The Snake's Kiss

Chapter 4

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Morning in the Gardens
***

The soft light of dawn filtered through the trees, dappling the grass with golden patches. Aranel stirred, wincing as his side protested the movement. He stretched slightly, groaning at the stiffness in his limbs from sleeping against the rough bark of the tree.

He blinked blearily at the morning sun, barely catching the faint rustle of footsteps before a sharp kick jolted him fully awake.

"What in the name of the Valar are you beggar doing here?"

Aranel grunted as the boot connected with his thigh, forcing him to roll onto his side. Pain flared in his wounded ribs, and he bit back a curse, glaring up at the figure looming over him.

It was Elladan—or at least, that's what his sleep-clouded mind told him.

"Nice to see you too," Aranel muttered, his voice thick with sarcasm. He pushed himself upright, favoring his injured side. "I suppose this is the famous Rivendell hospitality I've heard so much about?"

The Elf standing above him frowned, his expression harder, colder than the one Aranel remembered from the previous night. "You didn't answer my question," he said, his tone sharp. "Who are you, and why are you lurking in the gardens?"

Aranel blinked, confused. "I think we covered that already. Or did you hit your head between last night and now, Elladan?"

The Elf's frown deepened, his silver-grey eyes narrowing. "Elladan?" He crossed his arms, looking down at Aranel with a mixture of suspicion and irritation. "You must be mistaken. I am Elrohir."

Aranel's smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of surprise. He looked between the Elf's face and the rising sun, as if hoping the light would somehow make the situation clearer. "Elrohir?" He tilted his head, studying the twin with an exaggerated squint. "You mean there's two of you? That's hardly fair."

Elrohir didn't seem amused. "What's unfair is waking to find a stranger skulking in the gardens of my home. You still haven't explained yourself."

Aranel leaned back against the tree, trying to find a comfortable position that wouldn't aggravate his injury. "Skulking? That's a bit harsh. I was merely enjoying the stars. Not my fault the beds in your healing halls feel like drowning in clouds."

Elrohir scoffed, his patience clearly wearing thin. "If you dislike our care so much, perhaps you should leave Rivendell altogether."

Aranel chuckled, though it quickly turned into a grimace as pain shot through his ribs. "Ah, and here I thought you Elves were supposed to be welcoming. Your brother—Elladan, was it?—seemed much friendlier."

Before Elrohir could respond, a familiar voice broke through the tension.

"Elrohir, what's going on?"

Elladan approached, his brows furrowed as his gaze shifted between his brother and Aranel. He noticed the strained way Aranel held himself and the irritation simmering in Elrohir's expression.

"This... man was lurking in the gardens," Elrohir said, gesturing toward Aranel. "I found him sleeping here and thought it suspicious."

Elladan's eyes softened as they landed on Aranel. "He's recovering. I brought him here last night. He must not have liked the healing halls."