Characters: Elrond, Celebrian, the twins, Arwen, Glorfindel, and Erestor.
Rating: Gen.
Disclaimer: The characters and world are the creation of Tolkien, not mine, just playing.
Summary: The twins have an idea, and a snowy day in Imladris goes downhill from there! Response to Skyfire's Challenge (details given at the end): http://www.geocities.com/rabid_plotbunny/snowball.html
Notes: Response to the snowball challenge on the Melethryn list.
Thanks to Dusk for beta-reading.

"Somebody has to do it."

Elladan traced his finger through the melting crystals of snow that sparkled upon the damp balcony rail, and looked at his twin with askance.

"The question, brother, is not whether it should be done, but who is to do it?" he answered. His gaze travelled thoughtfully to the unsuspecting figure who walked below through the courtyard of Imladris.

Elrohir grinned, and for an instant the mirrored countenances of the twin sons of Rivendell wore identical expressions. The inane smiles were reflected in their eyes, silvery orbs that sparkled with wickedness brighter than the pale beams of the sun, glinting off the fallen snow. Elrohir swept his hand along the railing, scooped into his palm a thick, white globe and moulded it with the care of a Noldor jewel-smith.

Glorfindel, who stood beside the twins upon the balcony, chuckled softly and then returned his gaze to the papers he was reading with studied concentration. The drapes of the doorway on Glorfindel's right were pushed aside, and Arwen stepped out onto the balcony. Her bright sapphire gaze passed swiftly across the identical mischievous expressions her brothers wore, and then travelled down to the oblivious person of Elrond, standing deep in discussion with Erestor, a convenient distance of mere feet below. Arwen eyed the snowball Elrohir was carefully sculpting between his fingers and shook back her hair.

"You cannot do it, brother. Papa would not even have brushed the snow from his hair before he turned to blame one or both of you."

Elladan put his elbows on the railing and suppressed a sigh, resting his chin in his hands.

"I know," he said regretfully. "But it must be done."

****

Far below the balcony, Elrond also restrained a sigh.

"My lord, the snow is impeding passage to and from the kingdom. The messengers cannot ride out and the importers are unable to access the realm with their merchandise. The party of minstrels, coming in from Lorien, sent word by winged nightingale that they could not pass into our realm while the paths are frozen."

Erestor spoke with the earnestness of one whose dedication to his duty Elrond knew he should rightfully admire. And he did. Except for today. Erestor was using every persuasion that he knew to convince his lord to do as he must do, eventually: but perhaps not just yet.

"You must use Vilya, my lord, melt this snow and return order to our kingdom."

Elrond nodded, more to indicate that he was listening than in acquiescence. He did not feel that Erestor would quite understand his personal desire to allow the winter to linger a little longer, just to feel the icy wind whisk around him until his breath was stolen in a gasp, to awaken each morning to the sweetly secretive hush of a world frozen in the thrall of snowy beauty. His gaze drifted out over the valley, the waterfalls frozen into shimmering icicles, as though time in the valley was not merely slowed, but stood still. The trees barely rippled in the breeze, their leaves sparkling with tiny diamonds of ice. The valley itself was the colour of frosted quartz, still, silent, perfect.

"I will, Erestor, I will," he said reassuringly. "But I see no need for instant action, why, a few more days allowing the winter to touch the valley will do no lasting harm."

****

"Except perhaps to your dignity, Papa," Elrohir snickered, tossing the snowball from hand to hand as his father's last words drifted upon the idly hanging airstreams to his ears.

"Well that settles it, if Papa is going to melt the snow we must throw at least one snowball before the winter is lost," Elladan said firmly. "*We* cannot do it, but you, Arwen…"

His sister snorted. "A lady does not do such things," she demurely stated.

"Why, then you should not have a problem," Elrohir said innocently.

Arwen smiled sweetly, and turned on her heel to return to the inner chambers. Passing the climbing vine that endlessly wound its way up the sides of the house, she reached out and flipped its tendrils. Elrohir yelped, spinning around as the long leaves poured their snowy covering down the back of his neck. He flung himself after his sister, all thoughts of his father forgotten as he drew back his arm to hurl the snowball at her.

"Not inside please, Elrohir." Celebrian, sitting beside the open fire, and sewing a patch onto a pair of breeches her son had torn out riding, remonstrated gently.

Elladan quickly took his twin by the elbow, drawing him back out onto the balcony, and Arwen followed them once more.

"Don't waste it, brother," Elladan said firmly as Elrohir eyed his sister balefully, still swiping at his collar. "This is *Papa's* snowball."

****

"My lord…" Erestor was sounded frustrated.

Elrond watched the counsellor's features crease into lines of irritation, which were swiftly smoothed over like fresh falling snow erases footsteps.

"Erestor, calm yourself," Elrond said patiently. "The kingdom will not suffer for a few days of snowfall."

His head counsellor eyed him for another long moment, and then, recognising the finality of his lord's tone, sighed.

"Very well, my lord." He inclined his head courteously and then turned away, walking back toward the house to escape the snow.

Elrond watched him go, smiling to himself. In these years even a few days of quiet were blessed sanctuary. Had he reason to be concerned about those unable to enter or exit the valley, he would instantly have melted the snow. But relative peace rested upon the land and, though these days of Watchful Peace could be no more than a brief, finite time before the tide of evil turned once more, for now it was a chance to enjoy the respite. Would that this winter could last forever, if it would permanently freeze Sauron into submission, Elrond thought to himself. But the Maia only lay dormant, and the suspension of water in ice, of sound in silence, could last no more than the snow would when the rays of the sun grew strong with summer's turns. The peace would break.

****

"Glorfindel could do it." Elladan cocked his head to eye his tutor thoughtfully, and the flaxen-haired Elda looked up mildly.

"Glorfindel could," he acknowledged, pausing half a moment while the twins looked at him hopefully. "But Glorfindel won't. Glorfindel has no desire to see the inside of Mandos' Halls again!"

"I cannot believe that you would rather face another Balrog than Papa," Elrohir snorted.

Glorfindel eyed him shrewdly. "I feel the Balrog would be less detrimental to my health than your father with snow down his back," he retorted, chuckling.

"Leave your poor father alone!" Celebrian's voice called from the chamber.

"Mama, he is right *there*," Elrohir protested. "And…"

"…We cannot waste such a fine snowball," Elladan finished.

Celebrian laid down her sewing and moved to the balcony to scrutinise the snowball in question. It sat, fat and shining upon the railing, a firm white orb of perfect roundness; the weak rays of the winter sun made its curved surfaces sparkle. Celebrian looked down at the lone figure of her husband, standing peacefully below, and then at her sons.

"Why do you not go down to him and suggest a proper snowball fight?"

"Because then *we* would get snowy," Elladan objected.

"Or more than we already are," Elrohir added, glaring at his sister once more and feeling his sodden collar.

"Oh, would you really?" The lady of Imladris affected surprise. "I cannot imagine why I did not think of that."

The twins looked at one another and sighed in the same instant.

"You might persuade Lindir," Glorfindel remarked, without looking up from his papers. "If you two are unwilling to do it yourselves."

"Glorfindel!" Celebrian chided. "Really!"

The Elda chuckled. "You forget, my lady, that the last time snow fell in Imladris I was skating upon the Bruinen when his lordship decided the time was right to melt the snow and ice. I have reason to seek retribution, for I cannot imagine, had it not been deliberate, that he would have been walking in the grounds bearing a towel or indeed quite such a smirk." He smiled innocently. "However, I feel a snowball down the back of the neck is somewhat insufficient, and I would rather watch than find myself in - cold - water again!"

Celebrian covered her mouth - and her smile. And she made no move to stop them when the twins bounded past her.

****

Elrond ran his hand along the low wall bordering the herb gardens of the private courtyard, collecting a round ball of the soft snow and palming it thoughtfully. The snowball was firm to the touch; satisfyingly fat and so cold it felt almost hot. Elrond curled his fingers around it, thinking of Elros, his twin. And remembering…

****

"You know, they *are* right..."

Up on the balcony, Glorfindel glanced at the lady of Imladris in surprise. Celebrian had picked up the abandoned snowball and was pensively patting more of the pure white flakes from the railing into its orb. She looked up at him with the beginnings of a smile, and then down at the solitary figure of her husband, who was fingering a ball of snow, lost in his reflections.

"It *would* be a pity to waste it."

Glorfindel laid aside his papers thoughtfully and leaned over the railing to look down at Elrond. He ran a hand along the side rail and scooped up another snowball.

"You might be right there," he said, beginning to pat it into shape.

"Elladan and Elrohir have to pass right through that courtyard," Arwen remarked speculatively, kneeling down to gather a large handful of snow for herself.

The lady of Imladris, her daughter, and Glorfindel looked at one another…

****

Elladan held his breath, opening the door into the private courtyard slowly, waiting for the hinges to squeak. The great oaken door swung inwards in silence, and Elladan let out the breath he had been holding.

"If we just walk quietly he won't suspect a thing."

"Hello Papa, lovely day isn't it? No, we aren't going to throw snowballs, we are just going to walk right past you and get Lindir, so *he* can throw snowballs," Elrohir whispered under his breath. He broke off, shaking his head. "Elladan, he's going to know."

"No, he isn't," Elladan said firmly. "Come on, brother." He grabbed Elrohir's wrist and walked out into the courtyard, passing deliberately close to their father.

"Morning Papa," Elrohir said cheerfully, trying to extract his wrist from Elladan's grip as he did so.

Elrond turned, slightly startled by the appearance of his sons. The snow had muffled their footsteps and, lost in thoughts of winters with Elros, he had not been warily watching for the appearance of his twins. He had, however, half hoped that they would arrive…

"Hello Elladan, Elrohir," Elrond replied, smiling at them. "Lovely morning, is it not?"

"Snowy," Elladan said innocently, offering his father a brief smile. His eyes fell upon the lightly curled fist at his father's side and widened.

"Elladan," his twin moaned into his ear. "He has a snowball."

"I know," Elladan murmured, beginning to walk backwards. "I know."

Elrond was still smiling, and the twins hastily turned their backs, walking rather more quickly.

"If we are here though…" Elrohir muttered thoughtfully.

"I suppose we might as well…" Elladan glanced back at his father, realising that he was occupied scooping a second handful of snow up into his fists.

"Throw the snowballs ourselves."

The twins turned as one, stooping, snatching up handfuls of snow and spinning to face their father. Elrond's smile widened. *This* was what winter was about, not peace, not even the silence of perfection: it was about snowball warfare. The best kind of fight.

"Need a hand, my lord?" Erestor, passing along the corridor and having seen the twins slipping secretively out, stepped onto the soon-to-be battlefield.

"Thank you, Erestor," Elrond smiled. "Arm yourself, my friend."

His head counsellor bent too, collecting up a double handful of fat white flakes and rose to face the now smirking twins.

"On the count of three, Papa?" Elladan asked.

"One," Elrond agreed, grinning. "Two…"

His head snapped forward as a snowball hit the back of it and exploded into clumps of white. The twins stared at him in utter incomprehension - and then yelped as two identical balls of snow landed upon their heads and cascaded down their faces in cold white drifts.

From the balcony above came the cheerful shout of "Three!"

~ The End ~

The Challenge:
Use the line given below in your fic. It can be the first line, it could be elsewhere, but it has to be in there somewhere, and character X [your favorite dignified Elf-lord- Elrond/Celeborn/Glorfindel/Thranduil/etc.] has to play a major part in the fic, not just get a brief, passing mention. He/she has to be a main character, if not the main character.

The line: "X's head snapped forward as the snowball hit the back of it and exploded into clumps of white."

1) The fic should be around 1500-2000 words, though more is all right too, and preferably in plain text format, though html is all right too.
2) Any genre.
3) *NO* OCs or self-inserts.
4) Have fun!