#I'd like to think elrond and finrod banter well

[mittenyaare]

Finrod and Elrond Chat at a Feast in Tirion during the 4th Age

"Does it not become tiring," Elrond cannot help but ask between sips of wine, eyes on the crowd gathered at yet another royal feast in Tirion.

"You know it does." Finrod's face is a studied mask of just enough pleasant occupation that anyone who bothered to look would see nothing amiss at all. He was suprised, though with all the stories he has heard of his niece's husband he should not have been, that it was Elrond whose gaze saw beneath his eternally pleasant facade. And so quickly too. So quickly the Peredhel's knowing eyes were still sometimes one of the few things that managed to unnerve Finrod.

"Sometimes," Elrond elrond says with solemn despondency as he leans back a bit more in his chair—beautiful though it may have been, it was most certainly not very comfortable, "I wish I had remained with my sons to hunt the last of the orcs."

Finrod is startled into breaking his composure—another unnerving talent his niece's husband seems to have—and barks out into true laughter for a moment.

The sound draws the attention of many, and quite a few Finrod wishes it hadn't, but he slips the benign mask of amusement back onto his face with the ease of long practice.

"You know," Finrod casts his eyes to the side at Elrond, ensuring they sparkle with amused mischief which will be immediately noticed by his companion, "you can count yourself amongst a rare group of few people living and dead, do you not?"

It is Elrond's turn for his mask to slip slightly, and his lips curl up into a grin he hastily hides behind his wine glass.

After another sip and in perfect deadpan, Elrond quips, "Of those who can see through your horseshit, Felagund?"

Finrod gives in, and up. He has lost the battle and he laughs unreservedly now. But he does send out one last salvo, "It is in times such as these I am perfectly well reminded of who raised you, dear kinsman."

"Indeed," Elrond says and smiles truly then, and if it is a half-sad, wistful sort, there is an amused joy lighting his eyes as well.

Perhaps Finrod has won some points after all.