There are two, not one, two elflings on the porch of the Mansion. They are actually rather happy children, about eight years old, and talking to each other in a sing-song joyful verse of Sindarin.
They don't seem bothered by the fact that the cold is a bit chilly, or by their presence on the Mansion door. Their clothes are tattered and soiled,
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"Hello."
But the other is not looking. He's still angry.
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"We don't agree. I will speak with you. Maybe later he will be less angry, but for now, you can talk to me without him."
The boys don't seem to be angry at each other, though - having only each other for a couple years, they know how to compromise.
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Apparently, Elurin is fascinated with Lucivar. Elured is sulking in a corner, and not moving.
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"Shhhhh. Don't say that." He looks at Elured with a bit of worry. "He won't want to talk to him if he hears you."
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He's so cutely innocent too, as he says it.
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