Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, an homage to the Lord of the Rings. I acknowledge I have no rights of ownership to the characters or the settings and that I only own my original content and interpretations. Intended for entertainment only, I will earn no monies for this work.

'Is this… a punishment, my lord?'

Lindir tried to keep the horror and shame from his voice. Horror at the thought of leaving Imladris, his beloved haven, and shame at the words spoken well over a year ago now, a few light words, spoken in jest, but still coming back to haunt him.

'…to sheep, other sheep no doubt appear different. Or to shepherds… But mortals have not been our study…'

'A punishment? Not at all, my dear friend. It is merely time you went out into the world a little more. See how it has changed, and is still changing.'

And just when Lindir began to hope that Elrond had forgotten or perhaps had never even heard Lindir's thoughtless, laughing words, he held Lindir's gaze for just a fraction too long, amusement in the wise grey eyes.

'It is time for you to become one of the shepherds, mellon-nin.'

'My lord, I have long since regretted those words and, indeed, they were meant only in jest and if anything, a jest against myself for my own lack…'

'Peace, Lindir.'

Elrond came out from behind his desk and laid a hand on the minstrel's shoulder. 'Come. Sit on the balcony with me. Let me explain.'

He led the way onto the balcony and took a seat at one end of the bench, gesturing Lindir to join him. The view looked out across the valley, the tall sides of the mountains and the distant cascades making an ever-changing backdrop.

'We were all of us guilty of withdrawing behind our own borders in the last age,' he began. 'Indeed, the only one of us who could truly be forgiven this is King Thranduil, who had only strength of spirit and might of arms to protect his people. But the world has changed, and is changing still. Many are leaving these shores, and those who remain must either integrate or diminish.'

Elrond sighed. 'My dear friend, I will soon sail. And I wish to make what alliances I can before then, for those who remain.'

Lindir said nothing. He had thought of sailing himself, more than once, and was only waiting, really, for a company to depart, or a friend to invite him. But it was a vain hope; Lindir had few friends. Music was the companion of his heart, the harp his only love.

'There is a country – not even that, a handful of fiefdoms, to the south. It is of strategic importance, since the townsfolk keep clear the mountain passes and the road through the desert. They are not wealthy; had they been so, undoubtedly they would have fallen to Harad, if not to Mordor. But they are seeking alliance, not with the Southrons, but with Gondor.'

He rose to his feet and went to lean on the balustrade looking down into the valley. Imladris was beginning to show signs of age for the first time in Elrond's memory, and it grieved him to see his former jewel begin to tarnish.

'They are ruled – governed – be a woman, which is unusual enough amongst humankind for it to be of note, and she has a brother who would oust her and then ally with the Southrons. We know this because she sent us a letter, written in an obscure dialect that took my scholars far too long to decipher… the basic content of the letter was to state, to the leaders of the free world, that she wanted to come under the sovereignty of Gondor for her people's sake, and that in the event of her death, this be implemented and the new High King to choose a new governor for her land. Similar missives went to Gondor and to Rohan.'

'Why would she do such a thing? Does she fear for her life?'

'Probably less now that she has written to those she sees as trustworthy repositories for her plans. But it interests me. It interests the king, too, but he feels that any intervention on his part without invitation would look like an attempt to seize power before the matter has been properly discussed. He has asked me to send a small party down to investigate; to see what sort of woman this governor is, what sort of man her brother might be. You will not travel alone, Lindir. With you will ride Elladan and Elrohir – they wish to spend some time with their sister and it is not too far from the southern fiefdoms to Gondor. Erestor and Glorfindel will go, too. You ride in two days.'

'If that is your will, my lord.' Lindor rose to his feet and bowed his head. 'I had better begin my preparations.'

'It is my will. But, Lindir, it is not a punishment.' Elrond clasped Lindir on the shoulder once more. 'It is an exciting opportunity to mingle with the races of Men and learn more of this wonderful world of Middle Earth before we leave it. And, Lindir… truth to tell, I was a rather taken aback that Bilbo would make such verses in my hall, about my forebears… you did, at least, put him in his place a little.'

And was that not what Elrond was doing to him, also, putting him in his place for his thoughtless words? Well, he would have plenty of time to dwell on them during the journey.

Even in good weather, it was hardly a pleasure trip. After a month's hard riding and a too-brief stopover in Lothlorien (Lindir would have lingered if he could, learning new songs and sharing his own) they passed through the north of Ithilien before reaching Osgiliath where they took another more-needed, but less-pleasant day or two away from the road.

Lodged in a reasonable inn for the break in their journey, Lindir sat around a table in the common room with his travelling companions and enjoyed the sensation of being seated on a proper chair at a real table.

'Does one ever get used to this?' he wondered, surprised when Glorfindel answered him.

'To the travelling, Lindir, or to the indifferent service and the dubious beer? On balance, no, not really. But it makes for a change, and we see so little change in Imladris.'

'Forgive me; I had not realised I spoke my thought aloud,' Lindir replied. 'I was meaning the travelling itself. Perhaps Lord Elrond was right; perhaps I had been too long in one place.'

'Truth to tell, we had wondered if you would take root there,' Elladan said with a grin that was echoed back by his twin. 'You never seemed to get invited to any of the really interesting battles!'

'Possibly because I'm about as good with a sword as you are with a zither, Elladan,' Lindir replied, smiling. 'For which I am most grateful.'

'What do you think?' Elrohir joined in the conversation. 'Have you learned to tell the sheep apart yet?'

Lindir gave a rueful laugh. He had admitted, early on in the journey, how his words had dogged him, and had found more amused tolerance from his travelling companions than anything else. And it had been a relief; he had felt the weight of long-carried guilt dissipating each time he spoke of it.

'Well, I am starting to tell the sheep from the wolves.' He glanced across to where one of the beermaids was being kept in conversation with a man who stood with his eyes constantly hovering back to the level of her cleavage. The man who seemed to own the inn came round from behind his counter, and summoned the girl about her work and she cast him an amused look of gratitude. 'And the shepherds from the sheep, at times.'

'Many are the races of men,' Erestor said, his precise voice enunciating clearly. 'And many are the differences between one from another. They are distinctive, should you choose to look. But, really, speak a moment to any one and they will say, ah, you are an elf, sir, are you not? And the man will not think there are any differences between Noldor or Sindar or Silvan…'

'Yes. But still, I feel, I should have tried harder to see.'

'Keeping so close to Rivendell as you have, it is not to be unexpected that if you are a little… blinkered,' Glorfindel said. 'I have seen perhaps more than any of you, and yet I am bewildered often by what I have missed… you, at least, Lindir, do not have chunks of history missing from your past. Your deficiency – I will not call it ignorance, mellon-nin – is more easily rectified than my own.'

'We have met good folk, and we have met with rogues. And I am very grateful I am not travelling alone; without your sword, Glorfindel, your bows, Elladan and Elrohir, I fear I would not have lasted long.'

'Of course, you would have had Erestor, still. His glance is enough to make the most hardened villains quail,' Glorfindel said, causing the twins to laugh and Erestor to shoot just such a look at Glorfindel himself. 'Ah, but I am not a villain; I am immune!'

'No, but you work well together,' Lindir said. 'If there is fighting, then Glorfindel, you are excellent with the sword, but when things hang in the balance, Erestor can soothe an angry heart and turn away wrath.'

'And what of us?' Elladan asked.

'Yes, what are we, Lindir? Extra baggage?'

Lindir laughed. 'No, my friends. Your easy humour turns much uncertainty into laughter; it is I who am the deadweight around here.'

And while all the others protested, it was Erestor who made the most sense.

'Not at all, dear friend. We are too used to war and the deceits of men. You, who are so new to them, can make more objective opinions, uninfluenced by your past experiences. Do not undervalue that.' He smiled slightly, for him an excess of humour. 'And then, we do enjoy your tales to pass away the nights beside the campfire.'

'No campfire tonight,' Glorfindel reminded them. 'So I'll to my chamber now. An early start tomorrow.'