gorvon’s sons again should they fail to show.

But the next morning things began to look up. There was very little residual effect from the evening before, and it looked as if no further restriction was going to be placed upon them. Legolas and Gaearon had both half expected to be confined to the house or to staying within close proximity to a parent, but it seemed that wasn’t going to be the case, though there was warnings and threats in plenty about dire consequences if there was a “next time”. That had been a surprise, for this time had already been a “next time,” but Legolas suspected it might have been because Gimli and Forodren had already earlier planned to spend the day checking out a local pub that was famous for having very fine ale, which made them considerably less diligent than was their usual practice. Whatever the case, it was a great relief! With Gimli and Forodren focused on other matters, it was much more likely that they could get away with their planned wrongdoing. Both were cautiously optimistic.

That optimism lasted all the way through break of fast, until there was a loud knock at the front door. It turned out to be a Hwiniol, one of their grooms at home, who was sorry to interrupt their holiday, but needed to let Lord Gimli know that there was some trouble with the building of the new greenhouse that was in the process of being built at home. Somehow there had been some miscalculations involving load bearing walls and the weight of all the glass that was to be used, and there was some danger of some serious breakage that would not only cost a lot of time and resources to repair, but could be dangerous to the workers. There was nothing to be done, but for Gimli to go home and see to the situation himself. He would return as soon as he could, but there was no time to lose. He must hurry to prepare for the short journey. Before he did so, he turned to Legolas and indicated that he should get ready as well.

“Get prepared, Lad. We leave in one hour.”

“We?” Legolas cried, sharing a dismayed look with Gaearon, “Why must I go? I know nothing about load bearing walls.”

“It matters not,” Gimli informed him “You heard what I said. Now move!”

“But Gimli…”

“Don’t but Gimli me boy. You should have thought of this outcome before you misbehaved yesterday. You have just proven that you can’t be left on your own without getting into bother, so you clearly need to be where you can be watched closely.”

Legolas exchanged another desperate look with Gaearon, for their reputation would be destroyed good and proper if they didn’t show up at the designated time!

But suddenly Gaearon had a brilliant idea.

“Ada could watch him!” he suggested. “He won’t mind will you Ada? We’ll be a man short without Legolas.”

Legolas glanced at Forodren, who at least hadn’t spoken up to refuse the idea, so the young elf added his voice to the petition.

“Yes, I could stay under Master Forodren’s eye until you return,” Legolas cajoled his guardian., even as he wondered how he could ditch Forodren when the time came for the race now that Gimli wasn’t going to be there to temp him with visiting the pub. “We have no way to know for sure if you will return before the day of the race and Master Forodren cannot ride himself with his strained shoulder. If I leave we will put his chances of winning in jeopardy.”

Here he turned to Forodren, who now almost looked as if he were holding back a smile.

“That is if he does not object.” Legolas added inclining his head respectfully to the Stable Master.

“I do not object, my young Lord,” Forodren said, “but only if your guardian deems it appropriate. We will not be pressuring Lord Gimli for he will know what is best for you and must make his choice dependent upon that, not on what the two of you wish or what gives us the best odds in a race.”

Even so, two pairs of pleading eyes landed upon Gimli, and as fed up as he had been the day before, his heart was inevitably softened, though he was careful to keep his voice very firm when he responded so as not to leave his charge in doubt of his seriousness.

“Very well, you may stay,” Gimli said, “but if you do so, keep in mind that Master Forodren is to deal with you just as he would his own son, so you should not expect special concession in any sort of circumstance. In fact, if you give him cause to have to correct any misbehavior or disobedience, I will consider it to be direct defiance to me. In other words, if you get in trouble with him, you will also answer to me when I return. Now are you sure that is what you wish Elfling?”

Legolas shuddered, for he knew very well that he fully intended to do something that both Forodren and Gimli would consider a punishable offense, but there was little choice since he had foolishly agreed to go along with Gaearon’s acceptance to the challenge of a race. Plus there was at least some hope that they might not get caught, so he swallowed his doubts and kept his voice steady as he answered.

“Yes Gimli I am sure,” he said, sounding far more confident than he felt.

“Very well,” Gimli nodded in agreement. “Now I must be going.”

Only a few minutes later Gimli was off, with a kiss to his charge’s forehead and one final admonition to behave, and then Gaearon and Legolas were left with trying to figure out what to do with Master Forodren.

Perhaps Forodren was too confident that his two charges would be on their best behavior after having just been punished the night before, for it didn’t take much for them to convince him to go on with his original plan to visit the famous pub while they took care of the horses, even without Gimli there to enjoy it with him. Whatever the case, late that afternoon Forodren started off to the pub, and Legolas and Gaearon arrived with Gilroch and Daeroch at the agreed upon meeting place just as Lison and Culton arrived. What had seemed like a good idea yesterday, now seemed foolish, and Legolas and Gaearon were left wondering exactly why they had gotten themselves into such a predicament to begin with.

It only took a glance at the smirking faces of the two young princes to remind them, however, so soon enough they were enthusiastically engaged in a boasting match. As is usual for young males, their claims became more and more outrageous until what had originally been planned as an obstacle course became an obstacle course with trick riding that was to include one very dangerous stunt that was forbidden in every competition on the island and the mainland alike. Legolas recalled that it had even been frowned upon by the Horse Lords in Rohan as something no sensible person would ever attempt. Of course there were those who would say that adolescent males were among the least sensible of the population, and since the small crowd of onlookers that had begun forming was made up entirely of such folk, perhaps it was not surprising that no one objected to the idea. Since the competition had become one of more than just straightforward racing, unbiased audience members were quickly elected to act as judges and soon everything had been set up. The four competitors, divided into two teams, were anxious to prove their skills to one another and to the increasingly excited crowd.

Egged on by the crowd, the original four participants agreed to increase the entertainment value of the competition by dividing it into three events: barrel racing, hurdles and then the now much anticipated trick riding. Legolas, at least, had a brief moment of clarity when he realized they were pushing their luck by encouraging spectators and by taking so much time. It would certainly be safer to prove their superiority over Gorvon’s sons quickly and privately in order to decrease their chances of being caught out. Yet he was enjoying the experience far too much to dwell on the thought, especially after he came in first place in the first event by several lengths, with Gaearon at a distant second. Lison and Culton hadn’t stood a chance, and Legolas and Gaearon had reveled in rubbing their faces in it, in spite of it being bad sportsmanship to do so. As far as the they were concerned, Gorvon’s son’s didn’t deserves such courtesy after their insults from the night before!

The tables were soon turned, however, when Legolas misjudged and caused Daeroch to catch one of the hurdles with the tip of his hoof and knocked it over, while their challengers managed not to miss even one, tying the score and making the final winner the one judged to be the best trick riding team. Neither Legolas nor Gaearon were the least bit worried, for they had often practiced such things, sometimes secretly when the trick was something deemed too dangerous by Master Forodren or Gimli. Gaearon had even once successfully done the banned stunt before his adar had suddenly appeared and ended any opportunity for Legolas to try it or for Gaearon to try it again, but still they were both quite confident that they could accomplish it now.

The stunt was called the “Encore Presentation,” for it was so spectacular that when it was performed the crowds begged for more, but Master Forodren nicknamed it the “Death Drag” and claimed it was foolish for anyone to try it. In his opinion, it did nothing to show off the grace and skill of the horse, which was the whole point of horse racing, but only showed the sheer idiocy of the rider. Anyone who would attempt such a thing was merely “showing off” for the sake of drawing attention to himself rather than taking the sport seriously as it deserved. Not to mention that it was extremely dangerous, for the whole idea of it was for the rider to slide sideways off of the running horse’s back and, holding on with just his legs, let his hair and arms drag on the ground, then either return to a riding position, or even more dangerous, dismounting with a backflip while the horse was still running at top speed. Many cracked ribs, broken limbs and serious concussions had happened before the stunt was banned several hundred years ago, and now it was mostly only attempted secretly by boastful young males who wished to impress their sweethearts, show off for their friends or in this case, settle a score. Literally, it turned out, for it was decided that each contestant would choose one stunt for all of them to perform. The judges would rate each stunt with a number between one and ten and whichever team had the highest combined score at the end would be declared the winner, with all the boasting rights that came with the title.

The trick riding began easily enough, with Liston standing up in the saddle and riding the length of the race track. Legolas found himself rolling his eyes at that, for he had been able to do that nearly as long as he had been riding the regular way. Gaearon found it easy as well, and even Culton growled at his brother for throwing away his turn on a “child’s trick.” No one had any trouble performing such an easy stunt, so there was not much to judge.

Culton surpassed his brother by choosing a much harder stunt where the rider was required to begin by standing in the saddle and then leaning forward to hold onto the horse’s mane and then lift one foot straight behind him. Keeping one’s balance on one foot in that position was not easily done, but all of them managed it, though some more gracefully than others. It would be up to the judge’s to score them. The results would not be seen until the end of the competition, but Legolas felt fairly confident for he had seen that Gaearon’s attempt had been more fluid and nimble than either of Gorvon’s sons, and while he himself had been a little shaky at first, he was pretty sure he had held the position the longest.

Legolas decided on one of his favorite tricks, one he had practiced often and had used in need a time or two, and that was mounting a horse that was running at top speed. Of course, neither Gaearon nor Legolas and likely not even Culton or Lison would terrify a horse into running at such a speed for the sake of a trick, but a good horseman know how to get his mount to cooperate, so it only took them spending a little time letting the horses know what they wanted from them. As he expected, Legolas had no trouble at all pulling off the stunt, but Gaearon somehow miscalculated and ended up sliding off the other side rather than landing on the horse’s back. Fortunately he was unhurt except for a scrape on his shoulder, a rip in the knee of his trousers and slightly battered dignity, which meant that Gorvon’s sons might stand a chance since both had performed the stunt tolerably well.

That, of course, meant that it was time for the long anticipated “Death Drag”, which had been saved for last for best dramatic effect. Gaearon, having been the only one of the group to have ever successfully performed it had been the one to suggest it when the boasting had begun, so now there was no backing out honorably, and having suggested it, he would be the one to go first. The two of them had already decided to do the trick together in rapid succession, with Legolas beginning his turn just as Gaearon’s ended. It would be more impressive that way

Legolas wondered if Gaearon’s heart was beating as wildly as his was as Gaearon climbed upon Daeroch’s back and encouraged him to a run. Once the horse was at his top speed, Legolas mounted Gilroch in readiness for his turn while Gaearon began the stunt, holding the pommel in his right hand and then sliding sideways until his body was parallel with the ground. He held the pose for a few seconds, then came the most dangerous part of the stunt. He let go and slid even further down so that his left hand could almost touch the ground, then threw his head back so that his long black hair waved just above the ground as well. Legolas held his breath, for this was the most dangerous moment, for a slight miscalculation would mean Gaearon might fall head first right in front of Daearoch’s back feet and be trampled, for there would be no time for the horse to react. It truly was a dangerous stunt, he suddenly realized, and for just a moment he wished they had never agreed to attempt it. But the uncharacteristically sensible thought fled the moment Gaearon gracefully returned to his original position and raised both hands in triumph to the cheering crowd. It had been a spectacular performance!

But there was little time to think about that, for before Gaearon had even slowed his mount, Legolas was off like a flash on Gilroch, whispering in his ear to urge him quickly to his fastest speed. Any uncertainty he had perviously entertained was faded to nothing at the sheer thrill of flying at such speed and at the admiration of the cheering crowd. It was exhilarating, and he knew without a doubt, that Gilroch felt it as well, for he could feel the moment when they seemed to meld as if they were one incredible creature rather than an ordinary horse and rider. There was no way to fail. He confidently let go with both hands, not even bothering to slip sideways in smaller steps as Gaearon had done. In one fluid motion, he slid off Gilroch’s back, hanging on tightly with both legs, raised both hands and threw back his head so that the tips of his long golden hair actually made a trail in the dust of the track.

Then, in a moment of inspiration, he decided to try the more difficult version of the trick! Still riding at top speed, he let go with both legs, pushing off so that his hands landed a fraction of an inch outside of the path of Gilroch’s shod hooves. When both hands were solidly on the ground, he sprang backwards with all his might and landed lightly on his feet, then added another entirely unnecessary backflip for good measure. The crowd gasped and then roared in appreciation as Legolas spun around and bowed with a flourish.

Then for some reason, the crowd was gasping again, but before Legolas could look around to see what the trouble was, he was knocked off balance by a yank to his arm, that forced him to stagger clumsily and then have to almost trot to keep up with whoever had him in their strong grasp. Before he could recover long enough to see who it was, he found himself standing in the soft grass beside the dusty track. He fought to free himself briefly, but could not seem to do so, and then suddenly he was yanked around again against his will, this time to face his unexpected opponent. His stomach fell to the ground and his heart turned over with a sickening flop as he looked into the terrified face of his own stable master!

Before his eyes, Forodren’s terror seemed to change to fury, so that Legolas half expected to be shaken until his teeth rattled in his head, but that wasn’t the case. Instead the elder elf merely took a deep breath and then let him go, indicating that he should stand next to Forodren’s quivering son. Gaearon had gone completely pale under his tan and stood wide eyed awaiting his father’s orders. Almost Legolas wanted to reach for Gaearon’s hand for support, for he very much feared for his and Gaearon’s immediate future. He didn’t quite have the nerve to do, so he settled for catching Gaearon’s eyes instead, but there was no comfort to be found there. Gaearon knew as well as he did that they were doomed. Legolas could only hope that Forodren at least allowed them the dignity of a little privacy before he laid into them, though he couldn’t quite stop the thought that they probably didn’t deserve it.

Whatever Forodren was thinking, he did not yell, but merely spoke calmly using only a few clipped phrases.

“Are either of you hurt?” When both young elves only stared as if they were in shock, he ordered, “Answer quickly.”

This seemed to break the spell and both shook their heads enthusiastically in answer, even as Forodren looked at the small cut on Gaearon’s shoulder.

“Then take care of the horses and return home immediately.” Forodren instructed, still frighteningly calm.

He did finally raise his voice a little, but only to include the rest of the crowd. “The rest of you scoot before I start asking for names.”

And scoot they did, very rapidly. Even Culton and Lison, for all their big talk about servants, and uppity stable hands daring to compete with their “betters” didn’t seem to be in any big hurry to defy the stern-faced horse master. They departed as fast as anyone, and didn’t even dare to mock Gaearon or Legolas, who were obviously in a good bit of trouble. The appearance of an elder, even one without a royal title in front of his name was enough to get them to move with alacrity, though Legolas was meanly pleased when they were met halfway to the stable by King Gorvon’s personal guard, who informed the brothers that they were expected to meet with their father in half an hour. He had already heard what had taken place.

The thought that Gorvon’s sons were likely in a great deal of trouble was the only balm to the turmoil Legolas was suffering, for it had suddenly occurred to him that even if he survived the upcoming audience with Master Forodren, he still had to face Gimli after he returned. It was a bone-chilling thought.

When thinking of it later, Legolas could never quite remember what happened in the stable. it was almost like he and Gaearon worked without thought, automatically doing what needed to be done for Gilroch and Daeroch, who were both glistening with sweat after their performance. They quickly and methodically rubbed the horses down, watered and fed them and then combed, brushed and braided them back to their original splendor. Gilroch whuffed in Legolas’ hair once in what felt like quiet empathy and then he and Gaearon were making the short walk home.

There was no story to conjure up or lie to agree on for they had been caught red handed, so they walked mostly in silence, though just before they arrived home, Gaearon turned to Legolas and spoke softly and Legolas thought a little wistfully.

“We would have won, you know, if we had gotten to finish. You were amazing!”

“So were you, Gaearon, truly spectacular. It is too bad we never got to see the score.” He hesitated for a moment and then ventured, “Do you…think it will be too bad?”

Gaearon looked sympathetic, as if he would have liked to have encouraged his friend, but all he could manage was a pathetic smile that looked more like a grimace and squeeze on his arm.

“Just answer his questions succinctly and try not to embellish too much. It’s better to get things over with rather than drag them out with discussion.”

It was not reassuring advice. Legolas had ever relied on getting Gimli to at least see his side of things and draw on his sympathetic nature, or if the offense wasn’t too serious, to try to make him smile or laugh. It only occasionally worked to get him out of trouble with his guardian entirely, but he had successfully lightened the penalty he might have received otherwise on many occasions, but that could not be done without the chance for a discussion. Still it was better to know what you were facing.

Not that Legolas had never come under Master Forodren’s displeasure. It had happened on a few rare occasions when he had managed to get into bother with Gaearon or if he hadn’t perfectly followed Forodren’s exacting standards on the handling of his beloved horses for Legolas was occasionally wont to attempt tricky driving maneuvers that Forodren did not approve of. The stable master never hesitated to scold on those occasions, nor to let Gimli-who sometimes added his mite to the discussion-his opinion of such things. But this was a different situation entirely. Gimli had made it undeniably clear that until he returned Legolas was to answer to Forodren just as Gaearon did, and unfortunately Legolas had known the father and son pair long enough to realized exactly what that most likely entailed. He returned to his earlier gloomy thought that they were walking to their doom.

Legolas tried to tell himself it couldn’t possibly be worse than what he had faced before at the hands of others who had had him in their charge, but he couldn’t quite convince his trembling knees or the big knot that had settled in the pit of his stomach. He also couldn’t convince his pounding heart that hammered even more madly when they finally reached the door to Lord Elrond’s Kortirion cottage. One final glance at Gaearon did nothing to ease his mind, for Gaearon looked as nervous as he felt, and he knew quite well what to expect, but Gaearon did offer him a very dim hope, though it didn’t really make Legolas feel much better.

“Maybe he will let you off,” Gaearon offered doubtfully. “I’m going over his knee whatever I say, but maybe you can ask him to allow you to wait for Lord Gimli’s return.”

Legolas only shrugged in response, for he somehow doubted that would be the case, and even if it were, he didn't think it would be any better, for waiting was more excruciating than anything in his opinion, though he recalled that he would have to wait to answer to Gimli either way, no matter what happened with Master Forodren. Well there was only one way to find out what the future held. Squaring his shoulders he opened the door and courageously stepped inside, with Gaearon following just behind him.

Master Forodren had already seated himself at the dining table and placed two chairs across the table from him. When the door softly closed, Forodren looked up from the small book he was reading, carefully marked his place and then placed it in an inside pocket of his outer tunic . He gave his two charges a few moments to shift and squirm before inviting them to sit and then he still said nothing for nearly half a minute.

The silence was so dreadful that Legolas felt he would rather have just admit to everything immediately than suffered through it, and he had opened his mouth to do just that when Forodren raised one hand that meant the two miscreants should remain silent until asked to speak. Eventually Forodren broke the silence, but what he said did not make for pleasant listening.

“So tell me just exactly what lead the two of you to steal my horses to run them in an illegal race, and to foolishly risk your own necks at the same time?”

Steal? They quickly exchanged amazed looks, for neither of them had thought of what they had done as a crime.

“We did not exactly steal them, Ada,” Gaearon objected, “We only…”

“Did the horses belong to either of you?” Forodren interrupted.

“No sir,” Gaearon admitted, while Legolas only shook his head for fear that if he opened his mouth he might make the situation worse.

“That is correct,” Forodren continued. “And did you have my permission to take them?”

This time both young elves merely shook their heads.

“Then let us not sugar coat the truth. Taking something that belongs to someone else without their permission is stealing, plain and simple. Now I want you to explain to me exactly what happened that lead the two of you to believe you had a good reason for doing so. You will explain one at a time and while one of you is speaking the other will keep his tongue behind his teeth. Lord Legolas, you go first.”

Remembering Gaearon’s earlier advice, Legolas told the tale accurately but without embellishment. Had he been explaining to Gimli he might have worked harder at explaining how he had felt honor bound to come to his and Forodren’s defense and to Gaearon’s who had also been insulted. Refusing to take part in the challenge would have been the same as admitting to Gorvon’s sons that they and their horses were superior. He might have explained how inadequate and ill prepared he felt in dealing with taunts and jibes from peers and how he had needed to support Gaearon as well. It probably wouldn’t have changed the outcome, but at least Gimli might have been a little sympathetic and tried afterwards to help him understand better how to handle a similar situation in the future. With Forodren it was too humiliating to admit his lack of understanding of how to deal with peers, and it might only lead to Forodren believing he was making excuses just to save his own skin. No it was better to stick with the facts only as Gaearon had advised. After all he was the one who had experience with his own Ada.

Master Forodren gave little indication of how he was feeling once Legolas reached the end of his tale, but he did thank him politely for his explanation before getting Gaearon’s take on things. There was very little to add for Legolas’ explanation had been thorough, though he did admit that he was the one who had agreed to the challenge and that Legolas had only been supporting him.

“I wanted to do it too,” Legolas interjected, slightly peeved that Gaearon felt the need to protect him, but then he clamped his lips together when Forodren raised a baleful eyebrow. He had already had his say and had not been given permission to speak again. Fortunately Forodren seemed prepared to let that go for he never mentioned it. Instead he started in on what turned out to be a very succinct lecture.

“Perhaps if this had been the first time the two of you had encountered those two brat’s of Gorvon’s it might be a different case, but I believe you have both been told, very firmly in fact, to stay out of trouble when it comes to those two, but instead you have shamed yourselves by entertaining their petty provocation. If you had ignored their taunts and dismissed them as the childish twaddle they were, you would have come across as sensible and mature. Instead you have sunk to their level, and shown yourselves to be a pair of hot tempered children. Not to mention the the fact that to do so you have stolen property, blatantly disobeyed direct orders and put yourselves in serious danger. You cannot imagine how I felt to arrive just in time to see my fool son risking his neck by doing a stunt so dangerous that it has been banned from every respectable racing facility in the West. And you, Lord Legolas, had you put your hand wrong just by half an inch I might now have the sad duty of bringing news of your death to Lord Gimli, who loves you more than his own life and has done all in his power to see that you are happy and safe. Can you imagine what that would do to him? And for such a senseless reason!”

Legolas did imagine it, and unwanted tears sprang to his eyes at the thought. In the moment he hadn’t thought of it, but seeing him killed or badly injured for a mere stunt would likely be Gimli’s undoing after all he had done to assure his safe arrival to the West and then all the subsequent years of care. If Forodren noticed his sudden upset, he did not soften his scolding because of it.

“The two of you should be thoroughly ashamed of yourselves. Such behavior is indefensible and nothing you can say will excuse it. However, if you do have anything more to say, now is the time.”

Since there really was nothing to say that would make any difference to the outcome, both young elves just offered an apology, which didn’t seem to impress Forodren too much.

“Aye you are sorry now that you have been caught in your naughtiness, though soon you will be a great deal sorrier! Gaearon, I never thought to have you over my knee two days in a row, and for the FOURTH time for the same offense. Clearly I have not made my thoughts on this matter plain enough, though that ends today. You, my son, are about to receive a spanking you won’t soon forget and afterwards you are to stay within my sight until further notice since I obviously cannot trust you to obey me as I believed I could.”

Gaearon blanched, no doubt at the thought that his father thought the last attempt at making him see sense had not been memorable enough, then he flushed completely red as he likely realized that his friend had heard this threat. Legolas, however, had no thought to tease his friend, for he was mostly thinking of his own immediate future. Hearing Forodren describe his plans for his son was the same as hearing what was about to happen to him as far as he knew. After all, he had sworn to Gimli that he would expect to be treated just as Gaearon was treated. He felt his own face turn hot and the ringing in his ears meant he barely noticed that Forodren was now addressing him.

“As for you, Lord Legolas, I have promised Lord Gimli to care for you just as I would my own child. In this case-though perhaps I should not- I will allow you the option of waiting until Lord Gimli returns to see how he wishes to handle this situation if that is what you prefer. I must insist, however, that you also stay within my sight until he returns. I evidently cannot risk your being out of my line of vision without getting into bother.”

For just a moment Legolas was relieved at having the option, but after thinking on it for a moment, he realized it was probably not the best choice to wait for Gimli after all. He knew he was flushing furiously when he spoke.

“I do not deserve your forbearance, Master Forodren, though I thank you for it. However I believe it is probably best to…to…” Legolas hadn’t realized how hard it would be to find the words to say he preferred to take his chances over Forodren’s knee than to wait for Gimli. “It is probably best if you…that is Gimli will likely just make me return to you for um… chastisement anyway since that was his original decree.”

Legolas sighed and closed his eyes, forcing himself to continue when Forodren looked at him questioningly.

“Gimli will be angry whatever I do, and I will likely have to answer to him either way, for he has already said as much,” Legolas quickly explained, “but it might ease his ire if I have already accepted the consequences of my actions as he originally stated I should. I agreed to it after all, and I will at least not shame Gimli or you more than I have already. Besides, I cannot honorably postpone things while Gaearon pays the price for our mutual misconduct.”

“And you agree to this, even knowing exactly what will happen to you?”

“ I do.”

“For the sake of parity, you will be treated just as Gaearon is treated.”

“It would not be right otherwise.”

“Very well then,” Forodren nodded. “I am pleased to know that you are willing to acknowledge your fault and accept the penalty for your actions without coercion. Now f you both need to bathe for you stink of horse. I already had Mistress Canthui place towels and sleeping attire in the bathing chamber for you both before she went home, for once we are finished discussing things you will be going straight to bed. Also since you are not to be out of my sight, I will have to come with you. Come now, do not look so shocked, lads. After all it is nothing I haven’t seen before.”

That was true enough, for Gaearon was Forodren’s son, after all and even Legolas had been swimming with the Horse Master on more than one occasion without feeling the least bit of body shame, for he was not particularly shy in that way. Still Legolas and Gaearon shared a horrified glance at that news, for even though Forodren had seen them both naked, it was hardly the same as having him supervising as they prepared to be spanked and put to bed like a pair of naughty elflings. Still neither of them dared to argue considering the circumstances, so they merely preceded Forodren into the very large bathing chamber where the huge sunken tub had already been filled with steaming water. It was designed to accommodate more than one person, and neither Gaearon nor Legolas were opposed to using public baths at times, but again the prospect of what was about to happen afterward made the whole situation awkward when it might not have been otherwise. Legolas’ hands shook so that unfastening his tunic became quite a challenge. Seeing this, Forodren mercifully turned his back, though that was as much concession as he would make for their privacy and comfort.
“Make haste,” Forodren ordered quite sternly, and so both youngsters hurried to do as they had been bidden. It would hardly do to irritate him more than they had already.

Legolas was relieved to see the clothing that Canthui had chosen for him, for it included small clothing, soft leggings and a long night shirt, meaning that should by some miracle Master Forodren allowed them to remain fully dressed for their upcoming chastisement, he would have the slight protection of layers. He very much doubted that would be the case, but he held on to hope, even though it was embarrassing to realize that Canthui very likely had guessed what was going to happen and had kindly made her selections based on that fact. Whatever the case, and whatever the future held, he was grateful not to be wearing nothing but a thin nightshirt, which would have been his usual sleeping attire. Canthui had even thought to provide thick socks, which was a comfort, for oddly enough it helped him to feel less exposed.

He glanced at Gaearon, with whom he had not made eye contact since their arrival to the bathing chamber, and noticed that he was dressed similarly and was now combing out his damp hair with trembling hands. Seeing his friend so nervous caused what he might earlier have described as butterflies in his stomach feel more like bats, and it also gave him a sudden urge to relieve himself, though he was not desperate enough to do it in front of Gaearon and Master Forodren, nor was he brave enough to ask permission to do so privately. It was just one more thing that would have been different with his own guardian. He might have been just as nervous, but he would not have been as shy. Fortunately he didn’t have to decide what to do, for Gaearon brought it up.

“Ada I…”

He didn’t have to say more, for when his father looked at his face, he must have guessed his need. Forodren ushered Legolas out of the room, leaving Gaearon alone, so at least there was to be privacy for some things, while they were in disgrace though evidently not much.

“Do not dawdle,” Forodren ordered through the door, then he turned to Legolas and advised him that it would be wise for him to follow Gaearon’s example.

“So there will be no need to stop once we’ve begun,” Forodren said. A perfectly practical idea that left Legolas feeling both relieved and more nervous that ever It was a relief not to have to ask for himself, but it was a little worrying that Forodren seemed so concerned that it was needed.

When Legolas finally found himself alone, he attended to his needs and then risked taking a minute or two to take a few deep breaths and look himself over in the glass before rejoining Forodren and Gaearon. When he did he saw that his eyes were perfectly round and his face was unusually pale, but with brightly flushed cheeks, and he knew that he looked nearly as anxious as he felt. He attempted to school his features, for he wished to look properly repentant and accepting of the sanctions he had earned without appearing childish, but no matter how he held his face, he still looked more like a frightened elfling waiting to be called to account for some sort of naughtiness. There was no time to solve the problem, though, for Forodren soon cleared his throat meaningfully and Legolas knew that meant his time for privacy was up. He softly slipped out of the room and awaited further instructions, for he was unsure of where the “event” was to take place.

Forodren ended up leading them to a guest chamber, one that he was sharing with his son. Gimli had requested, and Legolas had agreed, that the two of them stay in the house rather than in servants quarters over the stable where Legolas’ Horse now resided by himself. Ruby the fourth, Gimli’s beloved pony had been his companion before Gimli had had to leave, and Gaearon and Forodren had arrived on Daeroch and Gilroch who were now stabled at the race facility. Forodren might have actually preferred being nearer the horses, but he acquiesce the third time that Gimli insisted on him staying in the house, probably because Gimli had picked up Forodren’s bags to haul up to the chamber himself. In the last year of so, the stable master had become one of the dwarf’s dearest friends, and he would not allow disparity in rank to cause him to treat the father and son pair any differently than he would a friend of similar rank. It had taken months of perseverance to get Forodren to occasionally drop the title, “Lord” from in front of Gimli’s name and Gimli still reminded him daily of that preference, as did Legolas.

Whatever the case, it meant that Forodren and Gaearon were sharing a single room with two wide beds, and that was where Forodren lead his two reluctant charges and indicated that they should both sit on the edge of the bed, while he ominously rifled through a dresser drawer and came up with a largish wooden hairbrush that he casually tossed on the bedside table. Legolas bit his tongue to prevent himself squeaking in protest and the sharp intake of breath coming from Gaearon did not help matters. Almost he wanted to change his mind and wait for Gimli’s return after all, but he quickly squashed the thought, for he could not honorably do so when his friend had not been given the luxury of such a choice. Besides that he had a reputation to maintain. He might be heedless and hot tempered, as Forodren had claimed, and he might never consider the consequences of his actions, as Gimli often lamented, but no one could accuse him of being a coward. He squared his shoulders and raised his eyes to Forodren’s face.

The stable master did not look overtly angry, but he certainly looked quite stern. There was a slight frown on his face as he took his time removing his outer tunic and putting it neatly away and then just as methodically, rolled up the long sleeves of his shirt, and then crossed his sinewy, sun-tanned arms over his broad chest. It was a full half minute before he finally spoke.

“There is no reason for further talk as far as I can see,” he said. “We all know why we are here, so it is best to just get on with it. The only question is who will be going first?”

The two miscreants exchanged glances, for each wished to offer the more advantageous position to the other, but neither one knew whether it was better to go first or second. There might be some advantage in going last, since perhaps Forodren with his strained shoulder might tire a bit, but that also meant having to hear what was about to happen to you, happening to your friend, and the waiting could be excruciating. Evidently they were not fast enough in their decision making, for Forodren took away the choice by holding a hand out to his son.

“Gaearon, come,” He pulled the dark haired elf to his feet and guided him to stand next to the bed. Legolas stood as well, but when he looked longingly at the door, hoping to be dismissed to the next room to wait, but Forodren turned him toward the opposite wall instead.

“You must stay within my sight until I can safely turn you over to your guardian, Lord Legolas,” he explained. “You may face the wall if you like, but you may not leave the room.”

Legolas walked quickly to the far side of the room and did choose to face the wall, for he could not quite be certain if Forodren meant that as an order or an option and he had no wish to test it to find out. Besides that he was quite certain that if he had to hear his friend being punished, he at least did not wish to see it. It felt embarrassingly juvenile to be standing facing the wall, for he hadn’t had to do so in a very long time. Gimli seldom made use of that sort of punitive action, though his Ada had done so often. in fact he realized that he should feel grateful that at least he was not facing the wall with his leggings pooled around his knees, which had been the case on a few sad occasions in the past. He was relieved that Forodren had spared him that, or at least hadn’t thought of it so far. This was going to be difficult enough to endure as it was, for he was dreading having to hear Gaearon’s punishment nearly as much as he dreaded coping with his own. He longed to cover his ears to block the sound, but again would not risk being ordered to keep his hands at his sides or on his head, which was the tradition position for someone facing a corner or a wall while awaiting chastisement, so he only clenched his fists once, then let them hang still at his sides as he nervously awaited what would come next.

It did not take long for things to begin. He heard a slight shifting of the mattress as Forodren seated himself and then gave a few terse orders to his son.

“You know how this goes, boy. You have certainly had enough practice in the last week or so. Leggings down and over my knee.”

Legolas’ heart sunk a little at that, for he had still been fantasizing against his better experience that Forodren was the sort that would allow them the modesty and slight protection of remaining fully clothed. He had known it was a very slim hope, but it had been something to cling to in this whole mortifying situation. He had very little time to mourn, however, for he soon heard the sounds of clothing being shifted, and then the resounding slap of a hard hand against naked flesh and Gaearon’s shocked yelp. The next one was just as reverberant, but Gaearon managed to only gasp that time and then kept quiet for an impressively long time, though the spanking didn't seem to lighten or slow down in the least. It seemed like a very long time before there was a pause, and even then it wasn’t over evidently,

“That was for disobeying me again in regards to those two young fools,” Forodren explained, “now we shall address your foolishly risking your life. Hand over the hair brush.”

There was the sound of heavy, shaky breathing, and then a few shuffling steps before the punishment continued, this time with the sharp sound of wood against bare skin. Evidently it was too difficult for Gaearon to remain stoic this time, for each crack of the hairbrush was accompanied by a muffled yelp, that gave way to the sound of soft sobbing after the tenth one. Legolas hadn’t realized he had been counting until it was over and Forodren’s formerly stern voice had become softer and kinder.

“All over, Child. Take a deep breath, now. Good lad.”

Legolas took a deep breath in relief himself, for it had been agonizing to hear his friend suffer. For a few moments he could only hear Gaearon’s doleful sniffling and Forodren’s softly shushing him, and then a little more briskly,
“You mustn’t get too comfortable, Gaearon, for I still have business to attend to. It would be unkind to keep our young Lord waiting any longer. You may trade places with your partner in crime.”

Feeling as tightly stung as a bowstring, Legolas did not hesitate to come when bidden to do so. At this point, he only wished to have this mortifying moment over with. He knew very well that he had behaved poorly, and deserved whatever was about to happen and he just wanted it done. He still was not quite sure how he could have handled the whole mess with Gorvon’s sons differently and still kept his honor in tact, but Forodren was evidently certain he could have and he was determined to make his opinion clear, though admittedly his voice had softened somewhat since he had dealt with Gaearon. Even though he had sworn to treat them just the same, he never quite got back his stern demeanor from earlier. Perhaps it was because he recognized Legolas’ situation was more difficult than Gaearon’s considering he was facing the mortification of being upended over someone other than his guardian’s knee besides not knowing just what to expect. Legolas knew Forodren was quite fond of him, after all, and would not go out of his way to intimidate him unnecessarily. Even so Legolas had to use all his self control not to wipe his sweaty palms on his clothing, for the stable master was effortlessly intimidating whether he meant to be or not..

Legolas swallowed hard, and tried to bravely raise his eyes to Forodren’s, but he thought he probably looked more pleading than anything. This was proven when Forodren spoke softly as he would to a wild horse that he was trying to gentle.

“Just loosen your leggings, Lord Legolas, and step forward,” he instructed. “I will handle everything else.”

Legolas attempted to do so with shaky hands, but only seemed to make the ties of his legging tighter. He also couldn’t help answering back, respectfully of course.

“Please do not call me “Lord” Master Forodren. it seems quite silly at a time like this.”

Forodren’s lip twitched as if he were amused, though Legolas could not be sure that was the case for all he said was, “Very well, then. Legolas come closer please.”

Still fighting with the ties of his leggings Legolas did so, only to have Forodren still his hands for him. Forodren quickly worked out the knots that had formed from Legolas’ nervous fiddling, and then with one swift movement pulled the trembling young elf between his knees and over his left leg, so that Legolas’ upper body was resting on the bed. Forodren then easily slid Legolas’ leggings down to his knees, so that he felt the cool air against his rear end and thighs. It was a little shocking for things to happen so quickly, but he had little time to think about it before a very hard, calloused hand landed solidly in the center of his bottom. He felt the sharp sting and then the breath rushed from his lungs and he couldn't help the little alarmed yelp that issued from his throat, though he bit his lip hard to prevent making another sound. The spanks came down hard and fast and in no specific pattern until he felt himself struggling to escape and desperately trying to block the attack on his thoroughly scorched backside. He had not meant to reach back, of course and he silently cursed himself for doing so. That was against the rules of any experienced spanker that he knew of, but the whole thing had been a bit overwhelming. He braced himself, for Gimli likely would have given him a couple of hard swats on the back of his thighs for doing such a forbidden thing.

Forodren did not seem too bothered, though, for he only grasped his wrist in his free hand and held it at the small of his back before continuing with his relentless task. Legolas was vaguely embarrassed to realize he was beginning to make inelegant yowling sounds, but he could not quite bring himself to care. He was almost to the point of humiliating himself by begging for deliverance, when there was a pause to his relief at first, and then to his horror as he realized what was about to happen. He was given a similar scolding to Gaearon’s and told that he was about to pay for risking his life so carelessly, but at least he wasn’t given the onerous task of having to retrieve the hairbrush himself. It was still right in Forodren’s reach evidently.

He felt himself being adjusted forward and his hips being lifted as Forodren lifted his knee, and felt the shame of being in such an undignified position only for a split second for the first crack of the hairbrush on the tender areas where bottom and thigh meet made him forget all else, but scorching white pain. It was all he could do not to frantically attempt to flee, though it would not have mattered in the least if he had. Forodren had an iron grip for someone who supposedly had a strained shoulder! After the third crack, he could no longer keep his legs still on his own, and he felt Forodren’s right leg pin his, so that kicking became impossible and there was nothing left to do but endure. He managed not to beg for mercy, though he was openly sobbing by the tenth swat. He wasted no time in sliding from Forodren’s lap as soon as he was given permission to rise, and redressed himself in spite of the additional pain the soft fabric caused when it rubbed against his scorched and battered flesh. It took every ounce of self control not to try to rub away the sting, but he managed to order his hands to stay at his sides, only moving them to rub a sleeve over his damp eyes, but then he did not know what to do with himself. With Gimli he would have immediately thrown himself into his arms and taken advantage of the offered comfort he knew he would find, but he was not sure how acceptable that would be in this case.

Fortunately, he did not have to wonder for too long, for Master Forodren made the first move, standing next him and pulling him into a strong embrace. Legolas timidly returned the gesture, and let himself bury his face in Forodren’s broad shoulder. He felt strong hands stroke his hair, and what felt like a fatherly kiss to the top of his head.

“You have done well, young Prince,” Forodren whispered, “and so I will tell your guardian when he returns.”

Legolas involuntary shivered at the reminder, making Forodren chuckle softly.

“I am afraid you will have to tell him,” he sympathized, “it will go better for you if he hears it from you rather than through the grapevine as he will be sure to do otherwise. But I promise I will speak well of you and let him know you did not shirk nor attempt to shift blame. You paid the penalty for your actions stoically. Lord Gimli is a reasonable person, and he will not treat you unfairly.”

Legolas knew that, but he also knew that Gimli was not likely to back out of a promise, and he had promised that he could expect a second calling to account if he shamed himself by making Forodren have to correct him. It was not a pleasant thought, but at least there was nothing more to worry about tonight, and whatever happened could not be more mortifying than what had already happened. He allowed himself to be lead to a bed, where he was encouraged to lie down on his side.

“Rest now, lad,” Forodren whispered as he brushed the hair back from Legolas’ face. “You too, Gaearon. Come child, a long sleep is in order I think. It has been a trying day.”

Legolas watched through half closed eyes as Gaearon was tucked in right next to him. Forodren bent down and whispered something just for Gaearon’s ears and then kissed his temple and ordered him to close his eyes. Leaning across his son, Forodren also kissed Legolas, admonished him to sleep as well, and then settled into a chair right at the end of the bed. Evidently he truly had no intention of letting them out of his sight. The last thing Legolas remembered was Forodren’s soft humming as he retrieved the book he had been reading earlier from his tunic pocket, carefully found his marked place and continued reading. Legolas could only just make out the title before his eyes closed on their own volition: The Spirit of the Horse: a Guide to Understanding Equine Behavior.

The next time he woke, there was light sifting through the closed curtains, so he knew it was morning. He could see that Forodren was sleeping in the next bed, and when he cautiously turned to his other side, it was to find Gaearon awake, still lying on his side next to him, and looking directly at him as if he had been waiting for Legolas to awaken. He also looked as if he had something important to say.

“I’m sorry for getting you into this,” he whispered, “it was all my idea. I should not have lead you into trouble, especially knowing what would happen to us if we got caught.”

Legolas shrugged. “You hardly had to twist my arm. I was just as keen as you were.” Here Legolas lowered his voice so that Forodren would not hear, “Besides, I enjoyed it until we got um..circumvented.”

Gaearon smiled, conspiratorially and his dark eyes twinkled.

“Me too,” He softly admitted. “It was great fun, though I am thinking now that it may not have been worth it.”

Gaearon groaned as he cautiously stretched as and then grimaced as he attempted to sit up. He chose instead to lean most of his weight on one hip, something with which Legolas could fully commiserate.

“It most definitely was not worth it,” Legolas agreed, “but it is over now and at least we’ve survived.”

Gaearon looked skeptical at Legolas’ conciliatory speech.

“I have survived,” He pointed out, “but you still have to face Lord Gimli and…sorry I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Gaearon quickly tried to backpedal at his friend’s scowl, but it was too late to prevent retribution.

Legolas answered by whacking his friend with a pillow and then shoving him off the bed where he landed with a thud on an already tender backside. Gaearon yelped, but recovered quickly and retaliated by leaping up and grasping Legolas round the waist and dragging him down with him to the floor , and then they were laughing and wrestling in spite of the lingering soreness, until there was a meaningful clearing of Forodren’s throat. They were startled into silence for a moment, but Forodren was evidently in a tolerant mood. He only mumbled something about youth and fools and then ordered his charges to prepare to go out to check the horses.

The morning in the stables was not as painful as Legolas might have imagined. Truthfully, he was still a little stiff from the day before, but not unbearably so, and more importantly it seemed that Master Forodren was prepared to let bygones be bygones and was back to being his usual meticulous self, though he remained firm on his decree that his charges must remain in his sight. As always, working with Gilroch and Daeroch was a pleasure, actually made better by Forodren’s presence, mainly because Gorvon’s sons would not dare pick a fight with him there. They might have felt superior, but they evidently had not the nerve to say so in front of the intimidating stable master, so it was a peaceful day leading up to the race that evening.

The shine was knocked off the day, however, when they returned home midmorning to find Gimli waiting for them, and unfortunately he had already heard tales of what had happened on his way into Kortirion and he did not look the least bit pleased. In fact he appeared to be rather angry. But whatever else he was, the dwarf was always fair so he gave Legolas the chance to tell him exactly what happened, though truthfully, the young elf thought he might have preferred just getting things over with rather than having to go through the torment of watching Gimli’s face grow darker as he told the tale. There was more than anger in the dwarf’s face when he got to the part about the dangerous stunt he had performed, which only made things worse. Fear usually translated to sterner correction than mere annoyance did, especially when he believed something dangerous had been done for “no reason other than to show off.” Gaearon did helpfully attempt to take the blame for coming up with the idea, but it did not seem to help much for as soon as the tale came to a close Legolas was sent to his chamber to await Gimli’s coming to finish the discussion privately, which he supposed was slightly better than when he had “discussed” the same topic with Master Forodren. At least this time it would just be him and Gimli in the room and he would know just what to expect from his own guardian, so he was more resigned than nervous as he made his way there.

He heard Forodren ask Gimli to stay for a moment, which Legolas assumed meant that the horse master intended to keep his word and speak on his behalf. He appreciated the kindness, but Legolas gloomily wondered if it would do much good. He could only hope so, but it seemed unlikely when he remembered Gimli’s words just before he left. He had broken a trust, and had done so intentionally if he was honest. He knew very well exactly what he was intending to do even while he was promising Gimli to behave in his absence. He felt more than a small twinge of guilt at that thought, though he still was not sure what he could have done instead.

There was really no way to argue his case, so the only thing to do was to accept whatever came to him with as much grace as possible, which might not be much considering he was still sitting quite gingerly from his encounter with Master Forodren. Still he swore to himself that he would cooperate as much as he could and try not to put up a fuss as difficult as it might be. It was the least he could do.

Reaching that resolve did not prevent his stomach turning over when he heard dwarven footsteps on the stairs, but still he stood bravely when the door opened, and offered a sincere apology right away, and to his surprise, Gimli did not look as angry as he had before. Legolas had half expected to be manhandled over his guardian’s knee right away, for there was little more to discuss at this point, but instead Gimli only sighed and indicated with a wave of his hand that the elf should sit down. He did so, on the edge of the bed and Gimli pulled a chair up so that they were sitting face to face. Gimli spoke first.

“Master Forodren has made it clear to me that you have already paid the full price for your misdeeds regarding your illicit race, and even for your foolishly endangering your life with that insane stunt. You are a foolish, naughty elfling, but you have already been fairly chastised for that, and I do not believe in revisiting an issue once it has been dealt with. I assume Master Forodren was thorough enough to convince you to behave better in future?”

Since there was only one answer to that loaded question, Legolas gave it.

“Yes Gimli, he was indeed thorough. I should never have engaged Gorvon’s sons, “ he said. “I know that now.”

“Only just now you know it?” Gimli raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Did you not know it the first ten times I told you? Did you not know it when I heated you rear end for you not two days ago? I am not sure how much clearer I could have been, but if you don’t get the message this time, I may have to dig my old leather gauntlets out just to protect my poor hand from wearing out. ”

Legolas cringed at the threat, for he could not be sure if Gimli was being sarcastic to make a point, or if really intended to search for his old battle gear, but either way he had to explain himself.

“I did not mean I did not know how to behave from the beginning,” he attempted to explain “You were plenty clear enough with all of you warnings and I was aware that I was doing something wrong. I know I should have obeyed you and listened to Master Forodren, but I was angry, and then I just let things escalate out of control. What I do not know is when I should have stopped it, or how.”

Gimli sighed again, and Legolas thought he looked a little sympathetic, which was a good sign. This was proven when the dwarf reached out to take his hand.

“You should have not have let it begin at all, Lamb. Your best bet would have been to ignore their childish taunts and just handed them their behinds during the official race. That’s where you could have gotten your own back. You know Master Forodren’s hot-bloods are superior.”

This time it was Legolas’ turn to sigh, for elders always seemed to be on about “being the bigger person” and “rising above childishness”, but it was not an easy thing to do, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t already know that! Every youngster knew it from having it hammered into their heads, and occasionally other, more personal places, from earliest childhood. The problem was he never recognized when he had gone beyond that point until it was too late and he was into bother up to his neck. How was a young ellon supposed to “rise above”, and “be the bigger person” but also fully stand behind his friends when they made claims or offered challenges? He could never quite puzzle it out. It was maddening really!

Evidently Gimli understood, though, for this time he actually smiled and patted Legolas’ knee, kindly.

“I know it is easier said than done, laddie, for believe it or not, I have not forgotten my own youth. But if ever you find yourself in over your head, you can always come to me and I will help you figure out how to solve the problem, even if you got yourself into it through your own folly. Had you told Master Forodren or me exactly what had taken place, we could have “happened” to intervene before your clandestine “event” was to take place. Then the illicit race being cancelled would have been our fault rather than because you had backed down. You must trust that I will always do my best for you when I can my lad.”

“That I know, Elvellon,” Legolas said, and it was true. He knew from solid experience that his dwarven guardian was always on his side and would do anything he could to help him, no matter what the problem was, for Gimli had only ever wanted what was best for him. Unfortunately, sometimes what Gimli believed was for the best, was not always the most pleasant option and the young elf very much feared this might be one of those times and sadly, he could not rejoice when he was soon proven right. Gimli might be sympathetic, but he was far from being finished with having his say.

“Aye, Lamb, you can count on me,” Gimli repeated. “I have sworn to care for you to the best of my ability, and I would never knowingly break a promise to you, and before I left you in Master Forodren’s charge, I believe I made one, that must be fulfilled now and I fully intend to do so. You know where you need to be.”

He did know, even if he wished it were not so, but just in case, Gimli scooted his chair back and patted his lap to make it perfectly clear. Legolas hesitated for only a second before he obediently stood at his dwarf’s right side, quickly lowered his leggings without being told and placed himself across the dwarf’s hard thighs, grasping Gimli’s lower leg to steady himself. No matter how many times it had happened in the past, Legolas still felt mortified to be in such an undignified position, with his head down near the floor and his bare bottom up and in perfect position for chastisement, just though it might be. To make matters worse, evidently his beloved guardian was not finished talking. He felt a large warm hand pat the cool flesh of his left buttock and then rest there.

“All right. Lamb, do you recall the promise I made before I left you in Master Forodren’s charge?

“Yes, Elvellon, I recall,” Legolas said, hoping that would be answer enough, but knowing it likely wouldn’t be. Again, he turned out to be correct, though he found no pleasure in that.

“Then repeat it,” Gimli said. “I just want to make sure you fully understood me so there is no chance that I am treating you unfairly”

Legolas found this sort of conversation more painful than what he knew was to come, but he knew there was no avoiding it, so he swallowed the lump in his throat and answered as accurately as possible. It was better than prolonging the agony by trying to speak in euphemisms and attempting to avoid saying the embarrassing truth.

“You said if I gave Master Forodren cause to have to correct any misbehavior or disobedience, you would consider it to be direct defiance to you and that I should expect to answer for that defiance once you returned. Than you asked me if I was sure that was what I wished. I agreed that it was.”

“Then you did understand. In that case, you must not be surprised to find yourself in this most unfortunate position, is it so?”

“Aye Gimli, I am not surprised. But couldn’t we just…get on with it?”

A stinging swat caused the breath to rush from his lungs, for evidently Gimli was not fond of being told how to go about his business.

“Watch your cheek, young elf,” he scolded. “We will “get on with it” at my pace, not yours, and that will be as soon as I am certain that you understand just how disappointed I am to have to be doing this. When I left you in Forodren’s care, I expected you to be on your very best behavior, but you have embarrassed both me and yourself by putting the good Master in the position of having to punish you like a naughty elfling. He has already dealt with your other transgressions, but I shall be dealing with that!”

Mercifully, Gimli evidently had decided he had had his full say, for he landed an equally stinging spank to Legolas right cheek, which immediately reignited the fire left by Master Forodren the day before. The next three scorching swats landed in the exact same place on his left sit spot just where Forodren’s brush had landed the day before, and then the next three on the matching spot on the right. Because the swats were hard, and repeated on an already tender bottom, Legolas could not help the undignified wails that escaped his throat and the tears that sprang to his eyes. In fact it was so shockingly painful, that it took him a few moments to realize that his guardian was already rubbing his lower back and telling him he could rise whenever he was ready.

Even though it was painful to do so, he did not take long to carefully slide from Gimli’s lap and stiffly rise to his feet. It seemed best to do so before Gimli changed his mind and decided he needed more of a reminder.

He knew he might later feel embarrassment at letting Gimli help him step out of his leggings rather than pulling them up, but at the moment it was just a relief to have everything over and done with, and the thought of the stiff fabric of his leggings touching his scorched flesh outweighed any false shyness he might have had. It was only Gimli after all. He had been over the dwarf’s knee on countless occasions, not to mention that Gimli had many times attended to his most personal needs when he had been so ill with the sea longing back in Middle Earth. It was nothing the dwarf had not seen many times before. Besides, the long undershirt he wore came halfway to his knees and so covered him modestly enough.

He let himself be lead to the bed, even though it was still midmorning, for after such a physically and emotionally charged event all he wanted was to sleep. It allowed him to collect his emotions and, he admitted only to himself, he was soothed by the fuss Gimli always made as he comforted him and encouraged him to rest The dwarf did not let him down.

“All over now lamb,” Gimli crooned, as he tenderly wiped Legolas’ damp eyes with his own handkerchief. For good measure, he wiped his elfling’s nose as well, and then handed him the handkerchief for future use. “Here lie down and let me rub your back while you rest for a while.”

Legolas obediently did as he was bid, and though his rear was still throbbing he relaxed under Gimli’s gentle ministrations. It was when he was nearly asleep that it suddenly dawned on him that Gimli had been uncharacteristically easy on him, considering the circumstances. His guardian must have been fed up with him, for he had been warned many times to avoid conflict with Gorvon’s sons, had purposely promised to behave while he knew he had no intention to do so and had humiliated Gimli by having to be chastised in his absence, and for all that he had only received a lecture and eight hand swats? The swats were hard, as were the hands, but still it seemed odd. He had certainly been expecting considerably worse.

But then why complain? Gimli had said himself that he would not return to the issue, and now the worst was over. He was just congratulating himself on having the most understanding guardian in the world, when Gimli’s low voice penetrated his thoughts.

“Aye, rest while you can. I shall wake you in one hour so we can make our way down to the race track. You need to be fully refreshed when you ride.”

Suddenly the young elf’s eyes popped open and he was wide awake.

“You mean I am still meant to ride in the race?”

He had assumed Forodren would ride himself, or would have found a suitable volunteer to replace him and Gaearon. He had fully expected not to be allowed near the horses for at least a month, if not longer, but evidently that was not the case.

“Of course you are, laddie,” Gimli exclaimed. “Is that not why you are here?”

“But…but..”Legolas sputtered, horrified at the thought of bouncing around in a saddle at any point this week, let alone in only an hour. “But I thought I would be banned from riding.”

“Aye, indeed you will be. For the rest of the racing season in fact. Perhaps Aerlinn can take your place in the next few races, for she is small and light as you are and an excellent rider besides. But that is for next time. For today, you will do as you came to do, for we must not disappoint Master Forodren. He has worked hard to train his hot-bloods and it would be unfair for him to lose out simply because the pair of you decided to behave like fools and end up getting your backsides too scorched for comfortable riding. That can hardly be counted at his fault, can it?”

“No,” was Legolas’ sulky reply, for he was feeling much less charitable toward his dwarf now that his devious scheme had been revealed. He wasn’t being let off lightly at all!.

Gimli gave him a warning tap on the back of the thigh.

“I would keep my tone respectful, elfling, if I were in your place,” the dwarf sternly warned, though he seemed cheerful enough when he said it. “keep in mind that you are not in a position to complain.”

Legolas knew that Gimli meant it as a double entendre, on the word “position” by referring to his position of still being in disgrace and his current physical position of lying facedown on the bed with very little between Gimli’s hard hand and his own battered behind. Gimli even chuckled a little at his own jest, which Legolas did not find the least bit funny.

He did not say so, however, for his “position” was indeed precarious and he knew he would be riding in the race whatever else happened, so there was no point in making things worse for himself. Instead he just allowed his eyes to drift shut, and hoped that an hour’s sleep would alleviate some of the burn he was currently feeling before he had to relight it in the saddle.

As it turned out, he was feeling marginally better before the race began, though he agreed wholehearted with Gaearon, who complained to him about the unfairness of life when they had a brief moment alone for a private grumble in Daeroch’s stall. Of course, there had been little time, for Master Forodren had only been in the next stall over with Gilroch, and he peeked over the top to where the two youngsters had been kneeling next to Daeroch to inspect his shoes, and whispering together.

“What was that my son?” Forodren growled, a meaningful frown upon his handsome face.

“Nothing at all Ada,” Gaearon hurried to exclaim, while Legolas nodded in agreement with his friend. It would not do to upset Master Forodren further.

“That is what I thought. Now get a move on. The race is about to begin, and I expect a good showing from both of you”

And in spite of the young elves’ sad disadvantages, that is exactly what happened!

The cheering of the crowd and the proud look on Gimli’s and Forodren’s faces when Legolas crossed the finish line, almost made him feel it worth the discomfort he was suffering. He and Gilroch had come in second, but only by a hair, which was fine, for Gaearon and Daeroch had come in first. It had been a close race and Legolas secretly thought he could have won had he not had to deal with that last encounter with Gimli. Gaearon had had a day longer to recover, though he would never voice that thought of course. He was quite pleased for Gaearon, who admittedly was just as good a rider as he was.

But it wasn’t until he was standing next to Gaearon on the raised dais and they were being awarded first and second place ribbons that he was completely certain it had been worth any pain he’d had to deal with to ride in the race. From there he could see Culton and Lison, Gorvon’s sons standing in the crowd next to their frowning father. They had come in tenth and thirteenth place, respectively and both of them seemed much more interested in looking at their own shoes than at the award ceremony that was taking place. Legolas and Gaearon exchanged grins, for they had finally gotten their own back. Their victory became even sweeter when King Gorvon of Ekkaia Shores manhandled the young princes, Culton and Lison up to the dais after the ceremony had ended and insisted they congratulate the winners. Good manners dictated that they do so, but Legolas could see that it grieved them and was meanly happy for that.

It was then that he truly realized that Gimli and Forodren had been right all along. Winning the official race had thoroughly vindicated their names and the names of their fond parents, and it had answered the claim that a mere “servant’s brat” and a “Naugrim’s fosterling” could not think to compete with “true horsemen from the mainland.” The claim had been false, and no one could deny it now. The proof was in the pudding, so to speak. Legolas had just opened his mouth to comment something along those lines to the scowling brothers, when a moderate swat on the seat of his leggings caused him to squeak inelegantly and turn to frown at the cruel soul who had assaulted him. But when he did so, he changed his mind quickly. Gimli , who had somehow snuck up on him in the crowd, raised a bushy eyebrow and shook his head slightly, reminding him that properly raised young ellon always showed good sportsmanship. Instead he smiled ingratiatingly and congratulated the tenth and thirteenth place winners on a fine race.

Gaearon followed his lead and humbly accepted their congratulations as well, but a brief but knowing glance made Legolas realize that his friend was gloating on the inside as much as he was. Gimli had been right when he had said they should have ignored the childish taunts and focused on the official race. They had now done so, and admittedly it was an exhilarating feeling to have beaten Gorvon’s sons, and once again he found himself struggling not to throw it in their faces, or give in to a childish desire to stick out his tongue! A dwarven hand on his lower back reminded him that he should instead bite said unruly member and continue to behave in a manner fitting his station, which it certainly did, for the hand was too close for comfort to other more vulnerable areas of his body, something he was sure Gimli was completely aware of.

So he and Gaearon basked in the glory of the admiring crowds, but behaved modestly as well, always demurring when someone offered them praise, claiming it was not warranted, or was just to do with Forodren’s good training and nothing to do with their own merits. It made a pleasing display before others, and there was much whispered admiration of “fine young elves” and “well raised youngsters.” They thoroughly enjoyed the accolades until it was called to their attention that there was to be a final “victory lap” where the top placing riders were to take one final trot around the track to please the appreciative crowd.

Legolas thought he heard a dwarven snicker when the announcement was made, though he could not be sure of that. What he could be sure of was the look of utter dismay on Gaearon’s face as he was urged back into he saddle by the cheering crowd. Legolas recognized the look, for he was certain he was wearing one that was quite similar!

The victory lap, did not feel like much of a victory, though Legolas followed Gaearon’s example and attempted to smile as he endured it in spite of the battering of his already aching rear. It almost made him look forward to the next month of being banned from dealing with the horses at all! In fact, just at the moment it seemed like a wonderful idea. Aye it had been the perfect answer to Gorvon’s sons to beat them in the official race and, as Gimli had so eloquently put it, to “hand them their own behinds”. It was only too bad that he and Gaearon hadn’t thought of that in time to save their own.