The water was chill and sloshed unpleasantly into Elrond's shoes as he followed Iarwain through the more shallow waters of the Withywindle. Great patches of wetness crept up his legs, and Elrond winced as mud squelched underneath his shoes.

About six paces ahead of him Iarwain was splashing merrily in the stream, his big yellow boots creating sprays of water which stirred up the mud at the bottom of the brook. To Elrond's left the creek had its main course, but as the summer had not been exceptionally warm, the water had spilled over the bank to soak the round pebbles will about six inches of water. It was this area that Iarwain was leading him through, and Elrond felt once again the perturbed discomfort that Iarwain caused so often.

I wonder what involves? pondered Elrond. Cirdan's people catch fish in the sea often, but they use nets and ships, not poles and... whatever is in that bucket of Iarwain's...

The bucket in question swung back and forth from Iarwain's left hand, and Elrond could hear a gentle coming from it with every step. Two poles with string attached to them leaned against Aldandil's right shoulder.

Elrond's Elvish curiosity was piqued. The two odd companions sloshed on, Elrond easily ignoring the wetness creeping up his shins. Iarwain hummed merrily, waving at a group of otters and a kingfisher as they passed the creatures by.

Where are we going? asked Elrond. There are fish here, I can see them. Is this location not right to catch them in?

Iarwain chuckled, his blue eyes glinting underneath his straw hat. Little does Peredhello know about fishing, it does seem!

Elrond blinked. Nothing, to be specific.

Ten minutes later they rounded a patch of cattails. Suddenly Iarwain burst into song: Here we are, Peredhello! The waters are fast but the fish are slow! Come hop aboard, help me row, down the river we shall go!

Valar help me, murmured Elrond softly when he saw what Iarwain was standing next to.

It was a rowboat, small and antiquarian but sturdy. Polished oak wood had been fashioned into a prow, and a fresh coat of pine pitch proclaimed the little vessel waterproof. Elrond stopped and stared at the little ship. I cannot get into that.

Iarwain laughed as he untied the boat's tether. Afraid of the water, Master Peredhello?

No, loosing the blood that flows to my legs and having them fall off after sitting in that thing, retorted Elrond to himself. It is... rather small, he finished, biting back his inner comment.

Iarwain looked back at Elrond with smiling eyes as he pushed the vessel into the stream. I see no trouble, unless Goldberry's cooking has added extra weight to us both. The little man took a running leap and landed deftly at the prow. Pass me the bucket and rods, Master Elrond.

Elrond complied, then looked apprehensively at the little craft as Iarwain located the oars lying in the boat's bottom. He tugged at the elbows of his shirt, wondering if there was any possible way of going back on his promise without being overly rude. Iarwain looked up at him, his smiling eyes tinged with impatience that said clearly Remember Yavemalda.

A great sigh ran through Elrond's frame. Here I go, he thought. Elrond took two steps backward, then took a running start and leaped gracefully into the boat. The boat rocked madly, and Iarwain reached out and grasped Elrond's hand to push him into a sitting position. The vessel rocked like a cradle before settling into the water much lower than before. Elrond was light, but not that light.

Hey now Elven-man! What be you a-doing? Rocking poor Iarwain's boat until it's overflowing? chided Iarwain as he handed the oars to Elrond.

The Half-Elf blushed and shook a couple loose strands of black hair out of his eyes. I shall not do that again. He looked at the oars in his hands. They were very different from those belonging to Galadriel's swan-boats. Which way are we going?

West, Master Peredhello! To the deep glade where the salmon live! said Iarwain, closing his eyes contentedly.

Elrond sighed and grasped the oars in his hands, wincing as his quiver and bow came into contact with the prow behind him. One stroke, and the little craft shot three yards forward, two strokes and it was six yards forward. This is rather fun... thought Elrond as he worked the oars faster. Three strokes and the boat was moving along like a firefly in June. The little boat sped through the water, cutting a wide cleft in the Withywindle as Elrond strove for greater velocities.

Iarwain's eyes suddenly shot open as the vessel hit a bump in the stream. Elrond! Slow going here! There is a water-

Two late. Iarwain's boat flew over the waterfall, water droplets glistening in the air as it careened over the cataract and into a rocky pool. Elrond, his back to the destination, had not seen the jump coming. cried he as the boat started to drop from its flight. Iarwain grabbed hold of his hat and laughed.

The ship landed with a great splash. Elrond sat back, gasping for breath. Something to remember: always look where you are going when in a barrel-boat, thought the Elf-lord.

Iarwain was grinning madly from ear to ear, an accumulation of water droplets having collected in the brim of his hat. Had I know how fast you were going I should have told you of that fall, said Iarwain in a manner that suggested he would have done no such thing.

The color had gone from much of Elrond's face. That... was not pleasant...

Iarwain laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. Master Peredhel shall learn the way of boating in time! Now steer us to the south, to the small slipstream. There live many fish to be caught for my lady fair!

Elrond gulped. He felt like an Elfling, young and inexperienced. My father was Eärendil the Mariner! And I cannot maneuver a small craft such as this? I shall be having a long talk with Cirdan once I return to the Falas, that is certain. If anyone can teach the art of boating, it is him. The Half-Elf gripped the paddles once again and rowed the vessel in the direction that Iarwain had indicated. He did it slowly.

To the right, Master Elrond. We shall tether the craft there and proceed to fish! said Iarwain happily as Elrond sidled the boat up to the bank. Once there Iarwain tied the boat's line to a protruding tree root and handed one of his sticks to Elrond. The funny little man then proceeded to open his bucket, leaving Elrond confused.

What am I to do with this? asked the Elf-lord.

Iarwain Ben-adar's a happy fellow, he knows the secret fishing spots by the flowers yellow, Ahoy, jolly Elf-man, I cast my line, watch me and you shall learn the steps in time! sang Iarwain, locating the dangling fish hook.

A shadow passed over Elrond's brow. He did not like being called jolly Elf-man. With a sigh of resignation the Half-Elf turned his full gaze on what Iarwain was doing.

The red-bearded man stuck his hand into the bucket and pulled out something small, flesh-colored, and wriggling. He looked at the worm closely, squeezing its middle to test its plumpness, then held the little creature high...

And plunged it down onto the barbed fish hook.

You killed it! exclaimed a startled Elrond. The worm's body fluids started to seep out where Iarwain had punctured the thing. Elrond looked at it sadly. Poor creature. It was not doing anything wrong...

Elrond jumped. The worm was wriggling! It was still... alive?

Iarwain noted Elrond's startled face and began to laugh in great peals of hilarity. Of all the creatures that live in Arda, some of them are more resilient than they would have you believe.

Elrond bit the inside of his lip, trying not to pout. The Elves of Lindon sometimes used earthworms in their gardens, but they had never skewered them. How was he to know that the worms were, as Iarwain would probably say, full of life and surprise-o!?

Oh Valar save me. I am starting to think like him!

Now, Peredhel. You shall drop the hook into the water, and wait for a bite! said Iarwain jovially.

A bite of what? asked Elrond blankly.

A fish to bite, replied Iarwain.

The fish bite me?

No, your hook, silly Elf-man! exclaimed Iarwain happily.

Elrond made a sound octaves below his breath which sounded like . The Half-Elf paused. Manners, no rudeness, manners, no rudeness... he thought fervently. Elrond did not want to be stuck doing this again tomorrow. Clearing his face of its scowl, he looked up at Iarwain with resignation. How do I begin?

Iarwain was hunched over his seat, holding his fishing pole tightly. Find the hook.

Elrond went through the three yards of line before coming to a small metal barb. What now?

Stick a worm to it.

Elrond raised his eyes to the heavens. Why me? He reaching into the bucket and pulled out a wiggling pink worm. The little thing, had it had eyes or the ability to speak, would be saying I don't want to be here any more than you, Elf. Elrond swallowed and looked from the hook to the worm. Why me? Orcs deserve no mercy, they are evil creatures. But this thing... Oh well. He looked at the worm unhappily. I shall try to make this painless.

He drove the hook through the wriggling worm sharply. Then I drop it into the water? asked Elrond, averting his gaze from the creature.



Elrond moved to drop his baited hook next to where Iarwain's was. Iarwain stayed his hand. My second thought says that too close they twould seem, to hang next to each other in the dark cool stream! Here's a grand idea, come ring a ding dide! Let us turn round to fish on opposite sides!

How do you mean? asked an irritable Elrond.

Sit back to back with me, proclaimed Iarwain cheerfully.

There was a great deal of scooting, shuffling, and all-around discomfort as the two moved to sit back to back. As there was then no room for them, Elrond had placed his bow and quiver on the bank next to the boat's tether. The worst bit, however, had been when Elrond had nearly sat in the worm bucket, but then Iarwain had moved it so that they were both comfortable.

Or at least Iarwain was comfortable.

Elrond, on the other hand, was squashed into the prow of the little boat, his knees tucked under his chin tightly. Iarwain's red hair tickled the back of Elrond's neck causing a sensation similar to playing host to a flock of midges. But the most annoying by far was Iarwain's feather. It was positioned in such a way that its tip was actually inside Elrond's ear. This became incredibly hard to ignore as soon as they had stopped moving.

asked Elrond after dropping his hook into the water.

Yes, merry Elf-man? answered he.

Do not call me that! Could you possibly move your feather? asked Elrond.

Iarwain reached up and turned the brim of his hat so that the feather was all the way around. It poked Elrond in his other ear this time. The Elf-lord clenched his teeth.

began Elrond, but all of a sudden he was cut off. Something was pulling on his fishing pole!

Iarwain! There is something at the other end of the string! cried Elrond, trying to peer into the water to see what it was.

You have a bite, Peredhello! said Iarwain happily. Pull it in!

Elrond heaved back the pole, nearly capsizing the boat. It is not coming, he said through clenched teeth.

Pull on the string, merry Elf-man! said Iarwain, getting more excited by the second.

Elrond reached out and caught the rope dangling from his rod and tugged it hard. Iarwain turned in his seat and grabbed the pole as Elrond yanked harder and harder on the line. It must be a big fish, Peredhello!

Elrond grit his teeth, finally overwhelmed with frustration. Do -not -call -me -'Peredhello'! Or -jolly-

At that moment several things happened at once. Iarwain felt a tug on his line, Elrond slid forward on one knee to better grapple with his fish, and Iarwain loosened his grip on Elrond's pole. Also, the stubborn fish, finally weary of its struggle, leapt from the water and flew backwards into Elrond's arms.

It was the ugliest fish Elrond had ever seen. But that was not the foremost thought in the Elf-lord's mind. It was Why am I going backwards?

For that was what Elrond was doing. The momentum of the fish finally coming into the boat coupled with the release of tension on the string had resulted in Elrond, son of Eärendil, to be pitched backward, out the side of the boat, into the water, with the fish still clasped tightly to his chest.

The fish began to squirm as Elrond furiously tread water. Iarwain was hit by the splash as Elrond fell, and thinking wisely took hold of the Elf-lord's discarded line to save the fish from escaping. Elrond felt the tug as Iarwain began to pull on the fish, but he instead thought that the creature was escaping, so he grabbed hold even tighter. It was the first fish he had ever caught; Elrond was not about to let it escape.

Iarwain, not surprisingly, was a great deal stronger than he looked. He yanked the line forcefully and brought the fish -with Elrond- right to the side of the boat. The monstrous creature flailed and whacked Elrond with its tail. Iarwain tugged again, this time slamming the fish -and Elrond- into the side of the boat.

Elrond's vision blurred as his head was knocked repeatedly into the side of the small craft. All of a sudden he heard Iarwain's voice clearly: Let go of the fish, Peredhello!. Elrond did not know what else to do. He let go.

Two minutes later Elrond was safely treading water, his hair unclasped and plastered to his face over a couple large bruises where the boat had smacked him. Iarwain had subdued the fish, which was in fact over three feet long. It was one of Those Fish, the legendary ones that live in deep lakes and are supposedly impossible to catch. Men gave them names such as Old One-Eye and King Salmon. If fish had a hierarchy, this one would hold a position equal with Gil-galad.

Funny, really, mused Elrond in his post-dunking stupor. An odd image of Gil-galad sitting on a throne next to the fish he had just caught had popped into his head. That was unusual.

Come, Master Elrond. Let us get you out of the deep water, said Iarwain cheerfully, finally turning his attention to the sopping wet Elf. Swim to the shore, I will help you out.

Elrond slowly swam over to the side of the pool as Iarwain climbed out of the boat which was still tethered to the willow root. The funny little man reached down his hand and grasped Elrond by the sleeve, throwing him up onto the bank.

Elrond remained motionless for two minutes, coughing up water and letting his breathing return to normal. Ai, Elbereth...

Iarwain was speaking again. ...quite an adventure for your first fish, Master Peredhello! Fair Goldberry, River-woman's daughter, shall cook a feast tonight!

I am wet, said Elrond rather dazedly as he began to take off his shoes. Do you have an extra cloak my size?

No need for cloaks, my friend! Run naked in the forest! The time is past for fishing, home we go again! Cast aside your dripping shirt, run merrily and free! Goldberry shall be full of delight, to have what you've caught for she! sang Iarwain, dancing and jumping around on the bank.

Run naked? coughed Elrond incredulously. I do not think so, Aldandil!!

*********

Author's notes: Sorry, no nudey!Elrond today, folks. Anyway, I have been looking forward to writing this scene ever since the plotbunny bit me, so I hope you have enjoyed it. ^_^

In the next chapter: Elrond and Iarwain return home to Goldberry with The Fish. More fun as Elrond waits for his clothes to dry! Wonder in amazement as Elrond is delayed from his mission even longer! Read, review, enjoy!