A/N : This chapter also has an answer to another of SkyFire’s challenges, which has to include the line: “By the Valar! The mud puddle ate Glorfindel.”

And that should give you an idea of where this chapter is going!

***

“Do I want to know what you are doing with that thing?” Elrond called down, frowning from his balcony. “I was under the impression that you were searching for caterpillars.”

Glorfindel looked up, startled; not having anticipated that he was being observed. Smiling sarcastically, he upended the bottle, swallowing the last of the dregs in one gulp.

He waved the empty flagon at the irritating elven lord. “Did it not occur to you that I would need a container for these caterpillars when I find them?

Elrond rolled his eyes. “Did it not occur to you that a jar serves as well as a wine bottle?”

“I had this to hand!” Glorfindel replied; stopping as he realised that didn’t actually improve the situation.

“Perhaps you should curb your imbibing for a few hours, and ‘heal’ those caterpillars?” With that remark Elrond returned inside, to the comfortable shade of his room.

“Would you have me die of dehydration?” Glorfindel muttered, fanning himself with a leaf. “It is hotter than the fires of Mordor out here.”

Sighing, he eyed the empty bottle sadly, before rinsing it out in the fountain. Surveying the grounds he debated on which was the best area in which to find caterpillars.

Racking his memory for a time when he had performed such hunts as a child, he could find surprisingly few such moments. He had never been a one for rolling around in the dirt. Glorfindel sighed, no one area looked more abundant than another, so logically he decided to search in the area where the twins found the original caterpillar.

Kneeling down before a shaded bush, he started lifting up each leaf to check the underside, having the vague thought that caterpillars preferred the shade.

Finishing with that bush he moved onto the next, crawling on hands and knees, diligently searching.

‘Why could they not have found a bright pink caterpillar’ he moaned to himself. ‘Do they not realise how hard it is to distinguish one green from another’

Sighing, he realised that he was in for a long search.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile, two traumatised twins tossed and turned in their respective beds; each restlessly reliving the worry, guilt and excitement. The heat was not lending aid to the situation.

Although the windows were wide open, and a light blind pulled down to block out the sunlight, the room was heating up. Celebrian had waited in the room until they had finally dropped off, unwilling to let them talk and torture themselves with discussions of the caterpillars and whether Glorfindel could magically heal them. Stepping over to stand between the beds, she gently turned down the covers, so the boys would not swelter; leaving them with nothing more than a thin sheet. Bending down she kissed first one then the other on the forehead, soothing them with her touch, before slipping silently out.

Stepping into the corridor, she left the door slightly ajar to facilitate the through-flow of air, and to allow her to hear if any restless or worrying sounds emanated from her tiny two. Making her way to her chambers, a few doors down, she spied her husband on the balcony outside and went out to join him.

Perching herself next to him on the bench, she smiled as his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and instinctively leaned into him, resting her head against his. Feeling her relaxing into his embrace, Elrond breathed a kiss into her hair, and returned his gaze to whatever had distracted him before. Comfortably settled, Celebrian turned her head to follow his gaze, and spied a blond elf scrabbling around in the dirt.

“Now that is a sight I never thought to see him partake of willingly!” she grinned. “Has he been rolling around in the mud?”

Glorfindel was truly a sight to behold. His blond hair had come loose from his immaculate braids, and was hanging down in random strands. From the look of the ends it had been dragged through all the mud he could find, and Celebrian was confident that that was a small leaf she detected mingled in with the blond threads.

“It certainly seems to be attracted to him,” Elrond responded. “Strange that on such a dry day he manages to find all the mud puddles. I would have thought for certain that they would have dried up.”

Certainly Glorfindel’s knees and hands were coated in it, and he had apparently been wiping them on his tunic. Elrond mentally made a note to tell the cleaning lady to refuse to wash such a tunic, and return it to the elven lord to rinse himself.

“I do not think that he is enjoying it out there,” Celebrian murmured, rubbing her cheek on Elrond’s shoulder.

“It is rather the wrong sort of weather for a hunt,” he agreed, hugging her tighter for a moment.

A concerned note crept into Celebrian’s voice. “Is he having any luck?”

Elrond sighed. “Judging from the curses that have floated their way up here, I think not.”

“Do you not think we should help him?” she asked. “The twins will not sleep forever, and they shall certainly want to become reacquainted with their new friends the instant they awaken.”

“I am having far too much fun watching Glorfindel struggle. It is not often that I catch him at a loss.” Elrond could not keep the smile from his face as he watched the beleaguered, sweltering elf below him. “Besides, when have you ever know him to fail in a hunt? It is one of his proudest claims that he will always get his prey.”

Celebrian nodded her agreement. “I am sure he is already regretting his newfound healing abilities,” she mused, “but he will find himself amply rewarded when the caterpillars are united with their new friends.”

“Ay,” Elrond agreed, “assuming he lives through the task of healing them.”

“Oh you are cruel meleth nin,” Celebrian scolded, “Have you thought about what will happen if he fails?”

“I sincerely doubt that he will fail. He loves the twins too much to,” Elrond began, before breaking off in a splutter of laughter. He bent over, chortling away.

“What happened?” Celebrian asked; her eyes locked on the elven lord, “What ails you?” From the way her beloved was bent over and shaking, he looked in great pain.

“Nay!” Elrond forced out, hand at his side, other raised palm outwards, fending off the unnecessary concerns of his wife. “I am well. It is only…” He broke off again in laughter.

“Elucidate!” Celebrian demanded, using the tone that only mothers could produce.

Elrond swallowed down his mirth. “By the Valar!” he exclaimed, “The mud puddle ate Glorfindel!” He sank to his knees, leaning his head against the wooden rail, shaking with silent laughter.

Celebrian removed herself from his embrace, and ran over to the railing peering over to check on the elven lord, and hopefully catch a glimpse of him in such a state.

After several minutes of watching she grew worried. “Glor!” She called into the garden, “Glorfindel are you all right?”

“Of course I am not alright,” came a disembodied voice from below. Squinting Celebrian was unable to make out where it came from. “Would you consider yourself well if you were viciously assaulted by a hidden puddle? Not to mention the bushes that have deliberately thrust their branches in my way, nor the numerous insects that have decided my flesh looks tasty and the inside of my tunic looks comfortable? All this while crawling along trying to find two annoying green fuzzy beasts to pacify a friend’s children, while that so-called friend is happily enjoying a cool drink on a blistering hot day, seated in the shade, and laughing at the poor elf who’s only thought is to help!”

“So you survived your unexpected bath then?” Elrond managed to inquire with a straight face.

“Oh indeed, that sea of mud did not consume me entirely, it left enough of me alive for you to make fun of!” came the irate response.

“We are sorry Glorfindel, it was just so unexpected that we could not help but laugh.” Celebrian glared at Elrond, indicating that he should apologise also.

“My apologies Glorfindel, I was taken somewhat by surprise, and reacted inappropriately. Are you injured anywhere?”

“Nothing that a small bath shouldn’t cure.” Glorfindel sighed wryly, stepping forward from the trees to retrieve the bottle.

Elrond was unable to stop the re-emerging laughter from escaping. “Valar Glorfindel! Did you bathe in the stuff? I can smell you from here!”

He was scarcely exaggerating.

Mud covered the elf from head to toe. Even his eyebrows were drenched with the thick sludge. Unless you had already known that it was Glorfindel, it would have been impossible to identify him clearly.

Glorfindel scowled, and mumbled under his breath, something a certain elf lord who should look to himself before blaming others for unpleasant odours.

Celebrian covered a smile behind her hand, and her eyes glistened with glee at Elrond’s face. The colour rose in his cheeks, but before he could release his anger, Glorfindel had retrieved his bottle and stormed off deeper into the grounds, beyond eyesight.

But not earshot.

“Damn Peredhils,” his voice came floating up to them, “Always have you running around for them, and never once a kind word, never a thank you.”

Elrond leant against the railing; head thrown backwards as his anger escaped in great heaving laughs, which shook his body with the effort to keep them in.

Celebrian just folded her arms, shaking her head at him, before ducking underneath his arm, and back into his embrace.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Still muttering, Glorfindel headed directly towards the river, keen to remove the grime. It was now drying on him in the overhead sun, shedding small, dried, flakes as he moved. His nose wrinkled reflexively as the steam rising from him was permeated with the stench of stagnant water and mud. Submerging himself immediately in the river became even more of a priority.

Reaching the water’s edge, he paused only to toss the bottle into a soft clump of grass, before running lightly to a jutting out rock and executing a neat dive into the water; careful to choose a deep section. Skimming lightly into the river he swam briskly, underneath the water surface, hoping that the pace would remove much of the drying dirt. Bobbing up to the surface, he sighed in relief, as the muck seemed to have washed off his hands and skin. Paddling over to the shallows he knelt down with his back to the bank, and submerged his head in the water.

Rubbing vigorously at his hair, he teased out each braid with his fingers, allowing the larger clumps of mud, and peculiarly a leaf, to disperse. Swinging back upright, his hair now shining golden in the sunlight, he peeled off his shirt, shaking it out above the river and beating it with his fist. Dipping it back under the water, he scrubbed it roughly between his hands. He was enjoying this unexpected bath; the water cooled his skin, and helped alleviate the heat of the day. After several minutes of effort, he stopped, breathing hard from the work, water mixed with perspiration trickling down his rising and falling chest.

Lifting his shirt into the light, Glorfindel carefully examined it. Although he had not been able to remove all the stain, he had managed to destroy the most offensive of odours that had tainted it. Looking down at his leggings he decided that they were beyond salvageable. Though the water had dispersed much of the mud, what remained was so ingrained into the weave that there was little else short of unstitching the clothing itself, and washing each thread on its own, that would remove the sludge.

Bracing one leg upon a nearby rock, his hands clawed at the nearby roots of a tree. Muscles rippled beneath the clinging leggings as he pulled himself out of the water, and onto the bank. Laying his shirt down on a sunbathed rock to hopefully dry, he sat down next to it. Glorfindel gently plucked a teasel from the nearby plant, and began running its fronds through his damp tresses, quickly dealing with most of the tangles. Tempted to lie back and enjoy the sun, which did not feel as uncomfortably hot while he was damp, he groaned as two identical faces interrupted his rest, the memory of their tears enough to spur him onwards. Pulling himself stiffly upwards, he donned his shirt, and resumed his hunt for the elusive green fuzzy caterpillars.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fidgeting in his sleep, Elladan was gradually becoming tangled in his sheet, as it wrapped around his legs mercilessly. Sweat beaded on his forehead, as both the heat and the torments of his mind viciously attacked him. His brother did not fare any better.

Elrohir tossed and turned, limbs twitching as he re-enacted the fight from earlier, his small face screwed up in a frown. Throwing his cover off with his antics, he found himself clutching his pillow tighter, and hot balls of tears welling up in his sleep. Unconsciously rubbing his face deeper into the pillow, he tried to stifle the memories, but jerked as his treacherous mind betrayed him with the image of the towel cutting the caterpillar in two.

Jerking viciously out of the dream, Elrohir found himself sitting on the cool stone floor. Blinking, he rubbed at his eyes, trying to hold back the tears of shock from his sudden fall; he was unable to hide a few sniffs though, before he mastered himself.

“Ro?” came a sleepy voice from the other bed, “I’m sleeping, sh!”

Elrohir sniffed again, wiping his nose on a corner of the bed sheet. Pushing himself stiffly to his feet he grabbed his pillow, holding it tightly to his chest. He staggered slightly over towards his twin’s bed, still hugging it as a shield.

Elladan stiffened at the sound of his brother’s sniff, his mind more alert. Sitting up, his eyes sought out those of his twins.

“Ro? What’s wrong?” He threw back his sheet, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, ready to rise.

Elrohir wiped vigorously at his eyes, unwilling to let his brother see that he’d been crying. “I’m alright. I just slipped.”

Elladan watched him with narrowed eyes, seeing the slight limp, and reddened eyes, which belied his brother’s words. Patting the bed beside him, Elladan indicated to his twin that he should join him up there.

Sliding backwards onto the bed Elrohir, careful of his still tender rear, lowered himself gently onto the mattress. The two sat there in silence, Elladan’s feet swinging the only sign of his impatience. Finally, patience sapped by the earlier tensions, the heat, and no small amount of fatigue, he nudged his little brother.

“Ro?” he asked, leaning into his twin, “are you alright?”

Elrohir looked down at his hands rubbing them together; he wished he wore long sleeves, so he could bury his hands in them. He did not want to see the blood that stained them. “I killed it Dan,” he muttered. “I can still feel its insides mashed, and I can hear the squish.” He broke off, suppressing a shudder.

Elladan eyed him sorrowfully, sharing the pain, yet unable to find any words of comfort. He threw his arm around his brother, hoping that his presence could provide what words were unable to.

Elrohir sniffed again pulling away, and curled up on the bed, his back to his brother. Pulling the pillow closer to him, he buried his head in it.

Elladan sighed, and curled up on the opposite side, resting his head on his own pillow. Wriggling down, he settled with his back touching Elrohir’s, and the two lay like that, drawing comfort from each other.

After several minutes of attempted sleep, Elrohir whispered, still facing the wall. “Do you think Glorfindel can heal him?”

“He said he could didn’t he?” Elladan whispered back.

“Yes, but do you think he meant it?” Elrohir held his breath in anticipation of the answer.

Elladan could not provide it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Glorfindel sat back on his heels with a sigh. Twenty minutes of hunting and he had not been able to discover a single green caterpillar. He had found thirty-two green and black striped, obviously the common variety around here; twelve pure black ones, and two red creatures each with three hideous black eyes, which Glorfindel swore followed every move he made. Fat, ugly creatures they were, with coarse bristles, and they emitted a rather obnoxious odour. Glorfindel had secreted those two away for later use on a certain unsuspecting elf.

Ruefully, he had returned the other caterpillars to where he had found them, and, in his desperation, was even considering getting hold of some dye and staining two caterpillars green. He was in great danger of losing his reputation as an expert hunter and tracker should he fail in this.

Glancing at the sun, he noticed that it was much lower in the sky than the last time he had checked, and much of the heat had passed from the air. It was nearly time for the twins to awaken. Hanging his head, he turned to leave; he had failed.

Out of the corner of his eye he detected a tinge of green, moving against the wind; he carried on walking past it, towards the house.

He stopped.

Double taking he turned around slowly, his eyes roving the bushes hunting down the ever-so-slight variance in hue that had attracted his attention moments before. His attention was again drawn to the underside of a clump of heather, as two green fuzzy creatures ambled their way along in search of food, unaware that they were prey.

Smile broadening across his face, Glorfindel bent down towards them, careful to keep his movements slow, so as not to scare them off.

‘Not,’ he mused to himself, ‘that they could get very far or achieve the speed necessary to evade me’.

Confident in his abilities, he held the leaf steady with one hand, while the other snaked silently towards his prey. As his fingers brushed against the fur, a blur came swooping down, and when it had passed the caterpillars were gone.

“What?” Glorfindel voiced aloud, sitting back on his heels as he pondered the mysteries of vanishing caterpillars. “What just happened?”

Hearing a twittering in the tree above him, he glanced up hoping for answers, and he found them.

“Why you!” He stopped, unable to find the words. Shaking his fist at the pied wagtail, which had decided to feast on his prey, he began to stalk it up the tree.

The bird just sat there on the branch, pushing its meal around with its beak; tail bobbing in laughter.

Pulling himself lightly from branch to branch, barely causing them to sway, Glorfindel silently and swiftly made his way to a point above the thieving creature, where he was in an excellent position to view his enemy.

What he saw caused him to suppress a growl.

The bird, if indeed such a wicked beast called be called something that is beauty and grace, was balancing on one leg, pushing at the struggling caterpillars who were frantically trying to escape its clutches. Bending down, the wagtail opened its beak, preparing to shovel its meal into its mouth, but was startled as a blond blur swooped down from above, prepared to do battle with the feathered one.

Unfortunately, in his rage, Glorfindel had failed to notice the moss growing on the branch, which was on the north side, and rarely saw sunlight. Anticipating landing with his usual grace, he did not expect for his foot to slide out from beneath him, causing his gravity to be positioned somewhere over the edge of the branch.

He fell.

Landing on the ground with an empathic whump, Glorfindel lay there stunned. The ground was dry and hard from the abundant sunshine, and though he had not injured himself more than a few bruises he had certainly winded himself.

While lying there stunned, he opened his eyes staring up in wonder at the sky above him. There was a twittering inside his head, which sounded just like the laughter of that damned bird, while a few of the feathered ones circled around him. Shaking his head, his brain began to clear, and he realised that it was indeed the same bird, fortunately only one of it.

His stunned muscles quickly realigned themselves into a frown, and then swiftly into a glare, as he watched the antics of the bird above him, still lying where he was. Indeed he did not think that he could convince his body to move itself for several minutes at least.

The black and white bird above him was bobbing its head as it watched him from above, seated on the branch. Twittering away, it bent down and swiftly consumed one of the caterpillars in one gulp. Raising the energy to shake his fist, Glorfindel pushed himself upright, leaning on one elbow, his eyes never leaving the bird.

Eyeing the elf with a poise that showed a complete lack of trepidation that Glorfindel found insulting, the wagtail decided to take flight. Glorfindel began to rise to follow it.

In a perfect execution of style and grace, the bird flipped its head into the air, releasing the second caterpillar, and swooping after it. Diving forwards, it caught the crawling thing in its mouth, and swallowed it.

Landing on the same branch it took off from, he began to preen his feathers, stomach full, and obviously proud of its display. Glorfindel’s hands clenched in imitation of wringing its scrawny little neck, while the beast that had defied him, and consumed his prey, stared back down; infernal tail still wagging.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Glorfindel trudged back to the Last Homely House, worrying if this would be the last time he found himself welcomed there; his feet began to drag as he neared. Frantically shoring up his courage, Glorfindel stiffened his shoulders, and raised his head, only to end up gazing directly at the twin’s bedroom window.

His breathed hissed as he released it after a long pent-up period of silence. He stared up hoping that they were sleeping peacefully, untroubled by the caterpillar incident, and that they had forgotten such things had even happened.

He doubted it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The twins lay there in silence, backs still touching, feigning sleep until Celebrian came in to dress the pair ready for dinner.

“Did it work?” Elrohir asked, rubbing his eyes. He was quickly put into a tunic, and his hair brushed.

“Are they better?” Elladan echoed, suffering the same treatment.

Celebrian smiled knowingly at them, and took them by the hand. “Let us go and see.”