It was the night of the elflings' play of the Two Trees and Lindir was very unhappy and Erestor, the elfling's uncle and guardian, was very worried about him.
"Now, now, now," he said comfortingly to the elfling who was currently standing in the middle of Erestor's study and sobbing inside of the black monstrosity that was a spider's costume, "everyone will love you."
"But I do not want to be the spider!" Lindir cried, his voice muffled from inside the costume. "And it is dark and hot and nasty in here! It smells! It reeks of stuff from the healing rooms!"
"Well, at least it no longer smells like a dead spider," Erestor said, reaching out from where he was sitting cross-legged before his nephew to stroke the thick black hairs that covered the costume. He suppressed a wince. It had recently belonged to a real, live, spider. He wondered who had been the brave soul who had hunted and killed it in its native land in Mirkwood.
Then, as he thought longer on this and realised that there was only one elf in all of Imladris who could have killed the creature so recently, he rephrased his thoughts and wondered how much larger Glorfindel's head had swollen since the elf-lord had caught and killed the spider.
"Not that there is much room in that elf's swollen head for it to swell any further," Erestor muttered to himself.
"What?" Lindir inquired confusedly.
"Nothing, nothing, you look ugly, but everyone knows that inside, you are everyone's favourite darling elfling," Erestor reassured the elfling. He leaned in and kissed the head of the creature. Then he wrinkled his nose and leaned back. "Whew! You are right! It does smell quite a bit!"
"It STINKS!" Lindir cried. "I hate it! I hate this spider! I hate Ungoliant! And I hate this play!" Two of the spider's drooping legs rose and then fell with a loud angry slap against the floor. "And I hate Elrond for forcing me to be Ungoliant! And I hate GLORFINDEL for making and forcing me to wear this awful smelly dead thing!"
"Now, now. In a few hours, everything will be all over and you will be able to climb out of this costume and never wear it ever again," Erestor assured. He vaguely wondered what would happen to the spider costume. Perhaps Glorfindel would take it and hang it like a trophy on his bedroom wall.
"And until then?" Lindir asked, his voice very bitter.
"Well..."
"And what if the play is a success and Elrond decides to force us to perform it for guests later this year?" Lindir pressed. "And what about next year? We may not do The Two Trees next year, but what if we do a skit that involves other spiders?"
"Then you will be quick to class that day and take a non-spider role," Erestor said.
The spider sniffed and turned away to wander slowly over to the wide windows of Erestor's study, stumbling slightly over its own trailing legs. "I hate tonight," it said.
Erestor smiled sympathetically. He had made arrangements with the cooks to bring up a big tray of all of Lindir's favourite desserts after the play as a treat for his nephew. It was to be a surprise, though, so he could say nothing about it to Lindir now.
"Who is playing Morgoth?" he asked then.
"There were not enough elflings," Lindir mumbled. "So I think one of the adults is going to do him. It makes sense height-wise, because Morgoth is supposed to be very tall."
"Oh." Erestor nodded and wondered who the adult might be.
"If it is Elrond or Glorfindel, I am going to bite him!" Lindir announced.
"Oh, okay." Erestor said, smiling.
Across from him, the spider now turned away from the window and began to stumble over to the tall mirror that Erestor had taken out of his own bedroom and erected there earlier that night for the purpose of helping Lindir into his costume, a struggle that was now thankfully at last complete. He watched one of the arms lift themselves and reach through a crack in the spider's hairy exterior to scratch at the little body encased inside.
"Are you itchy?" he asked.
"Yes," Lindir grumbled. "There are hairs inside this thing."
"Really?" Erestor hid a smirk. Glorfindel was one shoddy taxidermist.
"It must be nasty to be a spider," Lindir said then. "So itchy, but they cannot climb out of their shell to scratch themselves."
"Well, it is not technically a shell. It is part of them. It is called their exoskeleton."
"I know that and that is what I meant!" Lindir said, turning around to face him and manoeuvring the front part of the spider so that it raised itself into a striking position, as if to attack.
Erestor sighed and ran a hand wearily through his hair. He was tired. His work schedule had been particularly heavy lately and Lindir's increasingly frequent tantrums about tonight's play had not helped at all. He hoped that he would be able to stay awake throughout the play tonight.
"Do I look scary?" Lindir asked.
"Very much so," Erestor said, looking at him and smiling slightly. "And it disturbs me; I wish you would not face me whilst doing that."
The spider lowered its front back to the floor. "Sorry."
"Hm."
There was a pause.
"Spiders cannot smile, you know," Lindir said presently.
"Really?"
"Yes, I keep on trying to find the mouth muscles to make this spider smile, but I cannot. It just has one facial expression and that is nasty."
"Well, spiders only need to have one expression, Lindir," Erestor said, stifling a yawn. "And that is a nasty expression."
"Oh, but what if there was a spider that was really very nice at heart?" Lindir said. "What if he wanted to smile and not look nasty, but could not, and every time he went near somebody else to be nice to them, they ran away because he looked scary and mean?"
"Then, I suppose that was one very unhappy spider." Erestor blinked when the spider suddenly rose up and then abruptly fell onto its back. There was an ominous splintering noise. "Lindir?"
"Oh, I am just tired of having to stand up to wait for the end of supper and the start of the play," Lindir said. "I want to lie down."
"Oh, okay. But it sounds as if you are breaking the costume, so be careful."
"Oh, I will. But Uncle?"
"Yes?"
"Spiders cannot lie down."
"I am sure they can, Lindir."
"No, they have to stay in one position all the time!" Lindir said. "If they try and sleep on their backs, they die!"
"No, that is just the position that spiders assume when they die or when they want to trick someone into thinking they are dead," Erestor said.
"It must be very hard on them," Lindir said. "I could not imagine living a whole lifetime without sleep. No wonder spiders are cranky."
"Uh-huh."
"Poor spiders."
"Mmm."
There was a sudden knock on the door. Erestor rose and went over to the door to open it. He started in surprise when he found himself standing in front of a rather life-like, broad, and tall version of Morgoth in full fighting regalia. The only difference - a significant one - was that he could sense none of the malice that would have emanated from the real Morgoth. He could only sense a bit of arrogance.
"You are here to pick up Lindir?" he asked.
"Yes." Erestor recognised the voice as Glorfindel's. He suppressed a smirk. This explained the arrogance. So Elrond had managed to avoid the role. Smiling, he turned and went over to Lindir to help his nephew up and escort him over to stand beside Glorfindel's black armoured legs.
"Might I ask, Glorfindel," Erestor said then, looking at the covered face of the elf, "why you are armoured? Morgoth was in fair form whilst in Valinor and before that night when he destroyed the Trees."
"Oh, it is for the introduction," Glorfindel said. "We are doing the whole Morgoth before he was captured and taken to Valinor thing; I am wearing all the fair-form stuff under this armour."
"Ah, no wonder you look so well padded," Erestor remarked, looking the other elf up and down and then up... and then down to observe that the spider was readjusting and straightening its fangs. There were two fang-like dent marks in the metal armour covering the side of one of Glorfindel's lower thighs. Erestor suppressed a smirk.
"Am I right in thinking it was you who killed the spider that is currently smothering my nephew?" he asked, looking back at Glorfindel's head.
Glorfindel seemed to swell slightly - with pride. "Oh, yes. Caught it on my last visit to Mirkwood. What do you think of it?" he asked, looking down at Lindir.
"The taxidermy job or the fact that you managed to kill it in one piece?"
"Both!"
"As long as Lindir does not suffocate inside that thing or come out with a rash, perfectly adequate."
Glorfindel laughed and reached down to pat Lindir. Before he could do so, though, the spider rose up on its hind legs into its striking position and growled. Glorfindel's brow creased and looking suddenly a little awkward, he straightened. The spider remained on the alert.
"Well," Glorfindel said, looking between him and Lindir. "We had best be off now." He reached down and took hold of the spider by one of the upright front legs. There was a muffled noise of protest from within the spider, then silence and the spider relaxed. As Glorfindel turned towards the door, Lindir in tow, he suddenly looked back at Erestor. "You will be coming to watch the performance, I expect?"
"Oh, yes. I am looking forward to it," Erestor said with a smile. As he watched Glorfindel walk away and Lindir resume attempting to discreetly sink his fangs into the elf-lord's legs, his smile widened and he added, "Very much looking forward to it."