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   The lofts above were very cavelike with their low
vaulted ceiling of rough stone and it was here the
children had taken refuge, making themselves nests out
of the straw and pretending to be the outlaw band of
Barahir hiding from the Orcs.

   In fact they were hiding from their mothers, and
their uncle and most especially their grandmother. It
had seemed like such a good idea at the time; they'd
been climbing the northeast wall of the valley and
rested on a shelf next to one of the innumerable
waterfalls, very hot and dirty from the climb. So when
Berya suggested they make a pool to bath in they'd all
agreed, even Estel and Amin who weren't usually very
interested in getting clean.

   They'd built a dam out of loose rocks and clay,
getting extremely wet and muddy in the process, but
instead of pooling the water had found another channel
and gone plunging down *right* into the gardens far
below. Of course they'd torn the dam down as quickly
as they could but the damage was done.

   They meant to confess all and take their
punishment, (as if Uncle wouldn't know who was to
blame without being told!) but, as Hallam pointed out,
there wasn't any hurry about it. Why ruin the entire
day? Especially as it was likely to be their last day
of freedom for some little time.

   Meleth thought it very unfair they should be
punished for what was, after all, a simple mistake. In
the interests of justice she suggested they do
something naughty on purpose.

   As they were already quite high up the choice was
obvious. They climbed right out of the valley and
spent the rest of the day on the fells. Caught fish
with their hands in a mountain stream and cooked them
over a fire to eat with the bread and fruit they'd
brought from home. Picked flowers in a bog, getting
thoroughly mired in the process. And built a fort out
of crumbly stone which Hallam and Berya held very
successfully against the younger three. All in all a
very satisfactory kind of day.

   At sunset they climbed back down into the valley
and stole back to the House, pretending to be Luthien
and Beren in Angband, settling themselves in the
stable loft to fortify themselves from the store of
sweets they kept there against the unpleasantness to
come. Now that the hour of doom was nigh at hand their
philosophical resignation was begining to desert them.

   "I wish we'd gone straight back after the business
with the waterfall." Berya fretted. "It'd be over
now."

   "And we'd have lost the whole day." Hallam pointed
out, yet again.

   "It'll be bread and water and double translations
for *weeks*." Estel said gloomily.

   "A few days at most." Berya corrected. "You know
the Elves will start sneaking us things to eat if it
goes on any longer."

   "I'll cry." Meleth offered. "Maybe that will help."

   Estel shook his head. "Tears work on Elves, and
maybe a little on Uncle - but not Grandmother!"

   "No indeed." Hallam agreed. "Remember what she said
the last time about being a naughty little girl
herself and knowing *all* the tricks."

   "I tried to get her to tell me what she had done,"
Meleth admitted, "but she just said she wasn't about
to give me any more ideas."

   "Hist!" Amin said suddenly. "Ware, Orcs approach!"

   At first they thought he was just trying to change
the subject but then the rest of them heard the jingle
of harness and deep grumbling voices from below.
Wriggling to the edge of the loft floor they looked
over.

   The first thing they saw was a large blue pointy
hat - Gandalf! Meleth gave a very small gasp of
delight and the wizard looked up, directly at them,
blue eyes twinkling. Then one of his companions said
something and he looked down again to answer.

   They were Dwarves, more than a dozen of them each
leading a tired poney, which was fairly astonishing in
itself as Dwarves and Elves don't get on as a rule and
aren't in the habit of exchanging visits. But even
more remarkably one of them, at the far end where the
children couldn't get a good look, was shorter than
the others and beardless, a child perhaps?

   Long ago the Rangers had sheltered the refugees
from Khazad-dum and helped them on their way to
permanent haven with their kin in the Blue Mountains
so the children knew Dwarves didn't 'grow from stone'
and that their women and children didn't have beards
as some ignorant Men said. Other children were always
exciting, as they saw so few, a Dwarf child would be
trebly so for nobody ever saw them!

   The Dwarves' voices were so deep and rumbly it
difficult to make out what they were saying but mostly
it was about dinner and sleeping dry and something
about Trolls. They were obviously in a great hurry for
they got the harness off their ponies in record time
with only the sketchiest of rubdowns before trooping
off with Gandalf.

   The children promptly climbed down to get
acquainted with the newcomers and were busily currying
them when three of the stable Elves arrived with
buckets of oats and mash.

   Then it was all up of course. They were marched
straight away to the nursery to be greeted with cries
of dismay by their nannies, Nuneth and Iorwen, and
assorted Elven attendants.

   "Good heavens but you're filthy!" Nuneth exclaimed
taking Estel by the shoulders.

   "We washed before we came in." he said defensively.

   Her answering look of open skepticism was not
unjustified. The quick dip in a river pool had indeed
removed most, if not all, of the mud and mire but it
had also left them decidedly damp when they crawled
into the stable loft. Now they were stuck all over
with hayseeds and bits of straw and the girl's hair
looked like bird's nests and the boy's hung in
strings, not to mention the sticky mouths and hands.
Grown ups tend to be over particular, Elven gown ups
especially so, but this time they had a point.

   There was no help for it, off they went to the
baths each with an Elf or two to see to it they
remembered to use soap and to comb tangles out of
hair. When the children finally met back in the day
nursery they had been tubbed and scrubbed until they
shone and dressed in their best which could only mean
they were to be presented to the guests. A very
unusual treat indeed.

   Meleth, who at eight was the youngest, was very
pretty even at her most unkempt with dark brown curls
that had a coppery sheen in sunlight, huge grey eyes
and a fetching sprinkle of little gilt freckles across
her nose. With clean face and yellow gown, combed hair
held back by a fillet of thin gold with a tiny gilt star
on her brow she looked like the little princess she
was.

   Berya was *not* pretty. At fourteen she was long
limbed and gawky with enormous hands and feet and nose
and cheekbones too large for her thin pointed face.
Glossy black hair that had never been cut and a pair
of eyes grey as clear water under a twilight sky were
small consolation. Bad enough to be a princess without
a kingdom she would say, but a plain princess at that!
And her mother and grandmother would smile as if they
knew something she didn't. Still she was looking
unusually presentable in pale green with little,
chiming silver bells and river pearls braided into her
hip length hair.

   Hallam was fourteen too, and every bit as lanky and
unfinished looking - not that it mattered so much in a
boy - with golden brown hair and an intense grey stare.
Estel and Amin, at ten and nine respectively, were still
at the pretty stage. Both were dark haired but Amin's
eyes were a true, deep blue while Estel's varied
depending on his mood. At the moment they were grey
reflecting equal parts annoyance and apprehension. All
three boys were dressed in shades of grey worked with
gold and silver thread.

   The children sat down to the supper laid out on the
large table but ate very little being rather full of
comfits, pastries and cakes. The Elves serving
pretended not to notice as they squirreled away meat
and fruit against the dearth to come.

   It was Glorfindel himself, Lord Elrond's herald,
who came to fetch them. A familiar mithril casket in
his hands.

   "The Elendilmir!" Amin blurted, astonished, and
Hallam and Berya exchanged startled glances as
Glorfindel lifted the jewel from its casket.

   It was a large Elf crystal, glinting like a star
with it's own light, attached to a collar of mithril
and adamant. Long ago it had been worn as a crown by
the High Kings of Old. The Chieftains still wore it
from time to time on especially grand occasions. If
Uncle wanted Estel to wear it now the guests must be
much more important than they had thought.

Glorfindel led them through covered galleries, up
flights of stone steps and across a terrace paved with
colored marbles, not to the great hall itself but to
the withdrawing room behind it. Uncle was there, of
course, in his high backed chair. And Grandmother and
Aunt Ellian and Aunt Gilraen.

No question but it was a first class occasion;
Grandmother was wearing the Nauglamir, a maginificent
golden necklace set with jewels of adamant, opal and
beryl made long ago by the Dwarves of Nogrod for
Finrod Felagund, with a star upon her brow. Aunt
Gilraen had put aside her usual mourning for a sea
blue gown and pearls. And Aunt Ellian was in leaf
green with carcenet and bracelets of mithril and
beryl.

Glorfindel's own wife, the Lady Lorellos, was
pouring wine for three Dwarves, uncomfortably perched
on chairs to big for them holding their crystal
goblets gingerly and looking as if they'd very much
prefer something a bit stronger, and Gandalf who gave
the children a friendly wink.

Not entirely unaccustomed to such occasions the
five of them had automatically fallen into their
proper order: Estel alone in front with the two girls
immediately behind him and Hallam and Amin bringing up
the rear.

"My Lord Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror,
rightful King Under the Mountain," Uncle intoned
formally, "this is the Heir of Isildur; Aragorn son of
Arathorn, Lord of the Dunedain."

Estel stared. The famous Thorin Oakenshield
himself? then remembered to bow. "Hail Thorin son of
Thrain, Heir of Durin, King of the Dwarves."

Thorin slid off his chair to return the bow. "Well
met, Aragorn Lord of the Dunedain, Friend to the
Dwarves."

Uncle looked austerely pleased and Estel knew he'd
acquitted himself well - so far.

Elrond presented the others: "Region daughter of
Argaladh, Lady of Carnarthon." Meleth bobbed a quick
curtsey. "Beruthiel daughter of Belegorn," this was
Berya, "and Halladan and Barahir, sons of Halbarad."
which was Hallam and Amin.

Thorin bowed gravely to each in turn. Chairs were
brought for the children and Estel tried to think of
something to say. Making conversation with strange
grown-ups is never easy, especially when one is
expected to act like a prince instead of a small boy.
It would be rude to ask why Thorin was here or about
the Dwarf child. Estel settled for hoping all was well
back back in the Blue Mountains.

It was. Thorin responded with the usual questions
about lessons and after a few minutes of politely
stilted conversation pleaded the fatigue of a long and
difficult journey and bowed himself and his two
companions out of the room. Glorfindel left with them
but Gandalf remained in his chair, sipping his wine
and eyeing the children consideringly. Oddly the Lady
Lorellos stayed too.

Uncle assumed a sterner mein, regarding his
fosterlings with something less than his usual
affection. The children quickly got to their feet
forming a chastened row in front of his chair as their
mothers left their seats to stand behind them.

"A curious thing happened this afternoon." Uncle
began. "Somehow one of the waterfalls was diverted
into the garden. Would you know anything about this?"

Berya blushed. "Yes, sir. It was my idea. We'd been
climbing you see and I thought we might make a pool to
cool off in. But the water didn't pool, it just found
another spot to go over the ledge."

Gandalf made himself very busy filling his pipe but
did not quite succeed in hiding a suspicious upcurl to
the corners of his mouth. Grandmother didn't even try
to hide her amusement and Elrond's frown relaxed
slightly.

"We didn't do it on purpose." Hallam chimed in from
his end of the row.

"Of course not." said Lady Lorellos quickly and
warmly. "Elrond -"

Uncle silenced her with a look before returning his
attention to the children. "I am sure you did not.
However the water came down right on top of the
Ivonwin's Cornfield."

"Oh no!" Berya's eyes flashed in alarm to from
Uncle to Lady Lorellos. "Was the Corn ruined?"

"I fear so." The Lady admitted.

Berya, Estel and Meleth all looked suitably
appalled, Hallam and Amin merely puzzled. They had
only been at Rivendell a year but the other three had
lived there practically their whole lives and knew as
much about Elven ways as if they were Eldar
themselves.

The sacred Corn for making 'life bread' or Lembas
had been a gift from Yavanna herself to the Fathers of
the Elves to sustain them on the journey to Aman. It
was grown in small plots tended by the Ivonwini,
Handmaidens of Yavanna, under the direction of the
Mistress of the Household. As Lady Celebrian had gone
oversea and Lady Arwen was away in Lorien that duty
had fallen to Lorellos, who was not only Glorfindel's
wife but a near kinswoman to Elrond. Ruining an entire
crop of the Corn was practically blasphemous.

"We didn't know!" Meleth said earnestly. "If we had
we'd have come right back instead of climbing out of
the Valley."

Suddenly all the grown-ups, even Gandalf, looked
very serious indeed and Uncle's frown became much more
intimidating.

"You left the Valley?"

"That was my idea." Meleth explained. "Since we
were going to be punished anyway I thought we should
do something bad on purpose to deserve it."

Grandmother's lips twitched, as if that line of
reasoning was not entirely unfamiliar to her, but
managed to maintain a grave front.

"You are forbidden to leave the Valley
unaccompanied because the High Fells are dangerous."
Uncle said sternly. "Gandalf and King Thorin's company
encoutered three Stone Trolls not far from here."

"But this was in daylight." Hallam protested. "We
came down well before sunset."

"There are other dangers than Trolls and Orcs that
are not stopped by sunlight." Uncle began, then
hesitated as if uncertain how to continue.

"Aragorn."

Estel looked apprehensively at his Grandmother.
Calling him by his formal name was a bad sign.

"You are Lord of the Dunedain." she continued
gravely, "your life is not your own but belongs to
your people. You betray them if you risk it without
need."

Estel swallowed hard, trying not to cry as
Grandmother's stern eye moved past him to the others.

"As for the rest of you, you are also of the Line
of Isildur. Aragorn is not only your kinsman but your
liege lord. It is your duty to guard and advise him,
not to lead him into dangerous follies."

Berya wiped her eyes furtively with the corner of
her sleeve. Hallam went red then very white. Meleth
sniffled forlornly and Amin hung his head.

"We won't do it again." Estel promised.
**************************
NOTES: (Warning! Most of what appears below is Fanon,
not Canon!)

Note One: Who Are These Women?
'Grandmother' is of course the Lady Ellemir, Widow of
Arador and mother of Arathorn, 'Aunt Ellian' and a
second son, Armegil. 'Aunt Gilraen' is Aragorn's mother.
She usually wears mourning for his father, (Dunedain
mourning is deep grey) only putting it aside on very
special occasions.

Lady Lorellos is both Elrond's niece by marriage,
her mother being Celebrian's elder sister, and his
first cousin through her father Elured, brother of
Elwing.

Note Two: Names
The Gondorians' silly legend that Aragorn was
brought up incognito is probably based on a
misunderstanding of the Northern Dunedain custom of
'child-names' usually given by the mother and used
throughout childhood in place of the 'formal name'.

Aragorn's child-name 'Estel', meaning Hope, refers
to the prophecies surrounding his birth. Berya and
Hallam's are clearly allusive to their formal names;
Beruthiel and Halladan. Meleth means 'love' or
'beloved'. And Amin means faith.

The Isildurioni and certain other ancient
Numenorean families also give their children names in
the 'high tongue' or Quenya which are almost never
used. Aragorn rules the Reunited Kingdom under his
Quenya name, Elessar.

Note Three: Who Exactly Are These Children?
Meleth, (aka Region) is a distant relative,
descended from Aranarth's youngest brother. She is the
last of her House and heiress to the Wardenship of the
Red Hill Country, (Carnarthon). She was little more
than a year old when her parents' died and has been
raised as Estel's sister.

Berya, (Beruthiel) is Ellian's daughter. She has an
elder brother, Belecthor, off learning to be a Ranger.
Her father Belegorn was killed trying to rescue Arador
from Stone Trolls. Ellian and her children then went to
live with Arathorn and Gilraen and after Arathorn's death
followed Gilraen and Aragorn to Rivendell.

Hallam and Amin's father is the same Halbarad who
will lead the Grey Company to Aragorn's aid during the
WR. He is also of the Line of Isildur being a nephew
of Arador. His three children, there is also a baby
daughter, joined their cousins at Rivendell after the
death of their mother last year.

Note Four: The Corn of Yavanna
This is canonical. Its origins and the ritual of
its planting and harvesting are described in 'Of
Lembas' an essay in 'Peoples of Middle Earth'.

'Again she fled but swift he came.
         Tinuviel! Tinuviel!
      He called her by her elvish name;
         And there she halted listening.
      One moment stood she, and a spell
         His voice laid on her: Beren came,
      And doom fell on Tinuviel
         That in his arms lay glistening.'

   "Yeech!"

   Hallam and Amin looked up from their own work to
stare at Estel in surprise.

   "They're *kissing*!" he complained. "Pages and
pages and they haven't even left Doriath yet. At this
rate I'm never going to get to the good part!" *1

   "What about me?" Hallam asked, "Seven verses and
Turin's *still* moaning about his mother!" he glared
at the pages on the table before him. "Why do heroes
in song always act like such fools?"

   "They do don't they." Amin agreed. "I mean here's
Isildur going around telling his mother, his father,
his brother and anybody else who'll listen he's going
to try to sneak into the palace and steal a seedling
of the White Tree!" 

   "He can't have done that really or the King's Men
would have caught him." Estel pointed out.

   "More likely his mother and father would have
locked him in his chamber." Amin answered. "But you're
right. The songmakers must have made that bit up."

   "They probably make a lot of it up." Hallam agreed.
"At least I hope so. I'd hate to think Turin really
was this wet."

   At that moment tall, smiling Elf appeared in the
entrance to their chamber. "The Lord Elrond releases
you from your word." he announced. "You have the
freedom of the Valley again."

   "Hurrah!" pens and paper went flying as the three
boys made a dash for the outdoors.

   They found their foster sisters on the terrace
below the nursery hall. Berya had a smudge of ink on
her nose and Meleth's eyes were pink rimmed, as if
she'd been crying. "I had Lamentation for the Fallen."
she explained, an endless poem mourning the many dead
of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.*2

   Estel offered a handkerchief. "Blow your nose." he
told her kindly, continuing to them all: "Let's go
down to the guest house and see if the Dwarves are
still there."

   Guests at Rivendell were quartered in a large
building facing onto the west entrance court just
below the Banquet Hall. Approaching it from the east
the children were delighted to see the small, curly
headed figure of the Dwarf child descending the back
stair to gardens.

   They might have caught up with him and introduced
themselves in the proper way if only he hadn't been
heading *right* for the place where they always staged
their Outlaw Ambushes. The tempation to make a more
dramatic entrance was irresistable.

   Ambush glade was, as Uncle had once remarked,
tactically perfect for the purpose being surrounded by
tall hemlocks and pines giving plentiful cover and
with a meandering stream cutting off possible escape
on two sides. The children took up their usual
positions and waited.

   The Dwarf child certainly did take his time, it
seemed quite a long wait before he finally hove into
view, nose buried in a book, and walked slowly past
Hallam's position and Berya's and had just come
abreast of Amin's when Estel gave the signal and they
all leapt out.

   "Lay down your weapons and you will not be harmed!"
Estel cried.

   "Oh my goodness gracious me!" exclaimed the visitor
dropping his book. Though no taller than Estel or Amin
it was instantly quite clear to all five children he
was in fact a grown-up person - though of what kind
they couldn't think.

   "I beg your pardon, sir." Estel stammered,
recovering himself. "We didn't mean to startle you."

   "Well actually we did." Meleth explained. "But you
see we only saw you from a distance and thought you
were a child like ourselves."

   "It was a play you see." Amin finished. "We're very
sorry." and picked up the visitor's book for him.

   "Quite all right, quite all right. Perfectly
understandable mistake." the grown-up said, still
looking just a bit rattled.

   "I am called Estel." he said politely. "This is my
little sister, Meleth and our cousins; Amin, Hallam
and Berya."

   The visitor looked over his shoulder and gave
another start at the sight of the two elder children.
"How do you do? I am Mr. Bilbo Baggins at your
service." and he bowed to Estel who returned it.

   "At yours and your family's."

   "My word but you gave me a turn." Bilbo continued.
"Is there anywhere to sit?"

   "There are some benches a little ways up the path."
Berya offered. "We'll show you."

   There was a singing circle just around the bend
from Ambush Glade with seats formed out of living
trees. The little brook widened into a deep pool and a
gap in the trees gave a clear view eastward to where
the sun and the moon rose.

   Berya dipped a cup of water from the pool for Mr.
Baggins and the children watched anxiously while he
drank it.

   "Are you feeling better now, sir?" Hallam asked.

   "Oh yes, quite recovered thank you." Bilbo Baggins
studied them, frowning. "You're not Elves are you?"

   "No we're Mortals, wards of Lord Elrond." Hallam
answered.

   "I see." said the guest, though he obviously didn't
at all. "Er...who are your parents?"

   The children exchanged uncomfortable looks. "We're
not allowed to say." said Berya.

   "It's a secret you see." Estel explained.

   "A real secret not a play secret." added Meleth.

   "So we musn't tell. We're sorry." Hallam finished.

   "I wouldn't want you to say anthing you're not
allowed to." Mr. Baggins said quickly. Tried to change
the subject. "Er...very pretty place Rivendell."

   "Thank you." said Berya politely.

   "Where are you from Master Baggins?" Estel asked,
adding hastily. "If you're allowed to say."

   "Oh yes, there are no secrets about me." the guest
assured them. "I'm from the Shire."

   "Oh! You must be a Halfling." Hallam said,
enlightened.

   "Ahem, we prefer 'Hobbit'." Bilbo said with
dignity.

   "I beg your pardon, Hobbit." Hallam corrected
himself. "You hold the lands between the Baranduin and
the Western Downs from King Argeleb don't you?"

   Mr. Baggins blinked in surprise. "The Shire was
granted to us by the King, a very long time ago when
there still was a King."

   "We're supposed to know things like that." Estel
explained. "It's part of our education."

   "How do you come to be with King Thorin?" Amin
wanted to know. "I didn't know Halflings - Hobbits -
had dealings with the Longbeards."

   "Nor do we." Bilbo agreed. "Gandalf introduced us.
You see I am an Expert Treasure-hunter, Thorin has
hired me to help him steal his gold back from the
Dragon."

   The children were suitably impressed. "That's going
to be dangerous." said Berya.

   "Yes." Mr. Baggins looked a little worried. "I must
admit I've never faced a Dragon before."

   "I'm not surprised." said Hallam. "There aren't
many left these days. Not south of the Withered Heath
anyway."

   "Oh, really?" the Hobbit seemed to be probing for
more information so they gave it to him.

   "We know all about Dragons." Estel explained. "Our
ancestors used to kill them."

   "When they didn't get killed themselves that is."
from Amin.

   Bilbo clearly didn't find that at all an
encouraging remark.

   "But of course you're a Burglar, nobody expects you
to kill Dragons." Hallam reassured him.

   "Quite right!" said the Hobbit with emphasis.

   "You may have to talk to Smaug though." said Berya.
"Don't look him in the eye, that's very important."

   "And don't tell him your name or anything about
yourself if you can help it." from Estel.

   "And above all don't believe anything Smaug tells
you." this was Hallam. "That may take some doing
because Dragons can be *very* convincing but listening
to them will lead you into all kinds of trouble."

   "They tell lies." explained Meleth. "Even worse,
they sometimes tell the truth but twist it so you do
just the wrong thing. Like poor Turin."

   "I see." said Mr. Baggins. "Turin?"

   "An ancestor of ours." Hallam explained. "He
listened to what a dragon told him and lots of
people died because of it."

   "Oh, I see. How very sad." Bilbo was begining to
look confused again.

   "Ah, there you are, Mr. Baggins."

   "Gandalf!" the children scrambled to their feet to
greet the wizard.

   He twinkled down at them. "I see you've been
keeping my friend Mr. Baggins entertained."

   "We've been telling him about Dragons." said Estel.
The Wizard's bushy eyebrows rose and he added
defensively: "They're in our books."

   "Yes, of course."

   "And we haven't said anything we oughten't." from
Meleth.

   "I'll attest to that." said Bilbo quickly. "In fact
I'm quite at sea."

   Gandalf laughed. "You're learning. Mr. Baggins,
learning fast." smiled down at him. "When the time
comes you'll know what to do or you're no grandson of
the Old Took!"

   Bilbo looked unconvinced.

   Gandalf turned back to the children. "I take it
you'll be joining us for dinner?"

   "Yes, Uncle released us just this afternoon." said
Berya.

   "Good. And I trust you've learned your lesson?" one
bushy brow arched.

   "Yes indeed." Estel said firmly. "We'll never go
out of the valley alone again - that's a promise."

   "We didn't even eat the things we'd hidden because
we were really sorry." put in Meleth.

   "That was very honorable of you." said the Wizard
maintaining a grave front with some effort. "We shall
see you this evening then. Mr. Baggins I would like a
word with you."

   "We'll be going." said Hallam taking the hint. The
other children fell in obediently behind him.
"Good-bye Gandalf. Good-bye Master Baggins."
    ************************************************

1. And now you know why Aragorn has a Westron
translation of the Lay of Leithian on the tip of his
tongue in LOTR. Needless to say he no longer complains
about the romantic parts. ;)

2. The Battle of Unnumbered Tears was a major defeat
that pretty much destroyed organized opposition to
Morgoth back in the First Age and killed lots of
heroes, including several of the children's direct
ancestors. Needless to say this poem is a real downer.

   It was natural that their talk with Mr. Baggins and
Hallam's translations of the Lay of Turin would turn
the children's minds to Dragons and a new play.

   A cave was ready to hand, a little grotto in the
gardens near one of the smaller waterfalls, but they'd
also need a hoard and that posed difficulties.

   They had some jewelry of course, especially the
girls, things the Elven smiths had made for them or
they'd inherited, but even piled all together on a
table in the day nursery it wasn't nearly enough for a
Dragon hoard.

   A thorough search of the nurseries produced a set
of ivory horses with beryl eyes, three silver backed
mirrors, four suits of gilt armour for toy knights, a
rose crystal vase and matching bowl, a handful of
uncut gemstones and a small carved sardonyx box with a
sapphire set in the lid.

   "Still not enough." Hallam said, discouraged, as
they stood looking at their disappointingly small heap
of treasure.

   "What about Mother's things?" Amin suggested.

   Hallam shook his head. "They're for the baby when
she's grown."

   "Yes I know, but couldn't we borrow them?"

   "No!" strongly from Estel. "We musn't take anything
that isn't ours. Remember when we built the city of
Gondolin out of Uncle's books?" Everybody did, and
winced at the memory.

   "But she was our mother too." Amin argued. "Don't
we have some right to her things?"

   "No." this time it was Berya, very decidedly.
"Jewelry goes to daughters, everybody knows that."

    "And the baby's too little to play." said Meleth.

    A gloomy silence. "I guess we could pretend -"
Hallam was begining when Estel interupted.

    "Wait a moment! We have a real treasure don't we,
why not use that?"

    "You mean the things in the windowless tower?"
Hallam asked doubtfully. "I don't know if we should -"

   "Why not?" Meleth demanded. "It's ours isn't it? or
at least Estel's."

   "Partly yours too." her brother said. "You're all
just as much descendants of the Kings as I am."
    *********************************************

   The windowless tower stood by itself on one of the
lower terraces surrounded by a stone wall. It was here
Lord Elrond kept the heirlooms given into his care by
the Heirs of Isildur. Neither gate nor door was
locked, there was no need here in Rivendell, and the
children had often spent cold or rainy days there
pouring over the belongings of their ancestors.

   The treasury itself was up a long winding stair, an
octagonal room lit by candles, with large ironbound
chests set against each of the seven walls, the
shelves above them lined with smaller caskets of wood
or metal and ancient weapons - some dating back the
Wars of the First Age - of Elf or Dwarf make or forged
an Age ago in lost Numenor.

   The mithril chased box holding the Elendilmir stood
in the place of honor on the top shelf opposite the
door. A longer box on the shelf below held the Silver
Rod of Annuminas, the scepter of the High Kings. Other
caskets contained the Nauglamir and the Jewels of the
Queens, the scepters of the Kingdoms of Rhudaur and
Cardolan and Jewels worn by Kings and High Kings.

   Shields hung on the walls above the shelves,
emblazoned with devices in precious stones and metals
and the great chests held armour plated with gold and
silver, mithril, galvorn and culurin and weapons of
lesser lineage if not workmanship. Jewels worn by
Princes and Princesses at the Courts of Annuminas and
Fornost, and vessels of precious metal some decorated
with gems.

   It was a treasure any Dragon would covet and
undeniably their own. Made for the Kings of Old,
stored away now in Rivendell because Rangers in the
Wild had no use for such things.
  
   "I don't know," Berya said looking uncertainly
around her. "maybe it isn't right to play with these
things."

   "But we do," Estel argued, "all the time. Remember
when we were Kings of Numenor and Feanor and his
sons?"

   "Of course we musn't touch the Elendilmir or the
Scepters," Hallam agreed, "but Estel's right, nobody's
ever minded us playing with the other things."

   "That's true." Berya conceeded.

   Hallam unfastened his cloak, spread it out on the
floor and started scooping cups and plates from an
open chest. Berya shrugged and began collecting
jewelry into one of the larger boxes. The younger
children quickly followed suit, loading themselves
with jewelry, weapons and bits of armour.

   The treasure completely covered the floor of the
little grotto and piled high against the walls. Sun and
candle light reflected off gold and silver and set
jewels afire. The five children stood back, admiring
the effect.

   "All right, we have our hoard, who's going to be
the Dragon?" Estel wanted to know.

   "Hallam." Meleth answered promptly. "He's the
biggest."

   Her cousin opened his mouth to protest, then
thought the better of it. "All right."

   "I guess that makes the rest of us Turin and his
Outlaws." said Berya.

   "I don't want to be Turin." Amin said decidedly.
"He's wet."

   "Me either." equally firmly from Estel.

   "He did make rather a mess of it didn't he." Berya
agreed. "I know, let's be King Valandur and his
warriors."

   "That makes me the Worm of Gram Mountain." said
Hallam, "Good, it's a better story anyway." *
    **********************************************

*  Valandur was the eighth King of Arnor. He won the
loyalty of the Hill Men of Rhudaur by killing a
Dragon who'd been preying upon them - but died of the
deed and was buried upon Gram Mountain.

    Hallam, as the Dragon, dressed himself in some
pieces of scaled Elvish armour which were rather to
big for him and glistened red gold. Better still he
found a helmet of Dwarvish make with a snarling
dragon's head crest. It was very heavy and he couldn't
quite see out of the eyeholes of the faceguard but the
effect was excellent.

   The other children got themselves up as best they
could in whatever bits of armour they could find that
weren't too hopelessly large. The effect here wasn't
anywhere near as good as each was wearing mismatched
pieces from two or more different suits.

    Berya had a tunic of gold colored mail, almost
long enough for a dress, and a winged helmet of
galvorn and silver, the nose guard coming nearly to
her chin. However her red and gold damascened
gauntlets fit quite well allowing her to get a good
grip on her wooden practice sword, (naturally they
weren't silly enough to use the real swords, somebody
might have gotten hurt).

   Amin found himself a mail hood that covered not
only head but shoulders and most of his chest, and a
pair of wristguards that reached way past his elbows.
Estel had a neckpiece big enough to serve as a
breastplate and tied a pair of extra large wristguards
to his shins to act as greaves and, as he was playing
King Valandur, bound a star on his brow. Not the
Elendilmir of course but one of the lesser jewels worn
by Queens or Underkings.

   Meleth, quite unable to find any piece of armour
small enough for her to wear, had instead covered the
front of her dress with jeweled broaches and wrapped
her arms to the elbows in glittering chains.

    Finally, when everybody had finished dressing,
Hallam crawled into his gold lined cave to emerge
moments later at Estel's, (King Valandur's) challenge
and join battle. Naturally this involved a good deal
of shouting, shrieks from the girls, and roars from
the beleagured Dragon.

   It really wasn't at all surprising they attracted
attention. Unfortunately it was the attention of Uncle
himself, walking in the garden with his sons, Elladan
and Elrohir, and King Thorin and Gandalf and several
of the other Dwarves, discussing the safest routes
over the Misty Mountains and through Mirkwood and
whether help could be expected from the Men of Long
Lake.

   Poor little Mr. Baggins was there too, becoming
more and more alarmed as he listened to talk of
Goblins and Spiders and of the terrible Necromancer
who lived in the southern part of Mirkwood. A
particularly loud shriek, (from Meleth as she fell
into the stream near the grotto) made him jump. "Good
heavens what was that!"

   Elrond smiled. "My wards at one of their games no
doubt." cocked his head as the shrieks and shouts
continued. "Perhaps we'd better see what they're up
to."

   Meleth, after losing her sword in the stream,
picked up a big two handled cup that had rolled out of
the hoard and used it to throw water at the Dragon,
liberally splashing her fellow warriors as well. The
others didn't like this much and were trying to make
her stop when their Uncle's familiar voice rose above
the shouts and scolding.

   "Children! What is all this?"

   "We're playing Dragons." Estel answered promptly,
though rather breathlessly, water dripping from his
hair. "Hallam's the Dragon."

   Elves, Dwarves and Hobbit all stared at the
children, wearing surprisingly similar expressions.

   "Estel's King Valandur and we're his warriors."
Meleth explained, climbing out of the stream to stand
soaked and glittering beside her brother.*1

   Temporarily rendered speechless Elrond reached down
to carefully detach a many rayed star of pure mithril
set with a great green emerald from her dress and
stare at it.

   "We needed a hoard," Estel explained, now a little
defensive, "so we used some of the things from the
windowless tower."

   "We didn't take anything that didn't belong to us."
Meleth said virtuously.

   "She's got a point there, Father." Elladan murmured
quietly into Elrond's ear, and got a dark look in
return.

   The hoard had become somewhat scattered in the
course of the action, a glittering trail now led from
streamside to grotto. The Dwarves, characteristically
drawn to works of craft, moved among the treasures
picking objects up to examine and saying things like
"Surely this is silverwork of Belegost!" or "See, here's
Narvi's mark." to each other.

   Elrond cleared his throat carefully. "There is no
question but these things are your own, Dunadan, your
heritage from your Fathers of Old." Estel looked wary,
when Uncle used his title it usually meant he was in
trouble. "This is the Elfstone, given by Gil-Galad to
Elendil as token of their alliance -"

   He was interupted by King Thorin, holding a
shimmering pearl the size and shape of a dove's egg
caught in a twist of gold wire and hanging from his
hand by a braided chain of gold and mithril. "And this
is Nimphelos." the Dwarf said seriously. "Given by
Thingol Greycloak to the Lord of Belegost in payment
for the delving of his halls. And by the last Lord of
Belegost to Durin II High King of the Dwarves. And by
my ancestor Thrain I to Aranarth of the Dunedain, who
was yours, as thank gift and token of the friendship
between our peoples. Is it well done, my Lord Aragorn,
to play with such things?"

   "Well said, Thorin." Elrond agreed. "Dunadan?"

   "I suppose not. I didn't think of that." Estel
conceeded uncomfortably.

    "I should have." Hallam said coming forward,
helmet under arm. "I'm the oldest. I'm sorry, Uncle."

   "We just wanted the Dragon's cave to look right."
Berya put in, pulling off her own helm. She looked at
Thorin. "Don't Dwarf children ever play with the
beautiful things you make?"

   Thorin's mouth twitched and he cast a twinkling
glance sidelong at his nephews, Fili and Kili. "It has
been known."

   "But never with things so ancient and precious."
Kili said quickly, ears reddening.*2

   "We didn't hurt anything," Amin pleaded, "and we
were going to put it all back when we finished."

   "I'd say you're finished now." Gandalf observed, a
distinct note of amusement audible in his voice.

   "Definitely." Elrond agreed drily. "You will please
return your property to it's proper place *now*."

   "Yes, Uncle." Hallam, Berya and Amin began picking
things up off the grass. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged
looks and moved to join them.

   Thorin handed Nimphelos to Estel and Elrond
returned the Elfstone to Meleth. She frowned at it.
Then at up at her Uncle.

   "Are you going to punish us?"

   "Surely that would be unjust, Elrond." Gandalf said
quickly raising bushy eyebrows. "After all, as the
Lady Region*3 has quite properly pointed out, they
have only made use of what is their own."

   "That is true." Uncle looked sternly down at his
fosterlings. "However I trust in the future they will
think twice before taking heirlooms of their House
from the windowless tower."

   Estel and Meleth nodded fervently and backed
quickly away to join the other children collecting
treasures.
  
   "I don't believe I can take much more of this,
Gandalf." Elrond said to the Wizard. "Diverting
waterfalls, climbing out of the valley, using the
treasure of Elendil as toys -"

   "Come, Elrond," Gandalf laughed, "the Heirs of
Isildur have always been of an enterprising nature."

   "That's one way of putting it." the Elf agreed
drily.

   "It certainly looks like you have your hands full,
Master Elrond." from an amused but not unsympathetic
Thorin.

   "Excuse me." little Mr. Baggins had been listening
to all this in mounting confusion. "I don't wish to
pry, but if I might ask; who are those children?"

   "Descendants and heirs of the Kings of the West."
Elrond answered somberly. "And my own distant kin
through my brother Elros who became a Mortal Man."

   "Good heavens!" gasped the Hobbit. "I thought the
Kings were all dead long ago."

   "So all were meant to think." the Wizard looked
sternly down at him, eyebrows bristling. "The Heirs of
Isildur have many enemies, their continued existance
must remain a secret."

   "I understand." Bilbo said seriously. "I won't say
a word."

   Gandalf's face relaxed into a smile. "I know you
won't, my dear Bilbo."
   ********************************************

*1. Remember Meleth is not Estel's sister by blood but 
by adoption. However they have been raised together since
infancy and always call each other brother and sister.

*2 I suspect some quite interesting youthful escapade
on the part of Fili and Kili is being refered to here
but unfortunately have no idea what it was.

*3 Region is Meleth's formal name.  
  

   Predictably they caught a chill from their dousing
in icy snowmelt. It started with Meleth sneezing over
her supper. By the next morning Estel and Amin were
also looking rather pink and feverish and by midday
Hallam was coughing and Berya sniffling and it was
clear all five had come down with cold.

   "And what else can we expect with them kept
standing in wet clothes for hours on end?" Nuneth*1
grumbled, moving down the line of boys popping
spoonfuls of honeyed syrup into one obediently opened
mouth after another. "Whatever was Lord Elrond
thinking?"

   "Of the treasure of Elendil spread over the grass I
should think." Grandmother retorted, shook her head.
"Poor Elrond."

   "You have been rather trying recently." Aunt Ellian
told her daughter mildly, as she and Aunt Gilraen
tucked the girls snugly into bed.

   "We don't mean to be naughty." Berya answered.

   "At least not usually." Meleth added honestly,
making her Grandmother laugh.

   "Well they won't be getting into any more scrapes,"
Nuneth said, briskly herding the boys bedward, "not
for a while at any rate."

   They were ordered to stay in bed, with braziers in
their rooms for warmth, and given honeyed syrup for
coughs, which was nice, and willow bark tea for fever,
which was nasty. Uncle let them off lessons but they
recieved a constant stream of callers, bearing fruit
and comfits and cordials, ready and willing to tell
stories, sing songs and play riddle games to the
delight of the children, the resigned amusement of
their Mothers and Grandmother and the annoyance of
their Nannies.

   "Sometimes I think Elves have no sense at all."
Iorwen*2 told Gilraen crossly, arms full of
confiscated treats.

   Estel's mother smiled, a little ruefully. "I know.
We must be patient with them, they're worried about
the children."

   The Elves always worried when the children were
ill, knowing as they did that Mortals sometimes died
of sickness and not quite grasping the difference
between a cold and the plague. Uncle, of course, knew
better but he was only Halfelven and had lived as a
Man long ago when he was very young. But the rest,
even Elladan and Elrohir, were not completely
reassured even though these children, (and previous
generations of Heirs) had survived innumerable minor
ailments in the past.

   It may have been the stories and songs, or the
comfits and sugared fruit, that brought on the dreams.
Berya, shaken abruptly out of hers in the grey light
before dawn, took several moments to remember where
she was and recognize Estel and the other boys.

   "What are you doing out of bed?"

   "Never mind that," said Hallam and climbed up onto
the bed with the younger boys, settling themselves at
the foot. "we just had the strangest dream."

   "The same one," put in Estel, "all three of us."

   "Really?" said Berya, waking up a little more and
becoming interested. "A True Dream?" *3

   "I don't see how it could be." Hallam answered,
frowning. "We were all in it, Estel, Amin and me -"

   "And our father too." Amin put in.

   "And we fought a huge army of orcs outside a city -"

   "City?" this time it was Berya who interupted. "We
don't have cities any more."

   "I know. And we were wearing armour and flying the
banner of the High King."

   "Don't forget the ships." Amin piped up. "We came
to the battle on ships with black sails."

   "And I had a sword," said Estel, looking troubled,
"I *think* it was Narsil."

   "It must have been a battle from the olden times."
Berya guessed. "Maybe from the War of the Last
Alliance."

   "I don't think so." Hallam shook his head. "We were
us, just grown up, and *Father* was there."

   "And Elladan and Elrohir," said Estel, "and an
Elf-lady, I think she was their sister Arwen." he
turned pink. "She kissed me."

   "Who kissed you?" Meleth asked sleepily and the
boys had to tell their story all over again.

   "Why would Lady Arwen kiss you?" she asked her
brother when they'd finished.

   Estel shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."

   "Where would we get an army from? And what city
were we fighting for?" Hallam demanded. "None of it
makes sense."

   "Maybe it's not a True Dream then, even if you all
had it." Berya said. "I was dreaming about a battle
too when you woke me up."

   "Our battle?"

   "No a different one. We were fighting Stone Trolls
and Orcs mounted on Great Wolves, in the Ettinmoors I
think, an army of Rangers - but we were all got up in
armour like the suits from the treasure, and flying
the banners of Elendil and of Rhudaur."

   "Rangers don't fight battles like that." Estel
reminded her. "Maybe *you* were dreaming about the old
times - the wars of Queen Beruthiel" *4

   "Can't have been." she shook her head decisively.
"There were two Men, twins, riding with me and they
called me mother. Beruthiel never had any children."

   "That's even stranger than our dream." said Amin.
"What about you, Meleth, did you dream about a battle
too?"

   "Ye-es." she said slowly, forehead wrinkled in
concentration. "But it wasn't up north, or outside a
city. It was at the foot of the Misty Mountains and
Orcs and Cave Trolls were boiling out of the ground
from a hundred different holes. But it was an army
like Berya's, Rangers dressed up in armour, and I was
riding next to Tithorn *5 under the banner of
Cardolan."

   There was a brief silence as they puzzled over
this. "If they are True Dreams," Hallam said at last,
"It means when we grow up the Dunedain stop hiding and
fight our enemies in the open again."

   Everybody looked at Estel. As Chieftain such a
decision would necessarily be his. "Maybe that wasn't
a good idea." he said. "Maybe the dreams were meant as
a warning."

   "Anyway it's not going to happen for years and
years if I had grown up sons. So get back to your own
beds before you get caught and we all get into
trouble!" said Berya.
    ********************************************

1. Nuneth is Estel and Meleth's Nanny, and was
Gilraen's before that. She's in her nineties, but
doesn't look a day over forty at the most.

2. Iorwen is Berya's Nanny, and was the nurse for Lady
Ellemir's three children as well. She is one hundred
and forty-two and begining to show signs of age; grey
hair, wrinkles, etc.

3. All Dunedain have episodes of fore and farsight, it
is considered quite normal. Sometimes 'seeings' come
as sudden inspirations or sometimes as dreams. A 'True
Dream' is thus a dream that is also a seeing.

4. Queen Beruthiel was the last ruler of the Kingdom
of Rhudaur, and Berya's namesake. She kept the Witch
King at bay for fifty years.

5. Tithorn, 'Little Eagle' is the child name of
Belecthor, Berya's elder brother and Meleth's future
husband.

Note: Estel, Amin and Hallam are obviously dreaming
about the Battle of Pelannor Field, Hallam, Amin and
their father Halbarad are among the thirty Rangers who
come south to aid Aragorn during the War of the Ring.
Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen, (In my AU) are also part of their company.

   Berya and Meleth are having previsions of the
battles that will rage in Eriador at about the same
time. The Dunedain will be called upon to repell
invasions from the former Witch Kingdom of Angmar in
the North and from the Orcs of Mount Gundabad and
Moria.

   Three days later they were finally allowed out of
bed, though still confined to the nursery where they
passed the time building the city the boys had dreamed
about out of their toys and the furniture.

   A blue bedcovering, folded and laid in a curve
across the floor became the river and they spent some
time sailing their model boats along it, though Amin
complained they didn't look quite right and the sails
were white instead of black.

   "There was a low wall around fields and farms,
that's where we fought the battle." Estel remembered,
after they tired of playing with the boats.

   And the city had seven circles like Cardol," said
Hallam, "but it can't have been Cardol because it had
mountains behind it." *1

    So they built a wall out of toy blocks enclosing a
large swath of the nursery floor and put the girl's
dollhouse and all their model animals inside it to
represent the farms. Then they stacked a footstool,
two small tables and a candle stand to make the city
but didn't have enough blocks for seven circuit walls
and had to settle for four instead. Boxes and bottles,
cups and bowls became buildings and a long white
candle the city's topmost tower. Estel stepped back to
take in the total picture.

   "Not bad." he decided. "But there really should be
seven walls."

   "I know!" Berya jumped up and ran into her own
room, returning a moment later with her hands full of
ribbons. "We can wind these around the table legs and
pretend they're the other three walls."

   They were doing this, carefully because the stacked
furniture was a little unsteady, when Uncle came in
with Grandmother and of course they had to explain
what they were doing and why.

   Uncle was very interested in the dreams, especially
the boys', and insisted on hearing all about them in
as much detail as the children could remember.

   "Your city sounds like Minas Tirith," he said when
they'd finished, looking significantly at Grandmother
for some reason, "that was once Minas Anor, seat of
your ancestor Anarion the younger son of Elendil. Now
the chief city and fortress of Gondor."

   "But they don't want us in Gondor." Hallam reminded
him.

   "Perhaps that will change." Uncle said
enigmatically. Now it was Grandmother's turn to give
him a very pointed look and he cleared his throat.
"But Berya is right, doubtless this seeing is very far
in the future indeed and it is unwise to speculate
about what it might mean. In due time we will know." *2

   Then Uncle checked pulses, looked at their tongues,
felt their foreheads and announced they would be
allowed to play outside again in another day or two,
which was very welcome news. But he also decided they
were well enough to resume their lessons which was
rather less welcome.
   
   "You mean *now*?" Amin demanded incredulously.

   Uncle's eyebrow rose. "Why not?"

   The children could think of several reasons, but
none that grown-ups would accept. Resignedly they
settled themselves on stools and cushions at their
Uncle's feet.

   "Perhaps it is time we discussed your kingdom of
Gondor, its history and its relations with the Heirs
of Isildur." Uncle began. Berya, who happened to be
looking at her Grandmother, could have sworn she saw
Ellemir roll her eyes.

   Of course the children already knew Gondor had been
formed at the same time as Arnor and ruled jointly by
the brothers Isildur and Anarion until the War of the
Last Alliance in which Elendil and Anarion fell.
Isildur thus became High King and made his nephew
Meneldil, son of Anarion, his viceregent in the south.
But Isildur too was killed, at the Gladden Field, and
Meneldil refused to recognize the overlordship of
Isildur's Heir, Valandil, declaring Gondor independent
of the High Kingdom.

   King Valandil and his heirs, reluctant to shed
kinsmen's blood, tolerated this state of affairs which
inevitably led to an estrangement between the two
Realms in Exile. Left to themselves the Line of
Anarion had turned to conquest, winning themselves an
empire stretching far into the South and East, and
growing rich on booty and tribute. In fact Imperial
Gondor sounded uncomfortably like Numenor in the days
of its pride before the Downfall.

   Gondor's downfall was the Kinstrife, when the
Princes of the Anarioni had turned on their rightful
King because his mother had been born of the 'Lesser
Men' of Middle Earth. After that Gondor's fortunes had
declined steadily, her empire torn away, her people
decimated by wars and plague until the Line of Anarion
failed. Now hereditary Stewards ruled the land for
Gondor still refused to accept the Heirs of Isildur as
their Kings.

   "Maybe it's just as well." Meleth ventured. "They
don't sound like very nice people."

   Uncle frowned disapprovingly, clearly this was not
the reaction he'd hoped for.

   "Overproud certainly." Grandmother said calmly.
"And stubborn with it," her eyes glinted amusement,
"but then the same might be said of their Northern
kin."

   "Stubborn certainly." Uncle agreed drily. "But not
proud."

   "That depends on what you mean by pride."
Grandmother retorted.

   "The pride of the Dunedain of the North lies in
keeping their oaths, regardless of the cost to
themselves." said Uncle grimly. "The pride of the
Dunedain of Gondor caused the death of the Last King*3
and the failure of both Realms. It is because of
Gondor's pride the Heirs of Isildur and their
followers must live in hiding."
 
   "I said they weren't nice people." Meleth turned to
her brother. "Why'd you want to save their old city
anyway?"

   Estel opened his mouth, but Grandmother answered
for him. "Because they are still our kin and our
responsibility," she said firmly, "and whatever their
errors they have been valiant enemies of our Enemy for
many long years."

   She gave Elrond a warning look and he quickly
agreed. "Yes, that is true."
   ************************************************

1. Cardol, the ancient capital of Cardolan, was built
on an artificial hill raised by Elendil where the the
South road forks to go North to Fornost and West to
Dunhirion and the Havens.

2. Elrond is understandably excited, the children's
dreams suggest Estel will succeed in reuniting and
rebuilding the kingdoms of the Dunedain as prophecied.
But Ellemir is silently reminding him they've agreed
not to burden Estel with his destiny until he is
*much* older.

3. Arvedui, last High King of Arthedain, died TA 1975.
According to the prophecy of Malbeth had Gondor
accepted Arvedui, (husband of the only surviving child
of the last king but two of Gondor) as their ruler he
would, with the resources of both kingdoms behind him,
have been able to defeat Sauron and restore the
fortunes of the Dunedain. Isildur's defeat of Sauron
was the Dunedain's first chance, Arvedui the second,
Aragorn will be their third and last. If he fails, for
whatever reason, the Dunedain and perhaps the whole
Race of Men will be lost for good.
  

   The children knew the Dunedain of the North lived
in hiding and that they themselves were a carefully
guarded secret, just as they'd always known the
Southern Kingdom rejected the sovereignity of the
House of Isildur. But they had never realized the two
things were related, or that history and their own
lives might have been very different had the people of
Gondor chosen otherwise. It was a peculiar and
uncomfortable feeling.

   "But why did they refuse Arvedui?" Amin demanded
over their dinner that evening. "Didn't they know what
would happen?"

   "They can't have," said Hallam. "or they wouldn't
have done it."

   "He should have told them." said his brother.

   "Maybe he did," Berya said quietly to her plate,
"but they didn't believe him."

   The three younger children stared at her appalled.
"Well if they think the Heir of Isildur would *lie*
then I don't want any part of them." Estel said hotly.
"They can keep their old city, and their kingdom as
far as I'm concerned!"
  
   "Me too!" said Meleth loyally. And Amin nodded his
agreement, mouth full.
  
   "That was all settled a long time ago." Hallam
reminded them. "Gondor is no concern of ours, or ever
likely to be."

   "Unless it was a true dream." said Berya.
   ********************************************

   Once allowed out again the children were promptly
caught up in the whirl of preparations for the
Midsummer festival. There were songs and dances to
learn, fittings for new clothes, and above all else
the difficult problem of gifts.

   As they had all learned painfully over the years
grown-ups don't like, don't want, or can't use just
about everything that seems like a good present to a
child.

   Berya, being a good needlewoman, had a definite
advantage over the others in the matter of gifts,
although even she admitted the *last* thing
Grandmother, their mothers, or the twins needed was
yet another embroidered girdle or pair of gloves. But
she was justly proud of the present she'd made for her
Uncle; selected verses from the Lay of Earendil
carefully inscribed in a little vellum book and bound
in a silk cover she'd embroidered herself.

   Berya's little book had given Hallam the idea of
having the smiths make a place marker to go with it.
It was of ivory and gold and inset with the seal of
Earendil in jewels and enamel.

   The three younger children agreed their Uncle was
the hardest person in Middle Earth to get a present
for. Baskets of fruit and flowers, (and some of the
sweets left over from their illness) did for their
mothers and Grandmother. And the now half-grown
kestrel chicks they'd been hiding in the Summer Tower
were for the twins. But what to give Uncle? They
turned to their Grandmother for advice.

   "I see your difficulty." she said meditatively,
stitching up a long rent in one of Estel's tunics. "Of
course you know what I give your Uncle every year;
accounts of skirmishes, patrols and other happenings
among our people for his Chronicle. Perhaps you could
do the same."

   "How?" Amin wanted to know. "We can't ride around
the holdings to hear the news."

   "I mean a chronicle of your own doings, here in the
Valley." Grandmother explained.

   "But he already knows about those." Meleth pointed
out.

   "Yes, but this would be for his library, for him to
read when you're grown and gone. And others after
him." the children still looked doubtful. "Don't you
like to read King Valandil's book? and hear stories
about the other children who've grown up here in
Rivendell?"

   "But we don't have time to write anything before
Midsummer eve." Estel protested.

   "That's true." Grandmother conceeded. "But there's
always next year."

   It was a good idea all right - but they still had
to think of something for *this* year. In desperation
they went to Gandalf for suggestions.

   "Mmmmm....yes, quite a problem. What does one give
to the Elf who has everything?"* He puffed his pipe,
thinking hard. "I happen to know your Uncle will make
a trip over the mountains in the very near future,"
the Wizard said at last, "what about something he'd
find useful on the journey?"

   "Like a saddle and bridle?" Amin asked, "what else
do you need for a journey?"

   "Cloak, boots, weapons, saddlebags, blankets, a
water bottle.." Estel listed.

   "But there's no *time*!" Meleth interupted. "It's
too late to have anything made."

   It was clear from Estel's face he had an idea.
"Gandalf, would it be all right to give Uncle
something from our treasure?"

   "That would depend on what you have in mind." the
Wizard said cautiously.

   "It's one of the special things on the shelves,"
Estel explained as they climbed the winding stair to
the treasury, "I thought of it when when I said
waterbottle."

    It was in a simple but elegant wooden casket on
the lowest shelf, just under the scepter of Annuminas,
a small bottle cut from a single enormous green beryl,
with a silver stopper. Gandalf turned it over in his
hands. "It's not a waterbottle, Estel, but a flask for
miruvore." he cleared his throat. "I think Elrond
would appreciate it very much."

   Three small sighs of relief fluttered the still air
of the treasure chamber. "Give it to me." Meleth said,
holding out her hands. "I'll have Lady Lorellos fill
it for us."

   "And I'll find a pouch to put it in." said Amin.
    **********************************************

* Sorry, I couldn't resist. Somebody just *had* to say
that line ;D

   Midsummer Eve is officially the *second* longest
day of the year - but to children waiting for the
celebrations to begin at sunset it seems *the*
longest.

   A Flock of Elf-maidens descended on the nursery at
daybreak and carried Berya off with them. Then the
twins showed up and insisted on taking Hallam away,
though they wouldn't say why and just laughed when the
youngsters asked if they couldn't come too.

   Left to their own devices the three younger
children wandered into the Banquet Hall about mid-day
to find it full of Elf-girls, Berya among them, busily
weaving garlands out of heaps of flowers and yards of
brightly colored ribbon. Little Mr. Baggins was there
too, sitting disconsolately at the the far end of one
of the lower tables.

   "There's nothing to eat." he told the children
mournfully.

   "We know. You're supposed to save your hunger for
the feast tonight." Estel explained.

   Poor Bilbo looked so appalled at the prospect of
going foodless til sunset that the children took him
back to the nursery and shared their hidden cache of
fruit, meat and cheese with him.

   "Oh dear," he said when he finally slowed down. "I
seem to have eaten most of your stores."

   "That's all right." Meleth assured him, "it
wouldn't have kept much longer anyway."

   "Hobbits seem to eat a great deal." Amin observed.

   Estel elbowed him. "That's rude!"

   "No, no, he's quite right." Mr. Baggins smiled to
show he wasn't offended. "We Hobbits do like our food,
seven meals a day when we can get them."

   "Seven?" Meleth echoed, round eyed.

   "There's first breakfast and second breakfast,"
Bilbo said, ticking them off on his fingers, "then
elevenses, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner and finally
supper."

   The three children stared incredulous. "All that?"
Estel gasped.

   "How do you ever get anything done?" Amin wondered.

   "Oh we manage." the Hobbit looked suddenly wistful.
"I have a bit of something for first breakfast right
after I get up, then do my morning chores and sit down
to a nice second breakfast in my parlor or outside on
the lawn. After that it's time for a pipe or two, and
to write my orders for the grocer and the butcher and
the dairyman, or have a chat with Old Holman *1, (my
gardener you know) and by the time I'm finished with
all that it's struck eleven and I'm ready for a little
something to refresh myself."

   The children's rapt attention encouraged him to go
on. "After elevenses I might take a walk, or pay a
call on a friend, or I might have business matters to
attend to. Sometimes I lunch at the Green Dragon,
that's our local inn, quite a good cook they have
there too. I might spend the whole afternoon at the
Dragon hearing the news and visiting with my
neighbors. Then it's home to dinner with perhaps a
guest or two to share it. Pipe and slippers and a good
book, then supper and finally bed." he sighed. "A very
quiet life really."

   "It sounds nice." Meleth said tactfully.

   "I suppose you became a burglar for a bit of
excitement." said Amin, rather less tactfully.

   "Yes," said Mr. Baggins, sound faintly surprised,
"I suppose I did." lowered his voice confidentially.
"It was Gandalf's idea actually, and sometimes I think
it was a very bad one," he paused, looked around the
nursery with its lacy vaulting and graceful statues.
"Other times I think he was quite right, quite right."

   They ended up spending most of the day with Mr.
Baggins. His Dwarf companions were all wrapped up in
packing and preparations, as they were to resume their
journey Midsummer morning, leaving their burglar at
loose ends just like the children.

   It soon became clear Bilbo had been told who they
were so the children could answer his questions as
readily as he had answered theirs. He seemed to find
it all a bit much to take in, the Lost Realm of Arnor
and the Witch Wars and the rest.

   "So the King's People didn't all die after all." he
said.

   "No. That's just what Aranarth wanted everybody to
think, so the Witch King would stop his warring."
Estel explained.

   "And it worked." said Meleth. "He thought he'd won
and went away."

   "But - hadn't he won?" Bilbo asked uncertainly.

   "NO!" all three children cried at once, making him
jump.

   "He hasn't won because we're still here." explained
Estel. "Still protecting our people from the creatures
he left behind."   

   "We're called Rangers now." Amin chimed in. "You
must have seen some of us on the road."

   "The tall Men in green." said Meleth.

   "But we're not your people," Mr. Baggins objected.
"we Hobbits and the Breelanders and the rest."

   "Of course you are." Estel assured him. "Long, long
ago the Men of Eriador swore allegiance to Elendil and
his Heirs and so did the Hobbits when they came into
the Kingdom. And in return we promised to protect you
from your enemies, we're just keeping our word."  

   "I see." said Bilbo.
   **********************************************
  
   Even the second longest day of the year eventually
ends. The children presented themselves at the Banquet
Hall as the golden afterglow of sunset filled the
Valley. Tubbed and scrubbed to a quite unecessary
degree, (in their opinion anyway) and dressed in their
new festival finery.

   Meleth's summer blue gown shimmered with flowers
embroidered in brilliant silks and gilt thread. Estel
was in green and white and Amin wore blue and yellow.
Garlands of flowers were plopped on their heads by
laughing Elves the minute they stepped over the
threshold but of course they expected that, and
everybody else was wearing them too.

   The Dwarves seemed slightly embarrassed by theirs
and kept fidgeting with them but Mr. Baggins quite
ignored his, intent on his plate. And Gandalf sported
his wreath of violets and cornflowers with the air of
one well accustomed to such adornments.

   Only Thorin himself, his sister-sons Fili and Kili,
and the Wizard had places at the high table, the other
guests were seated at the head of the nearest side
table. Estel found himself placed between Thorin and
Gandalf on his Uncle's right hand with Hallam, who he
hadn't seen all day, directly opposite him. In
addition to his garland Estel noticed his cousin had a
bluebell in a knot of orange ribbon pinned to his
green surcoat.

   "Where'd you get that from?"

   Hallam blushed and Elladan, beside him,  laughed.
"Never you mind, young Estel." *2

   He looked at Amin, on Elladan's other side, and his
cousin shrugged equally baffled. Then Thorin made a
comment about the weather and Estel had to concentrate
on making polite conversation with the guest.

   The feasting lasted til moonrise, then Uncle took
the Dwarves and Mr. Baggins off to his library for
some last minute advice. But the rest of the company
went laughing and talking and singing though the
forecourt, out the gate, across the bridge and down
the riverside to a wide green lawn lit by jewelike
lamps where they made music and danced.

   Berya, in a rose red dress patterned with silver
leaves, danced with Elrohir who had a knot of red
ribbon and a pink rosebud pinned to his shoulder. And
Hallam danced with a pretty Elf maiden in a shimmery
orange dress with bluebells and snowdrops in her hair.

   Estel had a dance with his mother, looking lovely
in buttercup yellow, Midsummer being one of the two
days a year she put aside her mourning grey. Then
waited until Meleth and Amin had finished their dance
before reminding them they had to go and collect their
presents.

   The baskets of flowers and sweets for Mother, Aunt
Ellian and Grandmother, and the green silk pouch
holding Uncle's gift were quickly fetched from their
chest in the nursery and Nuneth set to watch over
them.

   Getting the kestrel chicks proved more challenging.
They were sleepy and cross and inclined to snap at
fingers and noses. The children soothed them with Elf
speech as they put on the jesses and once the hoods
were on the little birds seemed to go right back to
sleep. By the time the children got back to the
dancing lawn Uncle and the guests had come down and
the gift giving had begun.

   "Ah, here are our truants." said Uncle, sitting in
the chair set for him under a tall hemlock. "And what
are these?" meaning the birds.

   "They're for Elladan and Elrohir from us three."
Estel said quickly. "We had to go up to the summer
tower to get them."

   "You've been keeping them in the summer tower?"
Uncle said, eyebrows and voice rising.

   "We'll clean it up." Meleth assured him hastily.

   "Indeed you will!" Uncle promised as Gilraen
covered her eyes and Grandmother shook her head, a
smile tugging at her mouth.

   "They're lovely little birds," Elladan interposed
tactfully. "Thank you, Estel."

   "And Amin and Meleth." his twin added.

   Amin in the meantime had quietly gotten the silk
pouch from Nuneth and handed it to Estel. "And this is
for you, Uncle."

   Elrond opened it rather cautiously, presents from
his fosterlings could be quite unpredictable and
occasionally hazardous, lifted out the flask: Pear
sized and pear shaped, the polished beryl etched with
a delicate pattern of leaves, the silver stopper
wrought in the shape of a flower. Elrond stared at it
as if transfixed.

   "It's from the treasury," Estel said, uneasily,
"but Gandalf said it would be all right to give it to
you."

   "Thank you, children," their Uncle said rather
huskily, "It is very beautiful." cleared his throat.
"I believe you'll find some things to interest you on
the other side of the lawn."

   The children raced off, followed by mothers,
Grandmother and the twins. Elrond turned to Gandalf.
"Olorin -" *3

   "It was entirely their own idea, I assure you." the
Wizard nodded at the flask. "Estel picked it out
himself, he had no way of knowing it had belonged to
Elros, or that you had given it to him."

   "When we said good-bye, just before he sailed for
Numenor." Elrond said softly, blinked back tears.
"Imagine his heirs keeping such a little thing all
these long years."

   "Your brother's children have a knack for hanging
on to what's important." said Gandalf.
   *********************************************

1. This is Holman Greenhand, the Gaffer's cousin and
predecessor as gardener at Bag End.

2. It is the custom on Midsummer Eve morning for
Elf-maidens to collect flowers for garlands and
decorations and for the unmarried Elf-men to tease and
flirt with them as they do so. The maidens give
favors, a flower and a bit of ribbon, to the men who
please them. It's all very light and courtly and at
fourteen Hallam and Berya are now considered old
enough to join in the fun.

3. Gandalf, then called Olorin, was part of the Host
of Valinor which defeated Morgoth at the end of the
First Age. That was when he first got to know Elrond
and his brother Elros.

Elves are easy-going in the matter of staying up
late, as one might expect given their proclivity for
singing under the stars. Grandmother usually was not
but she made an exception for the Midsummer festival.
The children were allowed to watch out the short night
along with the rest of Rivendell, but the Dwarves very
sensibly decided to snatch a few hours sleep as they
planned to resume their journey in the morning and
took Mr. Baggins, discovered dozing under a tree, with
them.

The children's presents were unusually good that
year. For Meleth there was a golden ball with bells
inside to chime sweetly when it was tossed; a little
holly bush, (her formal name, Region, meant holly)
wrought of pure gold, with leaves enamelled dark green
and clustered carbuncles for berries; a delicate
golden chain set with tiny flowers of citrine and
pearl; and a yellow songbird in a cage of woven ivy
tendrils.

Estel and Amin each got an Elvish hunting hound
puppy, Estel's was white and Amin's brindled; also new
bows, having outgrown their old ones, with quivers,
baldricks and wristguards worked all over in a tracery
of leaves, Estel's were of silver and Amin's copper.
Estel had also a game of bowls with blue, red and
white balls; and the Star of the Dunedain wrought in
silver and adamant *1. For Amin there was a hunting
horn decorated in copper and gold and an intricately
carved spiral top.

But the biggest present, meant for them all, was so
wonderful, even for Elvish work, that it literally
took their breaths away: It was a model of Minas
Tirith, the city in the boys' dream, nearly as tall as
Hallam with each building carved in exquisite detail
out of pale stone. And the roofs of some could be
removed to reveal equally detailed interiors with
finely made furniture of wood and metal. And there
were over a hundred brightly painted lead figures;
King and Queen, courtiers, knights, guards and
townsfolk to occupy it.

The city kept the children fully occupied, awed and
delighted, until well after sunrise when they tore
themselves away to bid farewell and good fortune to
Thorin and Company, and most especially Mr. Baggins,
Then went to breakfast and on to their usual lessons,
though Estel, Amin and Meleth found themselves taking
unexpected and unintended naps in the afternoon.

As the high summer days passed the youngsters
couldn't help noticing a change in the two older ones.
Hallam had been given a horse, one of the tall shaggy
Numenorean breed ridden by the Rangers, and Ranger
weapons as well; a short black yew bow and and long,
sleander bladed sword with leather wrapped grip. He no
longer shared the younger boys' arms lessons and took
to spending a great deal of time with the twins and
Lord Glorfindel, who surprisingly didn't seem to find
him a nuisance at all.

Berya was no better. She had gotten a snow white
goshawk and a disk broach of intricate golden filigree
for Midsummer festival. Also a lute decorated with
delicate silver scrollwork and a sewing box of sweet
scented sandlewood inlaid in nacre and silver with
ivory spools of colored silks, silver needles and
small gold handled scissors. And suddenly all her time
was taken up by music lessons or spent with the Elven
seamstresses and broideresses.

"What's the matter with them?" Meleth wondered one
day as the three youngsters sat high up in the
branches of a grand old pine overhanging the western
path into the Valley.

"Mother says they're growing up." Estel answered
gloomily, stripping tiny pine cones from a nearby
bough. "Hallam's got to start learning to be Ranger
and Berya to run a holding. In a few more years it'll
be our turn."

"But that's good, isn't it?" asked Amin. "We'll be
able to go out of the Valley and fight Orcs and Trolls
and see Mr. Baggins' Shire and things."

"Me too?" asked Meleth.

"Of course you too." her brother assured her
promptly, continued to Amin. "It's bad because Berya
and Hallam aren't going to want to play any more, and
they'll get to go out and have real adventures years
and years before we do."

"Oh. I see." said Amin.

The chiming of little bells and sound of Elvish
voices drew their attention downward. A procession of
riders clad in sea grey and green was coming down the
path. Estel and Meleth instantly recognized the silver
haired Elf at its head.

"Grandfather!"

"Who?" from Amin.

"Our grandfather, Lord Cirdan from the Havens."
Estel explained. "Yours too, his daughter married
Aerandir of Dunhirion remember?" *2 by now the
procession was passing directly under their tree,
impulsively Estel dropped his handful of pine cones
onto them.

Cirdan's horse shied as the cones pattered around
him and the Elf-lord looked upward, smiled. "What
birds are these roosting in Elrond's trees?"

"It's not birds, it's us, Grandfather." Meleth
called down, leaning perilously far out so he could
see her. "Me and Estel."

"So I see. And who is this with you?"

The children swarmed down the tree, watched rather
nervously by the Elves below.

"Our cousin Amin," Estel answered breathlessly, as
they arrived on the ground.

"Halbarad's younger son?" Cirdan said at once, to
Amin's surprise. "I know your father well, he sailed
with us many times."

"I didn't know that." Amin said fascinated.

"Long ago, before you were born, Little One." a
shadow of sadness passed over the Elf's face, was
quickly put aside. He leaned down to offer his hand to
Meleth, "come little granddaughter, ride with me."
**********************************************

Cirdan hadn't come to visit Uncle, he was only
stopping over in Rivendell on his way over the
mountains and Elrond was to go with him.

"It's a meeting of the White Council." Hallam told
the other children.

"That's how Gandalf knew Uncle would be making a
journey." Estel said, enlightened.

"Must be." Hallam continued, lowering his voice.
"Elrohir says Uncle and Gandalf are going to try to
persuade the rest of the Council to move against the
Necromancer. He's growing too powerful, Elladan says,
becoming a threat to King Thranduil and even to
Lorien."

"And to us too." that was Berya. "He's why the Orcs
are multiplying in the mountains and the Trolls are
becoming so bold."

The children exchanged somber glances. They knew
the Necromancer's true name, and the very special
danger he posed to their people - and to themselves.
********************************************

1. Many years later Aragorn will wear this in Gondor,
and be given the name Thorongil. 'Eagle of the Star'.

2. This was the Lady Maril. Her husband was a prince
of Dunhirion, (the Dunedain's city below the Tower
Hills) and a great voyager and explorer. Their
descendants have intermarried with the Line of Isildur
making Cirdan ancestor to all three children.

After Aerandir's death Maril continued to live in
the white house of the Princes for nearly two hundred
years, until the last of her children had also passed
away. Only then did she sail oversea, hoping to find a
cure for sorrow in the Blessed Land.

Grandfather didn't seem to be in any hurry to
continue his journey, White Council or no. He admired
the children's Midsummer presents, especially the
model city of Minas Tirith. Heard all about the dream
that had prompted the gift and identified the black
sailed ships as belonging to the Corsairs of Umbar.

"And what would *we* be doing on Corsair ships?"
Hallam demanded disbelievingly.

"That I cannot say." Cirdan replied serenely,
smiled at his grandchildren. "But I do not doubt you
will have good reason for whatever you do."

Two days later the children discovered what their
Grandfather and Uncle had been waiting for when an
escort of twenty mounted Rangers, led by the son of
the Warden of the Angle *1, rode into the Valley to
protect the two Elven-lords on their journey.

"You are most welcome, Thorondil." Uncle told their
Captain on the terrace outside his library. "But
surely such a numerous company is excessive."

"I hope so," the Man answered, "but I fear not. It
seems the Orcs have opened up a new gate on the High
Pass. They seized Thorin Oakenshield and his company."

Estel, standing by with the other children, gasped
and Thorondil turned to smile reassuringly at him.
"Never fear, Dunadan, they escaped without harm thanks
to Gandalf and Gwaihir Windlord." Thorondil's family
had ancient ties with the Great Eagles and often got
both news and aid from them. *2

"And where is King Thorin's company now?" Elrond
asked in some concern.

"The Eagles dropped them on the banks of the
Anduin, Gandalf planned to get help from Beorn then
leave their company under the eaves of Mirkwood and
turn south to Lorien."
**********************************************

It was Elrohir who suggested including Hallam in
the travelling party that evening at diner. "He's done
well in his practice at arms and is old enough to see
something of war."

All five children stopped eating to stare at him,
Hallam hopeful the others indignant.

"I fear we will not get over the mountains without
battle and ambush." said Thorondil, smiled at his
young relative. "Still, I expect Halbarad's son can
take care of himself."

"We should be large enough a company to meet
whatever the Orcs have to send against us." Elladan
pointed out, looking at his father.

Elrond looked at Grandmother. The five children
watched with bated breath as Ellemir considered. "It
is not the custom of the Isildurioni to avoid danger."
she said at last. "I believe Halbarad, were he here,
would approve."

Hallam went red with suppressed excitement.

"What about the rest of us!" Estel burst out.

"We are not talking about a pleasure trip." Ellemir
said crisply. "Of you all only Hallam is grown enough
to bear a Man's arms."

"It would be folly to risk our Chieftain
unecessarily, Dunadan." Thorondil said kindly. "Or the
ladies." he added with a smile for the girls.

Meleth looked disgusted but Berya blushed pink and
stared at her plate.

"When you are grown you may adventure yourself as
you choose, Aragorn, but for now you will abide by our
judgment." Elrond said firmly.

"Yes, sir." Estel said, meek tone belied by his
rebellious face.
**********************************************

The three younger children were still a little
resentful as they watched Hallam ride out of the
Valley the next morning, along with Uncle,
Grandfather, the twins and the Rangers.

"What did I tell you," Estel grumbled to the
others, "Hallam and Berya are going to have *all* the
fun from now on."

"I'm not going either." Berya pointed out.

"You don't even want to, you'd miss your music
lessons." Meleth said disgustedly.

"Sure she does," Amin corrected, "if she can be
with Thorondil!"

Berya turned red as her gown. "What do you mean?"

"I saw him kiss your hand." said Amin.

"Oh, yecch!" from Estel.

"Ber-ya's in lo-ove!" Meleth sang.

"I am not! He was just being polite - to a *lady*
which is more than you'll ever be Region!" and with
that Berya flounced angrily away. *3
***********************************************

1. The Angle is the triangle of land between the
Mitheithel and the Bruinen rivers. One of the Warden's
chief duties is to keep the northern passes over the
Misty Mountains open.

2. Thorondil's name means 'Eagle Lover' which is also
the name of his House, the Sorondili, in Quenya. They
are descended from Manwendil, second son of Elros
Tar-Minyatur, and were Lords of Ondosto the
mountainous northern province of the island kingdom
where they befriended the Great Eagles who nested in
the high peaks. When Sauron was brought to Numenor by
Ar-Pharazon the Great Eagles abandoned the island and
the Sorondili followed them back to Middle-Earth,
settling in a dale at the foot of the Misty Mountains.

3. As a matter of fact she is, or starting to be,
Thorondil is her future husband.

   Of course that wasn't the end of it. The three
younger children continued to tease Berya about her
'lover' whenever the mood struck - especially Meleth.
Until finally one day Berya lost her temper and
slapped her little sister across the face, to the
horror of them all.

   Grandmother was magisterially impartial in her
condemnation. Certainly Berya should not have struck
Meleth but the younger girl could't pretend she hadn't
deliberately provoked her sister. And the boys were no
better. Indeed she, Grandmother, was sick and tired of
all the quarrelling. Clearly it was high time Berya
moved out of the nursery into rooms of her own.
shocked apologies and promises of better behavior,
from all four children, were to no avail. Grandmother
had made up her mind.

   And so Berya tearfully collected her belongings and
moved upstairs to a corner chamber with a balcony
overlooking the sunken garden between their Hall and
Uncle's.

   Meleth cried herself to sleep all alone in the big
bed that night, and the next morning Berya admitted
she had done the same upstairs in her new room. "But
you have your bird to keep you company." she told
Meleth as they sat together on the steps to the
nursery terrace. "I'm all alone."

   "Nonsense, my lady, why your mother is in the next
chamber and the Lady Ellemir just a step down the
gallery." Lindis said bracingly. She was the Elf
maiden assigned to look after Berya now, just as
Grandmother and their mothers had ladies to attend on
them. The move would have happened soon anyway she
assured the children, even without all the
quarrelling. The Lady Beruthiel, as she insisted on
calling her mistress, was growing up, she needed her
privacy.

   "Does that mean Hallam won't be coming back to our
room?" Amin asked worriedly.

   "Probably not." Lindis admitted after a moment's
hesitation. "of course it is Lord Elrond's decision to
make, but now Lord Halladan is old enough to bear arms
it would be more fitting if he were housed in the
Princes' Hall."

   "Well at least I'm still in our own hall!" said Berya.

   "He won't care." Estel said gloomily. "He spends
all his time over there anyway these days."
   
   "It won't be too many years before you join him."
Lindis reminded him, a little sadly.
  
   The children were just begining to adjust
themselves to the new state of affairs when
Grandmother upset everything again by announcing
Berya, and *only* Berya, would be allowed to accompany
her on her usual summer progress around the Holdings.
Even Berya thought that was unfair but arguing with
Grandmother never got you anywhere.

   "Berya is growing up," she said, "It's high time
she learned to know her own people."

   "They're *our* people too!" Estel pointed out.

   "Indeed they are, his grandmother agreed, "and your
turn will come - when you're older."
   **********************************************

   "I told you so." Estel reminded his sister and
foster brother after they had retired to their flet in
the old Beech tree to sulk. "That's all we're going to
hear from now on - Hallam and Berya are older so they
can do whatever they like, but we can't do
*anything*."

   "Berya feels bad about it too." said Amin.

   "*Now* she does." the other two looked at him and
he sighed. "I know, it's not her fault or Hallam's
either, but it's not fair."

   On that they were all agreed. The five of them had
done everything together since Hallam and Amin came,
nearly two years ago now. Why did Grandmother and
Uncle have to change that?

   The Lady Ellemir rode out of the Valley a few days
later with a small escort of Rangers, Aunt Ellian,
Iorwen, and of course Berya. Their sister looked both
excited and apologetic as she hugged them all
good-bye, promising to tell them *everything* when she
got back. Which of course didn't help at all.

   The Elves were always unhappy when the children
were unhappy and they did everything they could think
of to cheer them up: Let them ride with the hunt and
sit up as late as they liked and the smiths made more
figures to people their model city and the
seamstresses sewed tiny banners and tapestries to
decorate the houses and streets, and the Wood Elves
fed them so many fruit sweets and cordials that they
had no appetite for their regular meals.

   Of course the Elves knew well enough what the
children really wanted was an adventure outside the
Valley but they didn't see how they could possibly
give them one. Until, that is, the Lady Lorellos had
an idea.

   Neither Elrond nor the Lady Ellemir would have
permitted it for a minute, but they were away and the
Lady Gilraen was not so strict, and still young enough
to empathize with her children's sense of grievance.

   Estel and Amin were playing a desultory game of
chess and Meleth was watching them, toying with the
captured pieces, when Lady Lorellos and Gilraen
entered the nursery by way of the inside door, looking
pleased with themselves and maybe a little guilty.
  
   "You all know, of course, that Rivendell buys its
grain and other foodstuffs at the Hoarwelling harvest
fair." * Lady Lorellos began, waving the children back
into their chairs. "The villages of the Angle are
well protected by the two rivers and the Rangers." she
continued as the children exchanged puzzled glances.
"Lady Gilraen agrees there is no reason why you
should't accompany the wagons."

    "Really?" gasped Amin.

    "You mean it?" asked Estel, not quite daring to
believe.

    "Oh thank you, Mama!" Meleth cried, throwing
herself into her mother's arms and then Lady
Lorellos'.

   Nuneth opened her mouth, caught Gilraen's eye and
closed it. But she didn't look at all happy.
   *************************************************

   * Come on, you think they grow their own food in
Rivendell? Fruit and nuts from the trees, yes. Birds
and game, yes. Wheat, vegetables, milk, eggs and other
such mundane provender, I think not!

   Besides there's precedent - remember the Elves of
Mirkwood get wine of Dorwinion, and no doubt other
things, through their trade with Lake Town.

Of course the Hoarwelling harvest fair didn't
happen til October and everybody from the children to
the Lady Lorellos knew in their hearts that the outing
would be forbidden should Lord Elrond or Grandmother
return before that time.

So it was with a certain guilty relief, as well as
concern, that the household at Rivendell learned
Elrond and Gandalf's councils had prevailed and the
assault on the Necromancer decided. Elrond's letter
summoning Glorfindel and such Elves as could bear arms
to join him in Lorien also enclosed a second asking
the the Lady Ellemir for whatever force she could
spare. *1

Her answer rode into Rivendell two weeks later;
Estel's uncle Armegil, Captain of the North, at the
head of the largest host of Rangers the children or
Elves had ever seen gathered together. A full two
thousand Men mailed and helmed beneath worn green
surcoats and cloaks, armed with sword and spear and
bow, but flying no banner and bearing no badge.

"Are you sure the Dunedain can spare so many,
Armegil?" Glorfindel asked in concern.

The Captain flashed the brief, grim smile of his
kind. "Quite sure. We only wish it could be more."

They were sitting over wine in Elrond's withdrawing
room and three children were with them. Armegil's
smile warmed as he turned to Amin.

"Your father will command the North in my absence,
cousin, though he would much rather have come with us.
Not least for the chance of a visit with you and your
sister."

"Does he know Hallam went with Uncle?" Amin wanted
to know, grievance showing.

"He does, and approves. But that is not to say he
isn't glad his younger son is not yet old enough for
war. Do not begrudge him the joy of knowing two at
least of his children are safe from harm."

Amin flushed and mumbled he'd try.

Armegil turned to his nephew. "My mother has
decided to remain at Arnost *2 so she may keep a close
watch on the North." The children exchanged furtive
glances. "As it happens there has been a distinct
falling off in Orcish raiding of late," Armegil
continued to Glorifindel, "which is why we can spare
so many Men to Lord Elrond."

"We may thank Mithrandir and King Thorin for that."
the Elf answered. "They slew the Great Goblin and now
all the lesser chiefs are at each others throats."

"Then we must take full advantage of our good
fortune while it lasts." said Armegil.
**********************************************

After the Elven host and the Rangers rode away
there was nothing to do but wait for news - and for
October. Grandmother's letters from Arnost reported
the Hill Folk as quiet and Orc activity almost
non-existent. Trolls however were becoming a problem.

The news from over the Mountains was less good. The
first message, carried by the Great Eagles, said the
Council's attempt to take Dol Guldur by storm had
failed and they'd been forced to lay a siege. But
thanks to the death of the Great Goblin the
Necromancer had now no near allies to call on. But
he had others farther away *3 and the longer the
matter dragged on the greater the danger to the
besiegers.

The second message assured the children their kin
were still safe and hinted Gandalf had a plan. And the
third reported the success of that plan, an
infiltration of the fortress by secret ways known to
the wizard. *4 The Necromancer's creatures had been
slaughtered and he himself forced to flee.

But it was now late September and there were still
fugitives to be hunted in the darkness of Mirkwood and
the fortress itself to be cleansed, as well as might
be, and garrisoned. Elrond decided to winter in
Lorien, returning to Rivendell in spring when the
passes were clear and Grandmother would remain at
Arnost until Armegil returned, so the way was clear
for the children's own adventure.
**********************************************

1. Ellemir has acted as Chief Ranger since the death
of Arathorn eight years before, with her younger son
Armegil as Captain of the North and her chief deputy.
She is also Warden of the Evendim Hills in her own
right.

2. Arnost is the seat of the Chieftains and the
Captains of the North, (who are usually father and son
or brothers) a fortified villa, formerly a summer
retreat for the High Kings of Arthedain.

3. The Nazgul in their stronghold of Minas Morgul for
one and the Hill Men of the North for another.

4. Presumably it was by means of these he escaped the
Necromancer's dungeons a hundred years before.

 The wagons left Rivendell early one cool autumn
morning, massive things pulled by four horses apiece
and led rather than driven. Three were loaded with
cloth, thick and soft and beautifully dyed, and the
fourth with boxes of preserved fruit and bottled
cordials, bedrolls and other baggage.

There were two Elves to each cart, armed with bow
and knife, and Gilraen and Nuneth and the three
children. The whole company was dressed as country
folk but Estel didn't quite see the point.

"Anybody can see you're Elves after all." he told
Glewellin, the chief carter, who smiled.

"That they will not. It's easy to fool the eyes of
simple Men."

They went slowly because of the carts, crossing the
fords of Bruinen at noontide and following the Great
Road southwest through the dense wood known as the
Trollshaws. By nightfall they'd reached a place where
the road curved very near the river and there was an
Elven resting place, a sheltered dell overlooking low
falls with a stone lined fire bed in the center of a
bowl of smooth green turf, ringed by bowers woven out
of living trees for sleeping in.

Almost overwhelmed by the excitement of being
outside the Valley and a little intimidated by the
open fells and dark woods, the children had clung
close to their mother and the carts for the first
day's travel. But on the second day, as the road
turned westerly threading its way through forested
hills, they became more venturesome.

They were playing tag in and around the trees
alongside the road when Meleth's giggles suddenly
stopped in a gulp. Estel and Amin rushed to her rescue
and found her staring wide eyed up at a Ranger; tall,
dark and grimfaced in his green leathers. He looked
expressionlessly at all three then inclined his head
slightly to Estel.

"Dunadan."

"Mother's with us." he said, rather defiantly, in
response to the Ranger's unspoken disapproval. "And
Nuneth, and Elves too!"

"We're going to the fair in Hoarwelling." Meleth
added.

"Are you indeed." he looked past them to see the
first of the carts coming abreast of where they stood,
gestured for the children to proceed him and followed
them onto the road.

Mother started at the sight of him then, to the
children's surprise, blushed deeply.

"Gilraen," he said, "there is war beneath the
Mountains and in Wilderland beyond, with Stone Trolls
ranging as far west as the Lone Lands and you choose
this time to take the Heir of Isildur to a fair?"

The blush faded leaving Mother a little pale and
distinctly defiant. "The Angle is safe. Or should be
if the Warden's Rangers are doing their duty!"

"We are and it is as safe as we can make it," he
replied evenly, "but none of us, even the Warden
himself, would deny there is always risk this near the
Mountains."

"You know as well as I my son will never be
entirely safe anywhere." Gilraen said quietly. "Would
you make a prisoner of him, then?"

The Ranger sighed, defeated. "I am Bregolas son of
Berengar, at your service Lady, and yours Dunadan."

Nuneth welcomed this new companion wholeheartedly.
The Elves too showed traces of relief. Armed and
willing they were but not warriors, all those had gone
over the Mountains to Elrond. The children were
inclined to keep their distance at first, but warmed
after Bregolas carved them three wooden whistles and
taught them to play simple tunes.

An hour or two after noon they turned off the Great
Road onto a rutted cart track heading due south which
they followed til sunset. That night they camped in a
clearing beside the track. The children were put to
bed on soft bales of cloth in one of the four carts
formed into a circle round their fire. And Bregolas
and the Elven carters kept watch in turns all night
long.

As they continued southward the next day they began
to pass rough homesteads with log houses and small
fields hemmed in by woods. And to meet other
travellers on the road; three Men each leading a
string of pack ponies loaded with bundles of cut wood;
a homesteader in brown homespun with his wife riding
pillion behind him; a boy driving a small cart, an
older Woman knitting placidly on the seat beside him;
another Woman and her bevy of daughters, laughing and
talking as they trudged along with packs on their
backs, escorted by a pair of young Men who seemed
unable to get a word in edgewise.

The children stared fascinated. Hitherto the only
Men they'd seen were their own kind; tall and lean,
dark of hair and light of eye with chisled features
and long, elegant hands; or the Men of Rhudaur, no
less tall but broader built with swarthy skins, sharp
black eyes and heavy beards.

The country folk of the Angle were completely
different; shorter and stockier with brown hair and
ruddy cheeks. They had frank, open faces and a
cheerful, chatty way with them that was about as far
from the habitual reserved courtesy of Elves or
Dunedain as it was possible to get.

They eyed Bregolas slightly askance but seemed to
see nothing unusual about the rest of the party. The
Woman afoot struck up a conversation with Gilraen and
the children listened in astonishment as their mother,
speaking easily in an accent they'd never heard from
her before, named herself Gilly Weaver and explained
she and her Aunt Nan were taking her children to the
fair as a special treat.

"Ah yes, my girls never miss it." Mrs. Cobbold
answered, twinkled down at Estel. "Looking forward to
your first fair, eh young man?"

"Yes, ma'am." he stammered, considerably taken
aback. He'd been taught to make conversation with
Princes of Elves and Dwarves, but a common farmwife
was beyond his experience.

Fortunately she didn't take it amis. "There, there,
my boy." she patted him on the head, adding; "A bit
shy, eh?" to Gilraen, who smiled.

"A bit."

"But not as shy as this pretty little miss." Mrs.
Cobbold beamed at Meleth, clutching nervously at her
mother's skirts. "What's your name then, sweeting?"

She looked frantically up at Gilraen for help,
clearly none of her Elvish names would do at all. "We
call her Melly." Mother answered for her. "Say how
d'do to Mrs. Cobbold, dear."

"How d' do." Meleth echoed, trying to imitate her
mother's accent.

the Woman laughed kindly. "Not used to strangers
are they?"

"Not at all." Gilraen said honestly.

Mrs. Cobbold turned her attention to Glewellin,
walking on her other side. "You should bring your
children down with you more often, Lewin. Not keep
them tucked away in that northern valley of yours."

He smiled easily in return. "It's a long hard
trip, Alys, our womenfolk won't allow it. Gilly, here
is an exception."

"You know each other." Gilraen observed.

"Alys and her girls are some of our best
customers." Glewellin answered, added to Mrs. Cobbold;
"I remembered that pale green Lori has her heart set
on. There's a whole bolt just for her."

One of the girls, with light brown plaits and hazel
eyes, squealed delightedly. "I've been saving all
year." she told him. "Five coppers and a silver piece.
That'll be enough won't it?"

"More than enough." Glewellin assured her.
*******************************************

"I don't believe it," Estel said to him later,
after the Cobbolds had dropped behind. "She thought
you were a Man."

"As I said, it's not hard to fool the eyes of
simple folk."

"You still look like an Elf to me." said Amin.

Glewellin smiled at him. "You are not simple, my
young friend. Dunedain see clearer than other Men."

Estel looked at his mother. Even in green bodice
and full blue skirts she looked more like a princess
from an ancient tale, with her fine features and silver
fair hair, than a farmwife. "Mrs. Cobbold wasn't seeing
you as you are either was she?"

"Not exactly." Gilraen admitted. "It's a simple
thing, you'll learn to do it too when you're a little
older."

"If Meleth is Melly what are our names, please?"
Amin wanted to know.

Mother though a moment. "Amund and Errol Weaver."
she decided.

"Errol." Estel repeated. It was his first name in a
language of Men, it would not be the last.

High, heavily forested hills gave way to a gently
rolling patchwork of hedgerowed fields and well kept
copices dotted with rambling thatch roofed farmhouses
and small villages.

The cart track became a gravelled road with walkers
and riders and carts and pack ponies flowing in from
every branching path. The traffic was soon so heavy
the children had to be lifted up onto the lead cart to
prevent their getting lost or trampled, giving them a
fine view of both the countryside and their fellow
travellers.

Just before noon they began passing houses built
alongside the road, at first only a few and widely
spaced then more, close together in rows with lanes
between them showing more houses behind. They looked
odd to the children's eyes, but pretty, with black
timbers making patterns against the white plaster
walls. And the larger houses had tile roofs instead of
thatched, and their windows were glazed with dozens of
diamond shaped panes set in metal grills.

Then the road forked, one branch heading south-west
and the other due east, with a big cobblestone market
square on the west side, bordered by little shops and
more houses. And on the east side was a very large and
grand building, some three stories tall and built
around a central court, with a carved and painted sign
swinging above the porch showing a Y shaped cross,
white on green, with the words 'Crossroad Inn' above
and 'Toby and Melinda Griffon' beneath.

Their cart stopped under the sign and the children
were lifted down. Gilraen took Estel's hand and Nuneth
Amin and Meleth's and all five of them went up the
three tall steps of the porch and through the big
arched door into a wide hall smelling of baked bread,
roast meat and woodsmoke, with long benches flanking a
brightly burning fire on one side, and and a tall
wooden counter on the other with an open doorway
beyond and a stairway winding upward at the far end.

A number of people were sitting on the benches or
standing in groups talking. They wound their way
between them and went through the doorway into a large
room, its low raftered ceiling upheld by wooden posts,
full of tables. And each and every table seemed full
of Men and Women talking and eating, with more walking
between the tables, cup and plate in hand, looking for
a place to sit, and all filling the air with a
cheerful noise of voices and the clinking of cups and
plates.

The children just stared. The great hall of
Rivendell, even at its noisiest and most crowded, was
never like this!

Still holding Estel firmly by the hand Mother
plunged right in, making her way, with many a murmured
'Excuse me' and 'I beg your pardon', to a half empty
table against the wall. The children were sat firmly
on the bench and ordered not to move, then Mother and
Nuneth both vanished into the crowd.

The other end of their table was occupied by a
family; a neat dark haired mother and a father with
rough red hair and beard. There were two girls,
Berya's age or older, as dark and prim as their
mother. A tiny girl eating a slice of bread and suger
and an even tinier boy pounding happily on the table
with a big pewter spoon. And, just across the table
from the children, two red headed boys and a girl
about their own ages absorbed in some kind of board
game.

Suddenly the older of the two boys looked up and
saw them staring. "What are you looking at?" he
demanded with a fierce frown.

"That game you're playing," Estel answered quickly,
and not altogether honestly, "I've never seen it
before."

Now it was the other boy's turn to stare. "You've
never played Capture the Hare?"

Estel, Amin and Meleth all shook their heads.

Disarmed by this astonishing ignorance the boy
pushed the board to the center of the table,
explaining how one player controlled the bright red
piece, the Hare, and his opponents the dozen white
pieces and that the object was to hem the Hare in so
he couldn't escape but since the red piece could hop
right over the white and capture them this wasn't as
easy has it might seem.*

The three strange children had finished their game,
by way of demonstration, and they'd just begun a new
one pitting the older boy against Estel and Amin when
Mother and Nuneth returned balancing full trays and
they were forced to put it aside.

The food was as unfamiliar as everything else;
brown bread and cheese, bowls of stew and mugs of
cider. But the children barely noticed, being much
more interested in their new friends. The older boy's
name was Oswald Attmeade and he was twelve years old,
his sister was Daisy and she was ten, and his brother
Dickon was eight. They, along with their mother and
father, sisters and baby brother, were also on their
way to the Hoarwelling fair - as was practically
everybody else in the room - but as buyers not
sellers.

Estel introduced himself as Errol and his sister
and brother as Melly and Amund and went on to say they
were from the Weaver's valley north of the Trollshaws.

Oswald was deeply impressed. "You mean you came
through the *forest*? Did you see any Trolls?"

Estel was forced to admit they had not.

His new friend was most disappointed. "But the
forest is supposed to be full of Trolls, and ghosts,
and all kinds of monsters!"

"Oswald, that is superstitious nonsense." Mrs.
Attmeade said firmly. "The forest is quite dangerous
enough, what with outlaws and wild animals, without
imagining ghosts and Trolls. You know I don't believe
in such things."

Estel, whose own grandfather had been killed by
Stone Trolls, opened his mouth to object, caught a
stern look from Gilraen and changed what he'd been
about to say. "We didn't see any Trolls, or ghosts or
monsters. Sorry."

After lunch Mother, Nuneth and the children went
out a back door, across the innyard and through the
opposite wing to a wide green field full of carts and
picketed horses and ponies, where they found the Elves
drinking ale and chatting familiarly with some of
other traders. Bregolas was nearby, confering quietly
with four other Rangers, who gave the children
inscrutable looks as they approached, before melting
silently into the crowd.

"Bregolas," Estel asked quietly, "how can anybody
not believe in Trolls?"

He smiled. "You will find, Dunadan, that many of
the country people do not. And have their doubts about
Goblins and Wraiths and other such things too. It
means we Rangers are doing our job very well indeed."
***********************************************

* Based on an actual medieval board game, as no doubt
many of you know.

They reached Hoarwelling at dusk, a sizeable town
strung along the banks of the river that gave it its
name. The fair ground was south of the town proper, a
large close mown field bustling with merchants and
peddlers unloading carts and pack trains and barges
tied up at the riverbank jetties. The light from the
clear, palely glowing sky was augmented by lanterns
strung between the poles marking out temporary
streets.

A town official, distinguished by the feather in
his cap, greeted Glewellin familiarly as Lewin,
accepted a handful of silver and showed them to a
spacious lot outlined by string and posts. The Elves,
with the brisk efficiency of long practice, unloaded
trestles and boards from the fourth cart then erected
a large tent, striped in Lord Elrond's colors of blue
and silver and white, over them. Then they set up the
tables and began laying out bolts of cloth, boxes of
fruit and bottles of cordial, helped by Mother and
Nuneth.

The children slipped outside and saw booths and
tents, both large and small, going up all around them.
The fair would open bright and early the next morning
and nobody wanted to lose time and customers setting
up then. Townsfolk and visitors wandered, sightseeing,
along the lantern lit lanes between the lots, greeting
friends and acquaintances, criticizing the goods being
unpacked and enjoying the excitement.

"Hello again."

Estel turned to see Oswald Attmeade with his
redheaded younger siblings in tow, and greeted them
with enthusiasm. "Hello! I was hoping we'd see you
again."

"We didn't finish our game." Oswald reminded him.
"But I knew we'd have no trouble finding you, no
missing the Valley's tent."

"Have you been to many fairs?" Meleth asked Daisy
enviously.

"Oh, yes. Every year as long as I can remember."
she answered.

"Lucky you. This is our first." said Meleth

"And maybe last." Amin said ruefully. "The only
reason we were allowed to come this time was because
our Uncle and Grandmother were away."

"They won't let us leave the Valley because the
fells and the forest really are dangerous." Estel
explained. "It's not polite to contradict ladies but
your mother is wrong - Trolls are real."

It occured to him, too late, that Oswald might take
offense but the other boy only nodded. "I know. Once
when Dad took us with him to buy seasoned wood from
the Foresters one of them showed us a *huge* skull, a
Troll's skull," his voice fell, "*and it was solid
stone*! They turn to stone you know, if sunlight hits
them."

The three children had the wit to look impressed
and Oswald was clearly pleased. He was less so after
his Hare was quickly cornered by Estel and Amin and
perhaps a bit disgruntled when he and his sister Daisy
failed to trap Estel's Hare.

Amin tactfully suggested they stop playing, on the
excuse it was getting dark and the pieces might get
lost, and everybody gratefully agreed. The six
children went back inside the tent to find the Elves,
(though of course they didn't look like Elves to
Oswald, Daisy and Dickon) had just finished the
unpacking.

Glewellin opened one of the boxes of fruit and gave
the children a piece each. "Are you going to sleep in
the tent?" Dickon asked Estel, sucking on a candied
plum.

"No." Glewellin answered decisively for him. Turned
to Gilraen "That wouldn't be fitting, or very
comfortable for you and the children."

"Our father's bespoken two bedrooms and a parlor at
the River Horse," Daisy volunteered, "they may still
have rooms to rent."
***********************************************

The River Horse was a large inn between the
fairground and the town proper, with Mrs. Attmeade
standing on the front steps watching anxiously for her
strays.

"There you are at last!" she scolded. "Didn't I
tell you to be back here before full dark?" then she
saw Gilraen and smiled at her. "Why Mrs. Weaver, how
nice to see you again."

"Thank you, Mrs. Attmeade." Mother replied. "Lewin,
our chief carter, doesn't think the children should
sleep out on the fair ground and your daughter
suggested we might find a room here."

"Oh, dear." the other Woman frowned worriedly. "I
doubt they've anything but a garret or two left by
now."

"I'm sure that will do very well -" Gilraen began.

But: "No it will not!" Mrs. Attmeade contradicted
emphatically. "You'd be sleeping next to the dregs of
the fair up there; tramp peddlers and dice players or
worse!" she came to a decision. "You can share our
rooms."

"Oh no," Mother protested. "You're very kind, Mrs.
Attmeade but I couldn't possibly impose -" and was
interupted again.

"Frankly, Mrs. Weaver, you'd be doing us a favor,"
she lowered her voice confidentially. "The price was
*much* higher than we'd expected, if you could help us
by adding a silver piece or two we'd be grateful."

After much polite discussion they settled on seven
silver pieces; two each for Mother and Nuneth and one
for each child. "And a bargain at the price." Mother
told Mr. Attmeade when she gave him the money. *

He looked like he wanted to refuse but Mrs.
Attmeade was firm. "Don't be silly, dear, Mrs. Weaver
is quite right. And we can certainly use a bit of
extra silver!"

The parlor was a fair sized room, almost large
enough for ten children and four adults, on the second
floor of the inn with two deep windows looking out
towards the fair ground and a door at one end opening
onto a small bedroom with a large fourposter, and a
second door at the other end leading to a long room
with four white draped beds.

Supper was served on a long trestle table with four
chairs for the adults and three benches for the
children. A much better meal than lunch had been with
white bread and butter, two fat roast ducks, potatoes
and carrots on the side, and cups of apple custard for
desert.

Mrs. Attmeade and the two older girls, Annie and
Celia, talked to Mother and Nuneth about fabrics and
dressmaking. Mr. Attmeade talked to the children,
which proved even more difficult than making
conversation with King Thorin as he asked questions
that were very hard to answer without lying, such as
whether they were learning to be weavers and what kind
of school they went to and so forth.

After supper Mrs. Attmeade demanded, and after some
palaver got, an extra bed and two more sleeping
pallets brought up. She and Mr. Attmeade shared the
little bedroom with four year old Katryn and baby
Wilfred, who slept in the fourposter's trundle bed.
Mother, Nuneth, and the four girls had the large
bedroom with Daisy and Meleth sharing the fifth bed.
And the boys slept on pallets laid out in front of the
parlor fire.

"Now don't you sit up talking," Mrs. Attmeade
ordered, before closing her bedroom door, "We must be
up bright and early tomorrow and you've already sat up
much to late."

The boys obeyed her to the letter, much to their
own surprise, dropping off almost at once exhausted by
the varied excitements of the day.
**********************************************

* It is in fact a very fair price for four nights
lodging for five people.

The four boys were awakened at daybreak by Mrs.
Attmeade come to stir up the fire. She ordered them to
roll up their pallets and then into the small bedroom
to dress.

By the time they emerged the trestle table was up
and spread with a hardy breakfast - which nobody
seemed much interested in eating, appetites quite
killed by excitement. The children, including Annie
and Celia, kept darting to the windows, cup or scone
clutched in one hand, to look eagerly out at the
already lively fair ground.

Finally Mrs. Attmeade surrendered. "Oh very well,
get on with you. But if you're hungry later don't
blame me!"

"Perhaps they could take something with them."
Mother suggested. She sliced bread and ham and packed
it in baskets with little pots of butter and honey.
Then gave one each to Annie, Daisy and Meleth.

"Now remember, be back here for lunch at noon
*sharp*." Mrs. Attmeade instructed her children, and
handed the older girls two copper coins each and the
younger children one apiece for spending money.

The fair ground was, in its way, as colorful a
spectacle as the hosting of Rivendell but much
noisier. Angle farmers displayed their produce in
market stalls side by side with local craftsmen
offering their wares in wooden booths or brightly
colored tents. But there were also traders from Bree,
Men and Hobbits both, dealing in Shire pipeweed,
painted woodenware and pewterware and other goods.
Blue Mountain Dwarves selling ironmongery, bronzework
and ornaments of gold and silver. And short, swart Men
from the south offering honey and meade, wool and
hides, wine and fine glassware.

Crowds of buyers moved slowly between the booths
inspecting the goods, bargaining and gossiping: Brown
haired Men of Eriador, dark Dunlendings, heavily
bearded Dwarves and curly headed Hobbits. And here and
there a Ranger; tall, dark and grim with pale,
piercing eyes. Neither buying nor selling, but
watching and listening carefully the news and gossip.

It was all a bit overwhelming to chidren used to
the serenity of Rivendell. They clung close to Mother
and Nuneth as they wove their way between the early
morning shoppers to the Valley tent, towering above
its neighbors. The blue and silver streamers tipping
its poles fluttering in the morning breeze. And the
Attmeade children, though not in the least
overwhelmed, followed along too.

Celia and Annie promptly joined a huddle of other
girls oohing and aahing over the the selection of
silks and gauzes, velvets and brocades. There were
also a number of older Women fingering the more
practical woolens and linens, including Mrs. Cobbold.

Her daughter Lori, bright pink with excitement,
watched as Glewellin wrapped a bolt of finespun wool
the color of new beech leaves in a length of
unbleached linen and offered him a handful of coins in
return. He took the silver piece and two of the
coppers then closed her hand over the remaining three.

"Something left to buy yourself a pretty gaud to go
with your new dress." he smiled.

Lori danced happily away clutching her treasure,
and her mother caught Glewellin's eye shaking her head
in mock reproach.

"Now, Alys," he protested, "surely you wouldn't
have me leave the poor child without a copper to spend
for all the rest of the fair?"

She turned to Gilraen. "And how much does that soft
heart of his lose you in profits, I wonder?"

"Not enough to matter I'm sure." Mother answered.

"Indeed not." Glewellin twinkled at them both. "I
make up for any such small losses by asking a bit more
from the large dealers who can well afford it!"

Oswald, Daisy and Dickon made straight for the
boxes of candied fruit, conferring in hissing whispers
for some minutes before Dickon finally handed his coin
over to an Elf and tucked the box under his arm.

Then the three of them headed for the door.
"Coming?" Oswald asked Estel.

"Yes." he decided.

"Wait!" Glewellin took three copper coins from the
money box and distributed them to the children, "can't
really enjoy the fair without a bit of spending
money."

The children looked uncertainly at the coins in
their hands, having never used or so much as seen
money before. Thanked him dutifully and followed the
young Attmeades out into the cheerful hurley-burley of
the fair ground.

It seemed merchants and traders customarily set up
in the same spot, or near it, every year so Oswald,
Daisy and Dickon, experienced fairgoers that they
were, knew exactly where to find everything they
wanted to see. Estel, Amin and Meleth bewildered and
even a little frightened by the noise and press of people
were glad to follow their lead.

The first stop was a tent-top like the Elves' but
smaller and bright orange in color. The tables
underneath it were spread with a wide variety of toys.

There were wax dolls some small as your hand and
others as long as your forearm. The smaller ones were
cast from a mold with faces and clothes painted on but
the larger and more elaborate had moveable arms, yarn
hair and glass eyes, and were dressed in colorful
cloth costumes. Most wore the full skirts and laced
bodices of countrywomen but a few had long gowns of
blue or crimson with tiny necklaces, bracelets and
circlets of brass or tin.

There were also ranks of little men cast in
brightly painted lead-tin, on foot or on horseback
wearing countrymen's breeches and jackets. And larger
more elaborate figures of craftsmen at their
workbenches whose arms and heads moved if you pulled a
string. And there were long, thin figures in green
clothes with little bows over their shoulders and
swords at their sides clearly meant to be Rangers.

Not to mention wooden puppets on sticks, carts and
wagons with horses to draw them, animal figures in
wood or china. Doll houses and doll sized furniture,
dishes and tools. Tops and balls and skittles and
hoops and anything else you could think of.

The toys were crude and garish compared to Elf made
playthings but had the charm of novelty. Meleth's
dolls were of ivory with silken hair and crystal eyes
and real jewelry of gold or silver set with tiny gems,
not plump wax figures with red painted cheeks and
braided brown wool hair. Her brothers had literal
armies of small metal warriors, footmen and horsemen
each with his own individual armour and weapons, but
no farmers or craftsmen, nor Rangers either.

Estel picked up one of the little figures. It was
odd when you thought about it, he would be Chief of
the Rangers someday but all his toy soldiers were
modelled on the Elves and Men of the Elder Days.

"Are you going to buy that?" Oswald asked.

"I don't know," Estel showed him the copper coin,
"will this be enough?"

The other boy gave him a look of disbelief. "You
can get at least four for that!"

So he did. Four was the usual number of a Ranger
patrol anyway. And Oswald bought a handful of round
polished stones.

"You act like you've never had any money to spend
before." Oswald told him as they walked away, each
clutching a little hemp bag.

"We haven't," Amin piped up, seeing his brother was
at a loss, "we don't use it in the valley."

Oswald shook his head. "Funny place you live."

"When was the last time *we* used money at home,
smarty?" Daisy asked sharply. "Don't be rude, Oswald."

"And don't you start talking like Celia!" her
brother snapped back, adding apologetically to Estel:
"I didn't mean to be rude, I was just surprised."

"That's all right." Estel assured him. "Fact is we
think the Angle's a pretty odd place, so it stands to
reason you'd find our valley just as peculiar." Little
did Oswald know how peculiar!

Their next stop was one of the Dwarven booths,
manned by three stocky Firebeards 1* from the Blue
Mountains. Part of their stock was a selection of
folding knives, some with several different blades for
specialized uses, 2* that fascinated all six children
but were much to expensive to buy.

Eventually the Dwarves began to show signs of
annoyance as the children lingered, fingering the
knives and getting in the way of other customers, so
Amin bought a small brass box with a lock and a key
worked in intricate curlicues to mollify them, and the
children moved on.

To a smaller booth with brooches, pins, necklaces,
pendants and buckles of copper or silver or gilt
inlaid with enamel or nacre or colored glass displayed
on a dark felt spread over the counter. The Attmeades
greeted the jeweler, a round little man with greying
hair and bright brown eyes, like an old friend.

"Bertred's been *everywhere*," Oswald told the
children from Rivendell proudly, "over the Mountains
and even to the South Kingdom."

That would be Gondor, and explained why the jeweler
was looking at them with such startled attention. He
would have seen Dunedain in the south and doubtless
recognized Estel, Amin and Meleth as being of the same
kind.

"Errol, Amund and Melly are from the Weavers'
Valley," Oswald continued blithely, "have you ever
been there, Bertred?"

"No, I can't say that I have."

"Come to think of it," Oswald mused, "I don't think
I've ever met anybody, other than Lewin and his
carters, who've seen the valley."

"We're very hard to find and don't get many
visitors." Estel said quickly, and almost honestly.

In the meantime Meleth and Daisy were busily
examining the jewelry, which was quite unlike the
Elvish work the former was accustomed to. A few pieces
had a Numenorean flavor but most were in an unfamiliar
style all interlacing serpentine filigree or intricate
cellwork inlaid with colored glass or enamel. 3*

A small brooch in the shape of a running horse in
copper cellwork and deep red glass took Meleth's fancy
and Daisy, after much thought, bought a string of
blue and yellow glass beads. By the time she'd finally
made up her mind the sun was directly overhead and it
was time to go back to the Inn for lunch.
*********************************************

1. Firebeards is one of the Seven tribes of Dwarves,
(Durin's Folk are the Longbeards). Nogrod, the great
Dwarf city of the Southern Ered Luin, was their
ancestral home. It stood about where the Gulf of Lune
is in the Third Age, destroyed in the sinking of
Beleriand. But their lesser dwellings and mines
further south survived and their people still live in
the southern range of the Blue Mountains. As their
tribe name suggests they are usually red bearded.
(Mostly Canon)

2. Bet you never knew the so-called 'swiss army knife'
was actually invented by Dwarves! ;) (Decidedly *not*
Canon!)

3. Most of Bertred's stock in trade is made in the
styles and techniques of the Northmen, (think Viking
and Saxon jewelry), he comes from one of the Mannish
settlments along the Anduin, (later united by Beorn
and his son) and like most of the Men of the Anduin
vale has Northmen blood mixed with that of the dark
haired and swarthy skinned Men who've lived east of
the Mountains since the Elder Days. (Fanon)

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