A Rivendell Regatta, Mirkwood Style

Disclaimer: All recognizable people, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate.

Chapter 5 - Bad Attempts at Cliffhangers

He was alive! Nimaron anxiously patted himself all over, realizing with relief that he was still all in one piece – sopping wet, but quite intact. He glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see Aldandil and Meril were both quite all right. "Well," the healer smiled, letting out a deep breath, "I do not think we will be doing that again!"

"What are you talking about?" Aldandil glanced up, grinning at the other elf, "That was nothing!"

"Nothing…?" Nimaron felt his eyes widen, and he pulled distractedly at the drenched brown tunic that now stuck to him like a bloodthirsty leech.

Meril leaned forward, her hand on Aldandil's arm, which was, surprisingly, still very dry, "Why, Nim, that's what the rapids are always like. Didn't you like it?"

Nimaron gaped helplessly at her, "Like it? Meril, this boat could have been crushed! We are lucky to be unharmed."

Aldandil and Meril looked at each other then, both biting at their lips in an effort not to laugh. Aldandil shrugged, "Well, he was in the front of the boat. I'd forgotten how frightening everything can appear from that position. Also, he didn't duck down when we rode that wave – there can be some awful splashing."

It was then that Nimaron realized that while he was quite drenched, both Aldandil and Meril were comparatively dry. The prince had been splattered, and water had splashed into the boat and over his legs, but he was not pulling at dripping garments or hair. Similarly, Meril had been hit with water on one side, but for the most part her hair and clothing were dry.

This was not right.

"When the wave picked us up, it crashed into more water," Aldandil explained patiently, looking carefully at Nimaron, "And water is not going to hurt us, Nim."

Nimaron felt a growl rising in his throat, something that did not often happen, and turned around again in order to grab his paddle, "I know that!"

"It is a nice color."

"A nice color, but it has to be removed," King Thranduil stared down at the red splashes on the floor of the large dining hall. There was one particularly huge, irregular spot, as well as many small splatters. His wife stood at his side, pressing her fingers together as she glanced around the room.

The queen laced her slim digits together, "We could have one of the banquet tables set over the large spot."

"It is not in the best location," Thranduil pointed out, sighing heavily and making his way to the door before looking back, "You are sure the spots cannot be removed?"

His butler had been standing quietly near one of the tables, sincerely hoping that his king and queen would decide that red spots would look fetching in the dining hall. He drew in a tentative breath, "We tried, but the paint will not come off. We could try again, perhaps with something stronger. Or we could…file it, but then the floor might dip in places…"

Thranduil ground his teeth together, deciding he had much better things to do than worry over a red-splattered floor. If they had to, they would simply have to drag in a very large rug – Ha! That owl tapestry under the bed might even do...if he had to worry over the awful spots any longer, he might be tempted to search out the bottle wrapped in it. "Do what you have to do; just have it done by the time Elrond gets here. We are going to need this hall."

Not so very far away, three elflings were still standing on the large bridge of the palace, worrying over a small blue and white boat. Cúran had dropped to the ground, crossing his arms over his knees and wiping at the stubborn tears that continued to come despite his best efforts to make them stop. Arasil frantically peered out over the river, hoping that the other child's boat would heave up through the surface of the water, conveniently keeping his face turned away from Legolas, who occasionally peered up to glare at him.

"It's going towards my house!" Arasil suddenly exclaimed, seeing a tiny flash of white in the water. He was not sure if it was really the boat or something else, but it never hurt to wish.

"Well, come on then," Legolas grabbed up his own boat, then nudged Cúran, "We're going to get your boat back. Arasil said he saw it going towards his house. Maybe his ada can get it."

Cerveth, one of the servants who worked under Galion, scrubbed furiously at the red spots on King Thranduil's floor. He was certainly not accustomed to rubbing vigorously at spots on floors with bristled brushes, being much more used to being put to work folding napkins and laying out silverware, making sure there were no wrinkles on the tablecloths or spots on the wineglasses.

When Galion had instructed him to fetch a bucket of water and a brush, he had been quite appalled. His reaction had simply convinced the butler, who was in an irritable mood, that trying to remove the red spots from the floor was the perfect job for the aghast young servant.

Cerveth put the brush down to inspect his hands for a moment. His fingers were getting awfully sore and red, and they were going rather soggy around his nails, which looked worse than they had when he had been an elfling playing in the dirt. Well, that would make Ninglor happy, at least. It might make her quite happy, actually. Recently she had told him that his hands were far too soft and clean, most unbecoming for a manly elf such as himself. Manly elf. Cerveth snorted, deciding the girl he admired had probably spent far too much time accompanying her brothers on trading trips to Esgaroth.

Ninglor would be proud of him for roughing up his hands though, for doing real work. Cerveth grinned a knowing grin to himself, dunking his hands into the bucket again. Oh, but she would be.

"…so when you are up and down on the waves, you duck down, and then you will not get so wet," Meril explained, using a wooden pitcher she'd brought along to toss water out of the boat, "You can practice when we hit the next set."

"The next set…?" Nimaron dragged his paddle through the water. The wind had picked up a little, and it was rather uncomfortable and chilly sitting in a boat in sopping wet clothes.

Aldandil smiled knowingly, "You liked it."

"Liked it?!" the healer exclaimed, "I have already told you that I think it was dangerous!"

"But you liked it," Aldandil went on in a teasing voice, glancing back a Meril, "It was fun."

"Fun and exhilarating," Meril added, placing heavy emphasis on the word 'exhilarating'. She had thought it a fascinating word when she was an elfling, and it still had an invigorating effect now when said just the right way. "Much more exhilarating than dangerous."

Nimaron ignored a shiver that passed through him when a cloud drifted over the Sun, blocking the warm rays, "It was not exhilarating, Meril, it was terrifying."

"Fear and excitement are very much the same feeling," Aldandil leaned forward to see the healer's reaction, "Perhaps you got the feelings mixed up, especially since you aren't very used to being excited."

Nimaron turned to stare at the other elf yet again, but then Meril let out a shriek, and Aldandil turned to her instead, "Scared or excited?!"

Eldor looked at his wife, and then at the three elflings who were sitting on the bench outside his house. Lalwen had been hanging out the laundry when she'd caught sight of the three on the bank of the river, flat on their bellies and apparently waiting for something to grab at with their outstretched little arms. Ai…now she would be ranting about how they never should have built the house so close to the Forest River, how they should have at least built some sort of fence, and how it would only take one patch of slick grass for their precious child to go slipping and sliding – ker-splash! – to a deep and watery doom. He took a long moment to look at his son, who was looked as though he expected some horror worse than drowning. He really did not enjoy these moments.

"What were the three of you doing so close to the river?" Eldor finally spoke, waiting. Legolas looked at Arasil, apparently deciding that he should have to answer his own father's question. Cúran was blubbering something about a boat, obviously upset at getting caught in trouble, and Arasil finally began, "Well, we wanted to test our boats, so we sort of dropped one off the bridge…"

"Sort of dropped one?" Lalwen interrupted, hands on her hips, "You either did, or you did not."

"We did; Cúran did," Arasil amended, noting that his nana had a line of wooden clothespins stuck on her apron. He had painted a face on each one for her, and there was one peg with a very growl-y face and pointy teeth – that one sort of reminded him of his nana when she was angry. "But I wanted him to. I wanted to see how good – how well – the boats would float, for the race. I thought the boat would wash up, so we could get it."

"But it did not," Eldor had crouched down to be eye level with the three elflings, getting sorry nods from Legolas and Arasil, and an increase in sobbing from Cúran.

"It…it was Cúran's boat," Arasil explained, wagering a careful look at the other child.

Eldor drew in a long breath, glancing up at his wife, who had pressed her lips into a thin line. He looked at his son, "And it was your idea to drop it, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Arasil answered quietly, nodding as his fingers tried to dig into the wood of the bench. He knew that his ada was thinking about how he was going to have to tell Cúran's ada and nana about this, and even worse, Legolas' King and Queen parents. Ada was also thinking of a punishment, which would probably include having to stay inside the house and have his boat taken away for a few days, and a long talk about the river.

"I am going to have to tell your parents about this." Yes, that was Ada talking to Cúran and Legolas. His ada continued, looking at him and giving out the punishment he expected, "Arasil, we are going to have a talk after I've walked Legolas and Cúran home. You are not allowed to play for the next few days. You can stay at home and help your nana and I instead. You can start by helping your nana with that laundry."

"Yes, Ada," Arasil slipped from the bench to trudge after his nana, casting a sorry look at Legolas and not even trusting himself to glance at Cúran.

"One more thing, Arasil," Eldor called his son back, truly wishing he didn't have to. Being a parent was an awful thing sometimes, what with loving an elfling and still having to try to raise him the right way. For a second the father paused in his decision, noting his son's already sorry look, but then he sighed, "Give Cúran your boat."

"Stop! Stop right now!"

Cerveth started, tipping over the bucket and sloshing water and spent bubbles over the floor. He'd been dabbling his sore fingers in the water, just for a moment. He'd never expected to get caught at it! "Sorry! Sorry! I'm scrubbing! I'm scrubbing right now!" He grabbed for the brush, rubbing at the puddles on the floor much more furiously than necessary.

"No, stop it!" Galion hurried into the room, wondering what in the world was wrong with the servant, but honestly not caring all too much. It had been a long night, and then it had been a long day, but now he had a plan. The plan was going to make everything better. It simply had to. "Stop scrubbing. Leave the spots."

"Leave them?" Cerveth looked up in surprise.

"Yes, leave them and clean up this mess," Galion turned to leave, calculations of what was to be done with the floor jumbling in his head, "I am going to need…and…hmm, perhaps…"

Cerveth righted the bucket, letting the brush drop into it with a clatter. No more scrubbing. No more real work. No rough, manly hands. No impressed Ninglor. He scrambled to his feet, darting after the butler, "Galion! Is there something else for me to scrub?"

"Something else to scrub?" Galion looked over his shoulder, "No. You can fetch me a few tablecloths and napkins from the small shelf though, the ones embroidered with red flowers."

"But Galion…Galion I want to scrub!" Cerveth followed the butler out of the room and into the corridor, "Anything! Dishes...pots…stairs…Stairs would be good!"

Galion just looked at the servant for a long moment. Slowly…ever so slowly it had started, but since then the rate had simply exploded: things were moving towards insanity.

Responses to Reviews

daw the minstrel: As I wrote, I felt so sorry for Arasil because I knew he'd feel guilty about it, and I knew the punishment had to come.

farflung: The peach pie will come eventually! It just wouldn't be right to leave it out. g

My lost childhood item was a stuffed duck I got at the ER. It was that cheap sort of thing made of ugly teal-colored fabric with black marker for eyes…but I was pretty upset when it got "permanently misplaced".

Starlit Hope: Your predictions were correct – a very wet Nim indeed.

kingmaker: The good/well problem got me all the time when I was a little kid!

Yes, the elflings should have used Legolas' suggestion – but Mr. Master of the Obvious doesn't seem to take a whole lot of self-propelled action. ponders that

Dragon-of-the-North: I think Aldandil is really starting to enjoy prodding Nimaron – and as you know, the healer really does need to learn to define himself outside the boundaries of his profession.

"Good/well" is esp. irksome when your family is fairly oblivious to it. I've given up on correcting them. g "Lay/lie" and "its/it's" still get me sometimes though.

Lutris: The front is scary, esp. when those waves are coming! I like the middle best. g

FF.net "ate" a few reviews this time – I'm sorry, but I cannot remember what they said in order to reply to them. The comments were very appreciated though!