"No. Too independent."

"You're right. They would tear each other apart."

"What about this one?"

"Too much elvish blood."

"Hm."

Gandalf sipped his tea, leafing through the pages in the file before him. Most were sketches of females, none posed, all smiling. Perhaps that was part of the problem.

"He needs someone he must protect," he grumbled. "These females are all too... competent." Elrond looked up from a series of sketches depicting a human woman in a bakery. The elf lord's eyebrows came together like stormclouds meeting.

"You think he would accept one who wasn't?" There was a pause between them as they both contemplated the question.

"No," Gandalf finally admitted, looking dissatisfied. "But that's a fool for you. He doesn't know what's best for him." Elrond chuckled his agreement and set the baker-lady aside. The pile of rejects was growing ever messier on the far side of the table, and the 'possible matches' stack remained miserably bare.

"So who," said the elf thoughtfully, "would he protect, regardless of competence?"

"Someone who was necessary," suggested Gandalf, "or someone who was in immediate danger, perhaps."

"Think more generally," urged Elrond, and it was clear from his renewed smile that he'd thought of something. "What single attribute calls every male of any age to protect those of the fairer sex?"

"Younger, more vulnerable, weaker?" Gandalf guessed, frowning. He'd never had the weaknesses of mortal men, but Elrond, having been married, possibly had more insight into the matter.

"Smaller." The elf was smiling, almost smug in his triumph.

"But you know he won't willingly attach himself to one he thinks has no use," Gandalf countered, already smiling as he anticipated a new challenge.

"Then give her a use." Elrond closed the file he had in front of him and reached for a much thinner folder. The sketches were sparse in this one, of dwarf-women and one or two curly-haired creatures that he hadn't seen before. Gandalf smiled fondly over one in particular.

"I thought she might show up on the list," murmured the Wizard, touching the sketch gently. One of the curly-haired females, in a garden and up to her elbows in soil, apparently tending a freshly-planted grape vine. Elrond checked the name on the back.

"Billa Baggins?"

"Took-Baggins, once, but her mother gave up the name in order to 'blend in' with her husband's neighbors."

"You know her, then?" Elrond was more than a little surprised. As busy as the Wizard always was, he didn't think that there would be time for such homely creatures.

"Ah, yes. Better than most, as it happens." Gandalf seemed pleased as he leaned back in his seat and reached for his tea. "Yes... I think she'll do very nicely."

"This may seem indelicate," the elf began with a crooked smile, looking remarkably like one of his mischievous sons, "but, what exactly is she?"

"A halfling. Cousins to the Men you adore so." There was a merry chuckle in his tone, and Elrond rolled his eyes.

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"But you were there," pointed out Gandalf, clearly quoting despite his teasing tone, "three thousand-"

"Oh, shut up."