“Do you have it?” the boy asked as his brother joined him in the bushes outside their father’s house.
Grinning, his twin held up the trophy. “She didn’t stir! Fast asleep!”
Braced, ready to fly, they lapsed into expectant silence, waiting for movement in the guest bedroom. And the signal came: a drawn-out shriek of outrage and fury and a string of Quenyan curses. “Where are they?” their grandmother shouted. “They will never sit down again!”
Satisfied smiles bloomed on twin faces. Clutching a thick lock of golden tresses, Elrohir said, “It’s worth it.” And they sped into the woods.