"we are so dead, we are so so dead, we are beyond dead, we might as well be sent on those and million yen of non stop patrol duty we are so dead."

Turin was pacing back and forth muttering, Beleg, Mablung, and himself had just returned from the Subtal fiasco, after over reacting to the appearance of home warmers, the three had packed their bags and fled within the hour.

Apparently word traveled faster than they did, for their way into Menegroth was blocked by a none too happy Thingol, a too happy Saeros, and a too happy though trying to look none too happy Melian.

They had been told that they were not to return to the subtals (thank Eru) but that doesn't mean that they were off the hook.

Now Turin was waiting with Beleg outside of Thingol's study for their sentence, Mablung was already inside, apparently their lord was so mad at them that he was seeing them individually.

Beleg looked up at the edain, "Relax Turin, we may be so dead that we ought to be booking three rooms in the Halls of Mandos but that's no reason to wear a hole in the floor or to tick off the furniture."

Turin sighed and collapsed on the couch just as Mablung burst in.

"I have good news and bad news, what do you want to hear first?"

"Bad news." replied Beleg with a grimace

"Good news" retorted Turin with an equally bitter grimace

"Um," answered the Heavy Hand, "I guess I'll tell you without mentioning which is the good news and which is the bad news. You do not have to see Thingol because I spoke for all three of us-"

The two on the couch groaned, Mablung was not one of their top thousand advocates.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, so we are not as dead of Turin seems to think judging by the hole in the floor, but we are on probation, however I got the most life altering of it."

Beleg eyed his friend, "What do you have to do?"

"I er, why don't you guys take pity on me and be grateful that I got you out of a yen's worth of patrol duty and help me out?"

Resigning themselves to whatever Thingol set out for them, the three with Mablung in the lead, walked down to a small underground room.

Turin froze upon entering, "and you will be spending how much of your time here?"

"All the time that I'm not doing March-Warden stuff"

"In other words basically all your time," confirmed Turin, "this my friend will be the bane of your sanity."

The room was dusty, with no source of light save for one very sad looking candle, contained many strange contraptions, a lot of hay, a large wooden bucket, a strange odor, and for some reason a huge tank full of water.

"Cozy" commented Beleg sarcastically

Suddenly a loud mooing, was heard from a dark alcove

Turin started and drew his sword, while Beleg just raised an eyebrow and skeptically asked the obviously question,

"Is that a cow?"

Mablung beamed, "Yeah that's Gene."

Turin took one look at the bucket, Mablung who was now sporting a cow patterned cloak, the cow and began to piece the bits together, "Oh no, no Mablung, you're not...you are...no don't say it..."

"Thanks for the congratulations Turin, but yes I am now the official milkman of Doriath."

While Turin dramatically groaned in defeat, Beleg questioned the new milkman

"What happened to the last one?"

"Oh he was deported, something about having an unhealthy obsession with Gene here, can't say I blame him. Apparently, he was once a march-warden like us, the shrinks couldn't do anything for him. He's been in a mental institution for the last seventeen years."

"lovely" commented Turin, who was about to ask what Doriath did for milk for the past seventeen years, but then realized that he didn't want to know.