As Elrond stepped from the doorway, the sound of light running feet combined with childish laughter disturbed him from his thoughts, and he had barely time to raise his eyebrows in surprise as a small boy came careering around the corner, his soft leather moccasins skidding on the polished floor.

"Oh. . ."

"Ooooh!"

There was a dull thump roughly loud enough to be a small head colliding with another elf's knees, and elf-lord and elfling went flying in a flurry of limbs, papers and immaculately ironed velvet robes.

"Mandos." Elrond sat up, rubbing his bruised elbow gingerly. Luckily he seemed to have survived the impact relatively unharmed, but his papers seemed to have escaped rather less lightly. Crumpled pages were now being blown gently down the hallway by the breeze from the open terrace doors. More worrying however was the tiny elfling, lying quite still on the floor beside him. Biting his lip in concern, Elrond got to his knees, shuffled over to the child's side and gently checked his breathing and pulse. "Are you hurt, little one?"

The child was pale, and bleeding freely from his nose and a scratch on his forehead. As Elrond moved to pick him up, the child stirred and began sobbing loudly, although a quick examination showed that there were no more serious injuries.

"Hush," Elrond moved to sit cross-legged on the ground, and shifted the child into his lap. "Hush now. All is well."

The elfling sniffed and rubbed at his wet cheeks with a tightly curled fist, then sobbed out something indecipherable in between gulps for air.

"Are you hurt?" Elrond gently wiped the child's face with the cuff of his tunic. The flow of blood was quickly slowing, and he used one finger to tilt up the child's chin as he mopped up the blood and tears. "There now, there is no harm done."

The child gingerly touched his nose, then, on seeing the woeful state of his tunic and Elrond's robes began howling remorsefully.

Realising that the boy's tears had more to do with who he had bumped into than the actual bumps and bruises that had been sustained in doing so, Elrond got up and set the elfling on his feet.

"Now, do you think you could help me gather up my papers?" Elrond surveyed the child interestedly. He would be five or six, old enough to be able to recognise his letters and numbers. "I need them in the order of the numbers up here."

The half-elf picked up a page, and pointed at the carefully scripted numbers. "Why do you not begin with page one, and I shall begin with page twenty?"

The child nodded, and struggled to control his tears as he hiccuped miserably. "Yes, Lord Elrond."

"Good boy." Elrond was glad to see that the tiny elf seemed to have cheered up slightly once he had something he could do to redeem himself. "That is very helpful."

The report was now looking decidedly less respectable. While he could smooth out the crumples, there was not much he could do about bloodstains or tear marks. He carefully tried to repair each page as the little elfling scrambled over furniture and scurried here and there to fetch the sheets of parchment.

"I have found it!" The elfling seemed rather grubbier than when Elrond had last seen him disappear out onto the terrace, and he was waving the elusive page twelve proudly above his head. He came to an abrupt halt at Elrond's feet and gabbled excitedly. "It was caught in the vines, but I climbed up and got it out, but then the wind blew so, so hard and it decided to fly over the edge of the terrace and into the garden, but it must have been thirsty for it flew right down to the pond. . ."

"It did?" Elrond asked despairingly, accepting the green streaked and soggy sheet.

"I got it out though." The child beamed his best smile, and prodded at the page and frowned in concern. "It is a bit damp though, is it not?"

"Aye." Elrond tried to blow the wet paper and rapidly spreading ink dry. It was a hopeless task, and eventually he tucked it into the folder with the remainder of the pages. "Come along."

A clammy little hand took his proffered larger one, and together the pair walked to the north hallway, where Elrond hoped the child would manage to stay out of harms way. "You must not come into the studies and council chambers again, unless you are invited."

The child turned scarlet, and looked at the floor as he mumbled an apology then looked up with a hopeful smile as he spoke guilelessly. "Will you invite me? Sometimes?"

"Erm. . ." Elrond paused, rather surprised at the child's forwardness. He had pegged the boy as a shy little thing, for he flushed whenever required to make a comment, and his dark hair was forever falling over his face.

"When I grow up, I shall be a counsellor." The boy informed him calmly, with a slight hint of pride. "A very important counsellor. I can already read the green book with all the sad poems in it."

"Indeed?" Elrond smiled down at the eager little face. "I must remember to invite you to tea then, for I would love to hear you read to me."

The child's face lit up with a smile so bright that Elrond was sure that if he hung out his damp sheet of parchment before it, it would dry instantly.

~*~

His new young friend waved off, and guided to the care of a kindly looking female elf that he dimly remembered as having seen in the orchards from time to time, Elrond and his ill-fated report headed back towards Gil- galad's study. The High King would be long gone by now, for the midday bells were already chiming for the meal, but he could at least leave a note explaining the absence of the promised documents.

Not expecting any company, Elrond knocked lightly and entered without waiting for a reply.

"Peredhil."

The voice was quiet and matter-of-fact, and Elrond looked across the room in some surprise to find his King sitting on the window-seat, elbows placed on the wide wooden ledge, and his head in hands. The solemn grey eyes were focused only on the smooth curved edge to the window ledge, and Elrond was surprised that Gil-galad had even seen him.

"Your knock is far too distinctive, Peredhil." The High King spoke as if he had read his herald's thoughts, and looked up with a deep sigh. "Elrond?"

"I had. . ." Elrond motioned vaguely at his papers as he looked hard at the High King. "Is all well?"

Gil-galad looked up bleakly, and tried to school his face into a smile. "Aye, all is well."

Elrond raised an eyebrow, but pushed the matter no further, knowing all too well that High Kings were apt to become testy when pressed.

"The report. . ." Gil-galad held out a hand, his thoughts and attention still focused well out of the window.

"Yes, well. . ." Elrond reluctantly handed over the dishevelled document, and frowned, slightly ashamed of it's state. "I believe that it may need drafting. . ."

The High King's face darkened slightly as he flipped through the first few pages of the report, and the black brows drew a little closer together. Elrond tensed apprehensively, his mouth hanging a little open as he waited for the High King to look up before making his excuses. However, as Gil- galad continued his perusal of the document, the tightness around his mouth softened until he was almost smiling.

"This is a most admirable account, Peredhil." He chewed slightly on his lower lip as he glanced at the streaked tearstains and droplets of blood, and his eyes twinkled with hidden amusement. "It would appear to have had an adventure of its own."

"Ah." The two pairs of grey eyes met, and Elrond gave his mentor a quirky grin. "It is certainly well travelled."

"Courtesy of an elfling courier. . ." Gil-galad smiled to himself as he noticed the small grubby handprint on the edge of one page. Occasionally as a little elfling he had been entrusted with the important task of bearing notes around the Havens. His pride at being assigned the task had faded somewhat when he had seen the official document sail off on a gust of wind, over the cliff edge and down to the stormy sea below. Even less pleasant had been trying to explain to a fuming shipwright what on earth had possessed him to try and create a wind ship with a vital letter.

"Aye." Elrond took the report back, and rearranged the pages back into a single pile. "I have made a new friend."

Gil-galad grinned broadly then, as he caught sight of the dark stains on Elrond's sleeves and chest, looked questioningly at the half-elf. "Have you been healing in your formal gowns again?"

Laughing at the paternal disapproval in the High King's voice, Elrond examined his robes critically, holding his arms out before him as he twisted his wrist to the left and right. "It is not as bad as it might have been."

Once, as a young guest of Gil-galad's court, he had come across a litter of kittens that had been attacked by some wild animal. Apparently blood did not come out of small gowns of white silk and cream velvet, even after repeated washings.

"Indeed, no." The High King's voice became excessively considerate and regal, a favourite of his for teasing. "I believe I can see some patches of blue here and there. . ."

Elrond grimaced playfully at him. "It is not that bad. I could not have left him unsoothed."

"No." Gil-galad said shortly, his face suddenly becoming grave as thought of his problems overwhelmed him again. "Matters can not simply be left."

Elrond looked at the High King sympathetically, detecting his inner turmoil, and flapped the report gently. "I shall have this for you by dinnertime."

He would be heartily sick of that miserable report by sundown. It would be difficult enough to find time to rewrite it amongst the afternoon's councils.

Gil-galad looked at him seriously for a few moments, guessing the sum of Elrond's thoughts from the half-elf's face. Then he shook his head slightly. "No, Elrond. If you have some hours unfilled, I would rather spend them in counsel. I have much on my mind."

Elrond nodded, and smiled slightly. Judging by the slight stressful twitching of the High King's left brow, he had far too much on his mind.

"Aye, I shall meet you in an hour." Elrond said, and when Gil-galad opened his mouth to protest, repeated himself in the calm authoritative voice of a healer. "In an hour. Some food and fresh air will ease your thoughts."

Gil-galad turned to the desk, muttering something similar to 'dratted Peredhel'. However, once he had shuffled his papers a few times he strode across the room and grabbed his cloak and followed Elrond out of the doorway with a rather rueful grin.