In Chapter 43 of Parallel Quest, Elrohir asks Gimli to explain the difference between stalactites and stalagmites, saying that he had been unable to tell them apart when he had studied them with Erestor. CAH said she would enjoy a story involving that long-ago lesson, and this story resulted.

Thanks to the following reviewers: Jasta Elf, leralonde, windwraith, Dragonsofliberty, Lady Ambreanna, Foxgurl0000, Elfinabottle, RumorUnderOath, vectis, and CAH. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.

Beta reader: None. I take my chances on the shorter stories and only inflict the longer ones on Dragonfly.

Episode 4: Stalactites and Stalagmites

"No! no! no!" exclaimed Erestor. The tutor was past exasperated and well on his way to frantic. "The stalactite hangs down from the ceiling of the cave, Elrohir. The stalagmite points up!"

"I don't see why it even matters," complained Elrohir. "We're Elves. We don't go underground."

"Some Elves do," Anomen pointed out. "In Greenwood, the Great Hall of the King is hidden beneath the forest floor."

"Oh, Greenwood," Elrohir said loftily. "I am talking about cultured Elves, not ones who delve like Dwarves."

Anomen flushed. It was true that he had run away from Greenwood, but he was still loyal to that land and its folk. No matter how miserable he had been in Thranduil's household, Greenwood was still the place of his birth, and for the first few years of his life, anyway, he had been happy there.

"Rivendell Elves are afraid of caves," he retorted. "Like humans, they are fearful of the dark."

Now it was Elrohir's turn to redden. Anomen had compared him to a mortal! Before Erestor could intervene, the indignant elfling had picked up an ink pot and thrown it at his foster-brother.

"Oh," exclaimed Elladan. "Anomen has got black hair!"

"Elrohir, for shame!" cried Erestor. "That is no way for a son of Elrond to comport himself!"

"I don't care," Elrohir proclaimed defiantly. "I have done that wood-elf a favor. Now he has got dark hair, he looks like a proper Elf instead of a prissy one. Pity his eyes are still blue, though."

"Are you suggesting that I look like a prissy Elf?" came a stern voice. Elrohir blanched and cringed back into his seat. For the voice belonged to Glorfindel the Twice-born, Balrog Slayer, and no one would dare suggest that his golden hair made him 'prissy'.

"N-n-no, my Lord Glorfindel," he stammered.

"Yet I have golden hair—as does Anomen."

"Y-y-yes, my Lord."

"And we have blue eyes in common, is that not so?"

"Yes, m-m-my Lord Glorfindel."

"So golden hair does not make an Elf prissy?"

"Oh, no, my Lord!"

"Nor blue eyes?"

"Certainly not, my Lord Glorfindel!"

"Then I expect you shall never again call Anomen 'prissy'. For if you do, I shall take it as an attack upon me—and be sure that I know how to defend myself!"

"Oh, I never shall!" Elrohir assured the elf-lord. "Never ever!"

"Never is a very long time," Glorfindel observed, "but I shall hold you to your promise! Now, then: you and your brothers should have been at the practice field an hour ago. What has kept you from your duties?"

"Your pardon, Glorfindel," Erestor interjected, "but I kept them overlong because Elrohir persists in confusing stalactites and stalagmites. I think if he would make an effort he could tell them apart, but he seems to have no interest in Natural Philosophy."

"No interest in Natural Philosophy? Is this true, Elrohir?"

"I have some interest in the subject, my Lord," Elrohir replied in a subdued voice. "I like the lessons on mushrooms because it is useful to be able to tell the difference between poisonous mushrooms and edible ones. I like the lessons on berries, roots, and nuts for the same reason, and also the lessons on herbs, for one must be able to tell which plants may be used to bind wounds. And I like the lessons on igneous and metamorphic and sedimentary rocks because it seems good to tell at a glance which is which, for one may swiftly shape an igneous rock like obsidian into a sharp-edged tool in case one's blade is lost or broken. I do not understand, though, why we must study caves. How will knowledge about such places be useful? I mean no offense," the elfling added. "I'm just puzzled, is all."

"Tell me, Elrohir," Glorfindel said, "can you always predict what scrapes you will get into?"

"No, I cannot," Elrohir was forced to admit, his present predicament bearing witness to that fact.

"So will you allow that it may be good to amass knowledge and skills against the unexpected—the point being, of course, that the very fact that we cannot predict the future necessitates that we prepare for contingencies that may never occur?"

"Contain jams, um, continue gems?"

"Contingencies," Glorfindel said patiently. "What I mean is that you must prepare for many more situations than you will actually ever confront. But by preparing for so many, you will have a fair chance of being able to deal with the challenges that you do encounter. That is, the more you learn, the likelier you will be capable in the face of the unexpected. Now as to caves in particular: Arda is filled with them, and I deem it not unlikely that someday you may be forced to enter one. Consider that the Misty Mountains are near to hand and honeycombed with caverns that serve as lairs for both Orcs and Trolls. Let us imagine that you and your brothers have pursued Orcs into one of these lairs. Perhaps these Orcs have raided a settlement and carried off some of your friends and kinsmen. You have crept deep within the cave to effect a rescue, and you realize that an Orc is about to leap out from behind a stalagmite and attack Elladan. Tell me, which of these warnings would you wish to shout: 'Elladan, look out for the Orc behind that rock formation that arises from the floor of the cave' or 'Elladan, look out for the Orc behind that stalagmite'?"

All three elflings giggled, and Glorfindel permitted himself a smile as well. "So we are agreed, then, that it is best to learn as much as one can, even if it is not apparent that what one learns will be put immediately to use?"

"Yes, Lord Glorfindel," chorused the elflings. Their tutor nodded gratefully at the balrog-slayer. Erestor and Glorfindel had had their disagreements in the past, but in this matter they were in accord. "Well," Erestor said cheerfully, "now that that is sorted out, go along with you to the practice field."

Elladan and Elrohir made straight for the door, but Anomen lingered. Glorfindel and Erestor looked inquiringly at him.

"Yes, Anomen?" said Glorfindel.

"My Lord, I am very grateful for your explanation as to why we ought to learn about caves, but, um, I, um—"

"Is it your parti-colored hair of which you wish to speak?" Glorfindel said kindly.

Anomen blushed. "Yes, my Lord. It is streaked with ink. It is neither altogether golden, nor altogether black. I look—piebald!"

Glorfindel walked all about the elfling, studying his hair. "Interesting effect," he pronounced after a minute, "but I do not think I should like it to become the style of choice. Well, it seems that you have two options, Anomen. I could shave your hair to the scalp, or you could betake yourself to Elrond, who would no doubt be able to compound a concoction to complete the dyeing process so that your hair color would be uniform. The dye would gradually fade, and at the same time your hair will grow in at the scalp until at last it regains its proper color in toto."

"I should not like to be bald!" exclaimed Anomen.

"Then go show yourself to Elrond. You may make up the practice time a little each day until you have caught up with the others."

"Thank you, Lord Glorfindel." Anomen pulled his hood up and made for Elrond's study. "Enter," called Elrond at the sound of the elfling's tentative knock. "Ah," he said when Anomen sidled into the room, his head still covered by the hood. "As you are not in the habit of wearing your hood in the Hall, would I be right in guessing that some disaster has befallen your hair?"

"Yes, Ada," admitted Anomen, pushing back his hood. Elrond's eyebrows rose. Perhaps they would have risen all the higher if he had known that this was the first of many episodes in which Anomen's hair would be discolored or lost outright. However, he did not, and so he set about remedying the present ill. Like Glorfindel, he perceived that there were only two solutions: to shear Anomen's hair or color it all uniformly black. When Anomen indicated that he preferred the latter, Elrond began to rummage through the vials that stood on the shelves alongside his books. As he searched for the necessary ingredients, he drew out from Anomen the story of the day's events.

"So Elrohir did not see the need to learn about the realm beneath our feet," the elf-lord observed as he reached for his mortar and pestle. "Well, Anomen, I must tell you that Glorfindel was right in correcting him. I myself may testify to the truth of his words, for I have been in a cave."

"Have you?" Anomen said eagerly, pleased to know that he had something in common with Elrond.

"Yes, and I have also benefited from the study of Natural Philosophy. Would you like to hear the tale?"

"Yes, Ada!"

"I was about your age, Anomen, and I and my brother—you do know I had a brother?"

"He was your twin, was he not?"

"My twin," Elrond said softly. "Yes, Elros was my twin. For a time we did everything together, but in the end we made different choices. However," he resumed briskly, "the tale I tell you took place long before those choices were made. We were, in fact, no older than you. Like you, we were not dwelling with our parents. Our father, Ëarendil, had departed on a quest from which he never returned. Our mother Elwing had been wrested away from us when our sanctuary was attacked by the sons of Fëanor. She had been unable to win her way to us and had been forced to flee without her sons. Fortunately, Maglor, the son of Fëanor who captured us, proved kind in the end. Although his brother Maedhros wished us slain out of hand, Maglor refused to allow it and treated us as a father would."

Here was something else he had in common with Elrond, Anomen realized. The elf-lord had in effect been fostered. Perhaps this explained why Elrond was so willing to take in Anomen and others of the dispossessed.

"Maedhros did not approve," Elrond continued the tale, "but Maglor allowed us to explore our new home. As we recovered from our grief at losing our mother, we began to roam about like other elflings and have our little adventures. It was on one of those expeditions that we discovered a cave. It was not very large—the opening was scarcely bigger than we were—but its furthest corners were hidden by, yes, stalactites and stalagmites. It was cool on hot days, and we repaired to it often, pretending that is was a fortress and on its floor arranging pebbles in ranks that represented battling armies."

"Now, the land in which we dwelled was well defended, but even the best-guarded place may be penetrated by determined foes. You have met few Men but know already that some of them are greedy for wealth."

Anomen thought of the Dunlendings who had captured him and would have sold him to a Southron trader. He shuddered. He was lucky to be safe in Rivendell and not a slave in Harad!

Elrond smiled reassuringly at him and went on with his tale. "One day as my brother and I were playing in the forest, we heard the voices of Men. A few months earlier, humans had visited our foster-father. They had brought goods of high quality and had exchanged them for goods of similar quality. Both Elves and Men had been well pleased with the transaction, and Maglor had told the humans that they were welcome to return at any time. We thought that now these traders must have come back, and we broke cover, running heedlessly into the midst of a band of Men. At once we saw our mistake. These were no traders, for they had no pack horses and were armed with scimitars that no merchant carried. 'Catch them!' shouted one of the Men. Fortunately, we were both small and quick. Ducking under their grasping arms, we fled back into the forest, but they came after us. Dodging around trees, we at last came to our cave and scrambled inside. We each hid in a dark corner behind a stalagmite and remained perfectly quiet. We could hear them searching for us, and at last one of them discovered the cave's entrance and poked his head inside. "I don't see them," he called to his fellows, "but there are some places where they could be hidden." He withdrew his head, and we could hear him speaking to someone outside. 'You are skinny enough. Crawl in there and search the cave'."

"I looked about frantically. Now, this cave was inhabited by a great many spiders of a ferocious appearance. They were large and hairy and when disturbed, they would rear up so as to look intimidating."

"But they were not poisonous," Anomen interrupted excitedly. "To defend themselves, they relied upon size rather than venom."

Elrond nodded approvingly. "You, at least, have been paying attention to your lessons. I, however, was hopeful that the Men had not! Quickly I seized two of these fearsome-looking spiders, ran to the entrance, threw them down, and scrambled back into my hiding place. When the Man chosen to enter the cave poked his head in, he came face to face with two very angry, very large spiders. Did I mention that they made a hissing sound when disturbed? No? Well, in any event, the Man let out a great yell and hastily backed out of the cave. 'Nothing in there but poisonous spiders', he told his fellows. They asked him whether he were sure, and he said that anyone who didn't believe him was welcome to crawl inside the cave himself. Either no one was small enough or no one was brave enough—whatever the reason, no one volunteered and presently they retreated. Elros and I waited a while to be certain that they had gone, and then we emerged from the cave and ran to give the alarm. Maglor and his warriors left to search the forest—leaving sufficient folk to guard us, of course—and that night they returned to report that they had found and slain a band of Southrons. 'A few escaped', our foster-father told us, 'but that is all to the good, for they shall return to their fellows and report that this land is well defended'."

"You were very clever and very brave," Anomen said admiringly. "I was an elfling like you," Elrond replied. "No more and no less. Now go and look at yourself in the mirror."

While Elrond had been telling the tale, he had been applying the dye to Anomen's hair. The elfling arose and went to stand before the mirror. Clad in the clothes of Rivendell, his hair black, he could not have been distinguished from one of the elflings native to that place.

Just then a knock was heard upon the door. "Enter," Elrond called. Lindir stepped into the room. "My Lord, an ambassador has arrived from Greenwood. Shall I ask him to wait?"

"I will go now, Ada," Anomen said quickly.

"No, you may remain," Elrond said calmly. He turned to Lindir. "I will see him now. Please ask that food and drink for three be sent to my study—one of the three being an elfling."

Lindir bowed and vanished, returning shortly to usher the ambassador into the room. Anomen tried to sink through his chair. He knew this Elf to be one of Thranduil's courtiers. The ambassador glanced only briefly at him, however. 'One of Elrond's sons', the Elf thought to himself, dismissing the youngling from his mind.

Several hours later, an exhausted and relieved Anomen crawled into bed in the room he shared with Elrohir and Elladan. At first neither of the twins said anything to him. Then Elrohir hemmed and hawed a bit before speaking. "I am sorry about your hair," he said at last, having been instructed by his father that he should apologize. "I hope you won't mind too dreadfully it being black for a time."

"Actually, Elrohir, I shan't mind in the least," Anomen replied honestly. The Greenwood ambassador would remain a few more days, and it pleased Anomen that he would not need to go into hiding for the duration.

He was also pleased because he had gotten news of the seneschal Gilglîr, his cousin Tawarmaenas, and others of the Greenwood Elves who were dear to him. To the bewilderment of Thranduil's ambassador, Elrond kept steering the conversation to the small doings of even the least of the King's household. By the end of the evening, Anomen knew that the Cook had invented a new pastry, that the Horse-master was training a new colt, and that the Weapons-master had won a shooting competition at Lake-town. He had even learned that an elleth named Edwen Nana had been summoned to the Great Hall to nurse warriors injured in a skirmish with Orcs.

"It seems that a great many fine Elves dwell in Thranduil's Great Hall," Elrond had commented when the ambassador had taken his leave of them for the evening. Carefully, Anomen had agreed.

"Shouldn't you like to journey there someday, Anomen?" Elrond had continued.

"Perhaps," Anomen had replied noncommittally. "I should, however, like to hear more of the place," he added hastily, fearful lest he seem so uninterested that Elrond would not summon him to his presence when the ambassador rejoined the elf-lord on the morrow.

"Ah," replied Elrond, "if that is so, then you must accompany me tomorrow whilst I discuss with this ambassador the terms of the proposed trade agreement—that is, unless that subject would be too boring for a lively elfling such as yourself."

"I have learned today," Anomen replied cleverly, "that it is important to master notions of Natural Philosophy even if they do not seem immediately applicable to one's life. I am certain," he went on grandly, "that what is true of Natural Philosophy must be true of many subjects. For example, the history and geography and customs of folk far distant—I should learn about these things, for one may never know when such information may come in handy!"

Elrond smiled at Anomen's sly wisdom. "Very well. I shall speak to your tutor and see that you are excused from tomorrow's lessons. Indeed, I shall see that Elrohir and Elladan are excused as well. Sometimes a practical lesson is to be preferred to a schoolroom lecture."

'Oh, yes, in Erestor's case, surely!' Anomen said to himself, but he was wise enough not to express the sentiment aloud, for Elrond would have had to chide him for his disrespect.

The next day, when Elrohir learned at breakfast that he and his brothers were to sit in on the trade negotiations, it is a good thing that no ink pots were to hand, for he was not as eager for enlightenment as Anomen seemed to be. However, as before Elrond kept steering the conversation to matters that did not, strictly speaking, have anything to do with trade. By the end of the day, the elflings had learned a great deal about giant spiders that were bigger than grown Elves, rivers that put you to sleep if you so much as dipped a toe in them, towers inhabited by necromancers, and Men who changed themselves into bears at night whilst tending flocks of giant bees during the day. Altogether, the elflings passed a most satisfactory day, and at the end of it, Elrohir was actually sincere when he apologized once more for discoloring Anomen's hair. "I will never ever again do such a thing," he swore to the younger Elf. "Never is a very long time," Anomen quoted Glorfindel. "You had better not make any promises you can't keep, Elrohir."

"I am sure I could keep a promise if I wanted to," Elrohir replied indignantly.

"Well, then, you had better not make any promises you won't keep," Anomen retorted with a grin.

"I think he has a point, Elrohir," Elladan observed. He, too, was grinning.

Elrohir spluttered a little, but then he began to grin as well. He may have had difficulty telling the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite, but he was beginning to grasp that when Elladan and Anomen were in accord, he might as well give in with good grace.

"Ah, well," he said at last as he pulled his duvet up to his chin, "as you do not think I can keep a promise, you shall have to live in fear of your hair changing in color at a future time."

In this, at least, Elrohir was telling the truth!