The idea for this story came from CAH, who gives birth to plot bunnies faster than Increase Rabbit of the children's tale.

I haven't yet replied to all the reviewers who were logged in. I will certainly do so this weekend, but I want to at least acknowledge all my reviewers here, whether they were logged in or not. Thanks to the following: CAH, deLurker, Dragonsofliberty, Elfinabottle, Ilada'Jefiv, Joee1, just a fan, Katie, Lady Ambreanna, leralonde, Ne'ith5, PurpleHat, RumorUnderOath, Telcontar Rulz, Tinnuial, and vectis. My apologies if I left out anyone. Please let me know if I have, and I will correct the error.

Episode 3: Being Fair

Elladan, Elrohir, and Anomen were trying to look solemn, but the Lothlóríen brothers, who were standing safely behind Elrond, where they couldn't be seen by the adults, were doing their best to provoke them into misbehaving. Rúmil had crossed his eyes, Orophin had stuck out his tongue, and Haldir—well, Haldir being Haldir, he was behaving oh-so-correctly. However, the haughty expression of a well-behaved Haldir drew as much laughter from the Rivendell elflings as the antics of his more obstreperous brothers. Elladan giggled. One of Elrond's eyebrows shot up. Elrohir snorted. There went Elrond's other eyebrow. Anomen suddenly bent over coughing. This gave Elrond an opportunity to bring the charade to an end. "Elrohir, Elladan," he ordered, "take Anomen to the kitchen and tell the Cook that a serving of hot cider may be needful to settle his cough."

Elladan seized one of Anomen's arms and Elrohir the other, and the trio fled from the chamber where the Lothlórien delegation was being welcomed. Once outside, they whooped and pranced all the way to the Kitchen. The Cook heard them coming and met them at the door, ladle in hand.

"Well?" he said darkly.

"Adar says Anomen is to have hot cider to settle his cough," Elrohir said nervously. Now that they were standing before the Cook, their spirits were considerably more subdued. Only two days ago they had lessened a table's burden by removing several pies from it. The Cook knew they were the culprits. He couldn't prove they had taken the pies, but as he towered above them, it occurred to the elflings that he might exact a penalty nonetheless. Meekly, they crept by him into the kitchen and perched upon the stools he pointed them toward. Silently they sat as he banged pots and rattled kettles. To their surprise, however, after a little while he plunked three steaming mugs on the table before them. "I'll not waste wood," he grumbled. "I'll not build up a fire in order to heat naught but one mug's worth of cider. You two," he said, pointing at Elladan and Elrohir, "you must take your medicine as well. No use protesting," he warned as they opened their eyes wide.

Elladan and Elrohir tried to look sorrowful as they sipped their cider, but it was as hard as trying to keep a straight face in the presence of the Lothlórien brothers. Fortunately, after a bit the Cook busied himself about the kitchen, his back to them, and the elflings were able to grin at each other over the tops of their mugs. By and by, he returned to the table bearing a plate of biscuits. "It is time to clear out the stale food," he announced, "and you shall make yourselves useful by disposing of these. You needn't go running to the Lord Elrond to complain of the task, for he will only say it is just that you be required to do a little labor from time to time. Now go!"

With Anomen carefully carrying the platter, the elflings trooped from the kitchen and made for the garden. "We should share these with Haldir and his brothers," Elladan suggested once they were safely ensconced in an arbor. There were enough biscuits that not even Elrohir grudged sharing them, and Anomen returned to the Hall to find their Lórien visitors. He discovered them in the Hall of Fire, and all of them, even Haldir, broke into grins when they spied Anomen entering the room. Sitting quietly in the chamber listening to tales of bygone days was not how they wished to spend their time in Rivendell. They begged that Celeborn give them leave to accompany Anomen to the garden, and Galadriel's spouse gladly gave permission, for the elflings were growing wrigglier with each passing moment.

"I do not know why Galadriel insisted that I bring them," he observed to Elrond once the elflings had scurried from the room. Sitting nearby, Gandalf smiled knowingly. "Perhaps," he suggested, "she preferred to have them wriggling in Rivendell than loitering in Lórien."

"I suppose," said Elrond dryly, "I should feel honored that Galadriel feels Imladris capable of containing the exuberance of Haldir and his brothers."

"Rúmil and Orophin's exuberance, anyway," Glorfindel amended, "for I have never yet heard Haldir called 'exuberant'."

"Exuberant or no," said Gandalf, "Haldir will make his mark on Middle-earth—and will be marked by it in return." The wizard arose and nodded at the company. "Goodnight, my friends. I have an errand will take me to the Shire and must turn in so that I may depart early tomorrow." Glasses were raised in salute, and then the Istar strode from the room.

While this conversation had been taking place in the Hall of Fire, the Rivendell and Lórien elflings had been doing their duty by the 'stale' biscuits. Elrohir picked the last crumb off the platter and then sighed, throwing himself backward upon the greensward and resting his head upon his linked hands.

"Those biscuits were delicious. I think the Cook made a mistake and gave us the fresh ones rather than the stale. Imagine his face when he discovers his error!"

No elfling was going to admit an alternative explanation: that the Cook had deliberately given them a platter of fresh biscuits. Such an admission would threaten a carefully choreographed dance that gave pleasure to Cook and elfling alike, each taking delight in both his and his opponent's attempts at outmaneuvering the other.

"Now we have eaten," Elladan said to the Lórien brothers, "you must tell us of your journey. Did you encounter any Goblins?"

Regretfully, Rúmil and Orophin shook their heads. "No Goblins," Rúmil said sadly.

"Trolls?" Elrohir said hopefully.

"No Trolls, neither," Rúmil replied.

"Well, brigands then?" asked Anomen.

Orophin shook his head. "The Lord Celeborn took us by a route that afforded us very little in the way of excitement," he said a trifle resentfully.

"I thought the Lord Celeborn showed great wisdom in the choosing of our route," Haldir announced loftily. The Rivendell elflings rolled their eyes and elevated their eyebrows at one and the same time. Impressed, Rúmil and Orophin tried to follow suit, but they had not had the benefit of Elrond's example and so had to settle for rolling their eyes only. Haldir was not discomfited in the least by the expressions on the faces of either his brothers or his hosts. "Someday," he lectured, "you will understand the wisdom of your elders, as I do." More eye-rolling and eyebrow elevating, and then the Rivendell elflings resumed questioning their guests.

"Surely," Elrohir exclaimed, "you are not going to tell us that you encountered nothing worth telling."

"We did visit a settlement of Men," Orophin answered. The Rivendell elflings sat erect and interested. From time to time Men came from Breeland to trade with the Elves, and Rangers visited Rivendell regularly. Still, only Anomen had seen a human settlement, and that only briefly and under such circumstances as allowed him to learn little of Men other than the fact that they could be dangerous.

"What did you see?" Elladan asked eagerly.

"We were very lucky," Rúmil said. "The humans were holding a festival—something to do with the spring planting, I believe. Every cottage was garlanded, and the maidens were crowned with chaplets of flowers. A tall pole decked with ribbons stood in the center of the village green, and children danced about it weaving the ribbons in and out until the pole was wrapped round with colors. Men with small bells fastened at their wrists and ankles danced holding staves that they would clack together."

"There was good food to eat, too," Haldir chimed in, forgetting that it was not dignified to be excited over a village fair. "No fruits of course because it is too early, but all sorts of breads and pastries."

"And sweet butter and clotted cream and hard cheeses of every description," said Rúmil.

"And mead," cried Haldir. "Beer and wine, also. Of course," he added, "we did not drink any of the beer."

"Nor the wine, neither," Orophin reminded him. "But Lord Celeborn allowed us a little of the mead. It is much sweeter than wine."

"There were also many birds well dressed," said Haldir. "Pheasant and geese and duck and partridge."

"Their hunters must have been very busy," Rúmil observed. "Everywhere you looked, venison was turning on the spit."

"I liked the games even better than the food," declared Haldir, who had completely forgotten himself by now. "Three-legged races—those were grand. Rúmil and I tied our legs together at the ankle so that between the two of us we had three legs. It was great fun trying to run without tripping. We won several heats, and I think we would have won the final race, but Lord Celeborn told us to allow the humans to win. I didn't mind, though. It was so much fun that nothing else mattered."

"What other games did you play?" asked Elrohir, who was becoming quite excited over this description of a festival in a village of Men.

"A game called bowling," said Rúmil. "Ten wooden blocks, taller than wide, were set close together on the green, and Men rolled balls toward them, trying to knock over as many as possible."

"There were lots of throwing games, too," Haldir added. "On one side of the green, Men set up a piece of wood with the face of a Troll painted upon it. Holes were cut in it for the eyes, nostrils, and mouth, and folk tried to toss balls through the holes."

"I aimed for the Troll's nostrils," giggled Orophin. His brothers and friends laughed so hard they snorted and fell over upon the grass, rolling and kicking. (It is a good thing Erestor was not near to see them or they would have been subjected to a lecture on elven deportment so long that even Haldir would have been bored.)

"You said there were other throwing games," Elladan

"At another place you could try to knock over bottles set upon a table," explained Orophin. Upon a row of four bottles were balanced three more; upon those three, two; upon that two, one."

Rúmil chimed in. "Rather like the way the bowling pegs were arranged. They were called 'pins'. Foremost was one pin, then came two, followed by three, and then a row of four."

Thoughtfully, Anomen picked up twigs and began to stick them in the earth, arranging them according to the pattern Rúmil had just described. Meanwhile, the Lórien brothers continued to describe the fair.

"We saw wrestling matches—"

"And archery contests—"

"And footraces—"

"Horse races!"

"Horse shoe tossing!"

"Ring tossing!"

"Pig wrangling!"

At this last, the Rivendell elflings cried out in disbelief.

"Pig wrangling," exclaimed Anomen. "Why ever would Men wrangle pigs!?"

"It was very funny to watch," Orophin said cheerfully. "The pig had been greased and was ever so hard for the Men to hold on to. The enclosure had been wetted down so that it was very muddy. Before too long, it was very hard to tell the Men from the pig!"

Anomen shuddered. Rolling in mud with a pig! "That sounds disgusting," he said, his face looking as if he had just tasted something sour.

"Not half as disgusting as the drinking games," Rúmil said happily.

"Drinking games?" queried Elrohir with renewed interest.

"Yes," explained Orophin. "Men matched cups. Each man drank a mug of beer and placed the empty vessel on the table before him. Then he drank another and another and placed each empty mug on the table with its fellows. The pile of mugs before each Man grew and grew. By and by, though, the number of drinkers began to fall off."

Rúmil sniggered. "Fall off indeed!" he laughed. "They fell off their stools!"

"And some of them," began Haldir, "some of them, well, some of them did not hold their beer very well." He turned a little pale and rubbed at his own stomach.

Rúmil sniggered again. "So may we call a drinking game a 'tossing game'," he chortled.

Anomen again looked as if he had tasted something sour. Elrohir, however, announced that he would challenge Anomen and Elladan to a drinking game as soon as they were allowed to drink unwatered wine. "And if you are here," he said to the Lórien brothers, "you must compete as well." Haldir appeared decidedly unhappy at the prospect, and of only Rúmil and Elrohir looked entirely pleased. Anomen decided it might behoove them to talk of something else.

"Haldir said there were lots of throwing games," he observed, "but you have only described two. What were the others?"

Rúmil answered at once. "The ducking stool was the best of them," he shouted, all thoughts of drinking games forgotten.

"Ducking stool?" said Elladan. "What is a ducking stool?"

"A stool you sit upon that ducks you into the water," answered Orophin.

"How can a stool duck a person into water?" asked Anomen. "And what does such a stool have to do with games that require one to throw balls?"

"The stool is attached to an arm that is suspended over water," explained Rúmil. "The arm is supported in such a fashion that it will drop into the water if a trigger is tripped, and the trigger is a target that must be hit just right by a ball. Each boy of the village took turns sitting upon the ducking stool, and his fellows threw at the target until he was thrown into the water."

The notion of a ducking stool fascinated Elrohir as much the drinking game did, but he said nothing, and the Lórien brothers continued to describe the fair—the stalls, the music, the prizes—until the moon set and the elflings arose to rejoin their elders. As Anomen stood up, he looked down at his 'bowling pins'. "Do you suppose," he said hopefully, "that Ada would countenance a fair?"

"We ought to say that we want to put on an entertainment for our guests," Elrohir exclaimed.

"Yes!"

"Horse races!"

"Foot races!"

"Bowling!"

"Three-legged races!"

Excitedly, the six elflings were now themselves racing, and they only caught themselves just in time to avoid the mistake of making a riotous entrance into the Hall of Fire. Still, their excitement was unmistakable, and both Celeborn and Elrond felt their hearts sink as they looked upon the elflings' flushed faces and observed their barely-contained energy. "Galadriel knew this would happen," Celeborn muttered. "I am sure of it. She would have seen it in her mirror."

"I knew it would happen without looking into any mirror," Elrond retorted moodily.

By now, all six elflings were standing before Elrond. Elrohir spoke for them

"Ada, our guests from Lothlórien tell us that they were very well entertained at a village of Men."

Elrond glanced at Celeborn, who nodded.

"Aye, as we neared the Gap of Rohan, we camped near a village of Rohirrim who were celebrating the spring planting. They invited us to join in their festivities."

Assuming a solemn air, Elrohir again addressed his father. "My Lord and Father, we can hardly do less than Men in entertaining our guests."

Elrond suppressed a wry smile. His eldest son did well at counterfeiting the manner of a counselor. "There is truth in what you say, my son. What is it that you would propose by way of entertainment?"

The other elflings burst into speech.

"A fair!"

"Horse races!"

"Foot races!"

"Three-legged races!"

Elrond raised his hand, and the elflings fell silent.

"Very well. If you wish to organize a festival, I give you leave. No doubt you shall wish the Cook to bake extra pies and loaves."

"Yes, Ada," answered Elrohir.

"I will speak to him."

"Thank you," chorused the elflings.

"Now to bed with you," said Elrond, raising his hand in a gesture of benediction. The elflings bowed. Turning, they tried to troop out in an orderly fashion, but by the time they reached the door they were jostling one another and giggling.

"You are going to be sorry that you granted permission for this fair," Celeborn said gloomily.

Elrond shrugged. "I should have ordered an entertainment in any event. At least this way, the young ones shall bear some of the responsibility."

Over the next several days, the elflings inveigled the Carpenters into carving pins and bowling balls. The Carpenters also agreed to cut holes in a board, upon which the elflings then painted a fearsome Troll. The Leather-workers they wheedled into stitching casings for balls, which they stuffed with scraps of cloth begged from the Seamstress. They also persuaded the Horse-master to help them lay out a course for racing, and they persuaded the Rope-maker to give them odd bits of cord that they cut into lengths suitable for tying ankles together for three-legged races. Before too long, all the Elves in Imladris were cheerfully involved in the elflings' scheme.

"I must confess," Celeborn said to Elrond, "that this festival may turn out to be a good thing after all. The elflings are keeping themselves occupied, and everyone seems to be looking forward to it."

Celeborn would have not been so sanguine, however, had he overheard the conversation between Elrohir and the Smith. "Master Smith," Elrohir was saying, "could you devise a mechanism that would hold a pole parallel to the ground until released by a blow to a board?" The Smith examined the piece of parchment upon which Elrohir had sketched the device and then nodded his head. "Aye, I could do that, young Master Elrohir."

Two days later, a stout pole was extended above a little-used bathing pool. At one end of the pole was fastened a horizontal board that served as a seat, and at the other a vertical board that served as a target. All that remained, gloated Elrohir, was to test the mechanism. He couldn't ask the other elflings to help him, for he had fashioned the dunking stool in secret after each and every elfling—even Rúmil!—had advised him against making the device. Nor had the Smith known the use to which Elrohir planned to put the metal fittings he had created at the elfling's request.

"Three games our Ada will not approve," Elladan had warned. "He will not allow pig wrangling, drinking contests, or dunking stools."

Elrohir could understand why his father would disapprove both of the dirtiness that clung to pig wrangling and of the drunkenness that accompanied drinking games. He did not see why his father would object to the dunking stool, however. 'After all', he said to himself, 'what harm can there be in something that merely tumbles people into the water?'

As he stood considering how he might test the dunking stool, he heard a gasp. Spinning about, he saw Anomen. "Elrohir," the younger elfling said reproachfully, "that is a dunking stool, isn't it? We all of us agreed that we would not fashion such a device."

"And we didn't fashion such a device. I did. However, now you are here, you may as well help me test it. Climb out upon it and sit on the end, and I shall try to hit the target."

"You climb out upon, and I shall try to hit the target," retorted Anomen.

"I am older," Elrohir argued, "and I can throw harder. I am more likely to trigger the mechanism. Besides, why are you here, if not to bathe?"

This latter was true. For spring, the day was unusually hot, and Anomen was warm from practicing his archery. His favorite bathing pools were crowded both with Imladris Elves and with visitors from Lothlórien, and he had sought out this more secluded one in which to cool off. Anomen considered, and then nodded. "Very well," he said grudgingly. He stepped upon the pole and balancing lightly began to pick his way toward the seat.

"You are going to bathe in your clothes?" called Elrohir.

"I should feel ridiculous sitting naked upon that contraption," Anomen shot back. 'More ridiculous, anyway', he thought to himself. He reached the seat and carefully settled himself upon it. Elrohir was holding a ball, and as soon as Anomen was in position, he threw it at the target. In his excitement, he aimed poorly and missed the target outright. He picked up another ball. Aiming a little more carefully, he hit the edge of the target a glancing blow that was not enough to trigger the mechanism. He picked up a third ball and aimed with great care. The ball hit the target squarely in the center, the pole pivoted, and Anomen was thrown in to the water. Elrohir whooped. He stood grinning, waiting for Anomen to surface.

There was a reason that this bathing pool was little frequented. Its water was brown with tannin from the leaves that fluttered into the pond from the oak trees that surrounded it. Moreover, the outflow from this pool was very sluggish, another reason why the water was not clear. Unable to see the bottom of the pool, and too excited to remember that he ought to check, Elrohir had set up his dunking stool over the spot where the water was shallowest. Thus, when Anomen was thrown into the water, he had hit the bottom, and now he lay dazed a few feet beneath the surface.

Elrohir was excited, but not so excited as to have lost his wits. When Anomen did not surface immediately, the older elfling thought momentarily that the younger one was playing a trick and holding his breath under the water. When a trail of bubbles arose to the surface and stopped, Elrohir knew he was wrong. He acted immediately. Jumping into the water, he submerged himself at the spot where Anomen had vanished and groped about the bottom. Within seconds, his hand touched Anomen's tunic. Grabbing a handful of cloth, he pulled Anomen to the surface and dragged him to the bank.

Fortunately, Anomen had swallowed only a little water, and as Elrohir hauled him out of the pool, he spluttered and opened his eyes. Elrohir burst into tears. "You are not dead," he gasped. "Are you hurt badly?"

Shakily, Anomen tried to sit up. Elrohir helped him, putting his arm around the younger elfling's shoulder. "I am a little dizzy," Anomen said, "and my head aches, but I am unharmed in the main, I think."

"Come. Let me help you back to the Hall. Ada should check you for injuries."

Elrohir knew he was going to be in trouble when Elrond learned how Anomen had come to be at the bottom of the pool. But not for a moment did he think of attempting to hide the matter by attending to Anomen himself. Carefully he helped Anomen to his feet. Since Anomen was too dizzy to walk swiftly, Elrohir insisted on taking him up on his back. "A pick-a-back ride," Anomen joked weakly. "Do you suppose we ought to have pick-a-back rides at our fair?"

Anomen was the smaller of the two elflings, but only by a little. From time to time Elrohir staggered under his weight. He marched forward doggedly, however, and succeeded in carrying Anomen almost all the way to the Hall. When they neared it, they were spied by the Door Warden, who hastily came forth and took Anomen into his arms.

Several hours later, Elrond went in to the elflings' chamber, where Elrohir and Elladan waited anxiously in company with Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin.

"Is he well, Ada?" Elrohir asked as soon as he saw his father.

"He has suffered a concussion and must rest for several days. A week, I think, should do."

The elflings exchanged glances.

"Can he ride, Ada?" Elladan asked.

"No"

"Bowl?"

"No."

"Run foot races?"

"No."

Again the elflings exchanged glances. The fair was to be in two days. That would be too soon for Anomen to participate. Postponing it would not solve the problem, for the Lothlórien Elves were to depart three days after the fair.

"Anomen will, of course, be able to watch," said Elrond, who knew what the elflings were thinking.

"That won't be much fun for Anomen," said Elrohir, "watching while everyone else plays. Of course," he added thoughtfully, "it wouldn't be quite as bad if someone were to keep him company. Ada, I shall keep him company."

"So you shall forgo the three-legged race that you have been talking about so eagerly?"

"Yes."

"And the archery contest that you boasted that you would win?"

"Yes."

"And you will wrangle no pigs and will thus forfeit an opportunity to be muddy without rebuke?"

The elflings stared at Elrond, their mouths agape.

"You don't plan to have pig wrangling?" said Elrond.

"Ada, you are joking!" exclaimed Elladan.

"Yes, I am. But back to the matter at hand. So, Elrohir, you will stay by Anomen's side the day of the fair, fetching him food and drink and bantering with him to keep up his spirits.

"Yes, Ada."

"Very well. It seems, then, that the preparations for this festival are complete. Now I must return to Anomen. He will stay in my chamber tonight so that I may watch over him." With that, Elrond left the chamber, and the elflings, exhausted by the wait for news of Anomen, were quickly asleep.

Two days later, on a perfect spring day, not too hot, not too cold, the environs of Rivendell were filled by Elves from every settlement within reach of Imladris. Celeborn and Elrond watched indulgently as all the games planned by the elflings came off successfully. (There may have also been, in certain secluded corners, drinking games not on the announced schedule, but the elf-lords remained conspicuously positioned upon a dais and so it was not possible that they should come to know of such unsanctioned events.)

Near Elrond and Celeborn, well-shaded by a cloth stretched between four poles, Anomen reclined upon cushions. By him sat Elrohir, and near at hand were glasses of cider and a tray piled high with pastries. The two laughed as they watched Elves trip through three-legged races and toss balls through the nostrils of the wooden Troll. From time to time Elladan, Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin came to sit briefly with Anomen before returning to the games. Elrohir, however, never left the side of his foster-brother. Oddly, he found that he did not regret spending the day with Anomen. He was not competing in any games and so was not intent on proving anything to anyone. Never had he felt so relaxed and contented.

Three days later, the Lothlórien Elves departed on their return journey. As they exchanged farewells, Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin promised that they would host a festival when the Rivendell Elves came to visit. Celeborn blanched, and Elrond smirked.

After the Lothlórien Elves had ridden away, Elrohir followed Elrond to his study. During the past five days, Elrond had said nothing of punishment. Elrohir had assumed that his father had avoided the subject because they were still entertaining their guests. Now that the Lórien Elves had departed, no doubt the matter would be addressed. Elrohir thought it would be better to get things over with at once so that the misery of anxious anticipation was not added atop the pain of punishment. Thus he now stood unbidden before his father. Elrond raised his eyebrows quizzically.

"Yes, my son?"

"Ada, will you please tell me my penalty straightaway."

"Your penalty?"

"I built a dunking stool when I knew you would not approve, and I was careless in situating it so that Anomen struck the bottom of the pool and was injured."

"True. Yet you have made restitution, as it were, because you kept Anomen company on the day of the fair and forfeited your chance to participate in the games. That is what I would have bidden you to do had you not volunteered."

Elrohir looked distressed. "But, Ada, I was not sad as I kept him company. In truth, I had a pleasant time of it. How could that have been a punishment?"

"I said restitution, not punishment. Punishment is not always necessary. Elrohir, I was pleased that you gave freely of yourself that day. Had you been grudging in your attentions to Anomen, in your unhappiness you would have been punished indeed, but I would much rather you show yourself generous."

"So I am not to be punished?"

"As I have said, punishment is not always necessary. But the matter is not quite at an end. It is needful that you answer one question."

"Yes, Ada?"

"Why did you ask Anomen to sit upon the ducking stool rather than take that task upon yourself?"

"I didn't want to look silly," Elrohir answered promptly. Then he blushed when he realized the import of what he had said.

"I believe," said Elrond, "that you now understand why I do not approve of the ducking stool. Too often humiliation is inherent in such a game. Indeed, I hesitate to call it game at all."

Elrohir nodded gravely. "I do understand, Ada."

"I am pleased to hear it, Elrohir," said Elrond, smiling. "Go now. I have given Anomen permission to arise, and he has accompanied Elladan into the garden. I believe you will find them occupied in tossing balls through the nostrils of a Troll."

Never again was quite so raucous a fair held at Rivendell. However, even decades later, travelers through Imladris reported that the Elves in that realm amused themselves by tossing balls through holes cut in boards. There were no faces painted upon these boards, however. According to the most reliable accounts, it was Elrohir himself who eventually insisted that the Troll faces be replaced with geometric patterns. "The Trolls may be our enemies," he is quoted as saying, "but we must not make fun of them. Even Trolls have feelings, and to mock them shows us to be the ones lacking in sympathy." This may have been taking matters further than Elrond had intended, but if Elrohir committed any error, it was an admirable one.