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Holmes and Watson
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The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.
(Hound of the Baskervilles; A.C. Doyle)
Winter was just beginning to settle over the small, hidden kingdom of Imladris, gilding her roofs with glittering frost but holding back on the first deep snow. The household bustled with the final preparations for cold and hunger as flues were cleaned, the last layers were added to teetering stacks of cordwood, and the storerooms and granaries were filled and tallied. In the midst of all the normal activities, the little irregularities that inevitably accompany community life went on unabated.
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"Excuse me, Chief Councilor, but while I have not had the education you have, I believe I can manage to count to thirty!"
Erestor refrained from remarking that while that might possibly be the case, both hands, both feet, and a few pebbles would be required before the elf standing before him could accomplish the feat. He drew a calming breath and said quietly, "I intended no insult, Baenthir. It is simply hard to imagine what could have happened to three of the gold goblets. I believe that if you say they are not merely misplaced, then they are not. Give me a few days to make inquiries and I will speak with you again."
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"Elrond, I would hardly go so far as to say I am in an uproar, or even a mild pique. It is my duty to apprise you of any aberrant occurrences in the household, and so I have told you. What you choose to do about it, if anything, is entirely up to you."
"You are my advisor: advise."
"I am inclined to do nothing. Things disappear from time to time, after all, in even the most regulated households." Erestor's voice was complacent with the knowledge that Elrond's house was very well regulated indeed, thanks chiefly to his own efforts.
"So they do. Hand-mirrors, hair ribbons, small tools of all sorts, but gold Erestor? Three goblets are hardly a fortune to us, but, well, gold? You seem quite cavalier about it."
"What are you suggesting? That someone in Imladris stole them? Who and why? We are perhaps over fond of beautiful things and have acquired a great many in this island of peace, but none of us has need of coin or barter-goods beyond the commerce we engage in as a kingdom. Even if someone felt such a need, he need only petition the council and his requirements would be met."
"On reflection, I think you are right. Give the kitchen-steward a gentle reminder to keep his inventory carefully, and let that be an end to it."
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"You do not mean that!"
"How many times have you heard me say something I did not mean?"
"But – you are going to do nothing?"
"You have understood me correctly. Congratulations." Erestor shook his head at the astonished expression of the young man standing before him. He narrowed his eyes as the pale rays of the winter sun fell directly upon the boy's face. The skin over the strong bones had regained its color, and the dark circles were gone from beneath eyes now clear and bright with excitement. He dropped his eyes down the long, rangy body, thin as a rail from the last growth spurt. He noticed that little weight was supported on the crutch propped under one armpit, and that the bandaged foot was resting lightly on the ground. Another week, two at the most, and the human son of the house would be released from a dreadful bondage. A badly sprained ankle—its cause still creating some tension at mealtimes—had kept the boy indoors and quiet, much to his disgust. Erestor ruefully agreed with the exasperated father who had stated that it was better for the household when Estel was more seriously injured. At least then he did not wander the halls pestering its residents to the point of madness. During the past two weeks Erestor had pondered deeply on his own recent activities, trying to discern which of his shortcomings was being punished by the Valar with the boy's constant presence. It was inevitable that Estel would hear of the desultory inquiries Erestor was making about the missing goblets. Thus the boy's current astonishment.
Estel hobbled to Erestor's desk, hitching one hip against the corner where he stayed until an icy glare caused him to hop the short distance to a comfortable chair. As soon as he settled his foot out in front of him, he picked up his argument. "But don't you care what happened?"
Erestor reached in a very pointed fashion for a parchment and rustled it sharply as he prepared to write upon it. "Not at all. Unless and until our entire state dinner service marches out of the hall to the tune of "Border Lands", I have other pressing matters to take up my time and attention."
"But – "
"Estel! If you cannot speak without beginning a sentence with that offensive expression, you may go and bother Glorfindel!"
The boy ducked his head. "Sorry. I just thought you would be more, well, angry, that there is a thief in Imaladris." Long tan fingers picked at a broken thread in the chair arm's embroidery.
Erestor's lips twitched at the sure sign of Estel's contrition. "First of all, leave the poor chair alone; it has done nothing to you that I am aware of. Secondly, we have no evidence whatsoever that there is a thief, as you say, in Imladris. This is a very large household and things go missing from time to time."
Estel's head snapped up. "But Erestor, aren't you going to do anything?"
The counselor lowered his face into his hands and counted to himself. Slowly.
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Two days later Erestor was forced to reconsider his earlier decision, and Estel was present to hear the unsettling tidings. The boy sat on the balcony railing, dropping tiny bits of bread to the birds that flocked eagerly below him. When his father entered the echoing library the boy sat quite still, hoping to escape attention. His ears, near as keen as an elf's, took in every word that was spoken.
"Ah, Elrond. It will be another hour before I have the documents finished."
"There is no hurry with that, Erestor. I have come about another matter. It seems that Glorfindel is missing some gold chain he had acquired over the years. Nothing of sentimental value, fortunately."
Erestor placed his quill carefully in its stand and said soberly, "Today the armorer reported some silver plate is missing from the Hall of Guardians as well."
"Then we can no longer pass this off as common mischance. We do have a thief. Here. In Imladris."
Erestor shook his head, black hair rippling in a snake-like curve down his back. "Why?Why? There is no need…"
"We will find the 'why' when we find out 'who'. May I place this in your hands? You will have all the assistance you require."
"Yes, I had better deal with it myself. However, I do not want anyone else involved. I do not want the entire populace to know what canker eats at us, until we are ready to take action."
"Very well. Try to hand off some of your other duties to someone else though, if only to please me."
Erestor nodded distractedly, already considering the best way to go about a distasteful business.
Elrond smiled, clasped a narrow shoulder briefly and left the room, the door closing with a soft thud.
Estel waited only until the door closed securely before limping quickly across the marble floor. "Erestor! Now you have to admit something is going on!"
"So it seems, brazen one. Have you no shame that you eavesdropped on your father and myself?"
"Not really. Listen, you need help!"
"You just heard me say I required none."
"You said you don't want anyone else to know about it, but I already know, plus I have lots of time to help you. This will give me something to do; you have been after me for days to find something to occupy me!"
"But that is because I was trying to get you to stop interrupting and pestering me."
Estel could not hide the excited sparkle in his eyes so he dropped them, letting the dark lashes rest against his cheek. His shoulders slumped and he said in a voice that tried oh-so-hard to sound adult, yet dripped with misery nonetheless. "I see. I – I am sorry. I do not mean to...to annoy you, Erestor. I just like to be with you, but I will not bother you anymore…." He trailed off and started for the door, leaning hard on his crutch and hobbling pathetically.
Erestor watched the tragic spectacle for a moment before he scraped his chair back roughly and started toward the door. "Estel, wait! You know perfectly well that I – that I do not find your company intolerable." He approached the young man and one hand reached for Estel's arm, appearing spastic in its fits and starts before it settled firmly into place.
Estel did not turn or raise his head. "You mean you will let me help you find the thief?"
"Yes, yes, if that will convince you I do not hate you, then yes, you may help me."
Estel spun around, laughing as he nearly unbalanced on his crutch and had to grasp Erestor's robe with one hand. His eyes were dancing with mischief.
Erestor reared back. "You little demon! You manipulative, conniving –"
The laughing eyes warmed with a deeper emotion and the boy leaned forward, resting his cheek against Erestor's shoulder. He rubbed it softly against the heavy black silk, taking a liberty no one else would ever be allowed. "I'm sorry. I'm too old to wheedle you anymore, I know that. I miss it sometimes, though. The way I could always get you to do what I wanted." Estel whispered softly, "If you really do not want me to help you, I will not 'pester' you, I promise."
One long-fingered hand rested a brief moment on the unruly dark hair. "I have little faith in that promise, but I will not test your resolve. I have said you may help me, and so you shall."
Estel raised his head and said, his voice tight with excitement, "Oh, thank you! What do we do first?"
Erestor returned to his desk. "First you let me finish my work. We will begin after the noon meal."
"Good! I have a great many ideas –"
"That is exactly what I am afraid of. Now leave me in peace until later."
Estel, his limp much improved, moved quickly to the door. "I will come back directly after dinner. Oh, and Erestor?"
The elf did not bother to glance up from his parchments. "Hmm?
"You started a sentence with 'but'."
Erestor's head snapped up at that, and an irate finger stabbed in the direction of the door. "OUT!"
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"So what are we going to do?"
"I am going to speak with various people about ordinary matters, and then touch lightly upon our mystery, as you call it. You are going to carry this – " The counselor deposited a packhorse load of parchments, quills, inkpots, and ledgers in Estel's arms. " – and take notes of whatever is said. You will not ask people if they have stolen anything –"
"I wouldn't!"
"Or if they are suspicious characters – "
"Honestly Erestor, you must think I am a complete idiot!"
An eyebrow soared. "Or if they have been sneaking around anywhere."
Estel gave a disgusted snort, but he really did want to be in on the chase so he pressed his lips together and looked as cooperative as he possibly could. "I will be your silent secretary, I promise."
Erestor looked skeptical, but led the way into the hallways of the Last Homely House. As he closed the door of his study behind him, he frowned at Estel juggling his burden. "You will be able to manage? You can do without your crutch now?"
Estel nodded vigorously, leaning a bit as one scroll starting sliding from his grip. "I have not truly needed it for days, but I could not get rid of it until Ada said I might. This morning he said I could discard it, but must remain indoors a few more days." He smiled brightly at his grumpy mentor. "So everything has worked out very well, don't you think?"
Erestor snorted Estel's favorite snort. Robust yet patrician, speaking volumes. He swept down the hallway, with a grinning Estel scurrying in his wake. He then proceeded to meet with several people as they went about their work for the day. Each meeting consisted of a greeting, a little good-natured chaffing of the new 'secretary', and then a discussion of the problems encountered by whichever overworked, under appreciated member of the Last Homely House they had encountered.
Estel wrote diligently, occasionally smirking or frowning but keeping his rampageous curiosity under strict control.
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"So I ask you, how am I supposed to provide enough linen for the household if the flax suppliers send such inferior goods?"
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"That's enough about business matters, when are you going to give me a chance to get my revenge, Erestor? You have beaten me the last six times we played."
"What a positive outlook you have, considering that statistics would indicate yet another loss were we to play again!"
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"You are to be commended, Baenthir, to have so much oatmeal left in the barrel by this time of the month."
The elf clapped the advisor on the back and said heartily, "Waste not, want not, eh Erestor?"
"Er - indeed."
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"I know you have Elrond's ear, Erestor. You need to convince him that we cannot continue to have this 'open border' policy, letting men, elves from other kingdoms, and wizards come and go as they please."
"You must speak with him of your concerns yourself. I am hardly going to urge against a policy with which I agree. Now, may we return to the matter at hand: you say that you need another apprentice if you are going to complete the next allotment of mail on schedule?"
"Yes, and Elrond has ignored my request! There are only so many hours in the day! And I am still required to supply plowshares and hoes for next spring, as well as –"
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Estel threw himself into an armchair, his burden sliding to the ground as he did so. Erestor followed the boy into his study, and glared pointedly at the untidy heap at Estel's feet. The boy rolled his head on the chairback, moaning as stiff neck muscles protested. "Do not look at me like that! I have done yeoman service this day. My hand is cramped, my back will never be the same, my eyes are blurry, and I nearly died from the strain of saying nothing."
Erestor's eyes softened. "Indeed, you did well, my assistant. I was sure you were going burst at the seams when Carlinir was criticizing your father's policies."
"I was so good! I would be angry with him, but I am too tired." Estel slid further, until Erestor's own neck ached at the sight of the position the boy assumed. "What is next? I do not think I can listen to any more silliness or complaining. I had no idea so many elves are so foolish – I never noticed it before."
Erestor chuckled richly. "Why, Estel, I shall make a cynic of you yet."
Estel grinned. "Well, I have the finest teacher! Seriously, though, what should I do?"
"For tonight: go to bed. Tomorrow we can go through your notes and make a list of anomalies and anything we may think is significant. We will go over it together."
"Tomorrow sounds wonderful." Estel slid completely to the floor and began to gather his belongings together. "I think I will leave these here, since my room does not have a lock." Yawning widely he placed his somewhat ordered materials on Erestor's desk.
"An excellent thought, Estel. I bid you good-night."
Nodding and heading for the door, the boy tried to reply politely, but his words were swallowed by a yawn of gargantuan proportions.
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The next day Estel was completely recovered and bounced into Erestor's study as soon as he finished breakfast. He found Erestor frowning over a large tome written in script almost too small to read. The advisor glanced up and sighed at the sight of so much enthusiasm and energy bound into a relatively small package. Erestor closed the book and said reluctantly, "I see you are ready to begin. Today we are going to be searching rooms -" He held up a hand to still an enthusiastic response. "I cannot begin to express the distaste I feel for such a task, but it cannot be given over to another, considering that almost no one knows of our quest."
Estel tried momentarily to assume an expression of regretful soberness, then gave it up as a bad job and rubbed his hands together. "Now we will get somewhere! We may even find the stolen goods!"
Shaking his head, Erestor bid Estel gather up his bundle of parchments, quills, and ink, and together they approached the first of the rooms Erestor had determined might be good candidates to search. As the morning wore on, Estel was amazed at some of their findings.
"Why on Arda does Lolindir have a little bunch of dried flowers on his pillow?"
Erestor smiled gently, and stepped back from the drawer he had been searching. He indicated a linen handkerchief containing a curl of blond hair tied up in a red ribbon. "Does this not suggest a reason?"
Estel stared at the object. "No. Lolindir is not even yellow-haired. What does it mean?"
"Love, dear boy. This is a token from Lolindir's betrothed."
Repulsed, Estel drew back as if the dainty curl might contaminate him. "Yuck. I willnever keep something to remind me of a girl!"
Erestor's smile widened. "Time will tell."
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"Erestor!!"
The intense emotion in Estel's voice jerked Erestor's head around. The elf had been feeling carefully under the mattress of a large four-postered bed, but paused as he asked, "What have you found?"
Estel backed out of the wardrobe he had been examining on his hands and knees. "Shoes! And boots!"
Erestor turned back to the mattress. "Shoes and boots in a wardrobe – how shocking!"
"No, there arethree left shoes and five right shoes! Come and see!"
Erestor straightened his back and moved to stand beside Estel, who was pulling shoes and boots from the wardrobe in desperate haste, lining them up by pairs or trios. Before him lay a pair of dress slippers, a trio of hunting boots, and a trio of stout gardening brogues. Estel looked up at his mentor, eyes wide. "This must mean something! Who needs extra right shoes unless there is a sinister reason?"
Erestor finished his examination of the footwear and smirked at the boy kneeling beside him. "I hardly think the reason is sinister."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Elementary, Estel. See how the right shoes are bent and folded just above the sole? The leather is broken down there. The garden shoe is nearly unwearable it is so badly turned over. No doubt this elf has an old injury that causes his ankle to tip to the side slightly, breaking down his footwear. He wisely orders an extra right shoe when he requests new ones. No doubt the reason there is only one right slipper is because he has already discarded the first one. You can see that the left slipper is more worn than the left brogue or the left boot. He has had the slippers long enough to discard the first right slipper, and has begun to wear the second.
Estel stared at Erestor, amazed at his deductive powers. It took a sharp cough to recall him to his duty.
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The next time Estel called for Erestor's attention, in yet another elf's rooms, his voice was subdued and anxious. When Erestor joined him, he saw the boy held a torn sheet of parchment with a list of names. Estel handed over the scrap saying, "I found this underneath the desk. I do not know all these elves, but these three -" Estel's finger pointed. "- I think they are elves who do not agree with how Ada rules Imladris."
Erestor's brows drew together as he perused the names. The last on the list was unevenly torn, showing only that the name began with an 'm' and ended with an 'r'. "Ah, yes. You are quite correct; many of these elves—and their politics—are well-known to me." He looked down into the worried gray eyes and said gently, "One may disagree with your father's policies and yet not be a thief, Estel. However, I am pleased you found this, as a few of these names are a surprise to me. Well done."
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At the end of nearly five days of investigation, Estel and Erestor had several parchments covered with notes and lists of odd occurrences. Estel set down the parchment in his hand with a frustrated groan. "How can we tell what is important out of all this? We have not found the least sign of the gold or silver, and are not likely to either, since it could be hidden here and there all over Imladris."
Erestor poured his exhausted assistant a small glass of wine, as well as a larger one for himself. "I do not think that is the case, Estel. Think about it. There are at least twenty pieces missing, all bulky except for Glorfindel's chains, and even those are not dainty things to easily put in a pocket."
"But you could hide it all in the hay in the stable -"
"Someone might hit it with the tines of a pitchfork."
"That is not very likely – there is enough hay for all of winter!"
"Put yourself in the thief's place. Unless he is a stablehand, he probably does not visit the stables very often. How would you feel, knowing the treasure you had stolen was lying there, able to be found at any moment, when you would not be nearby to hinder the finder, or retrieve it?"
Estel chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. "I would worry all the time."
"Exactly. I have had Glorfindel make discreet inquiries, and there has been no one appearing in the stables frequently or at unusual times. The same concerns hold true for most obvious hiding places."
Estel was beginning to see the scope of the problem. "And if he hid it a piece at a time, he would have all that worry twenty times over, unless he has gotten it away completely by now."
"I doubt that he has done so. No one has left Imladris except for the normal patrols; it is no time to be beginning a journey with the weather getting worse every day."
"Then what are we to do? It will take years to search every nook and cranny, and meanwhile the thief could be moving them to a place we have already searched! It's hopeless."
"Not quite as bleak as all that, Estel. Let us think for a moment about motivation. Why do people steal?"
"Well, there are lots of reasons, I suppose. If they are hungry, or need clothing...or are just plain greedy."
"I think we can rule out hunger here in Imladris. If hunger touches any, it touches all, and we have been fortunate this last yen in both crops and trade. Clothing or trinkets would be stolen directly, I think, from wash lines or sleeping chambers. That leaves greed. Why would someone feel the need for so much gold and silver?"
Estel felt himself forced to touch on a subject that always made him uncomfortable, yet he felt the point had to be made. He picked nervously at a scab on his wrist. "Some people like to have things...special things...even if they do not belong to them... like the Silmarils."
Erestor's face twisted at the open mention of a shame he preferred to leave to the mists of time. Nonetheless, he refused to take out the tattered remnants of rage and pain on this child. He spoke quietly and was pleased to see Estel relax. "That is true, but although the goblets, plate, chain, and other items that have gone astray are attractive, there are many finer items here, some of notable beauty or great historical worth. These particular things were not taken by someone made mad by beauty and desire."
Erestor sat down at his desk and pulled open a drawer, withdrawing from it a small ceramic jar which was decorated with gilt and painted with vines and flowers. "Come here, Estel."
The boy rose from his chair and walked to where Erestor sat with one hand extended to grasp Estel's wrist. "What have you done to yourself now, and why did you not go to the healers?"
Estel's hand lay trustingly in Erestor's. "It is nothing – just a scrape."
"Even small wounds can become infected in a human. Hold still." Erestor opened the jar and swiped a fingertip through the pale yellow ointment within. He carefully rubbed it into the small sore on Estel's arm, making sure it penetrated well. "There, that should do."
Estel watched as the long, pale fingers capped the jar. "Thank you, Erestor. You are right, even that jar is prettier than the things that were taken, so the reason must be for the value of the gold and silver, not the form that it is in."
"I think we can take that as given. So again I ask, why would someone steal, if not for the needs of the body?"
Estel gnawed on a fingernail. "If people do not feel the need to steal to eat, or take care of their families, then they must be unhappy about something – something that they think can be made better with gold."
"Well reasoned, Estel. Such as...?"
Estel looked helplessly at his teacher and friend. "I do not think I am grown up enough to know."
Erestor smiled at Estel with warm affection. "Such wisdom shows me that you are growing up indeed. It is true that you will probably find the reasons for the theft hard to understand—once we discover them—but you are a very perceptive young man, and even from a child you were aware of the feelings of those around you. So tell me who you think is unhappy of those we have spoken with."
Estel moved his attention to a different fingernail and Erestor itched to pull the offending hand away from the boy's mouth. Completely oblivious, Estel mused, "Well, Gildor always seems angry to me, but no doubt that is because he thought to have Glorfindel's place before Ada made him marshal. I do not see how gold could help him, though. Baenthir is obviously unhappy his goblets are gone, but I doubt he stole his own things. Lindir seemed very unhappy when we spoke to him; he even said he wanted to leave Imladris." Estel whispered guiltily as he accused a friend, "He might need gold to start a new life somewhere."
Erestor also looked saddened as he replied, "That cannot be ruled out as a possibility. Anyone else?"
"I suppose all the elves on that list we found are unhappy or angry."
"Hmmm. I had believed those elves to be merely somewhat discontented and looking for a little intrigue and excitement, foolish as that is in an elf of mature years! But perhaps we should look a bit more closely. Let me see the list again."
Estel brought Erestor the piece of parchment before sitting on the floor beside the advisor's desk. "I must admit I am rather discouraged. Even if we find a piece of the stolen goods, there will be no way to say who stole it unless we find it under someone's pillow! And there are more unhappy people in Imladris than I ever dreamed of, but only one of them is a thief. I give up."
"Ho, so my intrepid assistant yields the contest! Come, Estel, we just need to think harder. What of the oddities we discovered? List them for me."
Estel sighed deeply, but obliged. "Apparently a score or so of elves would like to take over from Ada and rule Imladris; Denedan has too many right shoes; Gildor has a sweet tooth and hides away sweetmeats; one elf keeps a venomous snake in his room; someone has been using a wall sconce to hide correspondence, Aenthir has a beautiful triptych that no one has ever seen before, but he does not want to say where he got it from…" The boy's voice droned on as Erestor got up and began to pace restlessly, the list of dissidents dangling from ink-stained fingers. "…Cyratan has ten arrowheads in a drawer that all have the points broken off; it appears that regardless of its constant presence at our breakfast table, we do not eat enough oatmeal; there is some sort of clanking noise in the far western corridor that is frightening elflings—I would like to get to the bottom of that one; and last but not least, two elves that had not spoken since before I was born are suddenly bosom friends. That is all I can remember."
Erestor froze in place, thumb and finger tugging at his lower lip. "I think….I think…." He raised the list of names and peered intently. "I have assumed the obvious, but what if the…."
The black-clad elf spun to face Estel, his eyes glittering with a predator's triumph. "I know where the gold is, and who has taken it!"
Estel scrambled to his feet, fatigued forgotten as he demanded, "Who?! Where?! How did you figure it out?"
Erestor laughed as he ruffled Estel's hair. "You told me everything I needed to piece the mystery together, my brave assistant!"
"I did? Just now, you mean? What did I say? Erestor, tell me!"
Smirking his most annoying smirk, the advisor said, "Think on your words since we started this discussion."
"But – I said a great many things! All things that we knew before! Tell me!"
"Think slowly and logically over all we have discussed, and it will come to you."
"Is there anything in particular that I should give my attention?"
Erestor started for the door to apprise Elrond of his deductions. "I might suggest the singular occurrence of the barrel of oatmeal."
Despairingly Estel cried, "But there was nothing wrong with the oatmeal! You said it was well done to be so full so late in the month!"
Erestor paused in the doorway and looked back at his protégé. "That is the singular occurrence."
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It was a solemn group that assembled in the commodious storage room that opened into the kitchens. It consisted of Elrond, Erestor, Glorfindel with three guards, Estel trying hard to conceal his excitement, and a very angry Baenthir.
Elrond opened the proceedings. "Is there anything you would like to say before we begin searching?"
The normally genial elf blustered with indignation. "I protest this slur upon my character! You have no right to come into my domain. Unless I cease to feed this community, or allow foodstuffs to spoil, how I dispose my commodities is entirely up to me! If I am well ahead with oatmeal at this time of year, that is to my credit, not my condemnation!"
"If that is so, you will have no objection to Glorfindel searching the barrels."
"I have every objection! I will not have him and his guards running their filthy hands through them! Everything they touch will have to be thrown to the pigs!"
"I am sorry it has come to this. Glorfindel, please begin; you know what we are looking for."
The marshal motioned to two of the guards to stand beside Baenthir, while he and his companion began to pull the lids from the wooden barrels and run long iron rods into the contents again and again. Barley, wheat flour, buckwheat, rye, dried peas, lentils; all were opened and examined. When he came to the oatmeal, Elrond crowded close. The lid was removed and Glorfindel began to push the iron rod vigorously into the pale, dusty contents that came within a foot of the top of the barrel. At once he hit an obstruction that clanked dully and nodded to his lord. "It is here." Using a wooden scoop he began to remove the oatmeal into buckets provided for the purpose, and soon came to a burlap sack nearly white with oat dust. Glorfindel grasped the bundle with both hands and hefted it clear of the barrel and onto the floor, then began to untie the twine securing it shut. A small shower of oatmeal cascaded to the floor as he spread the sack open and stepped back. Elrond bent over, peering into the dark depths of the bag and reached within. The torchlight gleamed on the silver plate he held up. As one, those who had been concentrating on Glorfindel's task turned to look at the steward. An amazing transformation had taken place, for where before all had been genial heartiness and hail-fellow-well-met, there now stood an elf whose eyes shown with cunning and contempt.
Elrond gestured with the plate he still held. "What have you to say in your defense?"
"I have no idea how that bundle came to be here! You cannot prove that I do!"
Erestor stepped forward, speaking decisively, "One week ago we discussed the contents of this barrel. I, believing you to be trustworthy, accepted your word that careful husbandry and good management were the reasons you were so well supplied with oatmeal. Then yesterday my assistant reminded me that you serve oat porridge every morning."
Baenthir's eyes flicked nervously from Erestor to Elrond. "I do not recall that conversation. It is your word against mine. Our lord would not condemn me with so little evidence."
Erestor smiled and motioned to Estel, who stepped proudly forward carrying a parchment. He looked to Erestor but the advisor nodded at Elrond. Estel cleared his throat and handed the parchment to his father. "This is a record of the conversation Erestor speaks of. I was present and took these notes—you can see it is my hand—I heard and wrote down every word spoken."
Baenthir paled, for he had completely forgotten the silent shadow that had hovered behind Erestor. Elrond took his time, reading and re-reading the relevant passage. Finally he looked up, a deep frown on his face as well as the beginnings of anger. "One week ago you were aware there was a problem with your supplies. We now know why this barrel was so full, but an innocent man would have investigated at once, and brought me word of what he had found."
The elf lord turned to Erestor. "Do you have any understanding of the motivation for this act against our community?"
"Sadly, my lord, I do. Estel found a list of names of elves who are associated together, and are against your rule here. The last name was roughly torn and only two characters could be discerned. I erred in thinking one was an 'm', when instead it was a 'b' with the stem torn away. The last character was an 'r'. I believe the name is Baenthir."
Elrond's eyes narrowed dangerously as he turned his gaze upon the kitchen steward. He was a wise and benevolent ruler, but ruler he was and he did not look kindly upon threats to his lordship, few though they had been over the ages. "It is enough to hold him for trial. Perhaps I have been too lenient with dissenters of late, and now might be a good time to clean out a nest of vipers. Take him."
Glorfindel showed his teeth in a hungry grin, and laid a large hand on the steward's shoulder. "Come, Baenthir, I have some accommodations for you where we can prevent any further mischief."
The kitchen-steward drew himself to his full height and cried out furiously, "I will not be silenced! Too long has this land been ruled by one who cares nothing for the peace we have established here with toil and blood! Elrond will bring destruction upon us, for no longer are we unknown to the outside world! Strangers walk our halls and travel to far lands with our secrets –"
Glorfindel gave the steward a little shake—just a little one from his viewpoint—and the elf's eyes widened and his knees buckled. Glorfindel said genially, "You should not excite yourself so, it is bad for the digestion. Come along, Baenthir."
Before Glorfindel could lead the elf away, Estel asked, "I do not understand. How was gold and silver going to help him and his friends overthrow my father?"
Glorfindel replied, "Ah, now that is my area of expertise, young sleuth-hound. He needs to outfit an army, of course. No doubt he is intelligent enough—barely—to know he would have to hire mercenaries, since naught but born fools would follow him in Imladris."
Estel's eyes took in the ordinary looking elf held firmly in the golden warrior's hands. He imagined Baenthir and a motley crew creeping on the Last Homely House with spears in their hands and the courage of strong drink in their veins. Then he looked up at Glorfindel and imagined the confrontation between Glorfindel and his warriors, and the party of malcontents. He looked again at Baenthir and gasped, "Are youmad? Glorfindel would have defeated you with one arm secured behind him!"
The boy's disbelieving scorn pierced Baenthir as no ringing denunciation could have done. He collapsed like a punctured bladder, vague dreams of glory and power dissolving like morning mist, leaving him with the cold reality of treason.
Glorfindel, one hand still pressing grooves into Baenthir's shoulder, made a courtly bow in Estel's direction before he left the room with his captive, his guards stepping smartly behind him.
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Two days later, when the uproar over Baenthir's planned coup and its pathetic ending had already begun to die down, Estel was once again in Erestor's study. And once again, the beleaguered advisor was trying to get a little work done.
"No."
"But –"
"Absolutely not."
"We could –"
"Absolutely, positively, unconditionally—no."
"But we worked so well together!"
"No."
Estel frowned, thinking hard of another approach. "Those two elves—the ones that suddenly became friends overnight after yen of hating each other—have you no curiosity? It could be another plot against Ada."
"I am not listening."
"What about Lindir? Everyone likes him so much and loves his music. We need to find out why he is so sad and thinking of leaving Imladris."
A deep sigh answered Estel. "I know what troubles Lindir, and it is nothing a young investigator—no matter how intrepid—can hope to resolve. Please forget these ideas of yours, Estel. It is a beautiful day outside, the warmest we have had in weeks. You should get some fresh air and exercise."
Estel paced restlessly about the room, picking up and putting down precious objects until Erestor's nerves were stretched to the breaking point. At last the boy drew a deep breath and played his last card—the one he had been holding for when all else failed. "What about the frightened elflings? Are you going to let them be terrorized by Valar knows what?"
Erestor's quill hesitated, and Estel pressed his advantage. "I have been asking around. Everyone has tried to discover what that clanking noise is—my brothers, the armorer, even Glorfindel. It would take a brilliant mind to unravel such a mystery."
"No." But this time the word lacked conviction.
Estel whispered breathlessly, "Come on, Erestor! We make a great team! You said I helped you find the answer, and that I was a good assistant. We can be the ones to solve the 'Riddle of the Clanking Gallery'!"
Erestor looked up and his lips were quirked ever so slightly. "Very well. Gather your things." Estel scrambled for his parchment and quills as the advisor put his work away.
As Erestor strode from behind his desk, he flicked a finger under the boy's chin. "Come, my assistant, we can but try."
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Fin
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A/N: One part of this story is a slight rewrite of one of my favorite Holmes/Watson exchanges:
"'(Watson) Is there any point to which you would wish to draw my attention?' '(Holmes) To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.' 'The dog did nothing in the night-time.' 'That was the curious incident' " from The Hound of the Baskervilles
"Watson, we can but try." Thor Bridge from "The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes"
Sleuth·hound: A dog used for tracking or pursuing, such as a bloodhound. Also called sleuth. [Middle-English