Thank you, Karri, Farflung, Kawaii ningen kitsune, Jebb, and Dragonfly. Dragonfly, as for removing the pitch from those areas, that's what the candles were for. ^_^
The next morning Elladan and Elrohir left well before dawn, their hoods pulled nearly down to their eyes. As for Anomen, he likewise arose before dawn and, equally well-hooded, made his way to the kitchen to filch some bread and cheese. Breakfast was a less formal affair than dinner, so he thought Elrond would overlook his absence. Anomen worried briefly that he ought not to leave Estel to wake up on his own, but then he reassured himself that the imp no doubt could find his way to the dining hall on his own. So Anomen left Estel sleeping in his truckle bed. He thought he did, anyway.
Humans, you see, have the most peculiar custom of sleeping with their eyes closed, even though this odd behavior blocks the shimmering moonlight and starlight. Of course, as Anomen was to learn, just because a human has his eyes closed, that does not mean the human is asleep. Humans are very good at feigning unconsciousness for various reasons, such as to get out of unpleasant chores.
Or to play tricks on Elven foster-brothers.
As soon as Anomen had left the chamber, Estel leapt from his bed. He had heard Anomen quietly moving about as he dressed and was not about to let the Elf go off on an adventure without him. He suspected that, after yesterday, Anomen would be leery of his presence for awhile—hence the child's secretive behavior. Quickly he dressed—not being particular about his appearance, he never dressed other than quickly—and slipped out of the chamber, padding softly down the hallway in pursuit of Anomen. Although Estel was not an Elf, he was only a small human and thus could move relatively quietly.
He saw Anomen disappear into the kitchen and reappear with bread and cheese that he wrapped in a cloth and placed in a bag that he slung over his shoulder. Estel stole into the kitchen intending to lay claim to his own supply of bread and cheese, but he abandoned that plan when he saw the pastries newly turned out from their pans. Having neither cloth nor bag, he simply stuffed three of them into the front of his tunic. Then he resumed his pursuit of Anomen.
It was easy for Estel to trail Anomen, for, once away from the Hall, Anomen was in no hurry. Nor was he being particularly careful. The shade within the forest was more than adequate cover for his needs, for he merely wished to be alone for a little while and was not attempting to hide. Estel was congratulating himself on his abilities as a tracker, but he could not know that, had Anomen so chosen, he could have vanished into the tree canopy in the proverbial twinkling of an eye.
After Anomen felt that he was a sufficient distance from the Hall to be left undisturbed for a space, he selected a comfortable looking tree, climbed up to one of the broader limbs, and settled himself for several peaceful hours of humming and singing.
Estel likewise chose a tree to perch in, but he could not be said to have 'settled himself'. He watched Anomen intently for a time, waiting for an adventure to materialize. When no such adventure was forthcoming within the quarter hour, he began to squirm about. He pulled at a thread in a rent in his tunic, making the tear that much the larger. He examined a caterpillar that was hunching its way along a nearby branch. Clinging to the trunk, he stood on tiptoe to pear into a cavity from which he heard scratching noises. He gathered all the nuts within reach and organized them into companies of warriors. He made flags for his companies out of twigs and leaves. At last, as Anomen gave no sign that he would soon shift to a new position, Estel decided to climb down from the tree and explore a bit. It seemed that he would have plenty of time to wander about before Anomen bestirred himself.
By this time breakfast had been served, eaten, and cleared. Elrond was not surprised that Anomen did not show up for the meal, but he sent a servant to fetch Estel. The servant returned to report that neither foster-son was in their bedchamber. Elrond raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"I did not think that, after yesterday, Anomen would want any company on his ramblings."
"Perhaps," suggested Glorfindel, "it is not so much a matter of what Anomen wants as of what Estel wants."
"True," agreed Erestor. "I must say, though, that I am pleased Estel has chosen to spend the day with Anomen. Elrond, to be honest, I was not looking forward to the commencement of Estel's lessons. I am glad to have one last day of peace and quiet before starting in with a new pupil."
"Well, mellon-nîn," said Glorfndel, "be sure to make the most of this day. I'll wager," he direly predicted, "that it will be the last day of tranquility that we'll enjoy for many a fortnight."
As Glorfindel muttered darkly about their prospects, Estel was turning over logs and gathering the creatures that swarmed out once their darkness was disturbed. He tried to wrap a leaf around his collection, but his pickings crawled out too easily. He sat down and removed a boot in order to strip off a sock, and into that improvised pouch he stuffed his captives, tying a knot in the top to prevent their escape. He tucked the sock into the front of his tunic, where it joined the three pastries that he had purloined from the kitchen. Then he wandered on in search of new quarry.
He spotted conies in thickets and squirrels in trees, but both were too quick for him. Birds, of course, were out of the question. At length he spotted a ground animal that did not move as quickly as a cony. The squat creature scuttled along low to the ground and was adorned with an exceptionally bushy tale. Its coloration was striking, as it had a dark black coat parted down the middle by a dramatic white streak. Estel crept nearer. It saw him and opened its mouth to display its needle-like teeth, but it did not charge. Instead, it backed away. Estel drew nearer. It backed up a little more, again showing no sign that it would attack. Emboldened, Estel came even closer. The creature turned about. Fearful that it was about to bolt, Estel sprang forward to seize its uplifted tail.
A foul, putrid, stinking mist filled the air and enveloped Estel. His clothes, his hair, his nose, his mouth, his eyes—every inch of Estel was bathed in this acrid cloud that smelled like rotten-eggs combined with bile and stale urine. The fumes burned Estel's eyes, nose, and throat. He could not see, he could not breathe—he could, alas, smell and taste. Staggering about, he at last tripped over a log and fell flat upon his face into a puddle of stagnant water. Thus he at last inadvertently bathed his eyes and regained a bit of sight, albeit his vision was distorted by his tears. At the same time, however, he had landed full on the three pastries and his creature-stuffed sock, and a sticky ooze spread across his chest and his stomach. Sitting up, he reached down into his tunic and scraped out the remnants of the pastries, which were stained green and brown and black with the bodily fluids of assorted worms, caterpillars, grubs, beetles, centipedes, and spiders. Estel was not a discriminating diner, but this slop was beyond what even he could stomach.
Safe in his tree, Anomen caught the first whiffs of the olfactory disaster and wrinkled his nose in disgust. Glancing up at the sky, he saw from the sun that he ought to be returning to the Hall anyway, so he abandoned his perch, dropping lightly to the ground and striding off toward home.
Estel sat trying to regain his breath, for his lungs seemed to have contracted in protest of the fetid air. He wheezed and gasped. Tears continued to well up in his eyes, and he futilely tried to scrape the literally grubby pastry from his hands onto the leaves and twigs about him. The crushed pastries had been filled with fruit, and, in spite of the malodorous mist, ants and bees began to find their way toward the weeping child. Soon he was wriggling about and trying with one hand to brush off the ants that were crawling underneath his shirt while at the same time batting frantically with the other at the bees that hovered about trying to land upon him. At last he leapt to his feet and began to run blindly.
After fleeing wildly for a time, he was too winded to continued, and, sobbing, he leaned against a tree to rest. As he stilled, he heard the sound of running water, and suddenly he remembered the river that clove the valley of Imladris, giving Rivendell its name. "If I wash off this sticky stuff, the ants and bees won't bother me," thought Estel with a small measure of happiness. Listening carefully, he made for the sound of the water and before too long was standing on the banks of the Bruinen. He stripped off his clothes even more quickly than he had for Arwen three nights past, and he plopped himself down in the shallows. It was icy cold, of course, making Estel think with longing of the warm cauldron in which he had first bathed, but it was water, and, although it could do little against the odor of skunk, it did allow him to wash off the sticky conglomeration of crust, fruit, and invertebrate.
By and by, Estel recovered his equanimity. True, he reeked, but that had never troubled Estel much. To him, it was enough that his eyes, nose, and throat no longer burned and that insects were no longer trying to picnic on his belly and chest. He rinsed the mess off his tunic and leggings as well and, shivering a little, pulled his clothes back on. Then he looked about with interest at the scene before him. The tumbled rocks alone could have entertained him for hours—small water-smoothed stones for collecting, large craggy boulders for climbing. But what attracted him the most was an expanse of flat, river-polished granite that put him in mind of the flume he had so loved to slide down. He picked his way over to it, sat down on the edge, and gave himself a push. Sure enough, he slid downstream several feet on the smooth surface. He jumped up and ran back to the top, plunked himself down, and pushed off somewhat harder. Further and faster he went. Again he leapt up and sat himself down at the beginning of the chute. This time he pushed off as hard as he could. He shot down the flume—and into the river channel. The water was cold, the current swift. Gasping and flailing, Estel was swept around a bend in the river—and was gone.