MysticHeero Thanks for the thought even though wouldn't let you review that chapter!

Joee Yes, the "you're not green" comment is very childlike. I'm glad you like the way I did away with the Cat. It seemed a fitting end.

Legosgurl OK, we're making progress here. You did stop to take a breath. Let's build on this now. How about two breaths?
Karri: In this chapter, Anomen receives his "post-traumatic stress therapy."

Dragonfly: More Glorfindel sweetness coming up.

Blessing of Earendil: Hey, now this is getting a bit too kinky! (Author rattles chains indignantly, then remembers unlocking spell used by Gandalf—releases herself and grins triumphantly.). Um, I do have to warn you that I am going out of town next week, to Indianapolis, and I may stop writing for several days. (Jumps back a considerable distance from her computer before reader can react.)

Andi-Black: Here's your update, although it was not as fast as the previous one. Also, as I just mentioned to Blessing of Earendil, I am going out of town and likely will stop writing for several days.

Beta Reader: Dragonfly

Green and Gold: Chapter 6

Elladan and Elrohir were hidden in a thicket not so far away. With pleasure they and Anomen cast aside their filthy garments when Glorfindel instructed them to. The elf-lord looked them over and was relieved to find that for the most part they were bruised and scratched but had suffered little in the way of worse injuries. Anomen did have some cuts where the Cat had prodded him with his sword, but they were not very deep, none having penetrated into the muscle. After Glorfindel had satisfied himself that the elflings were not badly hurt, the young ones betook themselves to a nearby stream. There they bathed, generously and joyously slathering themselves with the lather of the soapwort plant, and afterward they gladly donned the tunics that were proffered them by Elves who chaffed each other good-naturedly over having to walk about half-dressed.

"Hey, Berenmaethor," called one, "have you again left your tunic hanging in an apple tree?"

This provoked considerable laughter. About a century ago, the unexpected return of an Adar and Naneth had forced Berenmaethor to exit an elleth's room by the window. He had climbed out clutching his clothes and had shimmied down an apple tree. Unfortunately, he had to abandon his tunic when it became tangled in a branch. The garment waved in the breeze throughout the night and into the next morning, a signal to all who passed that Berenmaethor had been there. The Adar had at last spied the tunic and retrieved it and, brandishing it, had taken it to Elrond, demanding to know what one of Glorfindel's scouts had been doing in the tree outside his daughter's room. Elrond had discovered just then that he needed a message taken to Lothlórien, and Berenmaethor had been chosen to carry it and to remain there awaiting a return message from the Lord and Lady of that land—a return message, that, presumably, those personages would not be in a hurry to compose.

Glorfindel had protested when Elrond told him of the mission that Berenmaethor had been assigned.

"Elrond, all you are doing is providing Berenmaethor with an opportunity to perfect his tree-climbing skills."

"Exactly—and why not? Wouldn't you say that it is an excellent skill, most needful for a scout, that he be able to make his way through the trees without leaving any sign of his passing?"

"Hmph!" snorted Glorfindel. "Useful in other situations, don't you know!"

"Of course! Isn't it a wonderful thing that the skills we teach our warriors prove to be helpful in more mundane settings?"

It took five years for Celeborn and Galadriel to compose a reply to Elrond's missive, and when Berenmaethor returned, he was soon acknowledged to be the most skillful of all the Rivendell Elves at wending his way through the trees without being detected. It may have been a coincidence, but no one ever again caught him climbing in or out of an elleth's window. Erestor opined that perhaps he had mended his ways during his stay in Lothlórien, but Glorfindel was doubtful. As for Elrond, he was not concerned as to the reason Berenmaethor was not caught—just as long as he wasn't. Elrond placed a high premium on the maintenance of harmony within his domain, and an Elf who was not caught climbing trees contributed just as much to the maintenance of said harmony as an Elf who didn't climb trees in the first place.

Anomen, of course, knew nothing of this story. He was merely glad to be wrapped in something clean that did not stink of man-sweat. He also eagerly devoured the little scraps of lembas bread that were pressed into his hands by relieved Elves. The Elves hadn't been carrying much—when they had set out it was a search party, not as a war party that would travel for several days—but, as we all know, lembas bread is very filling, so the few tiny pieces sufficed, as they did for Elladan and Elrohir.

While the elflings bathed and refreshed themselves, Glorfindel set several Elves to dragging the bodies of the Men into a great pile in the clearing that had been their campsite. Other Elves gathered sufficient wood for a pyre. The elf-lord would not, however, let them set fire to the carcasses while the elflings were still nearby. He did not want the young ones to hear the roar of the flames or smell the stench of burning flesh.

"For now," Glorfindel said to Berenmaethor, "I do not want them to think on this matter. Time enough for that later, when they are safely back in Imladris. Let us leave behind two or three scouts who may oversee the pyre after the most of us have departed."

Washed, rested, and fed, the elflings set out on their return journey escorted by many happy Elves. Glorfindel set a path that would avoid their stumbling over Wollust's body, but when they did draw near the spot, he sent several Elves aside to dispose of the carcass. When those Elves returned, they quietly reported to Glorfindel that there really hadn't been much to bury. Several animals had gotten to the body first. Glorfindel nodded, not altogether disappointed. It seemed fitting to him that Wollust should have been devoured by beasts after death, for he had been consumed by passions whilst living.

The Elves marched steadily northward until light failed, and then they made camp. They had scarcely lit their campfires before rocks began to fall amongst them. They were being thrown from a line of trees to the west. The Elves huddled together in the middle of the clearing, the elflings in the center, and held up their cloaks to ward off the missiles. Meanwhile, Glorfindel, bow in hand, slipped out the side of the camp opposite from where the rocks were being thrown. A few minutes later, the Elves heard the thud of an arrow hitting wood, followed by a yelp. This was immediately followed by the sound of another arrow and a second yelp. Then the night fell silent. There were no more rocks.

The sky was clear that evening, and it rapidly grew cold. The older Elves, even the ones who lacked tunics, were not particularly troubled by this fact. As for the elflings, as the night grew ever colder, they might have suffered, but more and more Elves shed their tunics and carefully covered the young ones. By this device, Elladan and Elrohir were made tolerably comfortable. After awhile, however, as the frost began to coat the leaves, Anomen began to shiver. At last Glorfindel, moving carefully so as not to reinjure his shoulder, carefully lay down beside Anomen and with his good arm drew the elfling to him. Anomen's body went rigid when he felt an arm snaking around his waist, but then he recognized the smell like that of newly-cut pine branches that clung to Glorfindel even after a long day on the training field. Anomen inhaled deeply and relaxed against the balrog-slayer, wriggling a little to settle himself comfortably. Glorfindel chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and tickling Anomen's back. Anomen giggled for the first time since he and the twins had run away from Imladris, and then he fell into a deep sleep untroubled by either the cold or ill dreams.

The next morning, an Elf who had gone aside to make water strolled back into camp with a deer slung over his shoulder, even though he had not taken his bow with him.

"Peace offering from the Dunlendings," he said to Glorfindel with a grin. The deer was promptly dressed, and the Elves, who had been on short commons for several days, gratefully feasted upon the venison. When they had finished, Glorfindel took the elflings with him when he went to retrieve his arrows. At first the elflings were reluctant to accompany him, for they feared what they might find, but the balrog-slayer said that what they would see would be all to the good. Sure enough, all they came across were two arrows embedded in a tree, and pinned beneath them tiny scraps of cloth. The elflings saw no trace of blood.

"The rock-throwers were mere boys," Glorfindel explained. "As one of them raised his arm to pitch a rock, I shot through his sleeve's end, at the wrist, pinning his arm to the tree. For good measure, I shot a second arrow through the other side of his sleeve."

Yes, the elflings could see that there was a wrist's distance between the two arrows. Anomen experimentally laid his arm upon the tree trunk, his wrist between the arrows, and saw that the Dunlending urchin was, in man-years, roughly of an age with him.

"The boy pulled his arm free," continued Glorfindel, "and he and his companions took to their heels. Judging from the deer, it appears that their parents appreciated the fact that we could have killed them."

Three days later the Elves crested the mountain that rose above Rivendell and gazed into the valley with great gladness before beginning their descent. Elrond, Erestor, Gandalf, and a great many others had come out to stand before the Hall when the returning Elves were still only halfway down the mountain, and when they at last arrived at its door, only words of joy were uttered. Chastisement would, the elflings knew, be in the offing, but this was a moment for thanksgiving and nothing more.

That night after dinner there was a general move to the Hall of Fire, where Anomen, abandoning any attempt at appearing grown-up, crawled into Gandalf's lap. Gandalf stroked his hair, and not only did Anomen not flinch, he positively reveled in the attention. His head against the wizard's chest, the elfling listened to the slow, steady beating of Gandalf's heart, the rhythmic sound reminding him that not all Men were evil, and certainly not this one. Suddenly he knew that Gandalf would plunge into an abyss rather than let any harm come to one whom he loved. It was both a reassuring and a frightening thought, but he was tired, so comfort won out over fear. He sat in Gandalf's lap, the wizard gently stroking his hair, until at last he dozed off. So deeply did he sleep that he never felt Elrond lifting him from Gandalf's arms and carrying him to the chamber that he shared with Elladan and Elrohir, where he awoke the next morning calm and happy.

Elrond allowed a week to pass before summoning the elflings to his chamber to hear him pass judgment upon their behavior.

"There are two offenses for which you are culpable," he soberly told the elflings, who stood before him bravely but contritely. "First, you rigged up a bucket to dump paint upon whomever passed beneath. The paint fell upon Glorfindel. He was not the target, but what you did would have been wrong even if the paint had fallen upon your intended victim."

"But," Elrond continued, "that was not the end of it, for you compounded your transgression by running away to avoid punishment. You put yourself in danger, and in an effort to rescue you, others ventured their lives—not the least of whom was the Lord Glorfindel, who was injured during the skirmish."

The elflings nodded solemnly.

"Now as to your running away," Elrond went on, "it seems to me that you have already suffered amply, for you endured both fear and pain enough to appreciate what your rescuers went through."

The elflings looked hopeful.

"But there is still the original offense," said Elrond.

The elflings wilted visibly.

"As your offense involved paint, it seems fitting that paint be the medium through which you make recompense to Imladris."

The elflings exchanged worried glances, for they at once assumed that Elrond meant to apply the paint to them. Elrond had to hide a smile.

"The kitchen has grown dingy. I deem that it would only be just if you three were to paint it—and mind you! be sure to apply a sufficient number of coats. One coat will likely not suffice."

The elflings now exchanged relieved looks—until they were struck by the full import of Elrond's words. The kitchen was a very large room. It had to be, for in it were regularly prepared meals for hundreds—not only for the residents of the Hall itself but for visiting Men and Elves and even Dwarves. As he watched the various facial expressions flit across the faces of the young ones, Elrond again had to hide a smile.

The next morning, toting buckets of whitewash, the three elflings entered the kitchen. To their bewilderment, as they gazed about them they saw that the walls were a sparkling white. The Head Cook bustled over to them.

"Here, now, what are you rascals doing in my kitchen!?"

"We are to paint the walls," said Elladan timidly.

"Paint the walls! Paint the walls! Whatever for? Haven't you got eyes in your head? Can't you see that they've been freshly painted? Got tired of staring at them, I did, and set the skivvies to the task just last week. Now be off with you! No—wait a minute! Made too many seed cakes, the apprentice baker did," he said, thrusting one at each elfling. "They'll only go bad. You might as well each have one."

"Ada will be angry if we don't paint the kitchen," protested Elrohir.

"I am the master of the kitchen," roared the Cook, "and no one, not even an elf-lord, will tell me what to do in my domain. If I say the kitchen is not to be painted, then it is not to be painted!"

"Here," he added more calmly, handing another seed cake to each elfling. "You might as well each have two. There really are far too many than are needed for tonight, and it would be a shame for them to go to waste. A cook is always pleased to know his work is appreciated. Now out of my kitchen! I know you'll purloin sweets if you linger here."

The elflings retreated to the garden and, being careful to stay out of sight of any windows, they quietly entertained themselves for the remainder of the day. It was not necessary for them to go in for the noon meal, as they had delicious seed cakes upon which to nibble, and Elrond assumed that they were hard at work in the kitchen and had had somewhat to eat there.

As it drew on toward supper, Elrond entered the kitchen to check on their progress. To his amazement, the task had been completed. He had thought it would take the three elflings several days. It was a very large kitchen.

As Elrond gazed about in disbelief, the Cook bustled up to him.

"Lovely job, isn't it?" said the Cook.

"Yes," said Elrond. "I am surprised."

"Why surprised, my Lord? A little paint judiciously applied will brighten up any room."

"True, but the task has been completed so quickly!"

"Ah, willing hands," said the Cook wisely. "Willing hands."

Of course, he was careful not to specify whose willing hands. Bemused, Elrond turned to leave the kitchen. Suddenly, however, he stopped and stared intently at the newly-painted walls. "That's interesting," he murmured to himself. "Very interesting." Then he strode from the kitchen, a thoughtful look upon his face.

At dinner that night, the tutor Erestor smiled beneficently upon the elflings.

"Isn't it marvelous, Elrond," he enthused, "how hard the young ones worked on the kitchen? To complete the task in one day—that is remarkable, would you not agree?"

"Yes," said Elrond, "it does strike me as rather remarkable—even miraculous, I should say." He looked hard at the elflings, who gazed down at their plates as if something of great interest had suddenly materialized upon them.

Gandalf also gave the elflings a sharp look.

"Curious," mused the wizard, "how clean you elflings are after a day spent whitewashing the kitchen. Of course, it is not altogether surprising that Anomen should be clean—it would seem that dirt flees him—but how did you, Elladan, and you, Elrohir, contrive to avoid even the least splash of paint upon either your persons or your garments?"

"It seems to me," Glorfindel hastily interjected, "that it behooves us to be glad that the kitchen has been painted with so little trouble. The Cook is satisfied, that is certain, and if he is satisfied, then so should we all be."

Elrond looked at Glorfindel with raised eyebrows but let the matter drop. As for Gandalf, as soon as the elflings dared to look up from their plates, he winked at them, and, given that encouragement, they once again began to take pleasure in the meal.

Later that evening, before going to bed, Glorfindel paid a visit to the kitchen, where the Cook was tidying up a few oddments before he, too, retired.

"My dear Cook," the balrog-slayer said to that worthy personage, "you have managed things very nicely indeed. I am in your debt! If there is anything you have need of, you have only to ask."

"Well, now you mention it, Lord Glorfindel, I haven't had a nice brace of pheasants to work with for awhile. Do you suppose you could scare some up?"

"I shall do so at the earliest opportunity."

The next day, Glorfindel decreed that archery lessons were to be replaced for a time by a 'practical exercise', and he led the novices into the brush and set them to hunting pheasants. This raised some eyebrows, including, of course, Elrond's famous ones, for Glorfindel was known to detest pheasant hunting. He much preferred hunting deer. Still, Glorfindel kept his charges at it until they had provided the Cook with enough fowl to feature the dish at table one evening.

"I must say," said Erestor as the Cook, with a flourish, set a platter of pheasant before him, "I must say that I wondered why Glorfindel took it into his head to go pheasant hunting, but I cannot complain at his odd behavior, considering the results. My dear Cook, the fragrance of this dish is alone enough to satisfy the palate!"

The Cook beamed and bustled away, bustling, of course, being his habitual mode of locomotion.

Elrond likewise enjoyed the pheasants, but, unlike Erestor, he was fairly sure he knew why Glorfindel had developed his sudden interest in the birds. You may remember, Reader, that the Lord of Imladris had observed something peculiar as he stood in the kitchen surveying its newly painted walls. Now, it just so happened that what he had noticed was this: the walls had not everywhere been painted white. Instead, two bands of color decorated the top of each wall. The color of these bands? I am sure I don't have to tell you! Suffice it to say that Elrond was heard to murmur to himself as he carved the pheasant, "If Glorfindel is satisfied, then so should we all be."

OK, now I've got to get ready for my trip to Indianapolis. When I return, I will work on a new chapter for "Things Fall Apart." Stay well!