300 words

The Beast of Terror

Erestor glared at the pieces of ripped parchment littering the floor of his rooms. That had better not be the remains of some important document! A glance towards the table in the corner revealed it was indeed the list of winter stores, an inventory he had spent the better part of a week cataloguing.

That was it! The final straw! The beast HAD to go!

Eyes narrowed, he followed the trail to where it disappeared under a heap of bedding that hung haphazardly from what had been his neatly made bed. Beast! Little Terror! He glared at the disarray before reaching to grab a suspicious lump. He cursed as instead of the culprit, he pulled out a half chewed slipper — his favorite! The Evil Brute!

Scowling, he knelt on the floor and flipped up the jumbled bedding. His other slipper peeked out, at least what remained of it. Monster! Foul beast of Morgoth!

He bent over to look beneath the bed, coming nose to nose with the little monster. A fuzzy face, dominated by shining brown eyes, tipped to the side. A small pink tongue darted out, catching him right on the mouth, even as a shaggy tail wagged, followed by a soft 'arf'.

Erestor scooped up the puppy, shaking his head as his scowl melted into a reluctant smile. He ruffled her ears, even as he scolded the small terrier. "You should not be in my room, little terror," he told her. "And this time, your masters will not get away with their lax supervision!"

He marched down the hall in search of her owners; Isilmë wiggling in his arms.

To their dismay, the young sons of Elrond spent the next four days reprising the list of winter stores, whilst Erestor supervised, the pup sound asleep on his lap.