Disclaimer: None of this is mine, nor do I make money off of it.

Artwork: Picture is kindly leant to me by Panicalex.

1stA/N: This was originally just a short story put into three parts, but I decided ot make it a short story with three chapters. Hope you enjoy it!

2nd A/N: A special thanks to my beta for looking over this and to Oleanne.

And so, in conclusion, I will not be able to attend the opening hunt this year, though I thank you for remembering me and my family in your invitations.

If it is at all possible, I hope to visit you on a later date.

Sincerely,

The Lord of Bririon,

Sir Thomas Whistlebush

A rare smirk ran across Erestor's lips as he re-read the last part of the letter and rolled it back up. In truth, he had not expected Lord Thomas to accept the invitation. It was only courtesy that had made him send it to the human in the first place. Had it been Lord Isacor, the late lord and father of Lord Thomas, Erestor would have had the servants prepare the guestroom before the reply had even come; however, Lord Thomas was, as he'd pointed out on their first meeting, not his father.

Sir Thomas Whistlebush had just come into his position of command in the town of Bririon. His late father, Lord Isacor, had ruled the town for over eighty years and had only died in the past several months. It had been Lord Isacor who had started the trade of fabrics between Imladris and Bririon. Lord Thomas, while he was not a bad man, was still young and of the mind that he knew best. Erestor expected that on his next visit he would bring an outline of the new trade agreements, along with a demand for more money.

Erestor shook his head. The young were often of that mind, especially in the case of humans. He placed the rolled-up scroll to the side and got out a fresh piece of parchment with which to write a reply to the young lord. He had only just started to write the rough draft when the door of the library creaked open and a small figure scurried in. Shock rushed through Erestor as his mind grasped that someone had come to see him at this late hour, and then dread as he realized just who his late-night visitor was – Arwen, Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian's newest child.

Arwen was not yet seven years of age. She had a gap in the front of her mouth where her two front teeth had yet to come in. If she were human, her height would have suggested she were three years, instead of seven. She was clad in a simple white nightgown and had the arm of her stuffed bear clutched in her left fist. Sorrowful grey eyes rose to meet his black ones and a sniffle reached his ear. At once, Erestor was on his feet and striding over to the forlorn figure. He sat on his heels so he was at eye length with Arwen and grasped her little shoulder with a gentle hand.

"What is wrong, my lady?" he asked. Another sniffle came from Arwen.

"I'm thcard, Ewether…"

Normally Arwen's lisp would have brought a small smile to Erestor's face, but right now the only thing Erestor felt was worry. Arwen did not often admit to being scared. Something must be wrong.

Was it an intruder?

Perhaps he should get Glorfindel after he'd found out just what it was that had scared the little elleth.

"What has scared you, my lady?"

"M-monther…"

A monster! Was it an orc?

"An orc, my lady?" Erestor asked as his worry built even higher. This had never before happened in Imladris before. And, of course, it would happen when Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian were away at Lothlorien. He was prepared to rush over to Glorfindel's private quarters, when he noticed Arwen was shaking her head 'no'.

"It is not an orc, my lady?"

Arwen nodded, still clutching her bear.

"Then what kind of monster is it?"

Perhaps a spider from Mirkwood? They had never been known to hunt this far north.

"It'th called the Tickle monther…" Arwen explained in a small voice, her bottom lip trembling.

Relief rushed through Erestor as he realized that Arwen had said 'Tickle monster'. He had a feeling he knew just who had given the elfling such nightmares.

"I suppose your brothers told you about this monster?"

"Yeth."

Erestor let a smile ghost his lips as he shook his head. The twins, Elladan and Elrohir, were obviously bored. He would have to find them something to keep them preoccupied, but for now, he had to reassure the elleth before taking her back to her rooms. He had never had to do this before, but Erestor was sure it could not be that hard. He took care of rooms of disagreeing elves and humans, reassuring Arwen would be as easy.

"Now, my lady, you know better than to believe your brothers, especially when they tease you."

"They weren't teathing! They were telling the truth!"

"Now, my lady, I can assure you that there is no such thing as a Tickle Monster."

"Yeth, there ith! I thaw it!"

"My lady –"

"Pleath, Ewether, I'm thcard!"

"Do you want me to come with you back to your room?"

"No!" Arwen pulled away, eyes wide, and hugged her bear close, "I don't want to go back!"

This was becoming harder than Erestor had first thought: "Then what would you have me do, my lady?"

"Can…can I thleep in here?"

Erestor was taken aback. He understood, in theory, why little Arwen asked, but never before had anyone trusted him enough to take care of them. Only a select few took the trouble to get to know him – the real him – and none of them asked for his help unless it was with a treaty or feast.

"Would…would you not rather go to your brothers, Arwen?" Erestor asked, dropping the formal 'my lady' in his curiosity. Arwen shook her head hard.

"Uh-uh," she said, "They not throng enough."

"What about Glorfindel? He is strong."

"He'th not you."

The honest and simple reply cut Erestor's heart to the quick. He had never really interacted with the small elleth before and yet she still felt as though he could protect her. Erestor did not have the heart to send her away now. He stood and walked over to the couch on the left wall. He shook the blanket – Lord Elrond had insisted he keep one in case he ever got cold at night – and motioned Arwen over.

Her eyes lit up as she ran over and jumped onto the couch. Erestor laid the woolen blanket over her and smoothed her hair out of her face. She beamed up at him. Erestor smiled back.

"Now, go to sleep," he said, turning towards his desk. He felt something tug the end of his robe's sleeve. Glancing down he saw Arwen's worried face looking up at him.

"What about the monther?" her small voice quivered. Erestor bent down.

"Worry not. Any monster would be foolish to come in here while I'm protecting you."

She nodded, serious, and snuggled in. Erestor allowed himself a rare display of affection as he patted her head. He stretched his arms as he sat down at his desk again and focused on his reply to Lord Thomas. Every now and again he glanced over at the figure on his couch, but Arwen never moved other than to breathe, safe in the knowledge that no monster would ever come near her.

0/0/0/0

This soon became a habit of Arwen's until she turned twelve, but Erestor never minded. As he told Glorfindel, when the Captain asked if he minded the young elleth being with him, it made him feel proud that she trusted him so completely.