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“Well? What do you think?” Estel asked.
Elrohir exchanged a hopeless glance with his other brother. Young
Estel’s ‘poem’ was trite, badly rhymed, and full of
clichés. “It’s …” he fumbled for words.
“Totally unique!” Elladan declared. Elrohir shot his twin a look full of admiration.
“Yes! It’s unique, and … and says something that only you can say,” he agreed.
“Then you think I should show her?”
“No!”
“No – it’s too personal and private. You should … ah …” This time it was Elladan who faltered.
“You should keep it to yourself for a while, Estel,” Elrohir
advised. “Treasure it, and savour it; keep it for days when
you do not see her …”
“ … as a solace against your loneliness,” Elladan finished with triumph.
Estel’s face glowed. “Oh, yes! Thank you – I knew you would
know what to do!” He folded the paper reverently and slipped it
into his shirt pocket. “I shall keep it by my heart,” he vowed.
After he left, Elladan dropped into a chair and groaned. “Do you
remember when we had to negotiate a peace treaty between two warring
Dwarf clans?”
Elrohir nodded. “Compared with a lovelorn thirteen-year-old, the Dwarves were simple.”
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