AN/

tal means city, so by my twisted logic sub-tal would be sub-city or sub-urbs

a yen is an elven year, about 144 years

"So you were summoned as well,"

Mablung nodded as Turin entered the small room just outside Thingol's study.

Beleg who was sitting on a chair gazing longingly out at the trees looked up at his edain friend then asked of the group,

"Any idea why we're here?"

Turin shook his head, he and his foster father were close but the messenger that had bade them come see Thingol had used the specific word "summoned" which did not bode well.

All three were nervous, they were usually casual with Thingol, but the formal wording as well as the use of a messenger dripped with importance.

Turin was taking his mind off the wait by naming the plants that adorned the walls of the enclosed space softly to himself.

Beleg was fiddling with Belthronding while Mablung fell of the table that he was perched on and landed in a pile of paperwork that was evidently just written out as the ink was still wet and now covering the Heavy Hand.

Turin rolled his eyes and helped his friend up just as Thingol emerged from his study.

"Rhiach" muttered Beleg as he and Turin instantly covered for their friend who was vainly trying to rub the ink off of himself.

Thingol didn't buy the identical fixed smiles of his foster son and best march warden and noted that Mablung was not in plain sight, inwardly smiling he spoke,

"Don't even bother, what did Mablung fall into this time?"

The two waited as long as they dared before stepping aside to reveal an inky Mablung who had an identical fixed smile as the other two.

Thingol rolled his eyes, without these three his life would be so simple yet so boring. At times he felt like a father of three.

He then outwardly smiled when he saw what Mablung had slipped in, it was a stack of complaints that Thingol was not looking forward to responding to.

Taking his smile as a sign that they could stop their's, the three immediately stopped.

Wanting to stop this nonverbal swing of events, Thingol cleared his throat and said,

"I'm sending you three to the outer border, you will be residing in the sub-tal"

The three looked horrified

"The sub-tals?" sputtered Mablung, "those elves are creepy, last time I was only there for a day and they kept on force feeding me salad and laughing at everything I said."

"Really Adar," coaxed Turin, "They're perfectly safe, the Girdle is strongest there, further more the elves there are very creepy, I was there when I got shot in the shoulder for healing and they kept on making bad jokes and then staring at me so I'd laugh."

Beleg was nodding vigorously he too had been sent to the sub-tals with Turin, and while his friend was getting treated by an all-too-smiley woman, the entire community had swarmed him and started grinning at him as well as force feeding him home made cakes,

"Please Lord Thingol," implored the Strongbow, "they are very creepy, I think they were trying to brainwash me with all those cakes into becoming one of them."

Thingol sighed, he was named Grey Mantle a week after meeting Beleg and Mablung, and every since Turin entered the picture he'd been grayer than ever.

Raising a hand, Thingol silenced the three and said, "That is enough, the sub-tals may have a slightly different culture than we do here, but they do need the protection. Yes the Girdle is strongest there but the Wolf tore through the Girdle too easily for comfort and there is no one stationed there."

All three were staring at him pitifully,

"Please Lord!" cried Mablung, "Don't send us to that Eru forsaken place, for the elves are creepy and want to brainwash us into becoming zombies like them. We're your best team, what'll happen to Menegroth when we've become sub-talled."

Thingol rolled his eyes

"Lord," implored Beleg, "I offer fifty yen of patrol duty if you don't send us to the sub-tals"

"I offer fifty five." added Mablung

"Sixty" retorted Beleg

"Seventy"

"Eighty five"

"A hundred"

"A thousand"

"A million"

Thingol rolled his eyes,

"As tempting as it is to make you do patrol duty for a hundred and fourty four million years, I'm still sending you to the sub-tals. Fortunately for you you'll all be sharing one very large talan so when the creepy sub-tal elves come to kidnap you in the dead of the night you'll have each other to defend yourselves. So go pack."

Turin and Beleg turned to go but Mablung hadn't moved

"Mablung," said Thingol gently, "this is my final decision, this is not permanent, go pack."

"I know," said Mablung

Beleg stepped up to his friend and said to the king,

"Mablung doesn't have anything to pack."

"What?"

"Yeah," explained Beleg, "I told you that you're underpaying him, he has nothing except the clothes on his back, his sword, his bow, and the arrows that he has to reuse with every kill and he carries by stabbing them into his tunic for lack of a quiver."

Thingol raised his eyes, "What're you saying?"

Mablung spoke up from his pool of self pity, "That we should all get raises."

Thingol smiled at them, "Well, in the sub-tals you can live in luxury while protecting the creepy elves, you can have a quiver, a better sword, and clean clothes-"

The elven king stopped short,

"Beleg,"

"Yes Lord?"

"You said that Mablung only had the clothes on his back."

"Correct lord."

"So he's never changed?"

"Never"

"Never washed his clothes?"

"Never, he can't even afford soap to wash himself."

Thingol cringed and continued,

"and how long have you been alive and have been living in this way Mablung?"

This time Mablung answered, "longer that Menegroth lord."

Thingol was edging away from Mablung slowly, "well, then you three can go immediately, yes go go to the sub-tals where you can have all the clean clothes and soap that you can manage, and don't worry about being brainwashed, you're strong, go."

Sighing in defeat, Beleg clapped his grimy friend on the shoulder and the three left Menegroth and towards the sub-tals.