Chapter 4: Paperwork

"Of course I know there's a spring festival," said Lindir, once Glorfindel had taken a shower and changed out of his sopping wet clothes. The golden-haired warrior waited for his long luscious locks to dry; a task that required patience and sunlight. He rubbed strands of his hair with a cloth but to no avail. After all, it was winter. Glorfindel's hair was more likely to freeze into tiny icicles.

"Why do you ask?"

Lindir hastily slipped on his fleece-lined robe. Cold drafts were sneaking in through the window Glorfindel had opened.

Glorfindel impatiently explained Erestor's refusal to go.

"Ah," said Lindir thoughtfully, after he finished processing this. "Erestor always has work, I've noticed. Sometimes it's cataloguing books, or helping Elrond write thank-you cards. And I wouldn't be very surprised to hear that he's writing responses for the letters in Elrond's mailbox."

"That's the problem!" Glorfindel huffed. "Erestor's a birdbrain and a stuffy, stuck-up pain in the neck, but he needs a break too, you know."

"I absolutely agree," said Elrond, materializing out of nowhere.

Lindir jumped, and hurriedly cleared his throat.

Apparently, the Lord of Rivendell had deemed it safe to venture out of his room.

"Erestor works hard," said Elrond, rubbing his chin. "Too hard, in my opinion. I appreciate the effort, and I do appreciate the amount of work he gets done in an hour, but I've always told him not to stress himself."

"See?" roared Glorfindel.

Lindir thought that with Glorfindel's fighting skills, large appetite, and large enthusiasm, he could actually pass for a dwarf. A tall, arrogant, slightly stupid dwarf, that is.

"He needs a vacation," said Lindir distractedly.

"We both agree," said the twins as they popped out of the closet.

Lindir jumped so high he nearly hit his head on the ceiling.

"Lovely hat collection in there, by the way," said Elladan. Or was it Elrohir?

"I really liked the one with the feathers," said Elrohir. Or was it Elladan?

Elrond rubbed his temples.

"AHA!" Glorfindel yelled, causing Lindir to jump once again, managing to slip on the floor and land on his tailbone very hard.

"We'll help Erestor finish his paperwork!" said Glorfindel triumphantly.

There was a pause.

"So that he can go to the spring festival," he added.

"I'm in for it," said Lindir. "But… how do we hide it from him? It's not like we can snitch fifteen piles of paperwork from the study and not get caught by Erestor. He'll get angry and throw me into the fountain."

"Better you than me," said Glorfindel with a shudder. "Once was quite enough, thank you."

They (well, Lindir, Glorfindel, and the twins, seeing as Elrond had other matters to attend to), traipsed toward the advisor's study, whispering their plans and nodding as Elrohir assigned them roles in the grand plan.

They turned the corner, and there stood the door to Erestor's study.

Glorfindel reached there first and was about to open the door when Elladan stopped him (at least, Lindir assumed it was Elladan).

Elladan pressed his ear to the door and tapped it lightly.

He nodded grimly. "Double-locked, with furniture placed strategically to keep away unwanted visitors."

Lindir stared at him, dumbfounded, then shrugged. He wasn't about to question a thief's methods. If Elrond was here, he'd probably chastise the twins for attempting to break into a room, but they hadn't the time to scold each other. At least, not if they wanted to go to the spring festival.

With a bit of wire and a spoon (Lindir didn't ask), the twins quietly undid the locks.

"All right," said a twin, probably Elrohir."Erestor put three chairs behind this to stop the door from opening fully, but he conveniently forgot that the door opens the other way. His means we'll have to yank hard and hop over furniture. Then – Glorfindel's got the rope. You know what to do after we get in."

Everyone nodded.

"One… two… three!"

The door swooped open and the twins leaped seamlessly over the tumbling chairs. Glorfindel did too, and Lindir swept the chairs outside, closed the door, and locked it twice.

Erestor, who had been feverishly scribbling on a piece of parchment, looked up with a start.

They allowed him to shriek once before Glorfindel had him bound and gagged to his chair.

"Lovely work," said Elrohir admiringly. "Erestor, don't you worry. We're here to help you."

Erestor kicked him in the stomach.

Years of training and a soldier's quick reflexes made Elrohir move faster than lightning. He nimbly dodged the slippered foot.

"I have permission from my father to do this," said Elladan, which was a half-truth, but it convinced Erestor, "so do hold still."

He took a little bottle from his pocket, ripped his sleeve, dipped the cloth into the liquid, and waved it under Erestor's nose.

The advisor slumped, unconscious.

"Now for the work," said Elladan.

They used pens from Erestor's hoard and wrote reply and reply. Some were short answers, like: "We do not wear pink in Rivendell because it is undignified and rather silly" and some were long: "The recipe for lembas bread has been handed down the family for generations. Currently Lady Celebrian is the most recent to have received it, but Lady Galadriel also has a copy. If you wish to try lembas, visit Lothlorien and ask for a taste."

They dipped and wrote and folded and sealed, and addressed and stamped and signed until their arms were sore. Lindir tried to keep his handwriting neat and readable, and sealed the letters carefully, and consulted the twins when he needed to know something, but otherwise, he worked as fast as he could. Before he knew it, his stack of tottering questions were answered and were sitting in the basket marked "DONE".

Glorfindel's replying was more to-the-point, and he would have finished long before Lindir was it not for is too-beautiful calligraphy that got him a bit sidetracked.

The twins' handwriting was passable, and their replies had a bit more detail. When they finished their stacks, Lindir was sure many elves would appreciate the information. After all, it was quite interesting to learn about the history of the recipe for lembas bread.

They lit candle after candle, opened new boxes of wax and pen nibs, and plunged their wax seals hour after hour. The light grew dim and the chatter outside the room quietened. The piles and piles of paperwork, standing on tables and chairs and occupying the ground, gradually shrank and shrank until there was a small stack of ten letters left.

"Better leave that for Erestor tomorrow," yawned Glorfindel, "or he'll get cranky because there's no work to do."

"And I'll ask my father to stop letting people put their complaints in his mailbox," said Elrohir sleepily.

"Good thought," mumbled Lindir.

And as the candles died and turned into curling smoke, one by one, the four elves fell asleep, their heads illuminated by the light of the stars.