Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to Tolkien. The Grey Company Elvish belongs to—guess who?—the Grey Company people. The girl is an archetype; she belongs to every Mary-Sue writer who insists on using Grey Company Elvish for whatever reason. I am dabbling in this purely for my your amusement and my own.

~*~*~*~

"What about 'love' for fourteen across?"

"M-E-L-E-T-H…no, that won't work, Erestor. It doesn't correspond with twenty-six down: maer."

Erestor leaned over and looked at the parchment in Lindir's hands, upon which an intricate pattern of dark and light boxes had been drawn, some horizontally, some vertically. About a third of them had numbers in their corners. Lindir had delicately scratched a few words into some of the boxes, but most of them remained blank. The young elf was chewing on the tip of his quill in frustration. Erestor frowned and pushed Lindir's hand away from his mouth.

"Don't chew on your quill, Lindir. Tegilbor made it especially for you with the intent that you would not destroy it, and it's bad for your teeth anyway."

"But…this is hard!" Lindir said, sighing. "If Lord Elrond wanted me out of his study, he could have just said so, instead of giving me this infernal riddle to decipher! You're a lore master, Erestor; you do it."

"I am not, and I will not," Erestor said, drawing back as Lindir thrust the parchment and quill in close proximity to his face. "You were annoying Lord Elrond, and you took it, so it's your own fault. You do it."

Lindir made an unhappy face. "These clues are difficult, Erestor. I mean, look: 'Húrin might have kept company with these sorts.' Six letters. It begins with 't.'"

"Orchoth…? No, that won't work, and Húrin wasn't that sort of man anyway. Mmm…Húrin Thalion…'thelyn?' Until that whole nasty 'Getting-captured-and-imprisoned-and-having-his-entire-family-cursed' incident…"

Lindir counted a few boxes and smiled. "Elo! It works! And that opens up number thirteen across: ylf. Thank you very much, Erestor, for your help!"

"Of course, my friend," Erestor said. "But, if you don't mind me asking, why did Lord Elrond give this to you?"

"Oh…I was in his study while he was trying to work on Lady Undómiel's post-nuptial arrangements, looking for a good book on anatomy, and he just shoved this paper at me when I started poking around his work area and told me that if I was bored, here was something to amuse myself with and that I should please, please not come back until it was finished."

"Oh."

Lindir looked up suddenly, towards the entrance which led out away from the House into the main valley. His ears pricked up. A second later, Erestor heard it too: horse's hooves.

"Just one," Lindir said, though Erestor knew that already. "Should we get someone?"

"No. No enemy knows the location of the Last Homely House; it is protected by strong magic. This must be a friend, or a lost traveler."

"Are you quite certain? Something in my heart is telling me this is a bad thing coming towards us, something evil, like a minion of Morgoth who has worked past the power Lord Elrond holds over this valley."

"You're talking nonsense, Lindir; no evil can come into this valley, no matter its shape. Lord Elrond would sense it, and would use his powers to stop it."

"That may be, but I cannot help feeling nervous. There is an air about this person I do not like."

Erestor stiffened. "I know, I sense it too: something wholly unnatural about this person. But it doesn't matter now. Look: our guest approaches. We shall be on guard. If they bear us any ill will, Lord Elrond will sense it and do something about it. Don't fear."

A white horse galloped into the courtyard where Lindir and Erestor were sitting and stopped several feet short of them. Its coat was glossy and shimmered like a polished mirror; it certainly didn't look as if it had been in the wilderness for very long. It was without tack; the rider was an Elf.

Erestor and Lindir gawked. "Is that what we were worrying our heads over? An Elf maiden?" Lindir said.

The Elf, a female, swung down from her horse and patted its muzzle. "Lle naa vanima, Roch mellonamin. Quel esta sii'." The horse snorted at her in a way which made Erestor think that the animal was not fond of her. She smiled, oblivious to its nearly-obvious distaste of her ,turned and looked around at the organic beauty surrounding her. She tilted her head backwards, causing her long hair to flow down her back; she breathed in the fresh valley air deeply and happily. "Yallume!" she cried joyfully. The sun seemed to shine brighter on her as she cried this, and Lindir had a sneaking suspicion he heard nightingales singing around her, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. "Yallume! Rivendell!" she cried, and all the clouds in the sky moved away so that her radiance shone even brighter in the golden afternoon sun.

Lindir tapped Erestor on the shoulder and whispered, "You're a scholar, Erestor. What did she say?"

Erestor shook his head. "I have no idea. That's no language of Arda I have ever heard."

The female Elf strode—there was no other word fitting her long, powerful steps—over to them and placed her hands on her broad hips, studying them critically. Her curly blonde hair framed a beautiful but pale and proud visage. In her face were set a dainty pair of pouting lips under a nose curved perfectly like a delicate seashell, and two brilliant eyes like green flames which contrasted sharply with her milky-white skin. She was dressed all in raiment of travel, and a heavy cloak of dark green stitched with golden thread rested on her shoulders, under which she wore shirt of white cloth and brown breeches stained with travel dust. A broadsword hung at her waist, and a bow and quiver were slung over her shoulders.

"Amin na Melkánoiel, tinu en' Elrond Elandili ar' Celebrían en' Laurelindórenan, ar' amin na i'nim kuruni en' i' Silmataurea," she said. Her voice was like bells tinkling, but it was soured by her haughty manner of speech and the tongue she used, which in no way resembled the smooth, flowing words of Sindarin that Lindir and Erestor were used to. " 'Quel andune, ar' aaye, melloneamin. Amin na sinome quen yassen llie tura."

Erestor and Lindir stared at her.

"What?" said Erestor, looking thoroughly perplexed. "Did you understand any of that?" he asked, turning to Lindir, who shook his head.

She gave them a dirty look. "Llie quena i'lambe tel' Eldalie?"

"Eldalië? Yes, we are Elves," Lindir said, thinking her to be very foolish if she didn't even recognize her own kin when she rode right into one of their most guarded havens. "I am Lindir of Imladris, and this is Erestor, chief among the counselors of Lord Elrond."

She stared at him, as if she didn't understand Sindarin when she heard it, but she shook her head. "Ascarer. Yela Elrond a' amin!"

"Erestor, I think she wants to see Lord Elrond," Lindir said, poking Erestor in the side with his pen. The girl brightened considerably at Elrond's name.

"Don't poke me, Lindir," said Erestor. To the girl, he said: "I see. I am sorry, heryn, but Lord Elrond can't be bothered right now; he needs to figure out how many relatives he can afford to bribe to stay in Middle-earth after he leaves in order to keep an eye on Lady Undómiel. Hmm…I think he already promised his sons they could turn Imladris into their own private nude spa for the Moriquendi if they stayed after he left, and I think he also promised Lord Celeborn fifty percent of whatever they earned…"

The girl brightened even more at Arwen's name, as if she hadn't heard the rest of what Erestor had said or simply disregarded it as unimportant. "A! Llie usquenerea sint Arwen, amin seler? Quel, quel! Manke na re? Ar' manke na amin atar, i' heru Elrond Elandili? Manke na amin atara, i' arwen Celebrían en' Laurelindórenan?"

Lindir looked pained. "I'm sorry, but what in the name of Elbereth Gilthoniel up on Taniquentil are you saying?"

"I…think she thinks Lord Elrond is her father," said Erestor, studying the girl with suspicious eyes. "And something about the Lady Celebrían."

"Lady Celebrían sought the Havens years ago. You just missed her by about…" Lindir stopped to think for a moment. "…five centuries. And Lord Elrond is certainly not your father, whoever you are. Erestor, I think she is delusional."

"As do I. The poor girl. I wonder if she's ill?"

The girl was starting to look angry, as if Lindir and Erestor were mocking her by speaking in Sindarin, a language which she obviously had no grasp of. "Amadea! Cor amin a' sen! Sii'! Amin nai llie! Sii'! Sii'!"

Erestor shook his head. "I don't know, Lindir. I really have no idea what she is trying to say. She's obviously deluded, or else, she is of the Avari, and has her own language. Either way, we have no chance of understanding her. Heryn," he said, looking at the girl, who was staring at them impatiently and angrily, "you may stay as long as you need to here in Imladris—we welcome all—but I am afraid we cannot help you; your language is unknown to us, and, if our tongues are not the same, how can we give you what you need? Lindir, what on Arda are you writing in for twenty down?"

"Tirith."

"No, no, it's obviously tithen."

"Ah, so it is! Where would I be without your help, Erestor?"

"You'd be sitting here until Laer mulling over this, I think."

The girl stared at them as the continued to work out Lord Elrond's puzzle, her mouth hanging open to reveal two rows of straight white teeth between her cherry-red lips. Her golden brows drew together in fury, and she suddenly shouted at them in a clear, loud voice—no longer like the tinkling of bells but rather like the screech of a hawk—that rang all about Rivendell:

"Ed' i'ear ar' elenea! Thaurerea! Nadorhuanrim! Amin feuya ten' llie! Llie n'vanima ar' llie atara lanneina! Amin delotha llie, agaryulnaerea, amin delotha llie! LLIE WETHRINE AMIN! GURTH, GURTH LLIE! Namaarie, saurarea, ar' amin estel llie GURTH!"

And with that, she turned on a delicate heel and marched back to her horse, leaving two stunned Elves in her wake and an entire community of Elven people wondering what on Arda had just happened and what sort of foreign, ugly language the shouter had been raving in.

Lindir blinked as the girl rode out of Rivendell (with more cries of her incomprehensible Elvish), then turned to Erestor. "Well, that's something that doesn't happen every day."

"Indeed."

"I still can't get fourteen across! I've tried everything. Erestor?"

"Hmm…ah! I see it. There, look—you've got your two end letters. 'Lusty.'"

"Oh… 'M-A-E-L-U-I…yes, yes, that fits! Thank you, Erestor; this would take me forever without your help."

"Well," said Erestor, looking around at the trees in the garden, which were waxing with green spring leaves, "it's still Ethuil, and we're nearly done, so we must be doing something right."

Lindir smiled and nodded. "Yes, indeed. Now, help me out with four down."

"That's simple: tinnu. 'Twilight.'"

"Ahhh…you're so good at these, Erestor..."

~Meth (Elo!)~

A/N: So this is what happens after reading too many fics with Grey Company Elvish. _o Why is there a crossword puzzle in Middle-earth? I don't know, the Elves might have made one up if they were really bored one day after composing twenty lays on how sad they were about being stuck on the eastern side of the Sea…
Now, click the little button and tell me how much you loved it/hated it/want to track me down and beat me up!
~Simmí