Melkor

Melkor stared— well, stared as much as a bodiless spirit in a nonphysical dimension can stare.

"What is that?" he asked his brother, watching the little spirit that whizzed mischievously around Manwë. It seemed… shattered, the light of it's core fractured and dampened. Melkor had never seen anything like it.

"He," Manwë corrected, "is Khālazenë." He beckoned the little spirit, cradling him close. "Say hello, Khālë."

"Hi!" the little one chirped in the tiniest, sweetest voice Melkor had ever heard.

"Well, hello there," he answered, entranced. "What happened to you, little light?" He beckoned, nearly unconsciously, but Khālë flew to him without hesitation.

"I was hurt by evil people," he said seriously, spirit darkening at the memories. Melkor caught only little flashes: pale white, red eyes, glowing green, overwhelming pain, and in the end, death. Horrified, Melkor held the little one closer to his core, wrapping him safely in his Power.

"'Sokay," Khālë said, radiating amusement at Melkor's actions. "I'm getting better."

Then the strangest thing happened, though he would later realize it was exactly what his Father had planned: he completely forgot about finding the Secret Fire. "Worry not, Khālazenë," he said fiercely, ignoring the indulgent amusement radiating from Manwë. "I shall not let anything hurt you ever again."

Put Your Hair Up

Arasion frowned thoughtfully, wrapping some of Glorfindel's shiny golden curls around his tiny fingers. He tugged, gently, and said "you're the one who died because he didn't tie his hair up, right?"

Glorfindel twitched at the reminder. "Ah, well, yes," he admitted, looking down at the child in his arms. "Who told you such things?"

Arasion looked up, a fiendish gleam in his green eyes, and the ancient balrog-slayer felt an uncommon surge of alarm send chills up his spine. "That was really dumb. Do you normally do dumb stuff like that?" the child asked, blinking innocently.

Eru Iluvatar, what have I gotten myself into? Glorfindel wondered.

Erestor

Erestor stared at the child.

The child stared back.

Erestor narrowed his eyes at the child.

The child blinked innocently.

"Don't you try that innocent look on me, boy," the waspish seneschal said, pointing a finger. "I know your ilk. The twins have more than prepared me to counter your fiendish schemes!"

The child's bright green eyes widened and he tilted his head just so, as if to say who, me?

"You fool no one!" Erestor thundered. "I see through your deception!"

"Erestor!" Glorfindel said, aghast at the seneschal's words. He scooped Arasion up, holding the little one protectively to his chest. "He's just a baby! What could he possibly be planning?"

Erestor privately thought Glorfindel was being deliberately obtuse. Did he not remember the twins' tiny, adorable, scheming faces when they'd rigged a bucket of water over his office door? When they'd stuffed his pillows full of worms? When they'd moved every single piece of furniture in the library slightly to the left?

Erestor crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at his sometimes-friend, but before he could say anything Glorfindel shook his head sadly and turned away. "Come, little one, let us find somewhere to play for a while."

The little Balrog had the audacity to look over Glorfindel's shoulder and grin at Erestor, his expression clearly communicating 'Arasion: 1, Erestor: 0'

The seneschal narrowed his eyes again, his promise of retribution equally silent, and turned away to make preparations. The war, he knew, had only just begun.

Chaos in the Woodland Realm

Arasion ducked into a nearby closet, muffling his manic giggles in one hand, and cautiously peeked through the narrow crack between the door and the doorframe. A second later Thranduil came thundering through the room, his expression alight with fury. His hair was a bright, neon green and curled into tight ringlets. Honey oozed down his face and shoulders, stray feathers stuck in the mess. His majestic woodland crown had temporarily become a cheap plastic 'pretty princess' type tiara, though Arasion wasn't sure he'd noticed that one yet.

"ARASION!" he yelled, missing the child hiding in the closet as he stomped into the next room. "GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!"

Arasion pressed his other hand over his mouth, desperately restraining his laughter until he was sure the Elvenking couldn't hear him anymore. Yeah! he cheered silently. That'll teach you to take my cloak and keep me trapped here!

Despite his lack of cloak and broom, he had successfully evaded the elves for over a week by using his tiny size and liberal application of disillusionment spells. Over half the elves that lived in the 'city' had experienced one or another of his pranks in the meantime, and he found it quite funny to watch them creeping warily around, suspicious of every doorway and corner. It was sheer dumb luck that had Thranduil catch sight of him as he was setting up another prank.

"There you are."

Uh oh, Arasion thought, freezing as the door to his hiding place was opened by none other than Legolas, son of Thranduil. The elf raised an eyebrow as he crouched to be closer to the elfling's height. "Uh… hi?" Arasion offered weakly.

"Come on," Legolas sighed, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress a smile. "I'll hide you in my rooms until Father calms down."

Arasion, deciding that this was probably the best deal he was going to get (and the most convenient way to escape again if he needed to) nodded and let the elf pick him up.

"You are quite a nexus of chaos for one so small," Legolas murmured with a nearly disbelieving shake of his head.

I was trained by the best, Arasion thought with an innocent smile that did absolutely nothing to fool the elf. And I'm not done yet!