Elrond had to stoop to enter Iarwain's house, and still had to cock his head to the side once he had come in. Lamps were swinging from the wooden ceiling, and though they gave off a pleasant light Elrond could not help but feel a great foreboding about this method of illumination.

I am most certainly going to crack my head on one of those before the night is out, thought Master Peredhel, glaring at a particularly ornate candelabra. And I will most definitely have a crick in my neck after meditation.

A great sigh rippled through Elrond's large frame. Why had he become so cynical all of a sudden? Ever since he had met that- that- Iarwain fellow, he hadn't been able to think properly. It was as if all of his self-control and patience had evaporated, and left him with the bare essentials of his personality. How does he get to me so much? thought the Half-Elf.

Fair Goldberry! Here we be! A visitor comes to dine with thee! Elrond Peredhello, sit and stay, we shall sing joyfully to chase the night away! came Iarwain's rustic voice.

Elrond turned unhappily and smiled at the little fellow who had brought him here in the first place. He had tried and tried to explain what a hurry he was in -Celebrimbor couldn't hold out forever- to Iarwain, but the reply had always been the same. No. Although it had been in considerably more melodious syllables. Elrond sighed. Gil-galad would always say that unwanted house guests could plague an Elf's existence -look at what happened in Gondolin. But now Elrond was a wanted guest. And as an Elf-lord he could not refuse such kind hospitality, no matter how unwanted it was. He could at least maintain his manners, he would not be rude, manners, no rudeness, manners, no rudeness...

Something around his waist giggled. Elrond started. Then something pinched his arm hard and, with a flash of green and gold, darted behind Iarwain. Two big blue eyes peeked out from over Iarwain's head as the funny man hung his blue coat by the door.

For what conduct did I merit that? cried Elrond, rubbing his arm. Either Iarwain had a daughter who was part goose or the Valar had decided to plague him with midges. Since one Iarwain was bad enough, Elrond was hoping for the midge theory.

The blue eyes darted back behind Iarwain, and Elrond looked sternly at the funny man, expecting him to reprimand his child. Instead, Iarwain was chuckling under his beard, and patting the Pincher on her head. Look fair Goldberry, River-woman's daughter! Shouldn't go a-pinching now every other stranger! Don't a-get him riled now, lest you make him hotter! Lovely Lady Goldberry, River-woman's daughter!

So Iarwain married a River-woman' and this is their daughter? wondered Elrond, watching the Blonde Pincher in case she came back. She'd be in for a big surprise if she decided to try anything else...

You are getting so silly! This would never have irritated you at home! What has gotten into you, Elrond! Contain your anger! thought the Elf-lord.

Elrond, may I present Goldberry, my wife? asked Iarwain, using his non-singing voice. The Blonde Pincher stepped out from behind him and curtsied.

His wife? Elrond was of a firm mind set that questioning the customs of others would only result in trouble and arguments, so he held back the thoughts which were springing willy-nilly into his mind. She cannot be half as old as he claims to be, this Goldberry, thought Elrond. She appears to be only a child, and certainly acts like one...

Goldberry giggled again, and smiled brightly. She was clothed in a gown of pale green, and her white skin seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. Come in, Master Elf! Iarwain shall show you the washing-place, then we shall begin our meal.

Elrond followed Iarwain into a side chamber, and was lead into a sort of guest room complex. There were four beds, each too short for him (the Half-Elf thanked Eru for the fact that he could meditate standing) and Iarwain pointed out the washing basins before leaving him to clean up. Elrond splashed cold water on his face, and removed the dirt from underneath his fingernails. He had always hated that, the dirt under his nails. Though other Elves could tolerate it, Elrond found it extremely annoying.

Elrond shuffled back into the main room, around the table, and carefully avoided the hanging light fixtures. The chair that Goldberry proffered him was somewhat larger than the others, and Elrond welcomed the size. Stretching his legs out beneath the table, Elrond felt the small knot of tension that had been building behind his forehead lessen. If these two didn't sing all the time this night would probably pass quite pleasantly.

There was a hard pinch on his shoulder. Elrond yelped, and darted a slender hand out to capture Goldberry's wrist. He merely brushed her fingertips. How could they be so fast? Please refrain from doing that, growled Elrond, fixing Goldberry with his best Elrond-glare (something of which the Half-Elf was immensely proud. Gil-galad had once said he could have bored a hole through Glaurung with that stare -which was of course no easy feat).

Goldberry giggled again, and placed the basket of bread that she was carrying on the table before him. The headache was returning. Were these two out to drive away his sanity? I knew I should have left. I could out run Iarwain, couldn't I?

There was something about the way that the funny little man picked up a slice of bread, buttered it, and had if half-way into his mouth in less than a second that proclaimed Fat chance, Elrond.

Elrond closed his eyes, wondering if he could lapse into a trance during the meal. That was rude, Elrond, he told himself. Manners! With a great internal sigh the Elf-lord attempted to relax himself with every mean possible. He was just on the verge of completing I am by a river, the grass is green. My troubles slip away... when an overly cheerful voice butted in on his thought process.

The food is set, at expense the least. Tonight we enjoy a delicious feast! Come enjoy, merry dong dello! Tis spread for you, Peredhello! caroled Iarwain, gesturing to the food Goldberry had placed all over the table.

Elrond opened his eyes and tried his best not to look cross. It wasn't hard, at least once he saw what had been laid out for him.

Baskets piled high with bread and honeycomb were surrounded by earthenware tureens of vegetables and soup. Smoked salmon was laid out on a board at the table's center, next to vessels full of cream and butter. A bowl had been placed next to each of their seats, filled with clear, cool water. Two small wheels of white cheese had been set at either end, along with pots of raspberries and blueberries. Small jars of thyme and pepper had been set between the other dishes to season the food. Goldberry was sitting across from him, with Iarwain at the head of the table to his right. They were both smiling contentedly, and looking to him to begin the meal.

Elrond was mesmerized. He had never expected such great fare from these two. Their cottage looked well-kept, but he had never thought that Iarwain and Goldberry would prepare him a feast. Perhaps he had been so used to Elvish cuisine to realize that other non-Elves could prepare food well, but in any case the sight of the bread and cream and salmon all together looked... excellent.

Iarwain noted the surprised look on his guest's face, and said nothing, though the corners of his mouth did crinkle even more into a smile. Come, Master Peredhello! Let us feast! No troubles should worry you in this place! Do not hesitate, new friend, protected we shall be! In Master Aldandillo's house no harm shall befall thee!

***

Elrond finished his third plate of salmon and was content for the first time in the presence of Iarwain Ben-adar and his pinching wife. Iarwain and Goldberry cleared the table quickly and disappeared into the kitchen with two teetering towers of dishes apiece.

I admit, I was hasty to judge them. If only their manners were as good as Goldberry's cooking, I should have no qualms staying, thought the Half-Elf, fiddling absently with one of his braids. Goldberry... That is a strange name, considering Iarwain's is of Elvish origin. Goldberry... what would that translate to in Quenya? Yavemalda, perhaps? Iafloriel in Sindarin... thought the Elf-lord, letting his mind wander. Though I must say I have always liked silver, when it comes to personal preference. Celeb-

Come merry Elf-man! Let's have a song! The day is winding down and it will not be long! Night is coming closer, the shadows they are clinging, let us drive away the dark with our merry singing! burst Iarwain's cheery voice suddenly from the kitchen. Elrond nearly fell out of his chair.

Food is slowing my wits. I must not let that happen. What good would I be then to Celebrimbor? thought Elrond, mentally reprimanding himself.

Goldberry danced into the room followed by Iarwain, her nimble feet seeming to barely touch the floor. A song! A song! she cried, clapping her hands delightedly. Iarwain shall sing for his Goldberry!

Iarwain Ben-adar smiled, and Elrond knew that there would be more melody. It was not that Elrond did not enjoy singing, it was that he preferred it to be the song of Elves, who had considerably greater intonation that did not hurt his ears so. The Half-Elf shook his head slightly. He should not be so single-minded about the abilities of other races.

But that could not be correct! Iarwain couldn't possibly be the sole member of his own race, could he? Some type of long-lived Dwarvish Man, perhaps? That was a good question. What in Arda was his host? He could ask that question. It was not inappropriate.

Thinking that now was better than later, Elrond decided to ask. Iarwain, I thank you again for all of this kind hospitality, but I must ask. Of what race do you belong to?

Iarwain's eyes twinkled. He grinned. His red beard twitched. His lips parted. He drew a deep breath.

Elrond had a strange urge to stop his ears.

Iarwain Ben-adar's a merry fellow!
He knows paths through the forests and water mellow!
Do not wonder about Iarwain, he is here the Master.
His songs they are of power great, and his feet be faster!
Know this, young Master Elven-Man,
Iarwain wanders his lovely land,
His boots have traveled far and back,
In this Forest Old they've made a track.
For here he's dwelt and forever goes,
And from whence he comes, none do know!

Goldberry clapped, rocking back and forth in her seat, the embodiment of childish delight. Elrond, somewhat reluctantly, put his hands together twice to produce a soft Hrack, hrack. The Manners, No Rudeness mantra was running desperately through his head. Ask a question, get a rhapsody. He hadn't even answered his question, for the love of the Valar!

Iarwain sprang to his feet and bowed, crossing one leg over the other. He was grinning from ear to ear, and blew a kiss to Goldberry. She smiled.

Fair Goldberry, lovely River-daughter, sing us now a melody, pretty as it ought'er, to come from gentle lady fair, Goldberry from the water, sang Iarwain, taking his seat.

Goldberry stood and composed her features. She began to sing. At once Elrond's impression of her as the Blonde Pincher changed. She seemed older and fairer, as if he had stumbled upon an ancient flower of the gardens in Aman. Suddenly she looked as if she had been in the world as long as Iarwain, her beauty preserved in that of a young maiden. Elrond saw, and was amazed at what changed had been brought upon her, and wondered again what unseen power his hosts had.

She sang of rolling brooks, and streams as she remembered them in springtime. She sang of the return of the songbirds, and of dancing among the waterlilies in the river. She sang of dew on the blossoms of trees, and of Fimbrethil and the Entwives. Her song was pure and rich, and filled Elrond with wonder. he murmured, feeling the beauty in Goldberry's words and cherishing it, as is the manner of the Elves in regard to things which are fair.

...petals which land, to the water they fall.
The smallest of ripples become their last call.
Green leaves which enter into this world,
Dappled with dew they gently unfold.
In spring I wandered into this fair glade,
Not touched by those living since Arda was made.

Goldberry finished, resuming her chair next to Iarwain, who clasped her hand in his. Elrond sat as one stunned. Perhaps there was more here than he had seen before, something deeper, purer, and wiser. He looked at Iarwain and Goldberry. They were so happy, so... untouched. Was this how the Elves were meant to live? Carefree and joyful? It was how they had been, before the shadows of Morgoth and Sauron.

murmured Elrond once again. Forgive me, I have been rude. I should have been more patient had I known what majesty is here...

Goldberry curtsied and smiled at him. No need for apologies, Master Elrond.

I must insist, how may I make up for my lack of manners? Iarwain has surely noticed my... less than pleasant demeanor, offered Elrond. He was ashamed. What had possessed him to be so rude? Iarwain was immensely irritating, of course, but that was no excuse-

Merry ding dillo, Master Elf, you do injustice to yourself. If repayment to Goldberry is what thou doth seek, come fol me hearty, by bubbling creek. Tomorrow Iarwain fishing will go, so Elrond may join Master Aldandillo! sang Iarwain, looking absolutely benign.

What was that? asked Elrond, having been concentrating on his missing patience. His restrained tendencies had been absent for quite some time now, ever since he had stumbled upon Iarwain . Elrond tried not to let the funny man get to him, he really did. He had been rude, and would make up for it. Just as soon as he found out what Iarwain had said.

Goldberry laughed again. Iarwain is going fishing on the morrow, and asks that you join him.

Elrond got to his feet, avoiding the ornate lanterns once again. He bowed and replied, I shall gladly go, Fair Goldberry. Though I have never been fishing before.

Never been fishing? We shall have to remedy that, Master Peredhello! cried Iarwain. Tomorrow down the Withywindle we shall go, and catch a salmon for my pretty lady.

I hope that I may keep what patience I have left through tomorrow. A whole day, with him? Manners, no rudeness, manners, no rudeness... thought the Half-Elf. I wonder what fishing' involves... He bowed once again to Goldberry.

She pinched him, very hard, just below the knee.

Elrond yelped. He took a step backward to sit down, and inadvertently backed into one of the lanterns, bruising a good part of his skull. Biting back Dwarvish curses, Elrond turned sideways, and found his chair, still keeping one eye on Goldberry. So the Blonde Pincher is still in there, along with Yavemalda, he thought ruefully, rubbing the back of his head where the lantern had wounded him.

Will you sing for us, Master Elrond? asked Goldberry, looking at him imploringly.

Elrond felt the knot of tension returning. Why did they insist on angering him so, then acting as if nothing had happened? What would you have me sing? he asked.

Goldberry's wide blue eyes looked indeed as if nothing but smiles had passed between them. Tell us of your home, and your people. Few tales we have of the Eldar in these past years.

Elrond searched his memory for a song, and found one which had long been a favorite. His rich tenor voice rose into the melody, with words of the sea and the crashing waves. He sang of the Falas, the gulls' wailing cry, and the sadness of the Elves which chose to depart so soon from Middle-earth. He closed his gray eyes, imagining the deep blue water, and the starlight that danced upon the sea during moonless nights.

He finished his song, and looked at his hosts. Iarwain had closed his eyes, no doubt remembering things that were his alone to remember. Goldberry was gazing out the window with a wistful sort of expression.

asked Elrond quietly.

Hmm? Peredhello sings nicely, Iarwain doth say. But night is fleeting, soon twill be day. Let us now sleep, return to our rest, Iarwain knows the places that fish do love best, he sang softly. Good night, Master Elrond.

Peredhello sings nicely? I have never received that response before. Though I should be grateful; I shall not have to see him until tomorrow, thought Elrond Peredhel, getting to his feet.

Goldberry disappeared into one of the other rooms of the cottage, singing Good night, good night!. Elrond avoided the lanterns, once again feeling the ache in the back of his head where he had bruised himself. He would try to work some of his healing skills on the bump later, but now he needed rest. Yes, relaxing his mind would surely help him feel better.

Sleep well, replied the Half-Elf. He braced himself against one of the walls, and hoped that he would not be too stiff after standing hunched all night. At last, Elrond breathed deeply, letting his eyes glaze over in blissful meditation.

*********

Author's Notes: Yavemalda and Iafloriel mean in Quenya and Sindarin, respectfully. Please note that at this time Iarwain and Goldberry would have only been together for a short time, and Goldberry is therefore a bit unruly.

In the next chapter: Elrond and Iarwain go fishing. Do you think that it can't get any worse? Very wrong, you are. Experience the tension as Elrond learns how to bait a hook, cast a line, and reel in a fish. Read, review, enjoy!