Returning From The Dead

by Elf Eye

Another in "The Nameless One" series. Set after "Revenge."

8. Of Wolves And Wild Men

Folks, this is another domestic interlude at Rivendell.  You can consider it the calm before the Orc storm that will rain down upon the Imladris Elves.

Joee: I don't mind at all when you point out the slip-ups.  Actually, I appreciate your sharp eye and the opportunity to make corrections.

Thanks also to the following readers for their responses and encouragement: Kitsune, Karri, Ky, Jebb, Farflung, dd9736, Daw the Minstrel, and Dragonfly.  If I weren't kind of ploughed under here, I've try to write an individual note to each of you.  Maybe next chapter, I will be able to.  Sorry about that, folks.  I don't want you to think I don't appreciate your reviews because I really, really do!

Vocabulary

Celaimîr—'Bright Jewel', daughter of the Heard Armorer and sister of Celaithand

Celaithand—'Bright Shield', son of the Heard Armorer and brother of Celaimîr

Lendsiniath—'Sweet Tidings', daughter of the Head Cook

Malthenêl—'Golden Star', niece of Glorfindel and twin of Malthenrî

Malthenrî—'Golden Wreath', niece of Glorfindel and twin of Malthenêl

Meluifaer—'Lovely Spirit', relative of Haldir, visiting from Lothlórien

Miluithand—'Kind Warrior', daughter of Berenmaethor

            A golden-haired Elf rode at a leisurely pace through the gates of Rivendell.  Seemingly he knew his way about, for he went straight to the stable, where he entrusted his mount to a stable hand before sauntering toward the Hall.  At the entrance, the Door Warden recognized him instantly and bowed deeply.

            "Master Haldir, it is an honor to greet you."

            "Thank you."

            "Lord Elrond is within.  Would you like to proceed to his chamber?"

            "Thank you, but not just yet.  First I would like to exchange these travel garments for something a little cleaner.  Is my old room free?"

            "Yes, Master Haldir.  I will see that your belongings are brought to it."

            "That will not be necessary.  I have only the one pack."

            Haldir strode directly to the room where he had stayed the last time he had visited Imladris.  He had hardly drawn fresh clothes from his pack when he heard a knock on the door and servants entered bearing towels, fragrant oils, and a vessel of steaming water to pour into the bathing cauldron that stood in the antechamber.  After they had left, Haldir dipped cold water from the small reservoir in the corner of the antechamber, adding it to the hot water in the cauldron until his bath was at a temperature to his liking.  Then, with a contented sigh, he slipped into the tub.

            Bang!  The door flew open and slammed against the wall.

            "Haldir!  Mae govannen!" chorused two voices.

            Haldir groaned.

            "You couldn't let me bathe in peace, could you?  You just had to come bursting in."

            "Of course," said Elladan sweetly.  "We know how much you enjoy our company."

"Yes," added Elrohir.  "And we would be remiss in our duties if we didn't try to make you feel at home.'

"We plan to treat you like one of the family," averred Elladan.  "Anomen is not here at the moment, and we miss having a brother upon which to lavish our attention."

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Haldir in mock alarm.  "In that case I am returning to Lothlórien directly!"

Elrohir picked up Haldir's clothes.

"Elladan, we should put Haldir's clothes in a safe place, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes," his brother agreed, his face the picture of concern.  "We wouldn't want his clothes to be mislaid, now, would we?"

Haldir tried to look aggrieved but in the end could not help laughing.

"Very well.  I swear that I will not return to Lórien—now give me back my clothes!"

Elrohir feinted a throw into the tub but instead tossed the clothes back onto the bench where they had laid before.

"So, Haldir, what brings you to Rivendell—other than your desire for our company, that is?"

"I carry letters from the Lord and the Lady and from your sister."

"Arwen!" exclaimed Elladan, delighted.  "Has she written to us?"

"I don't know why she would bother," replied Haldir haughtily, "but, yes, there is a letter for each of you in my pack."

He had scarcely finished speaking before Elrohir had upended his pack, pouring the contents upon the floor.

"You rascal!" cried Haldir, indignantly, "aren't you going to pick up my belongings!?"

"That would be a silly thing to do," replied Elrohir, "as you will surely want to put your things away, and I don't know where you plan to store each item.  But at least I have unpacked everything for you!  When you have finished bathing," he added, "will you ride with us?"

"Those are the only clean garments I have left.  If I go riding with you hellions, I'm sure I shall get them filthy again, and then what will I wear to Elrond's table?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," said Elladan breezily.  "You can borrow some of ours until yours are washed.  Meet us in the garden!"

With that the twins vanished from the room so that they could read their letters before riding.  Haldir gave a sigh of relief.  At least he would be able to dress without having to endure a running commentary from the twins.

As soon as Haldir had washed and dressed, he headed for the garden.  As promised, the two twins were waiting for him, lounging on the grass in front of a statue of Gil-galad.  They leapt up at the sight of their friend.

"To the stable!" proclaimed Elrohir, striking a heroic pose.

At that very moment a little human trotted around the corner, followed, much to Haldir's surprise, by a small dog.

"Who is that human?"

"Oh," replied Elladan, "that is Estel.  Ada is fostering him because his own father was slain by Orcs."

"Estel," called Elrohir.   "Come and greet our friend Haldir.  He has just now arrived from Lothlórien."

The urchin approached.  "Mae govannen!" he crowed.  "You are most welcome!"  Then, without warning, Estel leaped into the arms of Haldir, greatly startling the Elf, although he did maintain enough presence of mind to hang on to the little human and not drop him.

            Nonplussed, Haldir looked about at the two Elves who stood watching with smiles on their faces.  He hoped that one of them would give him a clue as to what he was supposed to do next.  Clinging to him was a little human—not only that, but a grubby little human whose odor was, ah, pungent, to say the least.  This tiny and stinky Dunadan tightened his grip, embracing Haldir enthusiastically, and, tentatively at first, the Elf hugged him back.  Estel rewarded him with an open-hearted smile, and from that moment forth the Lórien Elf cherished the young human.  "That one," he thought to himself, "will be a bold and passionate and honest leader, someone trusted and followed by both Elves and Men.  Indeed, I would wager my life that his smile could melt even the suspicious heart of a Dwarf!"

            "We are going riding, Estel," said Elladan.  "Would you like to come with us?"

            "Oh, yes!"

            "Then put Gwaurant in his pen, and meet us at the stable."

            The boy ran off, and the Elves proceeded to the stable.  As they entered it, Haldir was delighted to see that Anomen's horse was in one of the stalls.

            "Wonderful!  Anomen has come back!  Where is he?"

            "His horse is here," said Elladan, "but that is only because he went on foot         to the Shire with one of the Dúnadan."

            Haldir was disappointed.  Elrohir hastened to reassure him.

            "Gandalf went after them, and we have lately received word that both he and Anomen have set out to return to Rivendell.  Indeed, they may be here within the week."

            "Gandalf?"

            "Oh, that is one of Mithrandir's names."

            "Ah, yes, of course."

            The three Elves led their horses out of the stable were soon joined by an eager Estel.  Haldir obligingly agreed to let Estel ride before him, thus unknowingly inspiring in the child the same admiration that he himself already felt for the human.

            The next morning Elladan, Elrohir, and Haldir went out riding again, but Estel, to his disgust, was collared by Erestor and dragged off to the library for the usual lessons.  Fortunately, he was not unprepared for such a contingency.

            Estel had never been known for taking much trouble over his garments.  The simpler the better, that was his motto—and the fewer the better.  His cloak in particular he despised.  He viewed it as a hindrance, for it weighed him down, got caught on thorns, and, worst of all, it provided something for adults to grab for when he was trying to escape Cooks in kitchens and Tutors in libraries.  Lately, however, he had taken to faithfully wearing his cloak even on days when the weather was fine.

            There was a perfectly good reason for this sudden change.  As Glorfindel had demonstrated, a puppy could be hidden under a cloak.  Before Erestor had tracked him down, Estel had retrieved Gwaurant from the pen in the garden when the puppy spent his time when his master was otherwise occupied.  Thus, unbeknownst to Erestor, the tutor was escorting a puppy as well as a child into his belovéd library.

Once Estel was seated as his usual table, there was one disconcerting moment when his tutor noticed that he had kept on his cloak.

"Why don't you take off your cloak, Estel.  Won't it hinder you as you do your lessons?"

"Oh, it won't get in the way of my hand," exclaimed Estel, reaching for a quill and ink pot to demonstrate.

"Yes, but will you be quite comfortable?"

"I am a little cold, Erestor.  That is why I want to keep on my cloak."

Erestor looked at the child with concern.

"You are not feeling ill, are you, Estel?"

"Oh, no," Estel assured his tutor.  Then he suddenly realized that he might be excused from lessons if he were ill.

"We-ell, actually, perhaps I am coming down with something."  He looked hopefully at Erestor.

Ai! Too late.  Erestor had been a tutor for centuries.  Estel's momentary hesitation was going to cost him.

"No good, Estel.  You are not a convincing liar."

Estel was bewildered.   He had certainly practiced enough, hadn't he?  He sighed and opened his book to the page where he had left off the day before.  Erestor, for his part, resumed his laborious copying of a chronicle of the Last Alliance that had been requested by Saruman, one containing great amount of detail about the fabled Ring of Power.  It was not often that Saruman requested documents from Imladris, and Erestor was determined that this manuscript would do him proud.  He had been putting even greater care into copying it than he usually did—and that is saying a lot!

            By and by a messenger came to inform Erestor that Elrond and Glorfindel had need of a certain map.  Erestor did not have it at hand but sent away the messenger with assurances that he would bring it shortly.  The ink on the page he was working on was of course wet, so he did not wish to close the folio.  Instead, he carefully laid it on the floor next to his table—first checking to see that the flagstones were spotless!—and then, his working space clear, his proceeded to unroll several scrolls until he found the one that was wanted.  Map in hand, Erestor prepared to leave the library.  At the door, he stopped and looked sternly at Estel.

            "If you slip out of the library before you have finished your task, I'll give you twice as many pages tomorrow!  Keep that in mind if you think to run off and get into mischief!"

            Estel bent diligently over his book and with one hand scratched away with his quill while with his other he scratched between the ears of his puppy.  After awhile, the puppy began to squirm.  At last Estel was reluctantly forced to put it upon the floor, and it wandered off to investigate various corners of the library.  Ai! As it investigated each corner, it left a little something to mark its progress, as dogs are wont to do.

            Estel, meanwhile, was himself making slow progress on his sums.

            "If you have twelve arrows and see seven crows, how many extra arrows have you?"  What did it matter? Estel wondered.  Obviously, in such a case, he would have enough arrows, and that was all that mattered, really.  Besides, he wouldn't want to use his arrows to bring down crows, anyway.  They were tough, and their flesh was nasty.

            "If a Troll has nine bags of gold and steals three more from a passing merchant, how many bags will he have in all?"  Estel wondered what had happened to the merchant in the encounter.  That, he thought, was a much more serious matter than how many useless bags of gold a Troll would add to its hoard.

            "If a Dwarf has three pickaxes and offers to trade you one pickaxe for three bottles of wine, how many bottles of wine will you need to acquire all three pickaxes?"  What a silly question!  He didn't want even one pickaxe!  Whatever was he going to do with three!?

            "If you are one hundred leagues from Lothlórien, and you are traveling ten leagues per day, how many days will it take you to reach Lothlórien?"  Honestly, he should just travel as fast as he could, and then he would arrive as quickly as possible!  Whatever else was there to consider?

            Estel idly flipped forward several chapters in his book.  He stopped, horrified.

            "You are five-hundred leagues from Minas Tirith.  You set out for Minas Tirith on foot, traveling five leagues a day.  A friend of yours is leaving Minas Tirith on the same day and traveling toward you.  He is on horseback and covering ten leagues per day.  How many days until the two of you meet?"

            So, if he made it through today's chapter and the next and the next, he eventually would have to wrestle with problems such as this one.  "Rather wrestle with a Warg!" muttered the disconsolate little human.  "Rather walk to Minas Tirith!"

            Just then he heard laughter.  He sprang from his seat and looked out the window.  Elladan, Elrohir, and Haldir were back from their ride.  Forgetting completely about his sums, Estel raced for the door.

            Of course, Reader, you have no doubt noticed that he also completely overlooked his puppy, who was still making—and marking—his progress throughout the library.  The puppy's breakfast was also progressing, of course, and at length he deposited the remnants of it onto the floor.  Having now marked the library in every possible way, the puppy looked about for something to chew.  Vellum, as we all know, is made out of animal skin, and it was not too long before the puppy's nose led him to a copious supply of vellum—in the form of a manuscript lying on the floor next to a table.  With commendable vigor, the puppy tore into the manuscript. 

            After a while, the puppy had reduced the manuscript into strips.  Still chewing on a piece, the puppy wandered off in search of a corner in which to nap.  Just at this moment, Erestor re-entered the library.  What was that awful smell?  He wrinkled his sensitive elven nose in disgust at the acrid odor, and then, following said nose, he sought out and discovered one of the reeking puddles left by the puppy.  Of course, he did not know that this was the puppy's doing.  The tutor was, to put it mildly, aghast. Even worse, a few feet to the left of the puddle lay a more substantial deposit of, ah, discarded matter.  This is dreadful, thought the tutor, absolutely dreadful!  Erestor hurried to Estel's table.  No child.  Then he turned toward his own table—and caught sight of the manuscript, what was left of it, that is.

            Erestor stared in disbelief at the wreckage on the floor.  What could have happened here!?  Ai! The puppy had heard his steps and anxious to play, he chose that moment to come capering around the corner.  The tell-tale scrap of manuscript dangled from his mouth.

            "You, you, you wolf!" spluttered the furious Erestor.  "You warg!  You beast of Mordor!"

            The tutor swooped down upon the puppy and seized it by the scruff of its neck.

            "Elrond should never have permitted that man-child to keep a beast in the Hall.  It's not natural!  It's not done!  Well, I'll make certain that you never chew another book, you may be sure of it!"

            Erestor seized a bag and stuffed the puppy into it.  Then he began to stride from the library, to head for the front door.  Suddenly he stopped.

            "Hmmm.  I'd better steal a page from Anomen."

The tutor went to the window—fortunately, the library was on the main level—and awkwardly clambered through it, letting himself down into the garden.  From there he stole away into the forest of Imladris, making for the River Bruinen.  Once he had reached the woods, rapidly, and in a fury, he stormed through them until he stood on the banks of the swift-flowing river.  He pulled the puppy from the satchel.  The little beast looked at him joyfully, wagging its tail and licking the tutor's hand.  Erestor stood irresolute for a minute.  At last he addressed the puppy.

"You are a little wolf, and wolves live in the forest.  In fact, there is a very nice wolf pack hereabouts, and I am sure they would be delighted to make your acquaintance."

Erestor put the puppy upon the ground.

"I am going back to the Hall.  Men and Elves live in Halls.  You stay here in the forest and seek out your kin."

Erestor turned and began to walk back toward the Hall.  The puppy followed at his heels.  Erestor walked faster.  Delighted at the outdoor exercise, the puppy began to frisk about.  Erestor started to run.  Finally, out of breath, he stopped.  Ai!  There was the puppy, trotting up to him, tail wagging, tongue lolling.

"Stop following me!" shouted Erestor.  "I didn't drown you!  What more do you want from me?"

He hastened on.

But the puppy continued to follow the tutor, its tail wagging.

At last Erestor removed the laces from one of his boots and tied one end around the puppy's neck, the other around a sapling.

"There," he said with satisfaction. "By the time you work yourself free, I'll be far away from here.  Then you shall find yourself a nice wolf pack, and all shall be well."

Cheerfully, Erestor set off in the direction of the Hall.  After walking for no more than a quarter of an hour, he was surprised and dismayed to hear a growling sound behind him.  Had the puppy gotten loose so quickly?  And what was the matter with it that it was growling in such a deep tone.  Erestor turned around—and saw a wolf slinking out from behind a tree.

Now, wolves usually were no problem in Imladris.  Matters were different in Mirkwood, which was infested with fell wolves, as Anomen had reason to know, having been pursued by them across the plain when he had first run away from home.  Packs of Imladris wolves, however, generally molested neither Elves nor Men.  Instead, as most wolves have done from time immemorial, they would stalk sick and old animals, encircling and isolating their victims and pulling them down once they were exhausted past resistance.  Unfortunately, the wolf hungrily eyeing Erestor was a lone wolf, a rogue.  He had been crippled in the fight with a younger wolf that had driven him out of his pack, and now, famished, with no pack to hunt with, he would try to pull down whatever he came across, Man, Elf, or animal.

Erestor had only the knife that all Elves carried as a matter of course, and he doubted it would help him much against the determined attack of a wolf, even a crippled one.  He glanced swiftly about at the nearest trees and saw that their lowest branches were out of reach.  With one hand he drew his knife and with the other he seized the longest stick in sight, hoping to use both knife and stick to fend off the wolf.  If he could hold off the beast long enough, perhaps he could gradually move toward a tree whose branches he could reach.  Or perhaps someone would happen by within hearing and come to his aid.

The wolf snarled and began to circle his intended prey.  Erestor turned, keeping face, knife, and stick toward the wolf.  Again and again the wolf feinted toward the Elf, and again and again the Elf fended him off.  Unfortunately, the wolf, though crippled, was a canny and skillful hunter, and he kept himself between Erestor and any vegetation that might provide the tutor shelter.  At length the Elf began to tire, and, despairingly, he saw that he was no closer to any tree that he could possibly climb.  The wolf was charging more aggressively, no doubt sensing that his quarry was weakening.  It was at this point that Erestor heard the snarling of a second beast.  He felt sick.  So this was how he was going to depart Arda—torn to shreds by wolves.  Would there even be enough of him left to enter the Halls of Mandos?  The branches of a bush behind the crippled wolf parted—and into the battle charged Gwaurant, trailing behind him Erestor's broken boot laces.

The puppy flung himself at the wolf.  At first that beast attempted to deal with both Elf and puppy simultaneously, but, in his crippled state, he could make little headway.  Futilely, he alternately snapped at Elf and puppy, but both of his intended targets eluded him again and again.  At last the worrying of the puppy drove the wolf to madness, and he turned his entire attention to the little creature.  Gwaurant yelped as the wolf sank its teeth into his foreleg.  But as the wolf tightened its grip upon the puppy, he was distracted from the Elf, who flung himself upon the beast and plunged his blade into its neck.  The wolf jerked convulsively once or twice and fell dead, the puppy's leg still in its mouth.  Erestor carefully pried Gwaurant's leg free from the jaws of the dead wolf and gently cradled the whimpering puppy in his arms.

"You are a brave little fellow," he whispered.  "And I did not deserve your aid!"

Erestor knelt down upon the forest floor and laid the puppy in a pile of leaves.  The tutor had come away from the Hall without his cloak.  He removed his tunic and tore off several strips with which to bind the puppy's leg.  Then he used the rest of his tunic to wrap up the puppy.

"I must keep you warm," Erestor declared, "and carry you to Elrond as quickly as I may.  He will bind your leg properly, and soon it will be mended.  Do not doubt that for a minute, Gwaurant!"

With that Erestor arose, and, holding the puppy to his chest, he began to run in the direction of the Hall.

At the Hall, Elrond's household by that time had assembled in the dining hall for the noon meal.  Estel was peppering Haldir with questions about Lothlórien.

"I shall journey to Lothlórien someday," Estel declared.  "Won't I, Ada?" he said, turning to Elrond.

"I am sure that you will," agreed Elrond.  "You will journey many places, I do not doubt."

"If that is so," said Estel.  "I should practice my horseback riding as much as possible, shouldn't I?"

"Ye-es," said Elrond slowly.  Where was this leading?

"For example, I should have gone riding this morning—and if Elladan'n'Elrohir'n'Haldir are going riding this afternoon I should go!"

The table erupted into laughter.

"I am afraid, little brother," said Elladan gently, "that we are not going horseback riding this afternoon.

Estel looked crushed.

"No, indeed," said Elrohir.  "Instead, we are going swimming."

Estel cheered up immediately.

"Ada, I need to practice my swimming, too.  What if I should fall into a river someday!?"

"You did finish your morning lessons, did you not?"

Estel felt a twinge of guilt.

"Ada, if a boy has twelve problems and finishes nine, has he really left so many problems undone that he may not go swimming?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Elrond.  He turned to Glorfindel.

"Glorfindel, my friend, you do the math!"

"I believe that would leave a remainder of three problems," said the balrog-slayer gravely, "which would mean that three-quarters of the problems were completed.  If my elfling archers achieve such a success rate, I am satisfied."

"In that case," said Elrond, turning back to Estel, "if your brothers and their guest do not object, you may go swimming."

Estel looked over at them hopefully.  They smiled and nodded back at him.  Estel leaped to his feet.

"First I must feed and water Gwaurant," declared Estel.  "Twice a day he must have fresh food and fresh water."

Elrond nodded approvingly as the little human raced off.

"I have never had to remind him to feed and water his puppy."

A few minutes later, Estel was back, an alarmed expression upon his face.

"Ada, Gwaurant is not in his pen!"

"Did you leave the gate open, Estel?"

"No!  It was closed!  Oh, Ada, what if a hawk has taken Gwaurant!"

"I think Gwaurant is much too big to be taken by any of the hawks that live hereabouts.  Think, Estel, is there anyplace else you could have left Gwaurant, anyplace other than the pen?"

Estel thought for a moment, and then a very guilty expression stole over his face.

"Ada, I am afraid that I hid Gwaurant under my cloak this morning and took him into the library.  I put him down after awhile, when Erestor was out of the room, and, and, I guess I must have forgotten about him when and I ran out of the library to see Haldir."

"You guess you forgot about him?"

"I forgot about him," said Estel miserably.

"He has been in the library for several hours, then."

"Yes, Ada."

"Well, go and fetch your puppy, and then I imagine that you will have quite a bit of cleaning to do.  You had better hope that you can mop up the mess before Erestor discovers it."

"Yes, Ada."

Estel raced off.  Elrond shook his head, smiling.  All too soon, however, his smile faded as Estel, his face streaked with tears, came running back into the garden.

"Ada, there is a mess in the library, and Gwaurant has chewed up a book, but he is not there!  He has gotten out somehow."

Elrond thought that it was highly unlikely that the puppy could have escaped from the library on its own—the heavy doors never stood open and the windows were surely out of reach—but he forbore mentioning that to Estel.

"Estel, what book did Gwaurant chew up?"

"That manuscript Erestor has been working on this past fortnight."

This was not good, but Elrond did not want to alarm the child.

"Estel," he said soothingly, "Gwaurant will probably turn up on his own when he grows hungry.  But if he does not, we will search for him.  For now, clean up the mess in the library, and then go with your brothers and do not allow your concern for your puppy to ruin an afternoon of swimming."

"Yes, Ada," said Estel, his shoulders slumped, his voice dispirited.

When he was gone, Elrond turned to Glorfindel.

"Erestor was not at lunch."

"True."

"Have you seen him at all since he delivered the map?"

"No.  Have you?"

"No."  Elrond sighed.  "The manuscript Erestor has been working on for a fortnight.  I'll warrant that Erestor knows what happened to the puppy."

            Glorfindel nodded, and then the balrog-slayer growled, "If he's done anything to that puppy, I'll, I'll, I'll make him eat the entire Chronicle of Eregion, down to the last sentence!"

            "No, you won't," said Elrond.

            "Yes, I will," insisted Glorfindel.

            "No, you won't.  You'll make him eat the entire Chronicle of Eriador.  It's longer—and dustier!"

            Glorfindel looked wickedly gleeful.

            "Right you are, Elrond.  The Chronicle of Eriador it shall be!"

            "Good.  Now let us return to my chamber and finish drawing up plans for the next sortie to the Misty Mountains."

            As the two elf-lords sat conversing in Elrond's chamber, Erestor, still clutching the puppy to his chest, was racing toward the gates of Rivendell.  He had taken a painfully direct route through the forest, bulling his way through the undergrowth no matter what the cost to his dignity or skin.  His leggings had beein shredded by thorns, and so many leaves were caught in his hair that his head seemed wreathed in them.

            An astonished Door Warden saw the tutor running pell-mell toward the Hall—only he did not realize that it was the tutor.  He thought a half-naked Wild Man had emerged from the forest of Imladris.

"You there," he shouted.  "Stop!  Halt!  Desist!  Wait!  Oooomph!"

"It is a Wild Man!" thought the Door Warden as he lay sprawled upon the ground.  "Doesn't understand speech!"  The Door Warden leaped to his feet and set off in pursuit of the Wild Man, who was running full tilt through the corridors of the Hall, knocking aside or running over anyone unfortunate enough to stand in his path.

Elrond was deep in conversation with Glorfindel over the balrog-slayer's plans for the sortie when the door to his chamber banged open and a woodland creature sprang into the room.  It was clad in muddy boots and the remnants of leggings, its face was streaked with dirt, its hair tangled and filled with leaves.  It clutched a bundle to its chest.  Behind it raced the Door Warden, shouting and gesticulating.

The creature came to halt, drew itself upright, and proffered the bundle to Elrond.

"Elrond," it gasped, "quick, take it—ooomph!"

The Door Warden had tackled the creature, and the bundle went flying.  Fortunately, Elrond had the presence of mind to catch it, else things might have gone even worse for the puppy—not to mention Erestor!

"In the name of Manwë," roared Glorfindel, "what is going on here!?"

"The puppy," gasped Erestor, who had been pinned down by the Door Warden, "the puppy."

Quickly Elrond unwrapped the bundle, revealing a puppy that weakly wagged its tail and tried to lick the elf-lord's hand.

"Glorfindel, bring me the bag of herbs from the cupboard yonder.  Then ask the Cook to heat water.  Oh, and fetch some clean towels from the laundry."

The Door Warden was still sitting on top of Erestor.

"Elrond!" cried the tutor.

"Oh, yes, of course."  Elrond nodded at the Warden.  "You may let him up and return to your post.  Thank you."

Erestor rose to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster, but, as Elrond was intent upon checking the puppy's injuries, it really didn't matter.  The tutor gratefully slipped from the chamber and headed for his own room, there to try to repair the damage to his appearance—not to mention his reputation!

            With Glorfindel holding Gwaurant, Elrond carefully cleaned the puppy's leg.  To his relief, he saw that, although the wound reached to the bone, the leg itself was not broken.  It the injury were cleaned and dressed carefully, the puppy would most likely recover without any crippling injury.  Elrond gently bathed the wound, speaking soothingly to the puppy all the while, spread a healing paste upon it, and firmly bound it with clean linen.  By the time he had finished, the puppy was squirming so vigorously in Glorfindel's hands that it was plain that Estel's little dog was already on the mend.  Elrond wondered if there were such a thing as an elven dog, so remarkable did Gwaurant's recovery seem to be.

            At about this time, Erestor cautiously knocked upon the door.  He could not help but be anxious over the health of the puppy.

            "Enter," called Elrond.

            The picture of diffidence, Erestor entered the room.  Glorfindel all but growled at him, but Elrond silenced the balrog-slayer with a look.

            "As Estel is my student," said Erestor gruffly, "I am of course concerned over his well-being.  He won't be able to concentrate on his studies if anything happens to that dratted dog.  So, I am, uh, of course, concerned."

            "As you have already stated," replied Elrond mildly.  "Do not fear.  Gwaurant likely will recover completely."

            Erestor began to smile but hastily resumed his usual dour expression.

            "That is good, Elrond," he said stiffly.  He turned to leave, but just then the door was flung open with a crash.  Estel had returned from swimming, and the Door Warden had told him that his puppy had been recovered.

            "Ada! Ada!  Is he well!?  Is Gwaurant well!?"

            Elrond reassured the child that his puppy was indeed well.

            "Where had he gotten himself to, Ada?"

            Elrond thought a judicious lie might be in order.  Actually, it was not so much a lie as an explanation that carefully omitted some details and stated others ambiguously enough to allow Estel to reach erroneous conclusions.

"Estel," the elf-lord said gravely.  "You must make sure that you put your puppy in his pen when you are not with him.  Gwaurant ended up in the forest.  Erestor brought him back, but not before Gwaurant and Erestor had encountered a wolf!  Erestor carried Gwaurant back to the Hall."

"Oh!" gasped Estel, carefully hugging his puppy so as not to disturb its injured leg. "Gwaurant, I am so sorry!"

Elrond cleared his throat.

"Thank you for bringing back my puppy, Erestor," the child added quickly.

Erestor hardly knew how to look.

"You are welcome, Estel," he said awkwardly.

Glorfindel was smirking at Erestor's discomfort.

"Erestor, how kind of you to bring back Estel's puppy.  As you have taken such pains over Gwaurant, I gather that you no longer object to his presence in the Hall.  Perhaps you will now even permit him to accompany Estel into the library."

Erestor turned a little pale, and Elrond decided that he had best intervene.

"I think the puppy is still a little too rambunctious to be permitted in the library."

Erestor looked relieved.

"Of course," added Elrond, "not all learning takes place in a library.  Erestor, Gwaurant has returned from his, ah, adventure, rather dirty.  As Estel's tutor, could you show the lad how to properly bathe his puppy?  It seems to me that it would be highly appropriate for you to take on this task—indeed, I can think of no Elf for whom it would be more fitting."

For centuries Erestor had watched Elrond as he meted out painfully appropriate punishments upon members of his household.  Ai!  How humiliating to be on the receiving end of one of the elf-lord's judgments!

The next morning, Erestor and Estel met in the garden next to Gwaurant's pen, where the Head Gardener had caused a small tub to be placed.  Erestor helped Estel fill it with several inches of water, and then the two went to the kitchen, where a pot of water had been heated for them.  Returning to the garden, they carefully measured hot water into the tub until Erestor judged that it was the proper temperature.  Removing Gwaurant's collar, they lifted the puppy into the water.  Erestor then sat back to 'superintend'.  He sighed but consoled himself by thinking that at least the puppy would no longer stink.  Of course, Erestor thought gloomily to himself, even if the puppy no longer stank, Estel still would.  Odd, the child had just gone swimming the day before, and yet he had still managed to once again collect the usual odors that could be detected by anyone who came within six feet of him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a shout from Estel.

"Erestor, I cannot make Gwaurant stay in the water!"

Erestor looked over at the boy, who was struggling to keep the wet and wriggling puppy in the tub.  Suddenly he had an inspiration.

"Estel, the puppy does not know what you want of him.  You must show him."

"Show him?"

"Yes, you must climb into the tub and sit in the water.  Gwaurant will imitate you, I am sure."

Estel made as if to climb into the tub.

"Estel, remember that we removed Gwaurant's collar."

"Oh, of course."

Estel quickly kicked off boots, tunic, and leggings and then climbed into the tub, cheerfully plopping himself down in the water beside Gwaurant.  As Erestor had predicted, the puppy stopped trying to climb out of the tub.

"Now," continued Erestor slyly, "you must show the puppy that he is to be lathered up.  Wet your hair, and rub some of that soap into it."

So enthusiastically did Estel launch into this part of the puppy's 'lesson', that he was soon almost invisible beneath a layer of foam.

"Make sure that you clean yourself all over," called Erestor, "as the puppy will have to be cleaned all over.  Your legs, your arms, your hands, your feet, your neck—don't miss a spot, else Gwaurant may balk when it comes time to wash that part of his body."

Estel could be very thorough when he chose to be, and this was one of those times.  When he was done, it seemed to Erestor that his hair was several shades lighter.  The tutor also noticed for the first time that Estel had a birthmark, one that looked very much like the elven word for nine.

"How curious," Erestor thought.  "I believe Anomen has a birthmark that is very similar."  But then he turned his attention back to the puppy's lesson.

"I think you may lather up the puppy now, Estel.  You have done an excellent job of demonstrating to him how he must be bathed."

As enthusiastically as Estel had bathed himself, he now bathed his puppy.  And this is how Gandalf and Anomen found them as, having just arrived at Rivendell, they passed through the garden.

"Goodness!" exclaimed the wizard.  "Has there been magic at work here?"

"No," replied the tutor smugly.  "This is my doing."

"Well, well, Erestor, you have outdone yourself—and performed a great service to the denizens of Imladris!  I hope you will be able to repeat the performance."

"Can we," asked Estel eagerly.

Erestor looked solemn.

"Of course, we would not want to bathe the puppy too often—"

"Oh, please, Erestor!"

"—but there would probably be no harm in bathing him once a week—perhaps more often if he is particularly dirty."

"Thank you, Erestor!  Thank you!"

Erestor waved his hand dismissively.

"Think nothing of it, Estel.  Think nothing of it."  The tutor turned to Anomen, who was nearly choking as he attempted not to laugh.

"Anomen, would you be so kind as to run up to Estel's chamber to fetch him clean leggings and tunic—oh, and we need an extra towel, for we only brought the one for Gwaurant?"

Anomen nodded—he did not trust himself to speak!—and he hurried off.  Returning soon with the requested items, he toweled off Estel while Erestor carefully dried Gwaurant.

"There now," said the tutor at last.  "Now Gwaurant must be taken to Elrond so that he can dress the wound anew.  Anomen, would you help Estel carry the puppy to Elrond's chamber while I will empty the water and tidy up hereabouts?"

"Yes, Erestor," replied Anomen, who had finally found his voice.  "I shall be glad to."

Off went the young Elf and the little human, leaving Gandalf behind to both chaff and assist Erestor.  In short order the garden was restored to its former state, and Erestor strolled off with Gandalf to enjoy a quiet—and well-earned!—conversation about their respective doings over the last few months.

Meanwhile, Anomen, carrying Gwaurant, had accompanied Estel to Elrond's chamber.

"Ah, Anomen, back at last," declared that elf-lord.  "And has Gandalf come as well?"

"Yes, Ada.'

"Excellent," said the elf-lord, possibly referring both to the return of Anomen and Gandalf as well as the condition of Gwaurant's leg.  "You will be glad to know that Haldir has only just arrived, carrying letters from Lothlórien."

"Haldir!" exclaimed Anomen.  "May I be dismissed, Ada?  I would very much like to see him."

"Yes, of course, Anomen.  Here, that will do it," said Elrond, handing the newly bandaged puppy to Estel.  "Estel, put Gwaurant back in his pen.  He should rest for a bit.  Then no doubt you can help Anomen find his friend Haldir.'

"Yes, Ada," said Estel cheerfully.  Chattering gaily, he and Anomen hurried off.

Only a few minutes later Elrond heard a knock on the door.  Before he could even say, "Enter," the twins burst into his chamber.  Elrond frowned, but they ignored his expression.

"The Door Warden says that Anomen has come back!  Is that so?"  They spoke as one.

"Yes, he is back—as is Gandalf.  And now they have returned, I think it is time to hold a feast in honor of our guest from Lothlórien."

"A feast," exclaimed Elrohir.  "That would be wonderful!"

"Yes, and the highlight of the feast will be a dance."

"A dance?" said Elladan, looking blank.

"Yes, a dance.  I am sure that you are familiar with the concept.  Graceful movement in time to music."

"And with whom," said Elrohir cautiously, "will we be dancing?"

"The elf-maidens, of course.  They have been petitioning their matron these many months for an opportunity to dance with the young elves.  The matron's words to me were that, 'The elf-maidens are dying for a dance'."

"And now," said Elladan gloomily, "we shall be 'dying for a dance'."

"I assure you," said Elrond smiling, "that dancing with elf-maidens is much less painful than dancing with Orcs.  And," he teased, "dancing is often a prelude to other activities that, I have it on good authority, you two have lately been expressing interest in."

Both young Elves blushed.

"Elladan," said Elrohir hastily, "let us go find Haldir and inform him of the upcoming festivities.'

"Aye, brother, let's."

With that, the twins retreated, leaving Elrond in sole possession of his chamber for the first time in several days.

Elladan and Elrohir found Haldir in the Hall of Fire in deep conversation with Glorfindel over the relative merits of the bow versus the sword.  The twins hailed them and then began to tease the Lórien Elf.

"Haldir," grinned Elrohir.  "We have got something fun planned for you!"

            Haldir looked at him warily.  He was well aware of what Elrohir considered to be 'fun'.  Elladan laughed at the Lórien Elf's expression.

            "Why, Haldir," he teased, "you look as if you are about to walk into a nest of Orcs."

            "Hmmph," Haldir shot back.  "I'd feel safer if I were!"

            Elrohir professed astonishment.  "Haldir has just told a joke."

            Elladan pretended to do a double-take.  "By the Valar, next you know Erestor will be telling jokes, too!"

            "Elladan, Elrohir," growled Glorfindel.  "A little more deference toward your elders, if you please."

            "Oh, of course, my Lord Glorfindel," said Elrohir in mock contriteness.  "How could we have been so disrespectful to an elder Eldar!"

Glorfindel looked as if he were about to release the balrog-slayer within, so the twins seized Haldir and began to drag him away.

"Let's go find Anomen and tell him about the plans," suggested Elladan. 

At this very moment, Anomen and Estel were looking for Haldir, of course, and at last the two groups of searchers met up outside the stables.  Haldir and Anomen embraced each other warmly, but before they could exchange news, Elrohir triumphantly informed the two about the planned feast.  He made sure to stress that there would be dancing with elf-maidens.

Anomen was appalled.  He had always been uncomfortable at formal gatherings in Greenwood.  This sounded worse than any of those gatherings.  Moreover, the teasing of the twins made matters sound even more awful than they were.

"You had better practice smiling, Anomen," Elladan warned him.  "The entire night you are going to be surrounded by swooning Elf maidens."

"Yes," agreed Elrohir.  "And when they are not swooning, they will be tweaking your nose and saying how cute it is."

"And," added Elladan, "they will be running their hands through your hair, exclaiming how soft it is."

Even Haldir finally got into the spirit of things.

"And when they are not tweaking your nose, they will be pinching your cheek," he giggled.

This chaffing went on for several days.  At last, a desperate Anomen went to see Gandalf as the day of the feast drew near.

"Gandalf, would you please cast a spell that will make me ugly for the evening of the dance?"

More than a little taken aback by such an odd request, Gandalf stared at the young Elf.

"Anomen," he spluttered, "I am a wizard, not a miracle-worker!  Whatever makes you think I would cast such a spell?"

"Isn't it true that a wizard can turn a prince into a frog?  If that is so, surely it would be easy for you to give me warts and a squint!"

"What in Middle Earth are you talking about!?"

"Gandalf, I have read in the tales of Men that wizards are continually changing princes into frogs.  Surely, then, it would be a simple matter for you to make me as ugly as an amphibian!"

"Ah, the books of Men—Glorfindel has told me all about your fascination with their absurd but entertaining tales.  I also believe that he once explained to you that the real world is nothing like the world of fantasy that one finds in those tales."

"Of course," the wizard went on thoughtfully, "it is true that the fantasy world created by Men can be a very alluring place.  They go to much trouble to make it so.  I have seen books of Men in which they describe entirely imaginary lands, complete with invented geographies, languages, histories, creatures, and customs.  Such tales may cast an enchantment that even a wizard would be hard put to equal.  Remarkable achievement, really."

Anomen was impatient.  Gandalf's musings were not solving his problem.

"Gandalf," he moaned, "I am concerned with the real world just now.  Elrohir and Elladan say that, come the dance, I will be pursued the entire night by elf-maidens.  And they say the maidens will not leave off caressing my hair and holding my hand and pinching my cheeks!"

Gandalf was tempted to say, "Which cheeks?" but thought better of it.  Instead, he decided to be avuncular.

"There are worse things than to be pursued by maidens, Anomen," declaimed the wizard in his best 'wise counselor' voice.

"I don't know what," said Anomen miserably.

"Being pursued by Wargs, for one thing—I believe you have a little experience in that area.  Or, not being pursued by maidens.  That can be very bad."

"Not being pursued by maidens?" said Anomen, puzzled.

 "Now tell me truly, Anomen.  If Elladan and Elrohir and Haldir and all the others are being pursued by maidens all evening and you are not, how will you feel?"

"Delighted!"

"Oh, no, you won't.  If all your friends are surrounded by admiring maidens and you are being ignored, you will feel lonely and wistful, I can assure you."

"Pray tell me, Gandalf," Anomen retorted, "are you speaking from experience?"

Gandalf's eyes glittered dangerously as he returned Anomen's gaze.

"I have been pursued by many creatures, some dangerous, some—dangerous.  And now, if you don't leave off badgering me, mayhap I should change you into one of those frogs that you have been reading about."

"I thought you said you couldn't," teased Anomen.

"You did not listen carefully.  I said I wouldn't, not that I couldn't."

The Istar raised his staff.  Anomen decided that it was true, as Men are wont to say, that "discretion is the better part of valor."  The young Elf vanished like, well, like magic.

Gandalf chuckled and then grew thoughtful.  After a bit he sighed.

"I should look her up again sometime," he muttered.  Then he shrugged his shoulders and took out his pipe.  "If it's not an Orc gets in the way, it's a Warg.  Well, well, next Age, maybe."

Anomen had meanwhile betaken himself to the garden, there to brood over the trial that faced him the next evening.

"I could dye my hair green," he mused.  "Or I could chop it off altogether.  I could rub dirt into my face.  Ugh!" he exclaimed, shuddering, "I think not!"

"Or you could attend the dance in your usual guise, make Elrond proud of you, and mayhap even enjoy yourself."

"Glorfindel!  How long have you been standing there!?"

"Long enough," smirked the balrog-slayer.  "Tell me, Anomen, how is it that an Elf who has faced Dunlendings, Wargs, and Orcs, quails at the thought of entering a room filled with nothing more fearful than a band of laughing maidens?  I am surprised to find that you lack courage in the face of such adversaries!"

"It's not courage that I lack!" protested Anomen.

"Oh, then what is it?"

"It's, it's—I don't know what I lack!"

"Ah, mayhap because you lack nothing at all."

Anomen considered.  What was there to prevent him from enjoying himself at tomorrow's gathering?  After awhile, he shook his head.  Nothing, actually.  He looked up at Glorfindel and grinned.

"Oh, very well, Glorfindel.  I shall not do anything to my hair or face.  But if I am swarmed by maidens, you must come to my rescue!"

"Only if I do not need rescuing myself," Glorfindel said gravely.  "Do not forget that I am the balrog-slayer, a fact which many maidens find alluring.  And now, if you will pardon me, I am turning in early tonight.  I need to hoard my energy for the morrow.  You should rest as well.  You wouldn't want to disappoint any of the maidens, would you?"

With that, Glorfindel gave an elaborate bow and then turned away, leaving behind a very perplexed young Elf.

The next evening, immediately after a most excellent dinner, Elladan, Elrohir, Anomen, and Haldir cautiously entered the Hall of Fire in company with other, equally apprehensive young Elves.  There, on the far side of the chamber, clustered the elf-maidens, whispering to one another.  Elves on one side, elf-maidens on the other, it seemed as if there were an insurmountable, if invisible, barricade between the two groups.

Elrohir poked Anomen.  "That's Malthenêl."

"Malthenêl?"

"Glorfindel's niece!"

"Oh, yes, of course."

Malthenêl was the elf-maiden whom Elrohir had spoken of one day when they been out patrolling for signs of Orcs.  Dreamily, he had spun plans to ask her to accompany him riding.  To Anomen's knowledge, however, Elrohir had never actually worked up the nerve to actually approach her.

"What do you think of her?" said Elrohir, his face even dreamier than it had been on that prior occasion, if that were at all possible.

"She's very pretty.  But her hair is unusual for a Rivendell Elf.  It's golden."

"Troll-brain, what were you expecting!?  She comes of Glorfindel's family.  Kin usually resemble one another.  Your kin have golden hair, too.  Your father…."  Elrohir's voice trailed off as he realized what he was saying.  Anomen studied him carefully, unsure how he should react.

"Uh, what I mean is," Elrohir continued carefully, "that, no doubt your relatives, such as your father—just as an example!—have hair similar to yours.  Golden-haired children generally have golden-haired parents.  Um, does—did your father have golden hair?"

"Ye-es, I believe he did."

"Blue eyes, too, I'll wager."

"Um, yes, I think he did have blue eyes."

"So you look like him, isn't that right?"

"I suppose so, but" said Anomen, eager to change the subject, "tell me more about Malthenêl."

"There isn't much to tell.  We are age mates and we have always been good friends.  We used to play together quite a bit when we were little elflings.  You know how it is—the little elf lads and elf-maidens spend lots of time together romping about until several centuries have passed and they develop separate interests.  And then, after a few more centuries have passed, they once again long to spend lots of time together!"

Actually, Anomen did not know 'how it is', and he found Elrohir's casual familiarity with Malthenêl to be fascinating.  Until the age of five, he had had only one playmate, a little male elfling named Tathar.  Once he had been swept away to the Great Hall of King Thranduil, he really could not be said to have had any playmates—at least not until he had made the acquaintance of his cousin Tawarmaenas.  But that had not happened for several decades.

As he thought about his life in Mirkwood, he realized that he could not have been the only elfling.  He vaguely remembered that some elf lads and elf-maidens had been present in the Great Hall for various ceremonies and festivals.  Their presence had meant little to him, however, for he had always devoted all his energy to guarding against any public misstep that might have drawn his father's attention and provoked his disapproval.

"I wonder," he thought to himself, "if I will ever make any friends among the elf-maidens."  Then he bethought himself of the fact that, in spite of his lack of prior friendships with elf lads, he had easily become close to the twins and had gone on to make many other friends, both in Imladris and in Lothlórien.  Moreover, he and Arwen had always been fond of one another.  He had never felt shy around her.  He had never thought of her as an elf-maiden, but she was his foster-sister, and sisters were maidens.  Ergo, Arwen was a maiden.  If he had been able to talk to her, then why not to a maiden who was not his sister?  Could it be that much more difficult?

Anomen looked with renewed interest at the elf-maidens who had clustered together on the far side of the Hall of Fire.  Malthenêl, of course, he would not approach.  Elrohir would assuredly come up with something awful if he did—paint his face orange while he slept, no doubt.  He also noticed that Elladan could not leave off staring at a maiden who had been visiting from Lórien for several months—Meluifaer she was called, and she was kin to Haldir, although her hair was several shades darker than that Elf's.  Perhaps she came of a union between an Imladris and a Lothlórien Elf.

As Anomen continued to gaze at the elf-maidens, he realized that he did know a few of them.  That raven-haired maiden was Celaimîr, daughter of the Head Armorer and sister to Celaithrand, whom had served with Anomen in Taurmeldir's patrol.  Anomen had inevitably made her acquaintance on the long, sunny afternoons when he had had to serve penance for some misdeed or another by polishing, polishing, polishing.  Celaimîr would sometimes—actually, frequently—accompany her father to the armory on those days, and Anomen was invariably glad when she did, for her laughter and singing made the tedious hours pass more quickly.

That elf-maiden over there, with hair the color of honey, that was Lendsiniath, daughter of the Head Cook.  Anomen had become familiar with her in the same way that he had come to know Celaimîr.  When the Head Cook did catch Anomen raiding the kitchen—truth be told, he did it as frequently as Elladan and Elrohir but got away with it more often—he was set to scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing.  Lendsiniath would not only entertain him by singing and telling stories; she would also slip him bits of pastries or other delicacies.

It began to dawn upon Anomen that he had spent more hours in the company of elf-maidens that he had at first reckoned—he simply hadn't realized it at the time.  Still, the thought of openly striking up a conversation with an elf-maiden because, well, because she was an elf-maiden, that was daunting.

Anomen studied the elf-maidens ever more intently.  The one with green eyes, that was Miluithand, daughter of Berenmaethor.  But that maiden over there, he did not think he had ever met her.

"Elrohir, the golden-haired maiden talking to Lendsiniath, who is she?"

"Ah, that is Malthenrî, twin sister to Malthenêl.  She is a little wilder than her sister, however."

"Wilder?"

"Aye.  She was forever wandering off when she was younger—once she made it all the way to Eregion before the scouts caught up with her.  Another time, she went east!  Crossed the River Bruinen somehow and was found just past the Bridge of Mitheithel , the Last Bridge.

Anomen was impressed.

"I would like to meet her."

"Well, go on then."

"Um, you don't suppose you could introduce me, do you?"

"No.  I don't suppose I could."

Elrohir laughed at Anomen's appalled face.

"Look," he suggested.  "Malthenêl and Malthenrî are standing next to Erestor's chair.  Shouldn't we pay our respects to our old tutor?"

"Oh, yes," said Anomen eagerly.  "We would be remiss in our duty if we did not," he added drolly.

Seemingly nonchalant, the two Elves strolled over to Erestor.

"Lord Erestor," proclaimed Elrohir formally, "you look well."

"Yes, Lord Erestor," opined Anomen, his voice solemn and a trifle deeper than usual.  "You look very well indeed.  Our congratulations."

"Your 'congratulations'?  Rather an overblown word for the occasion, as looking well is no great achievement.  Didn't I teach you better than that?"

The two young Elves went scarlet all the way to the pointed tips of their ears.  Out of the corner of their eyes, they could see that the two elf-maidens were stifling giggles.

"Um, your pardon, Lord Erestor," said Anomen humbly, his voice back in its normal register.  "I am glad that you are well."

"Thank you, Anomen.  It is kind of you to come all the way across the room to greet an old stick of a tutor—especially," Erestor twitted, "when the room is filled with so many enchanting elf-maidens."

The flush had been fading from Anomen and Elrohir's faces, but it was renewed by Erestor's latest gibe.  The two young Elves suspected that Erestor was deriving not a little enjoyment from paying them back for those moments when they had connived at ways to distract the tutor from their lessons.

"Well," continued Erestor, "as you have been so kind as to come by to visit with me, perhaps I could prevail upon you to fetch me a glass of wine.  Moreover," the tutor added, turning toward Malthenrî and Malthenêl, "no doubt these charming elf-maidens are thirsty as well.  As you are going to be fetching a glass for me, mayhap you should bring them goblets as well."

Erestor winked at the astonished Elves.

"Ah, ah, ah," stammered Anomen to Malthenrî, "would you care for, ah, a glass of wine?"  His voice squeaked on that final word, but Malthenrî made as if she didn't notice.

"Thank you, Anomen.  I would indeed appreciate a bit of wine," she said softly.

"She knows my name!" Anomen thought with mingled amazement and delight.

An equally flustered Elrohir had by then likewise managed to offer to fetch a glass for Malthenêl.  The two young Elves hardly knew how they managed to navigate from one side of the room to the other, but soon they once again stood before the elf-maidens, this time with goblets in hand.  They had forgotten to bring a glass for Erestor, but the tutor did not comment upon the omission.  Instead, groaning, he arose from his chair.

"I am several centuries too old for these gatherings.  Pray excuse me.  I need to rest so that I may summon up enough strength to deal with Estel on the morrow."

The tutor gave an exaggerated bow and sauntered off.  It was not until very much later that Anomen noticed that Erestor had in fact never left the room but had settled himself in a chair near Glorfindel, Elrond, and Gandalf, there to talk genially with his old friends until it was nearly dawn.  But even though he then realized that his tutor had 'set him up', he did not care in the least.  Gandalf was right, he had decided: in Middle Earth there were many things decidedly worse than spending an evening talking and flirting with a charming elf-maiden.