Folks, this tale has taken a sudden turn toward angst. You may blame it on my daughter, who walked into the room cuddling a plot bunny in her arms. Oh, yes, I have not abandoned "Returning from the Dead." I actually have a chapter almost ready to go. It should be up by midweek.
Viconia: I googled Baldur's Gate. Looks interesting. Basically, though, writing these stories has become my 'game' (a very time-consuming one!) so I don't think I'll be entering the AU of role playing any time soon.
Jebb: Ai! The irrepressible elflings almost go too far in this installment!
Dragonfly: Oh, boy, you get to look forward to explaining the facts of life. He he! ^_^ Fortunately for me, my daughter is nearly 15, so we've already had 'the conversation'. (Actually many conversations taking place over a period of years starting when she was a toddler—when your kid is adopted, the topic of how families come into being has to be addressed early and often.)
Joee: How do you do that!? ^_^ Anyway, I have uploaded a version that corrects the two errors you pointed out. But I found a third error on my own. Nyah nyah! ^_^
Vocabulary
laes—'baby'
Unfortunately—or mayhap fortunately—there were too many skivvies about the kitchen for the elflings to attempt another raid. They had no choice but to wait until dinner, so they brought a good appetite with them to the table.
Mithrandir was at their table, of course. He had not forgotten the conversation in the garden, and he could not resist toying with the elflings a little.
"So, young ones, you spend much time with your tutor, do you not?"
"Yes, Master Mithrandir," replied the elflings.
"And what have you been studying lately?"
Had anyone been watching Erestor, they would have noticed that the muscles in his face drew a trifle taut, but the tutor relaxed at Elrohir's reply. After a moment's thought, that elfling replied, "allegory."
"Ah," said the wizard, "allegory. A most challenging form of literature is it not? A reader must work for the meaning of such a story, is that not so."
"Oh, yes," agreed Elladan, "very hard—and all too often the hard work is for naught!"
"Indeed? And have you a recent example of an allegory that proved too difficult for you to interpret."
"Yes," exclaimed Anomen, "Erestor has but lately told us one that we could not make out at all."
Erestor was racking his brains, trying to remember what allegory he had recently recited to his pupils.
"No? Well, tell it to me. Perhaps I can shed some light upon it."
"Very well. It starts with an Elf and an Elleth who are in love. The Elf of course has a sword, but it is the Elleth who wears the sheath."
Erestor began to change colors rapidly, from pale to red to purple and back to pale again.
"Go on," said Mithrandir encouragingly.
"The Elf stores his sword in the Elleth's sheath. We think that might mean, allegorically, that the Elleth wishes to assist the Elf. She will take care of him as best she can."
"Oh, yes," snorted Glorfindel, who had a fairly good idea of the nature of the 'allegory', "the Elleth will indeed 'take care of'' the Elf."
Erestor shot an angry glance at Glorfindel, then looked appealingly at Elrond. That elf-lord raised his eyebrows helplessly.
"Oh, I am leaving out a part," Anomen suddenly said. "Before the Elf stores his sword in her sheath, he has to construct an erection of some sort—I guess a building where they can spend time together."
"I see. What happens next?"
"Well, once the sword has been put away, the Elf and the Elleth have a conversation. It sounded as if the Elf does all of the talking, for Erestor said he is the one who ejaculates."
"Your tutor is quite right. What happens next?"
"An organism and some seamen come into the story. We found that part quite confusing. But the next part perhaps makes sense. After all that talking, the Elf and the Elleth must be hungry, I suppose, because the Elleth provides an egg, or sometimes two, because they are very hungry, I suppose."
"And then?"
The Elleth ties herself to her elfling with a cord. I suppose that is why we say that a Naneth is very attached to her laes."
"That sounds like a very plausible explanation," Mithrandir said gravely. "Pray continue."
"Next the Elleth must use contractions. I suppose that up until this point they have been speaking very formally, and now they are less so."
"It is certain," said Mithrandir dryly, "that by now the time for modesty would have long passed, and so too the time for formality, I guess."
Erestor could bear no more.
"Anomen," he squeaked, "uh, you have remembered many of the elements of the tale, but, as you have said, you do not understand the significance of all that you heard. Let us not further trouble these folks with the lesson; tomorrow we may return to it."
"Yes," said Elrond, speaking up at last, "I really do believe, Erestor, that you should cover the matter again, at more length, perhaps, and in greater detail.
"Greater detail!" moaned Erestor.
"Why, Erestor," chuckled Glorfindel, "you ejaculate. Or was that just an organism caught in your throat?"
"Glorfindel," warned Elrond.
The balrog-slayer grinned but said no more. Erestor resumed cycling colors. Mithandir studied his plate, confining his smile to his eyes. As for the elflings, they turned their attention to their food, blissfully unaware of both the consternation and amusement that they had brought to their elders.
Later that evening they brought a bit more consternation down upon their elders, although considerably less amusement. As they listened to the conversation during the remainder of the meal, the elflings learned that Mithrandir had arrived in Rivendell leading a string of pack horses.
"Yes," Mithrandir was saying to Elrond, "I plan to transfer the lot to a wagon once I reach the Great East Road. I can keep them better protected from the elements in a wagon, I think. Otherwise, a little bit of rain, and all my labor will be for naught!"
The elflings were of course fascinated. What had Mithrandir brought with him? Whither was he bearing it?
"You go to a great deal of trouble for these Periannath," declared Glorfindel. "Do they even appreciate it?"
"Judging from the 'ooohs' and the 'aaaaahs' that I always hear, I think, yes. Their excitement is sufficient recompense for my efforts. The little ones, in particular, more than adequately repay my trouble, so thrilled are they at each display."
Observed Elrond, "Some day Mithrandir likely will have reason to be grateful that he has found a way to ingratiate himself with the Periannath."
Erestor gave a doubtful laugh.
"How can that be possible, Elrond? They are naught but Halflings. How could such folk, small and weak as they are, ever requite his benevolence?"
"Ah," replied Elrond, "never forget that there are some deeds may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong. Indeed, such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere" (Bk II, chap. 2).
To this latter part of the conversation, the elflings gave no heed, for by now they were consumed with curiosity. As soon as they were dismissed from the table, they ran off to the stables. Since Mithrandir had been so tight lipped in the garden, they were determined to resolve the mystery on their own, even though they knew perfectly well that they had no business trifling with the wizard's belongings.
Once they reached the stables, they found that the packs had been removed from Mithrandir's horses and piled alongside one wall. Elladan stood guard while Anomen and Erestor unbuckled one of the packs. Inside were paper packages of various sizes with sticks coming out the ends. The paper packages were of different colors, and many of them were made in the shape of animals.
"Paper on sticks? Whatever is so wonderful about that," said a disappointed Elrohir.
"Mayhap there is something inside each package," suggested Anomen hopefully.
Elrohir poked a finger through one of the packages. Some sort of powder sifted out the hole. They could not make out what it was.
"It is too dark in here," complained Elrohir. It was dusk.
"Aye, but we'd best not kindle a light. You know the rule against candles or lanterns in the stable!"
If there was one rule that the elflings would never flout, it was the one against bringing fire into the stable, for a moment of carelessness might set the hay alight. Between the two of them, Elladan and Anomen dragged the pack from the stable. Elladan ran back to the Hall to fetch a candle. When he returned, Elrohir ripped a bigger hole into the paper and held the candle near.
"I see smaller paper packages within the larger one. Each is a different color."
They ripped a few of the smaller packages open. The powder inside each matched the color on the outside.
The elflings sat back on their heels, bewildered. Elrohir set the candle upon a rock.
"The Periannath must be easily amused," said Elladan, "if they become excited over paper bags filled with colored powder."
Elrohir nodded.
"Aye, they must be. Well, we had best hide this one package and repack all the others."
He rose to his feet. As he did so, his foot bumped the stone upon which the candle sat. The taper fell over onto one of the torn packages. The edge of the paper ignited. The next they knew, there was a small explosion. A burning fragment of paper was thrown onto another package. It, too, exploded, setting off the next one, which set off the next.
"The pack!" screamed Elladan. "Don't let the pack catch fire!"
Anomen was nearest the pack. He seized one strap and tried to drag it away from the exploding packages of powder. Ai! Just then fiery fragments from a bursting package fell into the pack. There was a mighty roar. Projectiles soared into the sky. Elladan and Elrohir were thrown to the ground, and Anomen was sent flying several feet.
Elladan and Elrohir staggered to their feet, gagging and coughing, covered in soot and dust. They looked about for Anomen.
"Anomen's on fire," shrieked Elrohir. "Go for help!"
Elladan sprinted for the Hall. Ripping off his tunic, Elrohir ran to Anomen and used the garment to smother the flames in his hair and on his back.
Within minutes Elladan had returned with help, for alerted by the explosions, Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor, and Mithrandir had already been hastening toward the stable.
At first they thought Elrohir was the worst injured, for he was crying bitterly, his dirty, sooty faced streaked with tears.
"It's my fault," he wept. "I knocked over the candle."
"Where are you hurt, my son?" Elrond asked anxiously.
"I'm not hurt a bit, but, oh, poor Anomen!"
Anomen was sitting up by then, and although he was as dirty as Elrohir, no injuries were apparently—from the front. It was only when they examined his back that they realized how truly seriously he might be hurt. His hair was scorched to the scalp, and the back of his tunic had been burned away. Ever so carefully, Glorfindel lifted him in his arms and began to carry him toward the Hall. Elrond and Mithrandir hurried ahead to prepare salves and bandages. As for Erestor, he walked alongside, holding and stroking one of Anomen's dangling hands, for the elfling was beginning to moan.
Elrohir and Elladan trailed along behind, Elrohir crying and Elladan trying to comfort him.
"Ada is a great healer, and Mithrandir is very wise. You will see—Anomen will recover."
But Elrohir could not be comforted.