Retribution

‘I cannot believe what I am hearing, Arwen,’ Elrond said incredulously.  ‘What are you telling me?  That you chose to disrupt the workings of Imladris, put at risk the health and welfare of elves in our care and carry out foolish pranks for the purpose of proving to everyone that you are every bit as reckless as your brothers were at your age?

‘Let me point out to you, my daughter, that your brothers, thoughtless young hooligans though they could be, committed their sins out of a careless and impetuous lack of consideration – not from a planned and detailed design to make people suffer.’

Arwen’s eyes dropped as Elrond’s gaze increased in intensity. The silence grew more ominous.  ‘I am appalled,’ her father told her.  ‘You are fortunate enough to be in a situation where others will look to you for leadership.  To treat them badly is an abuse of your position.’  Arwen began to cry again as the whip of her father’s words stung her.  His measured rebuke faded in and out of her awareness, individual words smarting like sharp slaps as they impressed themselves on her; ‘bullying’, ‘spiteful’, ‘unkind’, ‘spoilt’, ‘heartless’, ‘irresponsible’.

Elrond closed his eyes and sighed. ‘Enough.  What you must do is make reparation for your actions.  All I am insisting you do is that, within a day, you visit every elf on whom you chose to play tricks and apologise for what you have done. Anything further, I will leave to your conscience.

‘As far as Glorfindel and Erestor are concerned – they enjoy the games they play with each other and your brothers, but your scheme was, to say the least, inconsiderate. You were taking advantage of their trust in you. You will take them letters of apology and you will accept any punishment they wish to give you.’  He opened his eyes and looked at her seriously.  ‘I do not believe I have anything further to say to you at present, Arwen.  You may go.’

***

Elrohir took his little sister into his arms.  ‘Oh, Arwen,’ he said.  ‘You do not have to try to be like we were to prove that you love us!  It is easy enough to get into trouble accidentally – there is no need to court it.’

As Arwen sobbed, Elladan came over to them and joined in the hug, offering his sympathy and love. ‘Was adar very angry?’ he asked.

His little sister sniffed and nodded.  ‘He said I was inconsiderate and unkind.  That it was one thing to play a trick on Glorfindel and Erestor, because they were family, but it was quite another to do nasty things to people like Mothwen, because they can’t retaliate and that makes it bullying.’

Elladan winced.  He could remember only too well just how painful Elrond’s reprimands could be, with every word seemingly chosen specifically to make the listener feel ashamed.  In fact, there were some lectures he could still remember word for word and the recollection of which even now made him flinch.

‘Mothwen is very kind,’ Elrohir told her gently. ‘She will forgive you.  We must have made her life difficult when we were brattish little elflings, but she never held it against us – she always said it was normal for us to make things filthy and live in a pig sty.’

‘What about Iavas and Ninniach?  Or Dulin? I was horrible to them, too!’ Arwen wailed.

‘You will just have to show them you are truly sorry.’ Elladan kissed the top of her head.  ‘They might be cross with you, but they will soon get over it,’ he said, privately thinking that if they were not melted by her tears, then he would himself be forced to make them sorry for distressing her.

Elrohir continued to comfort his sister, then had a sudden thought.  ‘By the way,’ he asked. ‘What did you do to Glorfindel and Erestor?  I have not seen them at all – and I would have expected them to be here by now.’

***

The door creaked, revealing two pale and mud-stained faces looking towards it, like fish from a pool in a deep cavern caught in the light of a torch.

‘Arwen?’ The silhouette in the doorway seemed too large, but that angle was confusing and the sunlight painful after so many hours in the dark.

‘I imagine you wish it were,’ a voice told them with a wicked enjoyment of their situation. ‘She, at least, might be prepared to keep this quiet.’

‘Elladan!  I thought you were not due back until next week,’ Glorfindel said, climbing the steps to the exit.

‘We came back early,’ his twin informed, ‘only to arrive in the middle of an outburst of mayhem.  You will not be surprised to discover that our adar immediately decided that, if you were not guilty, then obviously we were at fault.’

‘How long did it take Arwen to disabuse him of that notion?’

‘Oh, seconds.  As soon as she realised what he thought.  She was most indignant on our behalf.’ Elrohir inspected the older two elves.  ‘You look terrible,’ he told them.

‘It’s nothing that a bath and a change of clothes will not cure,’ Erestor told him philosophically.

‘And food,’ Glorfindel added.  ‘What time is it?’

‘You missed lunch,’ Elladan said.  ‘Come to that, so did we.  What with accusations and confessions and scoldings and tears, we never did get round to eating.’

‘Did Elrond discover why Arwen suddenly decided to disturb the calm of Imladris?’

Elladan grinned. ‘Well, I do not know what you did to upset her,’ he said gleefully, ‘but her other victims were chosen because they dared to criticise her big brothers.’

Glorfindel and Erestor stared at him.  Erestor sniffed, ‘Foolish elleth,’ he replied. ‘We certainly need to take her in hand.’

‘We will probably get the opportunity,’ his friend mused.  ‘Elrond is almost bound to send her to us to be educated in proper behaviour.’

‘So he should not be too astonished to find that that is precisely what we will do.’  The four greatest mischief makers in Imladris exchanged glances and laughed.

***

Mothwen was busy emptying the linen cupboard.  Everything would have to be washed and the cupboard scrubbed clean to ensure that none of the sticky stuff remained.  She sighed.  It just meant bringing the spring cleaning forward a bit, she told herself.  She would have had to do it soon anyway.

‘Can I help you?’ a nervous voice asked her.

She turned to see the mastermind of the trouble standing beside her.  Mothwen looked at Arwen, noting the pink eyes and the traces of tears.  Her irritation eased.  ‘Don’t worry about it, Lady Arwen.  The cupboard was due for a clean.’  She was interested to see that the elleth squirmed even more in response to her remark.

‘That’s not fair,’ Arwen said with determination.  ‘It’s my fault that you have to do this now, so it’s only right that I should help you.’  She hesitated.  ‘I’m very sorry, Mothwen.  My father said that I must apologise to you, but it doesn’t seem enough. Will you let me assist you with the cleaning?’

Mothwen nodded thoughtfully.  ‘It would be a great help to me, my lady.  And I would be even more grateful if you could come to the wash-house early tomorrow morning and help me put the linen through the wringer, too,’ she said, accepting that Arwen’s offer was genuinely given.  ‘There will be more to do now than I really have time for.’

Arwen looked a little happier.  ‘My brothers told me that you were always very nice to them,’ she confided. ‘I’m really sorry that I involved you in my tricks.’

Handing over a pile of sheets to be placed in the linen basket, Mothwen laughed. ‘You should ask them about the time they decided to hatch moths in among the linens,’ she said.  ‘And the time they got their clothes muddy just before your grandparents were due, so they hid them in here on top of the best sheets.  It took weeks to get the stains out properly – and it did a great deal to develop their understanding of how to launder linen.  It’s not been the same round here since they grew up. Easier, but more boring.’ She grinned at Arwen. ‘Perhaps you’ll make up for it,’ she said.

***

Behind the closed door of Dulin’s room, the rippling sound of a harp sang out. Arwen stood spellbound, listening to the music.  She had not been aware that the apparently rather self-obsessed elf was so talented and she really did not want to interrupt him. Finally he paused, clearly unsatisfied by one phrase, which he tried over and over again.  Nerving herself for the task, Arwen knocked on the door and went in.

Dulin looked at her without speaking.  He had been furious when he had first been told that his embarrassing illness had been deliberately inflicted by Elrond’s daughter, but since then he had begun to wonder what he had done to cause her to dislike him to the extent of dosing him.  He had, he thought, barely spoken to her, but she had always seemed quite pleasant, unlike her brothers, who had always delighted in teasing him to the point of exasperation.

She stood there, looking at him in silence, her face pale and her shoulders braced as if she was afraid the encounter might be unpleasant. Neither spoke.

He dropped his eyes and began to finger his harp again, going over the difficult passage involuntarily.

‘I had not realised how good you were,’ Arwen told him shyly, leaving the reason for her visit until later. ‘I’m supposed to be learning to play, but I’m absolutely hopeless and I hate my lessons.’

He smiled. ‘I hated learning to start with,’ he admitted. ‘I disliked my first teacher intensely.  He always seemed to be nagging me to practise and never thought to tell me when I was doing well.  Now, I think I like playing more than anything else in the world.’  He glanced at her. ‘Here,’ he suggested. ‘Come and try this.’  He played a simple tune.

Arwen approached him, stretching her hand out to the harp. ‘I think I remember how that went,’ she said, picking carefully at the strings.

‘Well done,’ he praised her.  ‘You have a good ear for music.  Now try it again like this.’

By the time they had spent an hour together, Dulin was amused to realise that he and Elrond’s mischievous daughter had become fast friends and that he appeared to have taken over the role of harp teacher.

‘We had better stop now, Arwen,’ he said finally. ‘Your fingers will be sore if you play for too long.’ He hesitated. ‘I would be more than happy to help you with your playing again.’ His soft grey eyes met hers. ‘If you think that would be useful.’

Arwen leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek.  ‘Thank you, Dulin.  I would like that.  I’m very sorry I was nasty to you. I think you are a really generous person.’

Dulin, now his tormentor’s devoted admirer, blushed with pleasure.  

***

Iavas was not in the kitchens.  One of the senior cooks glowered at Arwen as she asked where she could be found.  ‘Irresponsible elleth,’ he snapped. ‘What were you thinking of?  How dare you bring poisons like that into a kitchen?  We had to spend half the morning scrubbing and then restart lunch because of you.  If I were your adar, I would have made you smart!’

Arwen cringed at the tone of his voice, but made no attempt to excuse herself.

‘Enough, Thonion,’ a cool voice said firmly. ‘My daughter asked you where to find Iavas, not what you thought about the incident.  Tell her, and then she will leave us to discuss the wonders you will produce for us to eat over the next few days.’  Celebrian’s hand rested gently on Arwen’s shoulder. The cook sniffed disdainfully, but one of the younger kitchen workers came over and offered to show her where to go.  Her mother patted her comfortingly as she followed him through the big room and out to the courtyard behind. 

Arwen looked round with nervous interest.  She was surprised to find herself unfamiliar with this part of her father’s house. She thought she had known every inch of Imladris.  The young elf wove confidently between the sturdy storerooms and patches of herbs until he reached a row of small cottages.  ‘Iavas lives in the last one,’ he indicated. ‘Thonion would not let her resume her cooking duties until her hands were back to normal.’  He grinned. ‘The healers said that in that case, he would have to give her a week’s holiday.’ He winked at Arwen.  ‘If you are looking for someone else to try out your colouring techniques,’ he offered, ‘you can see if you can get me a holiday, if you like.’

She blushed furiously and muttered something unintelligible.  The trainee cook laughed as he left her in order to return to the kitchens.

Rubbing her hands anxiously on her skirt and staring at her feet, Arwen walked up to the door, which lay open in the afternoon sun. 

‘And what do you want here?’ Iavas enquired stiffly. ‘Am I to have no privacy?’

‘I have come to say I’m sorry,’ Arwen said uncomfortably.

‘Because you are, or because your parents say you must?’

Arwen lifted her chin.  ‘My adar said I must, but I would have come anyway.  I got carried away with my plans and did some really stupid things. I was just thinking how clever I was being, and not about the effect on the people I was tricking.  I hadn’t realised that the colouring would be hard to remove.’  She paused. ‘Tholion said it was poisonous,’ she added awkwardly. ‘I hope I haven’t harmed you.’  She bit her lip to steady it and returned her attention to her feet.

‘That elf!’ Iavas said scornfully. ‘He is obsessed with food – although I suppose that is what you would expect in a cook.  You don’t need to worry about the dye being harmful, Lady Arwen.  I have coloured my hands before when I have been dyeing fabric.  It doesn’t take long to wear off – except around the nails. Look!’  She held out her hands for the elleth to study. ‘It is fading already. I am more irritated by the splashes on my work dress – that will not wash clean.’  She took the girl’s fingers into her strong work-roughened hands. ‘What worried Tholion was that the colouring was not edible.  He insisted that my work area should be cleaned out three times, so that no trace of the dye could remain.’ She shook her head.  ‘If you ever feel like playing pranks with colour in the kitchen again, for pity’s sake be sure to use food colouring.’  She smiled. ‘I will even tell you which ones are safe, should you really want to know.’

Arwen took a deep breath and suggested, ‘My naneth was going to choose some fabric to make me a new dress.  I think it would only be fair if I asked her to make you a dress instead.’

Iavas laughed out loud.  ‘I do not feel it would be right to have Lady Celebrian making me a dress, lady!’ she said.  ‘I will colour my old one and it will do well enough.’  She looked Arwen over. ‘Perhaps you could come here one afternoon and help me – that should ensure that you will find out for yourself how difficult it can be to remove dye from your hands.’

‘That sounds a good idea to me,’ Celebrian’s soft voice agreed from the end of the pathway.  ‘As does Arwen foregoing a new dress so that you might have one.’

Iavas stood up quickly and curtsied to Imladris’s lady.  ‘There is no need for that,’ she said uneasily.

‘I disagree,’ Celebrian replied sweetly. ‘Moreover, Arwen can do most of the work. She is a competent needlewoman.’ She looked at both parties, each standing before her as if receiving penalty and her lips twitched. ‘Come tomorrow afternoon and select the fabric you prefer.  I will send my daughter for you. Arwen, you are to return to the house within the hour. Do not be late.’  She nodded and left them to finish their conversation.

Iavas released a breath she had be unaware of holding and glanced at the elleth. ‘I do not know about you, but I could do with a cup of tea and a honey cake right now,’ she said. ‘Your naneth can be quite forceful in her way.’

The two entered the cottage together in search of the comfort provided by food.

***

When Arwen entered the stables, she found Ninniach sitting on a bale of straw, his shirt off and a swollen red patch on his ribcage at the heart of which she could clearly see a large hoof print. He was scratching at his hands, which were grazed with nail marks. Despite her dread of this encounter, she forced herself to approach immediately; only too aware that she had better return to the house within the next twenty minutes or she would also have to face her mother.

The groom scowled at her. He was not fond of elflings at the best of times and he was currently finding this elleth to be a particularly revolting specimen of the type.

‘I am very sorry for causing your injury,’ Arwen said, feeling there was no point in beating around the bush.  ‘I did not think.’

‘Indeed you did not,’ Ninniach agreed.  ‘You did not think what a horse might do when itching powder was brushed into its coat.  You did not think how unpleasant that would be for the horse – at least, I do not suppose your object was to make the horse suffer.’

Arwen had not thought that she could feel any lower, but she was finding herself to be wrong in that, too. She bowed her head to hide the tears filling her eyes.

‘You did not think that horses are large and powerful beasts and that any loss of control could lead to serious harm.’  He stopped and took a deep breath.  ‘I am very lucky not to have broken ribs, Arwen. I am lucky that the other hoof caught my thigh and not my belly. And these marks were caused by your pony.  If I had started by grooming one of the war horses, I could have been killed.’

‘I am sorry,’ she wept, so frightened by the possibilities he was outlining that she abandoned her shaky attempt at self-control. ‘I will do anything you say, but please forgive me.’

Ninniach sighed.  ‘I was going to ban you from the stables for a month – which would make my life easier – but I think you need to know more about horses.  If you wish ever to be welcome here again, you will come each day to learn.’  He put a hand on her shoulder and shook it gently.  ‘Stop crying, Arwen,’ he told her. ‘Tears cure nothing. Make up your mind to show by your actions that you regret what has happened.  Go home now.’ 

As Arwen stumbled from the stables, he leaned back on the wall, wincing at the pain in his ribs.  ‘Was that all right, my lords?’ he asked wryly.  ‘I would not want you to think I had been unkind to your little sister.’

Elladan and Elrohir emerged from the loose box where they had been grooming the younger twin’s horse while they watched discreetly.

‘You have a sister yourself,’ Elrohir said mildly.  ‘And I am only too aware that you are protective of her.  I know you understand.’

***

Baranion considered his response to Arwen’s mischief.  As one accustomed to working with elflings, he had been neither surprised nor shocked by the trick played on him.  It had not been the first, and, had he believed it would be the last, he knew he would have been fooling himself.  In fact, had it not been part of a larger campaign, he very much doubted whether he would have troubled to inform his pupil’s parents of such an incident.

When Arwen finally arrived to offer the expected apology, he did not even bother to look up from his book.  He waited for her to finish and replied simply, ‘Detention tomorrow, Arwen.’

Her sigh was quiet enough for him to be able to ignore it. ‘Very well, Baranion,’ she said with resignation, envisaging the hours completing the tedious tasks her tutor thought made suitable punishment.

‘You may go,’ he added, still without looking at her.

***

It was quite late by the time Arwen entered the room slowly and made her way over to where Glorfindel sat on the desk talking to Erestor. 

They ignored her reluctant progress across the floor, not wanting to scare her into flight, until finally she stood close to the desk and waited for them to notice her.

Erestor turned his head. ‘Look who it is,’ he said. ‘Good evening, Arwen.’

She tried to speak, but no words came out.  She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘I have come to apologise,’ she said and brought her hand from behind her back to offer the letters her father had instructed her to write, placing them on the desk before her.

The two elves exchanged glances.  She sounded so miserable – not like their little princess at all – but she stood straight-backed and determined to accept their judgment of her behaviour. She had clearly endured a long and less than pleasant afternoon since the extent of her mischief had been revealed.

Glorfindel waved his hand airily.  ‘I was impressed, Arwen,’ he said unexpectedly.  ‘Not many people of your age could have carried off a plan that complicated.’

‘The only thing that let you down,’ Erestor added, ‘was involving too many outsiders in your scheme.’

‘Next time,’ Glorfindel suggested, ‘perhaps you should confine your attentions to us – and maybe your brothers.  It would be much more fun – and there would be far less likelihood of getting on the wrong side of your adar.’

Arwen’s mouth dropped open in surprise as the two moved to draw her down between them on a convenient sofa.  ‘It’s good to know that you are old enough to join in the games,’ Erestor told her, hugging her reassuringly.

‘Aren’t you angry?’ she asked incredulously. ‘I did get you all muddy and lock you up!’

Glorfindel laughed. ‘I have done much worse to him on many occasions!  That is hardly likely to cause him too much distress.’

‘But you will have to watch out,’ Erestor warned, ‘because now I shall be looking for an opportunity to pay you back by playing a trick on you.’

Arwen began to smile as she realised that her father’s two chief advisors were actually rather amused by her prank. ‘Or perhaps we could play one on Elladan and Elrohir,’ she said, bouncing back with the resilience of the young.  ‘I had all sorts of ideas that I wasn’t able to use this time.  But we would have to be very careful, because my brothers are very good at scenting unusual things.’ She paused. ‘And I find I do not like being in trouble,’ she added in a small voice.

‘You cannot be expected to be well-conducted all the time,’ Glorfindel told her. ‘You are allowed some time off for good behaviour.  Besides,’ he told her, ‘I believe it is important for the young to learn to face trouble.  When you are grown-up it is sometimes necessary to stand and face things that are even more frightening than your adar in his worst mood. You need practice.’  He took her hand and patted it affectionately. ‘I think you are right,’ he said. ‘Your brothers are definitely worthy of our attentions – and they are suspicious enough to make it difficult for us to catch them out.  But we are wily old foxes, Erestor and I.  Between the three of us we will be able to set a trap to take out the young dogs.’

‘We would need to spend some time on the plotting,’ Erestor said thoughtfully, ‘because I do not think any of us wish to irritate Elrond any further at present.  But I agree, Arwen. I think your brothers would make excellent victims. They would find it hard to object after all the things they have done to make life lively round here.’

‘So playing tricks is all right as long it’s a game?’ Arwen asked.

‘With agreed boundaries,’ Erestor nodded.  ‘And consenting participants. I confess that, in my opinion, life would be rather boring without them.’

*** 

‘Wine?’ Elrond asked.

The look in the eyes of his companions gave him their answer and he filled goblets for Celebrian, Glorfindel, Erestor and his sons.

‘It has been a long day,’ Erestor sighed.

‘Very long – almost endless, I would say,’ Celebrian agreed. ‘If you had asked me this morning whether Arwen would be the cause all this upset, because she was annoyed about being looked on as a very proper little lady,  I would have laughed.’

‘Elladan, Elrohir, I should apologise to you both for jumping to conclusions,’ Elrond said, shaking his head. ‘I still cannot believe the sheer extent of her scheme.  I cannot ever recall you two having deliberately gone out of your way to create so much havoc.’

Elladan grinned.  ‘We did not need to work at it, adar.  We always managed to get into quite enough trouble without trying.’

‘I suppose we do know for certain that she is in bed and asleep right now?’ Elrohir enquired plaintively.  ‘I would hate to go through another round of this tomorrow.’

‘She is asleep,’ Celebrian assured him and laughed.  ‘I checked. Twice.’

‘And she will be far too busy over the next few weeks to have time for practical jokes,’ Elladan added.  ‘She has committed herself to a wide range of penalties. We will be seeing little of her.’

‘The most amazing thing,’ Erestor marvelled, ‘is that, somehow, she has managed to make the victims of her pranks love her even more than they did before she started. It is a remarkable talent.’

Elrond raised his goblet. ‘And one I devoutly hope we will not see again.’

They drank silently for a few moments, until the lord of Imladris sensed an amused tension among his companions.  He looked at them suspiciously to find that they were all suppressing smiles, and he sighed a quiet sigh of resignation.

‘Ah, now – as to that,’ Glorfindel told him candidly, ‘I do not think you should count on it, my friend.