“Well, I’m done with it,” Elladan declared, thumping down next to his brother. “I’m sick to death of 'which one are you?' and 'how do you tell them apart?' and 'good thing you aren’t dressed alike.' I swear, Elro, I’m thinking of doing something drastic.”
“Like what?” Elrohir said abstractedly. He was crouched on the floor, carefully placing a toy warrior in a vast battlefield that had taken weeks to assemble. He chuckled, “Look, I’ve got Morgoth trapped.”
Elladan swept the first line of defense away with his hand. “You aren’t even listening to me!”
“Look what you did! You’ve let him escape!”
“Are you sorry we’re twins. Is that it?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I don’t want to be anymore.”
“Then,” Elrohir shrugged as he methodically began replacing his warriors. “You’ll just have to find a wizard to change your shape.”
“I’d rather you changed yours! You’d make a very good orc.”
“Are you determined to pick a fight?” Elrohir shouted. “Because now you’ve got one!” He leapt upon his brother and they proceeded to demolish an entire legion of Noldor.
“Hold this, Elladan,” Celebrían said as she pressed a cold piece of meat over his swollen eye. She clicked her tongue. “Honestly, why are you two brawling again? You should be ashamed of yourselves.”
Elladan and Elrohir glowered at each other.
Then Celebrían smiled. “Isn’t that cute? You’ve managed to give each other identical black eyes!”
Twin groans were heard clear to the stables.