Disclaimer: All the characters and settings belong to Tolkien, and I'm not making any money from writing this story.  That's okay - the warm fuzzies are enough reward for me.

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With three new scrolls to translate, Elrond went happily into his study.  The sunlight streamed through the windows, turning all the woodwork golden.  Elrond settled down at his large oak desk to begin to investigate the contents of the histories he had acquired, but jumped in surprise when his feet met a solid something under his desk.

"Ouch!" said a muffled voice.

Elrond bent down and peered down into the dark depths behind his footrest.   "Estel?  What are you doing down there?" 

Estel lay very still, eyes closed.  His lips moved very little as he said.  "I'm in the dungeons of Sauron.  I'm being sad and waiting for someone to come rescue me."

"Oh."  Elrond thought for a moment.  "May I rescue you?  I was going to use this desk now." 

Estel sighed and opened his eyes, looking at his foster-father in exasperation.  "Papa!  You are not a girl!"  He threw his arm over the top of his face.  "Woe is me!  I will langui- langui - I will wait here sadly forever!" 

Elrond sat up and speculated for a moment, then bent back down to the cavern under his desk.  "Beren?"  he asked experimentally.  The Lay of Leithian had been sung often lately in the Hall of Fire, and Estel had found the tale intriguing.

Estel grinned briefly at his father's perceptiveness, but the next moment was wailing,  "Oh, Luthien!  Where are you?" He paused and then,

"We drink then wench then drink some more

Until we fall upon the floor -"

"Estel!" Elrond interrupted, aghast.  "What on earth are you singing?"

"Beren dreamed he sang battle songs of Northern men," Estel explained, propping himself up on his elbow.  "I heard some Men from the North singing that song, so I thought it would be a good one.  It has a lot of verses about swords in it."

"Well, it is not a polite song,"  Elrond said firmly.  "You will have to sing something else."

"That’s all right,"  Estel said.  "I'm going to be rescued in a minute anyway.  I have to listen for footsteps on the stairs.  Shh."   The little boy screwed up his eyes very tight again, and lay still.

Elrond shook his head as he sat up and opened a scroll.  The same child who could not sit still through breakfast or fifteen minutes of arithmetic was lying without discernable  movement under the table, pretending to be half-dead.  

No sooner had Elrond become engrossed in his reading than Estel shouted, "Luthien!" and sped out from under the table, causing Elrond to bang his own knee in his hasty efforts to make room for the escaping child. 

Elrond watched his foster son, and chuckled as Estel held out his hand and, with a noble air, announced to no one visable: "No, Luthien, you must not come with me - it is far too dangerous.  No, it is even more dangerous than rescuing me from Sauron!  I can do it all by myself."  Estel circumambulated the desk twice and then turned around in great surprise.  "Holy Thunder!  Where did you come from?....Well, I guess you can come with me then.   You'll come in handy if we have to sing Morgoth to sleep."  

Elrond pushed his scrolls to the side.  He knew, from long years as a parent and in fostering other children, that warm summer days and grand adventures should not be wasted.  These moments passed all too quickly. 

"Estel - er, Beren?  I wonder if I may I join you on your quest?"

Estel looked undecided.  

"We could take a lunch and go down by the river," wheedled Elrond.

At this, Estel made up his mind quickly.  "You can be Huan, the faithful hound."

Elrond stood and stretched.  "That will suit me very well, I think.   Come, Beren, and let us go gather some provisions.  We have a long journey before us."