Disclaimer: Okay, Legolas, Thranduil, Smeagol, Elrond, Gandalf, and Aragorn are all the property of J.R.R. Tolkien. I don’t own them in the least, because if I did I would have a much nicer house and a better computer. I do own Adrolas, Narius, and Neviara. Tziganecelt owns Jeriel. Oh yeah, I’ve never seen anyone mention this but Mirkwood, the Misty Mountains, and Rivendell all belong to Tolkien also.

        “Legolas, You are a fool.”
        Legolas, who had been searching the endless paths and twisting ways of Mirkwood for hours now, was loosing patience with his younger twin. He looked up from the moss-covered earth before him to glance over his shoulder to Adrolas. “Yes, tell me again, Adrolas, how I am such a fool.” He said with obvious distain.
        Adrolas, who had been a few paces behind his slight older brother, strode toward him with an air of importance. Legolas rose to meet his cynical gaze. “How are you such a fool, brother?” Adrolas asked, a slight mocking smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “If you wish to know then I shall tell you.” Legolas looked patient. “You are a fool because you are not cautious. You sit back and revel in the beauty and majesty of Mirkwood and let prisoners slip through your too loose grasp! Father should have assigned me to this task! I would have kept my alert eyes on him every second he was in my quite capable supervision! You are obviously not capable enough-”
        Legolas stood straighter, a look of grave severity laced his delicately handsome face. Anyone could have passed and known it had no place there. He then interjected. “Yes Adrolas, I made a mistake. A dreadfully large mistake-”
        “Your largest yet, Legolas.” Adrolas interrupted to point out.
        “Yes, my largest yet.” Legolas took a deep breath before continuing. He looked as though he were going to say more, but only paused and turned back to his previous task.
        Adrolas looked after his brother as one would look to a cat that had spoken. “Legolas!” He called after his brother. “You would turn your back to me?”
        “I would turn my back to a senseless exchange of words.” Came Legolas’ blunt reply as he moved to catch up with Jeriel, who had gone ahead.
        Adrolas increased his speed to overcome his brother. “No words you exchange with me are pointless, brother!”
        Legolas wheeled on his brother as he approached. “Your petty exploits of my mistakes are pointless!”
        Adrolas’ eyes blazed. His anger quieted his voice to just above whisper. “You are a fool, and you do not even know it.”
        Legolas’ handsome face what contorted with rage and it flowed through his lilting voice and a hot ember wafts on a breeze. “Yes, brother!” Brother sounded more as a curse than as an address. “You keep telling me this, but you fail to show me why, or even how!” Legolas stepped toward his brother and a glint of hatred flashed across his thunderstorm eyes. For centuries he’d dealt with his brother’s constant annoying prattle. His father was very strict, very pointed in his ways, and Adrolas never ebbed in his ability to make Lord Thranduil’s punishments more unbearable. Legolas had had enough. Something in him snapped.
        Adrolas saw the unebbing fury in his brother’s eyes and straightened, for he recognized it. It was the rage of a man who had lost control of himself. It was the rage that burned within a murderer’s eyes. He tensed; ready for the blow his brother intended to deal him, though it pained him deeply to see his brother so full of unbridled fury. What had he done do deserve his brother’s wrath...?
        Legolas lunged at his brother, but jerked back suddenly as a strong arm, as yet unseen, wrapped around his neck an pulled his struggling to the ground. Legolas fought with the fury of a madman.
        Adrolas started and drew his sword, ringing, from it’s scabbard, and swung, intending to fend off his brother’s attacker, but his sword was met by one of superior skill, and their union rang through the trees. Adrolas looked hard into the black depths of Jeriel’s eyes.
        Adrolas seemed to come to his senses and resheathed his sword, then looked down to his brother, who lay motionless on the moss-covered ground. Adrolas looked back to Jeriel. “What have you done to him, Jeriel?” Adrolas asked, for the first time, his voice was not laced with sarcasm or arrogance, but with brotherly concern.
        Jeriel stood and sheathed his sword as well. “I have nothing but render him unconcious. He needs to regain himself before he confronts you again, Elirius.” He said pointedly.
        Their eyes met once again and Adrolas knew that he had gone too far. Had their sibling rivalry escaladed so far that he could drive peaceful Legolas to such rage...?
        They broke eye contact at once as they both noticed a hauntingly scent on the air. “Jeriel,...”
        “Yes, Adrolas,” Jeriel replied. “I smell it too. Orcs...”