Daycare of Doom

by Thalion Estel

Daycare. It's a place that most people fear a little and the wise fear a lot. But two of Tolkien's characters are so intent on speaking to their fanfiction writer that they foolishly dare to enter the deadly arena. Will they survive the day? Guys, this may be the most realistic fanfiction story I've ever written. It's long, but I think it reads pretty quickly.

Author's Note: Based more on true events than you know. Please enjoy.

…

Estel hopped out of the passenger door of her silver Civic and waved a heartfelt farewell to her dashingly handsome husband. He demonstrated with a finger stroked from his eye down his cheek that he was greatly grieved at her going, but then he returned Thalion's wave and pulled the car down the crumbly driveway and onto an equally poorly-paved side road. Estel only watched the vehicle for a short moment before pulling her coat more closely around her body and hustling across the parking lot.

The Michigan fall was not far removed from the Texas winters with which Thalion was familiar, but she was still in a hurry to get out of the cold morning air. Not only was the interior of the red brick building ahead a toasty warm shelter from the elements, but it housed a welcome that made Estel remember why she kept her very difficult job. She finally reached a door, swiped a keycard, and entered a well-lit eating area. A chorus of small but joyful voices announced her arrival immediately.

"Miss Estel!" cried a boy's voice that Thalion knew to belong to Weston.

"Miss Estel!" shrieked Norah and Faren at once, soon joining Weston to jump from their seats at the breakfast table to wrap Thalion in an embrace which warmed the writer more than any heater could. She put her arms around the children, greeting them each in turn. Max was next to give a tight hug, and the ever-shy Luxx only gave a small wave and tiny grin from her chair a few tables away.

"Let me go put away my stuff real quick," Estel told the children, ruffling a few heads and patting a few backs. "I'll be right back."

This last comment was directed just as much at one of the teachers who was watching the older-aged kids, and a tired nod was the response. Breakfast was a very chaotic event in this particular daycare, and on the "big kid side," it was often only one or two adults with as much as two dozen children anywhere from two to four years old. Thalion wasn't really sad to miss that part of the day.

The writer rushed to put her lunchbox in the fridge, her purse in the storage room, and her fingerprint on the clock-in computer. She gave a cheerful "good morning" to the teacher behind the front desk—the lead teacher of the four-year-old preschooler class and, thus, Estel's technical boss—and asked about her morning placement.

"Same as always," the lead answered as she flipped through some papers on the desk. "Fours to Legos."

"Alrighty. Thanks!" Estel called before quickly turning on her heels and rushing back to the eating area to help lessen the chaos.

The scene that met her was not unordinary, but it still made her hurry all the more: the threes were screaming and running around underneath the cubbies and between the backpacks, a few old bridgers (that is, the two-and-a-halfs) were either crying or making a mess of whatever had spilled onto the tables during breakfast, and the fours were making up some crazy game which involved far too much noise and movement. Fortunately, Thalion's presence made the latter group stop what they were doing as they excitedly anticipated the next step of the day.

"Miss Estel!" Weston yelled again. "Are we going to Legos?"

"Yup!" the writer/teacher assured before clearing her throat to take on her ever-evolving Teacher Voice. "Okay, all my fours! Line up! Line up! LINE UP!"

It always required several attempts, but with only a few kids of this age coming this early, it didn't take too long to gather up Estel's little crew and get them in line. The class marched down past the area where the one to two year olds ate, the preschoolers waving to the younger class with affection. The babies waved back or gave a soft, super adorable "hi" as the fours approached the Lego room.

"Alright, my friends!" called Estel, still employing her Teacher Voice. "Sit on my green and yellow walls!"

The Lego room was a mass of color and creativity, each wall being a different color and the shelves being covered in several different sizes and kinds of Legos. Estel loved bringing the kids into this room. It allowed them to be creators, and it also minimized what Thalion called the institutionalizing of childhood. The longer she worked at a daycare, the more the writer despised the very concept of full-time childcare.

She couldn't change the way things were, but maybe by making sure that these kids got what a system could never give, she would make a difference in the world and in the children's lives. She loved them dearly.

Just as Estel was about to ask the children about their weekends and if any of them had watched the Detroit Lions lose again, the door opened. Thalion and all the children looked up eagerly, expecting to see another child arriving for the day, but they were met with the assistant director and two strange figures.

The assistant director was always all smiles and compliments, and this morning was no different. But Estel could not return the politeness, for the two people in tow were some of the last people she had ever expected to see at work—and they were certainly not wanted. One was tall with long blonde hair and strong limbs. His eyes shone with the flame of the Eldar, and his face showed both the wisdom of many ages and the annoyance of a thrice-accursed muse. At his side was a very short and stocky individual sporting a great brown beard that went to his belt. His expression conveyed the greatest humiliation and anger his features could manage, and Estel was pretty sure she could hear him growling quietly.

"Hello, Miss Estel," the assistant director said with a wide grin before gesturing to the two people behind her. "I'd like you to meet Faelneerg and his son, Ilmig. Ilmig is looking to join your preschool class, and Faelneerg is going to be doing an on-the-job interview today."

As Estel's jaw dropped and she tried her best to keep her composure in front of her superior, the assistant director stepped a little closer and spoke a little lower. "We are having a ratio crisis today, and so you'll be in charge of preschool today. Faelneerg has agreed to stay until nap. I know that's not a conventional work interview, but he didn't mind in the slightest. Is that okay with you?"

Estel nodded stiffly, knowing she wasn't exactly allowed to say "no." But oh, how she would have liked to. These despicable muses had barged into her life one too many times, and this time it would cause more than a little trouble.

"I've never seen a beard on a four year old before," Thalion remarked with a smirk that the assistant director could not see. Her tone was not cruel enough to draw attention from an unsuspecting bystander, but the muses would detect the venom well enough.

The Prince of Mirkwood let out a ringing laugh and patted his companion, the wretched Gimli, on the shoulder. "My son simply loves his dwarf costume," the elf said, chuckling enough to draw the most vicious glare from the dwarf. "He never takes it off, and I do want him to embrace himself for who he really is." The elf paused, giving a smirk of his own. "Even if it is a rather ugly look."

With that the dwarf raised a heavy foot and stomped as hard as he could on the graceful toes of the elf, and Legolas had to work very hard to stifle a cry (and hold back fierce retaliation). Estel only ground her teeth and sighed in annoyance.

"If there's anything you need, just let me know," the assistant director chirped before heading out the door. Thalion gave a sharp look to her new companions.

"How about a bow and a couple arrows," she muttered quietly under her breath.

"Who's duh lady and the supuh weird tid?" Norah inquired, her brow furrowing in confusion and repulsion. Despite her lisp, the two newcomers understood every word, and Gimli howled with laughter as Legolas' fair face flushed. Estel chuckled herself.

"This is Ms. Faelneerg. She's going to be with our class today," Estel said with a wicked grin as Legolas' face became a shade darker.

"Mr. Faelneerg," the elf corrected with a growl.

"But I didn't think they hired men here," Estel pressed, relishing the fact that her muses were limited in their responses since she had so many witness—young though they were. "I've never even seen one interview."

"Technically speaking, they still have not," Legolas corrected. "But my wonderfully enchanting demeanor was all the convincing they needed."

"Humans are easily deceived," Gimli said, still chuckling.

"But you have a dirl's hair," Norah insisted, seeming to not understand that the teachers were talking (a strangely common problem among young children, if you can believe it). "How tan you be a boy if you have a dirl's hair?"

"Boys can have long hair, too," Weston countered. "I saw it in this movie where—"

"Nuh uh! No! Boys tan only have shoit hair."

"Nuh uh!"

"Uh huh!"

"See what you've done?" Estel demanded of Legolas, turning away from the muses for a moment to quell the brewing argument. "And it'll only get worse from here," she said as she took the elf and dwarf off to a corner to try to get a word in with them before more kids arrived. "What in all of Arda do you think you're doing here? And I'm not just talking about annoying me. Don't you realize what working in a daycare is like? You won't last the day."

Both muses seemed…well, amused. They smiled and looked at one another like Thalion had no idea what she was talking about, but it was Gimli who voiced their feeling of incredulity.

"Do you not know the things we've faced in our time? It is you that we are concerned about."

Estel gave a huff and folded her arms. "What do you mean?" But she already knew, and she felt her heart sink a bit. She dealt with more guilt on the coming subject than they imagined.

"Come on, Estel," Legolas began, his elven voice managing to soothe some of Thalion's wrath (quite against her will). "You haven't answered our calls, messages, or knocks on your door. We all know you've barely written anything in…well, years."

"That's not true!" the writer sputtered. "I have made some progress in one of my original novels, and I've done a fic or two here and there."

"Progress!" the dwarf exclaimed. "In a full year you've made it into what, the seventh chapter?"

Estel looked down at her feet sheepishly. "Sixth."

"And the fics are always half-hearted and short, when you post at all," the elf continued. "Estel, this is no laughing matter. This is no time to delay. If you don't start writing again, you might lose everything."

"I know!" Thalion shouted much louder than she had meant to, causing the children to drop their Legos (who had gotten those out anyway?) and look up at her with big eyes. But, of course, their extremely short attention lured their minds back to the call of their toys after only a few moments of staring at their teachers. Estel glared at her muses.

"I know," she repeated more quietly. "But maybe it's time to face facts: I'm never going to be able to write like I did in high school. I don't have that kind of time. I'm married now, and to tell you the truth, it's the best time of my life. Maybe the reason I haven't had the urge to write is because I'm so content with the way things are in the real world. I'm finally living the life I always dreamed about."

Thalion paused, seeing the look of sorrow on her muses' faces. They thought she was giving up, and of course that was not the case. But what could she tell them? She wasn't sure what to do to fix the problem.

"But I'm a writer," Estel said firmly, almost to assure herself as much as her friends. They perked up a bit at the statement. "I believe in the power of word and the power of story. I want to keep going. I just…need something to jump-start my inner muse. I need to be inspired to tell something—to show people something I think deserves to be seen. Told, that is."

Before the conversation could continue, the door burst open as Liam C. (for there were three Liams in this particular class) entered the room with his typical swagger. Behind him Avery still clung to her mother, who was trying to pry the young girl off so that she could dash off to work. Estel intervened, pulling Avery into the room as the crying began, leading her gently over to the window so that she could wave when her mother's car passed by.

"WOW!" Liam C. yelled in his loud voice, looking Gimli up and down. "That's the craziest thing I've ever seen!" Thalion flashed her gaze toward Liam and glared strongly.

"You say you're sorry," she said in her stern, overly-dramatized you're-in-trouble voice.

"Sorry," Liam said with very little attempt to be sincere.

"Now give hugs," Thalion instructed, a gleam in her eye at the change in Gimli's expression from amusement to befuddlement as the four year old wrapped the battle-hardened dwarf in a very deep but very fake hug.

"Are you sure y'all are up for this?" the writer asked her muses. "It'll only get harder. I'm not trying to insult you when I say you can't handle it."

The elf laughed, though the pleasant and inhuman quality of it again called the attention of all the children, giving the member of the Eldar race cause to slightly doubt his confidence. "We'll be fine," he insisted after a few seconds. "We're only staying for a bit. I have no intention of working here. Valar forbid!"

"Indeed," the dwarf assented, pushing aside Liam's arms as though they were covered in some unwanted substance.

"You know this job affords very little time for talking amongst teachers," Estel said, feeling the need to hammer home the fact that these two had no idea what they were doing. "You're not going to be able to help me with story ideas; it'll take us all just to keep the class under control. I'm trying to tell you: this is hard stuff."

The elf waved aside the warning as though he had the foresight of a Fëanorian, moving to take a seat on a low counter that for some reason was built into the walls of the Lego room (being the perfect height for children to hit their heads on). The dwarf moved to a corner, hoping to avoid more encounters with the kids in the room while Estel sat down in the middle of the chaos, helping a few kids build their favorite Lego structure: a garage.

As soon as the time reached 8:45, the number of children began to increase by the minute. There were a total of thirteen kids present (excluding Gimli for obvious reasons) by the time Thalion stood to take control.

"Alright, my friends!" she said in her Teacher Voice. "It's time to clean up!"

This command was, as always, met with a mixed response. Some children immediately began destroying their creations with as much violence as possible so that they could put them away. Some stole other kids' Legos in order to clean them up first, resulting in shouting matches and crying. Some totally ignored the instructions. Some crawled under the shelf upon which Legolas sat and hid. And Silas, one of the more, uh, obedience-impaired children, made a very angry face and started stomping his feet in rapid succession, his fists tightly clenched and his face already turning red.

"NOOOOO!" he growled as much as yelled. "NOOOOOO!"

Estel rolled her eyes discreetly and gave a quiet sigh before realizing that she now had the authority to pass off this problem to her new assistant teacher. She flashed a grin in Legolas' direction and nodded toward Silas.

"Wanna deal with him?" she said. "You like a challenge, do you not? This is a foe like no other."

Legolas looked at Silas a bit nervously. "You speak quite cruelly of your students," he remarked as he stood up from his spot.

"I mean it mostly in jest," the writer assured her muse. "But war is waged here every day; I just happen to love my enemies."

"I DON'T WANT TO CLEAN UP!" Silas howled at the top of his lungs. Legolas's face was completely blank as he turned his gaze to the screaming child. He probably looked less nervous when facing trolls and Oliphants.

"Uh, kid," the elf began, though his voice was too quiet to be heard above the din of the room. "Kid," he repeated more loudly. "You can play with these toys later, but right now, your class is going to another room. You need to clean up."

"NOOOOOOOOO!" came the cries again. "I DIDN'T EVEN GET TO PLAY!"

"Silas, listen to your new teacher," Estel warned, taking some pity on her elven friend. "If you don't start cleaning up right now, you'll lose five minutes of play time later, and I'll let our new friend Ilmig clean up your Legos." The dwarf took a threatening step towards the preschooler, uttering a guttural growl.

Silas stopped screaming, but his expression grew even more defiant. "I want to put up my Legos so no one else can play with them," he whined angrily.

"No, Silas," Thalion answered, tired of having the same conversation every single day. "I told you: we don't save toys. That's not fair to the other classes. Now put them away."

This was not enough to satisfy the troubled boy, but at this point no course of action would avoid a meltdown, so Estel, wishing to save some time, snatched Silas' few Lego pieces and put them into the designated box. She instructed Legolas to oversee the coming tantrum as she helped the other children finish cleaning and then lined them up at the door.

"Can you watch them while I go grab our snack?" Estel asked Legolas as the line filed into the main preschool room and the kids took their seats on the new caterpillar rug. "Tell them to go four at a time and wash their hands. I'll be back in just a minute."

The elf nodded, though his eyes scanned the mob of children nervously. The writer didn't give him time to suggest an alternative, quickly striding out of the room but doing the elf a favor by taking Norah with her. The little girl did as she always did once the two of them were alone, asking for Estel to be her so-called "school mom" (though the girl's lisp made the phrase sound more like "stool mom," a far less flattering title). The teacher reluctantly agreed, hating the situation made by daycare in which teachers do more parenting than the actual parents.

Though Estel walked at a quick pace, causing Norah to break into a trot, she could not be fast enough to keep Legolas from disaster. As Thalion walked back in the room which she had left not even sixty seconds before, she was shocked at the tornado of chaos that lay before her. The poor elf of Mirkwood stood pathetically calling out instructions while the horde of children ran circles around him, screaming at each other, throwing things, and laughing at their teacher's worthless commands. Legolas' eyes had that tired look that Estel knew all too well; he was beginning to look just like the rest of the staff.

"MY FRIENDS!" Thalion gasped. The tornado paused long enough to acknowledge Estel's presence before the evil resumed. The writer marched to the light switch and turned it off, and though screams rang out as darkness engulfed the class, a lull followed, and Estel knew this was her window.

"IF MY FRIENDS DO NOT WASH THEIR HANDS AND FIND A SEAT, WE WILL SPEND ALL OUR PLAY TIME PRACTICING HOW TO ACT LIKE FOUR YEAR OLD PRESCHOOLERS. SIT DOWN."

"I'm five," Silas countered rudely, so Estel marched across the room, picked up the young boy who immediately started kicking and screaming, and set him firmly against a wall while most of the other students finally fell in line.

She had to talk for about three minutes before Silas would listen to her, but at long last he made eye contact and answered her questions as he usually did. He would confess in words more clear than most philosophers and theologians that he "couldn't make green choices" because to him, red choice are "fun," and he "can't stop being evil." Hence the need for parents to discipline their children, dear readers.

After telling Silas that he needed to overcome his natural inclination to wickedness and destruction, Estel let him join the class as they finished getting washed up and finding seats (and arguing about washing up and finding seats). The writer passed out some slices of cucumber to the students, ignoring the complaints from a few of the children who didn't care for the vegetable, until the container was empty.

Legolas had positioned himself in the room's furthest corner as he tried to recover from the psychological damage he had received in the minute of Thalion's absence. Gimli poked at his snack with distain, glaring at the students who stared at his strange appearance. Fortunately, his presence was intimidating enough that not many students dared to ask him more insulting questions, but since preschoolers cannot speak below a yell, he still heard them talking about him.

After snack time was over and some of the last late comers had shown up, Thalion rounded up the children and took them to the Library room. Legolas took up the rear, seeming to have shaken off his initial shock, and the class arrived at their location without incident. The children, however, had a very hard time sitting quietly once they were all given the instructions to do so.

"I don't really have a lesson plan or anything," Estel told the elf as kids talked amongst themselves, creating a din that covered the teachers' conversation. "Usually the lead teacher does that. So I guess I'll try to do some educational stuff, and then we'll read in here for a while. After that, we should probably take them outside to burn as much time as we can. I don't mean to be offensive…but I can't handle twenty-two kids for long with you being my only back up."

The elf rolled his eyes, but of course there was nothing he could say to retaliate, so he gave a curt nod. "How should I be, uh, controlling them?" he asked after an awkward silence. "They don't listen to anything I say."

"That's normal," the writer assured him. "These guys only listen to people who have proven themselves to be stout-hearted, immovable, and strong-willed." The elf straightened a bit inadvertently. "You have to be a figure of authority, and you have to act like nothing they do gets to you. Otherwise they walk all over you, like earlier."

The elf sighed and shook his head. "It is said among the Eldar not to ask the opinion of a mortal, for the children of men deceive even themselves in their false interpretation of situations. But…" he chuckled a bit, "perhaps you were right; this is a battlefield like no other. I had not anticipated the waywardness of these children, and I should have heeded your counsel. Maybe some faint strain of elven blood flows in your veins."

Estel gave a soft grin, but the ruckus of the classroom beckoned her attention. "You can make it," she assured her muse, stepping towards the chaos. "I'll keep you alive, at least. And why isn't your lovely child helping you out, anyway?"

But upon the mention of Gimli, both teachers noticed that the said dwarf was struggling underneath a dogpile of the roughest boys in class, cursing in the tongue of Durin (thankfully, though it must be admitted that some children in that class were no strangers to swearing) as he tried to wrestle his way out. Thalion and Legolas both knew he could throw the children through the window if he wanted to, and although his conscience currently restrained him, his patience was wearing thin. The boys on top of the pile were quite enjoying themselves.

"Bury the beard!" called out Liam C. with a wicked glint in his eye. "Bury the beard! Bury the beard!"

"Yeah!" Silas agreed, and several other children copied his sentiment, causing Silas to scream complaints to Estel about people saying what he was saying.

"MY FRIENDS," Thalion shouted, quickly getting into the thick of the mess and dragging out several children to set aside to "take a break" (since state licensing rules forbid time outs but teachers have to think up a way to do the same thing with a new name). Legolas grabbed a kid or two to help out.

"This behavior is really sad, my friends," Estel said as the last renegade was contained and Gimli brushed himself off, looking more angry than Thalion had ever seen. His eyes told the story: he was ready to take all those children out behind the woodshed and give them a good thrashing with a switch.

"We are going to sit quietly until you can show me you are ready to be four year old preschoolers," the writer decided, striding to the bookshelf to pick out something to read to the kids once the time came. Of course it took several minutes for the class to truly settle down, but by Eru's grace, eventually they were all sitting crisscross-applesauce and waiting to be told what to do.

"Now," Estel began, eyeing Legolas to make sure he was ready to pounce on any child about to act out. "What letter are we working on in our ABC books this week?"

"E!" shouted about four kids at once, just as Thalion said "I'm only calling on friends who are raising their hands quietly."

"Chase," Estel called, though now the question was obsolete.

"Uh…Y?" Chase answered, causing even Legolas to roll his eyes.

"No, it's E," Thalion corrected, trying to keep her tone from betraying her annoyance. "Can anyone tell me any words that start with E?"

There were a few shout outs that the teacher ignored, and finally it was quiet enough to call on children who were following directions.

"Umm…." Sammy trailed off, having raised his hand without knowing any possible answers. He smiled shyly, and Thalion assured him she would come back to him.

"Eagle," Weston offered, Thalion issuing an "mm-hmm" in response.

"Elephant?" Avery asked.

"Yes; that's a good one. Anyone else?"

"Eat," Aiden answered, earning the teachers' nod of approval.

"Spiders!" Liam C. yelled from his place on the wall.

"No," Thalion said with an audible sigh. Some kids didn't even try.

"Elephant," Norah offered, her facial expression showing a great sense of pride in her…brilliant originality?

"Avery already said that one!" Silas accused vehemently from the wall.

"NO!" Norah yelled back. "No, she didn't! Teacher, Silas is saying that—"

"Norah, don't tattle," Thalion instructed, glaring at Silas. "And no arguing."

The two children rejected the instruction until Norah wound up on the wall and Estel felt more of her inner resolve crumble. But she kept at her work without showing her defeat on the outside, continue to ask the children for more E words.

"Eleanor!" Abigail cried with delight, glad to bring up her little sister's name.

"Elbereth," Legolas added quietly, but the children totally ignored him.

"And do you have a teacher with a name that starts with E?" Estel asked hopefully. Dead silence, for once, descended on the room. A cricket chirped from somewhere, an uncomfortable prospect given young children's proclivity to put things in their mouths. "Nobody knows which teacher has an E name?" Thalion questioned again.

"Ooh: Miss Holly!" said Max.

"No; it's Miss Olivia," countered Weston. The writer's hope was snuffed out, and she gave up the endeavor.

"Okay, okay," she said, waving her arms downward. "Good job, guys. We'll have to write down some of these E words later. I'm going to read you guys one book, and if you can listen well, we will get to go outside."

The room erupted in cries of jubilation from every student except Silas, who put on his frumpy face and violently crossed his arms. "I DON'T WANT TO GO OUTSIDE!" he shouted at Estel. "I HATE GOING OUTSIDE!" The teacher clenched her jaw.

"Silas, what about your wormy friends?"

Silas' face suddenly changed, and his eyes became wide. "WORMY!" he shouted, his expression now one of great joy and excitement. "I want to see Wormy!" The boy paused, a shadow of fear crossing over his face. "I hope he didn't get eaten by the Worm Monster," he mumbled timidly.

Legolas blinked blankly, but the writer just rolled her eyes and opened up the book she had selected. She read a classic from her own childhood, horrified as she always was at how so many of the kids had no appreciation for a good book. She had to stop and address interruptions about three times per page so that by the time she finally finished the short story, more than ten minutes had gone by.

"If I call your name," Estel said in a louder voice, slapping the book shut in her lap and nodding Legolas towards the door, "then you can line up."

About ten children immediately bolted for the exit while five asked where they were going, and with a sigh, Thalion made them all sit quietly again until she could call them up individually. Then they went through the ritual of arguing over who was the line leader and the caboose, who touched whom in line, who was talking, who was tattling, etc. At this point, the writer just shrugged the whole affair off and led the class from the library to the hall with all the cubbies and coat hooks.

"Help them zip up their jackets and put on their hats," Estel instructed Legolas. "We need to get them into the fresh air A.S.A.P."

The elf was more than happy to be of assistance if it meant the children would no longer be so difficult to manage. He and Thalion got the throng ready as quickly as they could, and when all were ready to go, Estel regrouped the kids into a line and led them to the shoe room to switch out their "inside shoes" for their "outside shoes." It was a tedious process that the writer always loathed, especially when she had to be in charge of keeping the children orderly during the ordeal, but at last the class was on its way outside.

Opening the door to the outdoors created a similar effect to the battering of the gate at Helm's Deep or Minas Tirith, allowing seemingly thousands of wild, raging fiends to pour through the opening and ravage their surroundings. At least the teachers were able to stand back and remain mostly unscathed, aside from the occasional tattling.

"Is it like this every day?" Legolas inquired, shaking his head as he watched children shoving one another, throwing wood chips, crying, and screaming.

"Yes and no," Thalion answered. "Today has actually been pretty good; not too many tantrums, no serious scratches or bumps to speak of, and at least they've actually done some of what we've said. There are days when not even the stoutest patience, the most well-planned strategy, and the greatest love in all the world can tame the chaos." Estel winced, thinking back to such moments in the not-too-distant past.

Legolas opened his mouth but hesitated to make audible what he was thinking. Finally, he gathered his courage. "Why do you stay? You barely make enough money to live. Minimum wage? Really?"

The writer shrugged and then chuckled a bit. "I've asked myself that question many, many times. I could be making like 20% more if I applied at the Taco Bell down the street. I think the experience will help me get a decent job when we move back to Florida next summer, but in all honesty…" Estel trailed off as her eyes landed on her class. "I couldn't leave them now. They need someone like me. A lot of them come from some pretty messed up homes, and almost all of them know nothing of true beauty, wisdom, honor, or love. Really. I think that by being here for them, helping them as I'm able, I'm making a difference the world."

The elf's expression softened, and he gave a slow nod without saying anything. The moment would have been pleasantly serious had not the sight of Gimli launching himself from the roof of the play-structure sent them both into hysterical laughter. He landed with an ungraceful grunt, quickly rolling to his feet and running for his life as a group of children shrieked from inside the climbing toy to signal their pursuit. But this time, it did seem that perhaps the dwarf was beginning to enjoy himself, though of course he never would have admitted this.

"Please keep your hands to yourselves!" Thalion shouted uselessly to the crowd as they barreled past her. No matter; Gimli would probably manage to live until nap time.

And while the time did not pass quickly, it did slowly tick by. Legolas was left in charge for a few impossibly difficult minutes while Estel rushed to prepare lunch for her students, triumphantly giving the news to the kids that it was time to eat as soon as she stepped back outside. So began again the tedious process of taking off everyone's shoes and taking off everyone's coats and getting everyone to the preschool room without waking up all the toddlers who lay asleep on cots in the class' path.

At this point in the day, reigning in the chaos was more of a distant idea than a present goal for the teachers, so as long as the kids didn't get so loud they would wake up the sleepers on the other side of the wall, Estel and Legolas just tried to make sure that everyone was fed and safe.

And so Legolas and Gimli's adventure at the Daycare of Doom (at least, that should be its name) came to a close. Thalion instructed all the children to sit on the blue carpet and thank Mr. Faelneerg and his lovely child for helping out, and then a rowdy line was formed to bring everyone to the nap room after the food was cleaned, the tables wiped, the floors swept, and the pull-ups applied to their respective owners. Estel would have to find time later to do the dishes.

"Well, I guess you guys can go ahead and leave," Estel almost panted once she had finally taken the kids to their destination and instructed them to begin finding their cots. "I guess my line now is 'thank you,' so thank you."

Gimli didn't look like he appreciated the writer's sentiment, growling as he rubbed several bumps and scratches that hadn't been there before this morning. Legolas gave a curt nod, but then leaned a little closer and brought his voice down to a whisper.

"Mortal, if you can handle these wild animals day in and day out without losing your mind, I am sure you can overcome your writer's block. Just press on. Perhaps these incredibly unbearable children will give you new insights into the art of Story. After all, your words may be something that keeps them from utter disaster."

Estel shrugged but took the words to heart. "I'll do what I can," she finally said, smiling and waving at her muses as she turned to begin the drama that was nap time. Still, the elf's statement had struck a chord with her, and she turned his words over and over in her thoughts when she wasn't busy screaming at kids to lie down, be quiet, and go to sleep.

…

I hope you enjoyed that one; it's kind of long and it took me three months to write, but here it is at last. My hope is it will help me remember the glory of writing and spur me on to greater works, both in fanfiction and my original stuff. Thanks so much for reading!