Farflung: Love this sentence of yours: "Not only did the prince wriggle like an elfling, he had acted like one also." Yes, I wish Gandalf had agreed to a row of crows. Um, Farflung, it doesn't take much to make Elladan blush. If Elrohir had blushed, well, that would be impressive. (Hmm. Could I write a tale that would make Elrohir blush? Probably would have to take it to Adultfanfiction.net if I do, for it would surely be NC-17.)
Dragonfly: Yes, sometimes young ones will take seriously things their peers say when they would give no credence to the self-same words uttered by their parents. Once, in a fit of frustration, I told my daughter that she was 'spoiled'. Indignant, she got right on the phone to one of her friends. "Heather," she said, "am I spoiled!?" Heather, bless her heart, said, "Well, actually, yes."
Coolio: So you like all the sword and sheath stuff. Call me Shakespeare.
Athena Diagon Cat: Yep. A little foretaste of Gandalf the White.
Silver badger: Yes, Estel will play a role in this chapter.
Joee: You can count on Erestor for more laughs in this installment.
Grumpy: They've got Gandalf back, but he won't stay with them for long. He is the proverbial rolling stone that gathers no moss. (Hey! I just realized something. Gandalf is older than Mick Jagger. There is somebody older than Mick Jagger! Wow!)
Kitsune: The Ringwraiths are not even supposed to be walking abroad at this point, so I was kinda pushing my luck bringing one into the story. Surprised the canon hasn't been aimed at me, so to speak, over that departure from the True Faith.
Gilraen: You are quite right that Thranduil loves his son and gives him a name. However, in my first tale, "The Nameless One," Thranduil is distracted—to say the least!—and does not show his love—at least not in Legolas' presence. Furthermore, Legolas overhears a bit of gossip that leads him to mistakenly conclude that his father never named him. He is quite wrong about that, for his father in fact carefully chose a name for him several weeks before he was born. Nevertheless, he runs away and goes by the name of 'Anomen'—'Nameless One'—up until his reunion with Thranduil.
Erestor took his role as guardian of Estel very seriously, and thus he went on high alert when he saw how wriggly Estel was during breakfast one morning. He also noticed that the younger Elves, too, were livelier than usual—which is to say, they were quite lively indeed! No doubt, he thought to himself, the two facts were related. His supposition was correct. Estel had been skulking about when the young Elves had gotten together before breakfast to discuss the proposed barrel-riding expedition to Lake-town. Estel had crawled out triumphantly from under a table once he knew what was afoot—or afloat, really—and had threatened to expose their plot if they didn't take him along. Reluctantly, they had agreed, and now Erestor watched Estel suspiciously as the boy pushed his food about on his plate until Elrond raised his eyebrows at him, thus causing him to subside for the time being.
"I shall have to keep a sharp eye on him today," Erestor muttered to himself, "lest he get into trouble." And Erestor proceeded to do just that.
There were few Elves now remaining in Middle Earth who knew that Erestor, in his younger days, had in fact been an excellent scout. True, his skills had become rusty from disuse, for nowadays he rarely had to hunt up anything other than a book, and those objects tended not to stray very far. But the ride from Rivendell to Mirkwood, with all its attendant excitement, had reawoken Erestor's pleasure in matters martial, and that included tracking. Now he set his rediscovered talent to work by trailing Estel throughout the livelong morning, much to that lad's frustration. It seemed that every time he turned about, his tutor was either literally or metaphorically at his elbow. Estel thought, however, that he had given Erestor the slip by the time he arrived at the lading dock. In this he was mistaken, for Erestor had been carefully listening as well as watching, and he had overheard enough snippets of conversation to know that Estel was to meet the younger Elves at the lading dock shortly after the noon meal. He had therefore gone ahead and hidden himself behind several barrels of apples that had arrived the night before and had not yet been removed to the larder. From there he watched as the young Elves slipped into the chamber in groups of twos and threes, followed at last by Estel. He perceived at once what they meant to do, for there were a great many empty barrels floating in the water, and as soon as the Elves arrived, they immediately raised the portcullis.
"I shall let Legolas and his friends go," he said to himself, "for they are old enough to engage in such hijinks, and it is really Thranduil's affair, not mine. But as for Estel, I shall drag him off and set him to memorizing the Kings of the Southern Line. That will serve him!"
And so from his hiding place Erestor watched as one after another each Elf leaped into the water, pushed a barrel past the raised portcullis, clambered onto his small vessel, and floated into the passageway. Estel watched carefully as each Elf performed this maneuver, and then he too stood upon the edge of the lading dock preparing to jump. At that moment, Erestor sprang out from his hiding place.
"Don't even think it," he said sternly.
Estel, however, was determined not only to think it but to do it, and he at once leaped into the water, seized hold of a barrel and, kicking frantically, pushed it to the opening of the tunnel. Not sparing a moment for thought, Erestor himself jumped into the water, grabbed hold of a barrel, and followed after the small human. It took him several tries to clamber atop his barrel—and several more tries to remain atop it—but before too long he had his quarry in sight.
"Ah hah," he crowed, "I have—aaaah!"
The barrel had bumped into the side of the tunnel, throwing Erestor off into the water. Spluttering but resolute, he crawled back atop his vessel, grimly determined not to abandon the pursuit.
"In for a link, in for a chain," he growled, "and a chain is what I shall wrap around Estel's neck when I get a hold of him."
And so Erestor continued to bob his way down the passageway until at last he floated into the river itself. At that moment Elrohir looked back to check on the well-being of his human foster-brother. To his amazement and amusement, he saw Erestor bobbing at the rear of the long line of barrels.
"Legolas," he shouted, "you need not at all fear your father's wrath, for one of the elders is escorting us!"
Legolas glanced over his shoulder and nearly fell off his barrel. Erestor! Mouth open, he watched as Erestor's barrel hit an eddy and rolled over, dumping the tutor once more into the water. Undeterred, the tutor climbed once more atop his vessel, shaking the water out of his eyes, grasping the barrel tightly between his legs, and leaning forward to lower his center of gravity. Legolas was impressed.
"He is not easily daunted, that one," he thought to himself. "But we shall see what he makes of the rapids!"
As it turned out, Erestor was the only one who got through the rapids without being thrown off—but only because he was clinging so tightly out of terror that, even though the barrel spun around and around, rolled over several times, and crashed into more than one boulder, nothing could have shaken Erestor's grip. The others, laughing and shouting, were thrown off their barrels but did not mind in the least because getting dunked in the rapids was in fact part of the fun, and after they were through that obstacle, there was a sort of game of 'musical barrels' as each Elf tried to lay claim to one of the bobbing vessels. In the end, some of the barrels got away, and so several of the riders had to double up, Estel riding with Legolas and Elladan, to his dismay, forced to share a barrel with Rúmil, who from time to time abruptly threw his weight from one side to another to cause the barrel to roll over.
At length the current slowed as the river widened. They were nearing the Long Lake. Everyone began to look sharp—everyone except Erestor, that is. The younger Elves knew, and Estel had been told, that there was now a light-hearted war between the young Men of Lake-town and the young Elves of Mirkwood. At the first sign of an unattended barrel floating in the lake, the Men would rush into their boats and make for the river, there to lie in wait for the barrel-riders. It was understood that if they succeeded in capturing any of the joy-riders, the penalty for that unlucky Elf would be a shorn head. This in no way caused any ill-feelings between Mirkwood and Esgaroth, for Thranduil had been studiously ignoring the odd haircuts that some of the younger Elves had lately been sporting. He knew perfectly well that the barrel-riders were a nuisance, for their antics forced the Men of Lake-town to pursue abandoned barrels throughout the lake. It seemed only fitting that the Men receive some recompense, in the form of laughter, for all their hard work.
But Erestor did not know any of this. As the riders floated into the lake, Tawarmaenas gave a shout and pointed. At least half a dozen boats suddenly pulled out from the reeds, their occupants paddling furiously. At once, the younger riders 'abandoned barrel', so to speak, flinging themselves into the water and submerging to swim hidden toward the shore. The older rider, however, blissfully unaware of his peril, merely smiled with relief as a boat neared him. "Ah," Erestor thought happily, "perhaps I can prevail upon those Men to take me into their boat and paddle me ashore. I have had quite enough of this barrel."
Erestor did not in fact need to prevail upon the Men to do anything, for as soon as they drew alongside his barrel, they seized him and, laughing gleefully, dragged him into their vessel. Erestor was astonished. Not counting the injury to his dignity, the Men of Lake-town did not hurt him in any way, but Erestor was not used to being manhandled (again, literally and figuratively, but the irony of this escaped the erudite tutor). Furthermore, as soon as he reached shore, he was bodily lifted from the bottom of the boat—one Man on each limb—and dumped unceremoniously upon the ground, where stood a grinning urchin who, seeing that the Men had effected a capture, had run off to fetch shears. Without further ado, this tool was applied to Erestor's hair.
Snip. One side braid fell off, cut just above the ear. Snip. There went the other side braid. Snip. The long hair that adorned the back of his head fell to the ground. Then the Men let him up.
Erestor was swearing in Black Speech, which, fortunately, his auditors did not understand, for he made some very uncomplimentary comments about their parentage, and the situation might have gotten ugly. However, as they did not comprehend and merely continued to laugh in Erestor's face, the tutor turned his back on them and began to stomp along the shore of the lake, making for the entrance to the river. Weary and wet, he had a long walk ahead of him. He would have to follow the river upstream a considerable distance before regaining Thranduil's hall.
Fortunately, he did not have to make the entire trek on foot, for the younger Elves, who, horrified, had witnessed his capture from the safety of the riverbank, had run back to the Great Hall as fast as they could. Once there, Legolas and Haldir had taken a boat and paddled rapidly back downstream. So it was that Erestor had not gone very far before he saw a vessel approaching. The two younger Elves guided it to the bank, and Haldir held it steady as Erestor, not saying a word, stepped into it. Still not saying a word, the tutor plunked himself down in the bottom of the boat and occupied himself with wringing out his cloak. Nor did he say a word when they reached the rapids and had to portage round them. He maintained an ominous silence nearly the entire return journey. The only break in the silence: at one point Erestor sneezed loudly and repeatedly, a phenomenon which made both Legolas and Haldir jump. Such sounds are not often heard emanating from an Elf.
When they arrived back at the Great Hall, Erestor, still silent marched away, stopping only once to let loose another prodigious string of sneezes. Dismayed, Legolas and Haldir looked at each other.
"Maybe," opined Haldir, "we should just give ourselves haircuts and be done with it. 'Twould be better than enduring the suspense, I think."
Legolas shook his head gloomily.
"No. Should we try to forestall our punishment, it will only be added to. 'Twill be a haircut plus something else equally—or even more!—humiliating."
Haldir nodded his head.
"No doubt you are right," he said sadly. "I wonder if I could persuade the Lord and Lady to permit me to remain in Mirkwood until my hair grows back."
Sighing, the two Elves made their way to Legolas' room, where the rest of the malefactors waited anxiously.
"You found Erestor?" asked Elladan.
"Aye, we did," replied Legolas.
"And what did he say?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"Oooooh," said Orophin, "that's bad."
"Very bad," agreed Elladan.
They went their separate ways then, in order to prepare for the evening meal. Too soon, it seemed to them, they assembled in the dining hall. Everyone was there but Erestor. Thranduil stayed the start of the meal until his arrival. When he did appear, a murmur spread throughout the room. The tutor had his hood up. This wasn't 'done', particularly not in the presence of the King. Elrond arose.
"Excuse me, Thranduil, but I will just step from the dais a minute and have a word with Erestor to make sure that everything is all right."
Thranduil inclined his head, and Elrond hastened to Erestor.
"Erestor," he whispered, "what are you doing? You know a hood is not to be worn at a meal, and certainly not in the presence of a king or great lord!"
"Elwond," muttered Erestor, "I haf a cold in my noith. I musth keep up by hood. Thought about awoidin' the meal altogethaw, but p'rapth 'twould be pewtheived ath an inthult. Pway apawogize to Thwanduil on by behaf. Don' feel up to adwethin' him byself."
Elrond led Erestor up to the dais and spoke for him.
"My Lord, Erestor is not well. He did not wish to slight your courtesy by failing to appear at dinner, but he would very much like to wear his hood to keep his head warm. He understands that this is not the custom, but, as it is rather unusual for an Elf to feel ill, he hopes that an exception may be made upon this occasion."
"Erestor, my friend," said Thranduil, very much concerned, "mayhap a formal dinner would be too much of a trial to someone who is ailing. If you like, I could have your meal brought to you so that you might dine in the comfort of your chamber. Truly, I would not feel slighted in the least if you were absent on this occasion, given your ill health."
"Thag you very buch, Thwanduil," said a relieved Erestor, glad to be spared the ordeal of dining at the head table in his current state. "Thag you very buch!"
Erestor slowly made his way back to his chamber and crawled into his bed, wearing his cloak and hood even then. He was shortly visited there by Gandalf. No one ever knew what words were exchanged between the two, but early the next morning the wizard appeared at Thranduil's chamber to announce that he was escorting Erestor to Lothlórien.
"For Erestor's ailment," said the wizard, "it is needful that he partake of the curative powers of that golden land."
Thranduil was sorry to see the two depart. He had enjoyed conversing with both wizard and tutor on a number of topics and had looked forward to many more such conversations. However, it could not be helped. But Thranduil would try to extend his courtesy as far as it would go. No, said Gandalf, in reply to Thranduil's parting entreaties, they didn't want an escort. They would, he said, stop at Beorn's settlement and then make their way to Lothlórien. According to the scouts, the way was clear at least as far as the dwelling of the Shape Changer, and from there on no doubt they would be guarded by Beorn's excellent horses.
And so Erestor departed, never having been seen to lower his hood in public since the previous evening. In fact, he was never seen in public at all after his brief visit to the dining hall. He had, however, been visited in private by a group of very subdued young Elves. They had all had their hoods up when they appeared at the door to his chamber, but once Gandalf had admitted them—the wizard was sitting up with the tutor—they lowered them. Each and every one was as bald as a newborn mouse.
Gandalf had been inclined to be severe with them—Erestor felt too ill to be severe with anyone—but he had to give over his plans when he saw the array of bald-headed young ones standing before him.
"Well," he said, eyebrow quirking, "this has been quite an adventure. Lost wizards, lost robes, lost princes, lost hair."
"Lost dignity," moaned Erestor from beneath his quilt.
"Aye, that too," agreed Gandalf, "yours and mine."
"And now ours as well," declared Legolas, "for we mean to leave this room with our hoods down."
Gandalf chuckled, thinking to himself that the baldness of Legolas and his friends would more likely be perceived as a fashion statement than as a disgrace. He would not be at all surprised if, upon his return to Mirkwood, he were to see baldness the general mode of wearing—well, not wearing—one's hair. Well, well, mayhap Thranduil would be able to nip the practice in the bud.
The next morning, as Gandalf stood waiting for Erestor to mount up—Erestor was doing everything in slow motion, as was to be expected—the wizard bethought himself of a conversation that he had been hoping to have with Thranduil. How, he wondered, was the King enjoying fatherhood. He smiled to himself. Mayhap it was good that the conversation was to be delayed. For no doubt the discovery that his son was bald would soon color Thranduil's reflections.
"Pity I will not be here to witness that moment," thought Gandalf. "Maybe I can apply to Galadriel to allow me the use of her mirror to see what transpired—although the Lady does not generally permit her mirror to be used to see things that are of little importance. Well, well, perhaps she will make an exception in this instance."
With that hopeful thought, Gandalf rode off at the side of Erestor—although you may be sure that neither he nor Erestor ride out of the story altogether.