“Don't dip your beard in the foam, father!” they cried to Thorin, who was bent almost on to his hands and knees. “It is long enough without watering it.”

“Mind Bilbo doesn't eat all the cakes!” they called. “He is too fat to get through key-holes yet!”

“Hush, hush! Good People! And good night!” said Gandalf, who came last. “Valleys have ears, and some Elves have over merry tongues. Good night!”

- The Elves greet Bilbo, the Dwarves and Gandalf in A Short Rest, in The Annotated Hobbit.

Losgael sat rigidly in her chair. She felt as though she was falling down a deep, deep hole. Sights, sounds and other sensations faded out as she tried to block out the horror of what she had just heard. The titles of king and queen of the festival were for those people of low status who had worked well for the realm, and deserved to be recognised. Her name should not have been called, and nor should Glorfindel's. What was happening? Whose idea was this?

Maerdess tapped her on the shoulder. “Losgael. Losgael! You are frightening me!”

Losgael turned to her with a faraway look in her eye. “Did someone else take my name as an epessë?” she asked.

“No, my friend,” said Maerdess in a desperate whisper, “I did it for you. I put yours and Glorfinel's names in the boxes, in the hope of giving you something precious, like you did for me. You were not supposed to be upset by it!”

Snapped back to reality by her friend's confession, Losgael shook her head and turned to Maerdess. “Ai! Maerdess, you have ruined this festival! What sort of person does such a thing?”

The people around them were too busy talking about the novelty of having people of such rank as king and queen of the festival to notice the conversation taking place.

Losgael got up from the table. “I cannot do this. Let my lord pick out another name from the box.”

“He cannot,” said Maerdess. “I put several scraps of parchment in each box, but they all bear your names!”

Losgael sighed. “Well, it seems the people are content with the selections. I see Lord Glorfindel is also rising from his place. I shall go and be the queen of the festival. As my first act in that role, I ask you to go and get the names that were in the boxes and put them back in.”

“I will do it now,” said Maerdess. “See, it is not as bad as you feared.”

“No, they seem to be happy about it,” Losgael conceded.

A round of applause broke out as she and Glorfindel made their way to the dais.

At the other table, Brethilgwen was furious. What had happened? Losgael had been with her mistress for most of the time – she did not even know where the boxes were kept. The only reason Brethilgwen knew was because she was a friend of Anuhim, one of the scribes who worked for Elrond. 'I know I put scraps of parchment with Maerdess's name in the box for the ladies, and did the same for Galanel. How is it that Losgael and Glorfindel's names ended up in them?' she thought. 'When I find out who did this, there will be trouble!'

“I was not expecting to see people of such consequence being made the king and queen of the festival,” said Anuhim. “Still, it was a good choice. Lord Glorfindel has seen to our safety these many years, and the lady Losgael – she is the handmaid of our lady Celebrían, is she not? We know so little of her, but I know that she labours for our benefit in the weaving and sewing rooms. I think this shirt I am wearing was made by her hands. She deserves some recognition.”

“Indeed,” said Brethilgwen, and closed her eyes. If anyone could see how angry she was, there would be questions. Awkward questions. She needed Anuhim's goodwill, and he knew nothing of her obsession with Glorfindel.

Elrond and Celebrían looked at each other as Losgael and Glorfindel took their seats as king and queen of the festival on the small platform near the top table. This had never happened before, and they would have to tread very carefully to keep things running smoothly. With smiles on their noble faces, Elrond and his lady went over to the platform with crowns of leaves and berries to put on the heads of the king and queen.

Behind them, Elrond lifted his berried crown above Glorfindel's head, saying, “My friends, I give you Glorfindel, king of the festival!” Then he crowned Glorfindel.

Celebrían lifted her berried crown above Losgael's head. “My friends,” she announced, “I give you Losgael, queen of the festival!” Then she set it onto Losgael's head.

Applause rippled round the tables, hearty and long. Wreathed with smiles, Elrond and Celebrían walked back towards their seats.

“That went better than I thought it would, Cugu-nin,” confided Elrond.

“Indeed, I feared a riot might break out, but it seems the choice was popular, Parv-seron,” Celebrían replied. “I have my suspicions about the contents of those boxes, though. Would you take a look in them, please?”

“Aye,” said her husband, “I believe we may well find the scraps in one box all have 'Glorfindel' written on them, and in the other, 'Losgael.'”

Brethilgwen noticed some movement near the top table, and went to investigate while the people were cheering for their king and queen.

“Where are you going, Brethilgwen?” asked Anuhim.

“To prepare for the lampoon,” she replied. “I need to get my costume.”

There it was again, a flash of pale blue. Where was Maerdess? She was not at her seat! Could that be her up there? What was she doing? Probably putting the missing scraps of parchment back in the boxes by Elrond's seat. She would go and expose the little witch, holding her up to public ridicule as a fool obsessed with one who had rejected her in front of others.

When she arrived at the table, she saw a lady whose back was turned to her. That chestnut-brown hair was surely hers! “Aha!” cried Brethilgwen, grabbing the lady's arm. “I have you, Maerdess!”

“What are you talking about?” the lady cried out, and turned to face Brethilgwen. It was one of the serving maids. “Oh, Brethilgwen!”

“What do you mean, 'Oh, Brethilgwen!' and in that tone?” asked Brethilgwen, outraged.

“I mean, Brethilgwen, that you are heavy-handed in almost every thing you do, particularly when you seize people!” the maid declared. “You shout and rage like a bear robbed of her cubs at the slightest provocation, then declare eternal doom upon the person you deem responsible. Enough! You are in charge of the textiles of Rivendell, but that does not make you the princess you think you are!”

“I beg your pardon!” shouted Brethilgwen.

“That is what I speak of. I must go now, the lampoon is starting,” said the maid.

“Are you playing Maerdess?” asked Brethilgwen.

“Who is Maerdess? I am playing the lady Heneblhûndî,” said the maid.

“Losgael gave her an epessë,” Brethilgwen informed her. “She goes by the name Maerdess now.”

“It is too late to alter the plan,” the maid replied. “Have you a reason to detain me thus?”

“No,” said Brethilgwen, as a smile slowly spread across her face, “but I am certain you are clever enough to find a way to fit this piece of news in.”

The maid backed away warily, clearly unwilling to be drawn into any scheme of Brethilgwen's.

Brethilgwen scowled. 'If they dare to lampoon me, there will be trouble,' she thought. 'Maerdess, however, deserves it.' She turned around and was just about to get onto the dais to check the boxes when Elrond and Celebrían returned.

“Brethilgwen,” said Celebrían, “why have you come here? Is there something amiss?”

“Indeed there is, my lady,” said Brethilgwen. “The king and queen of the festival are usually chosen from among those of us who have no great standing in Rivendell. This year, people of consequence have been given the roles. I suspect that someone has changed the names you intended to choose from.”

“I was just about to check the boxes myself,” said Elrond. “Wait while I do so, please.”

Brethilgwen complied. The opportunity to be in on the chance to expose Maerdess was too good to be missed. Surely her hand was in this!

Elrond reached into one of the boxes and took out all of the scraps of parchment. “Strange!” he said, a confused expression on his face. “The names I put in here last night are here. I was expecting to see only Glorfindel's name in here, written on several scraps of parchment.”

Brethilgwen reeled, overcome with surprise. “What?” she spluttered.

Celebrían looked in the other box, taking out the names. “These are the names I put in last night,” she declared. “I do not understand.”

“Do you know anything at all about this, Brethilgwen?” asked Elrond, looking her in the eye.

“No, my lord, I do not,” she replied, looking like a lost child.

“You may go now,” said Celebrían, who did not seem convinced of Brethilgwen's innocence in the matter.

“Thank you, Buiowen,” said Maerdess to the serving maid who had argued with Brethilgwen, as they exchanged clothes. “You have spared me a great deal of embarrassment.”

“I was happy to help you, my lady,” Buiowen replied. “Brethilgwen needs to be taught a lesson. I hope our lord and lady put her in her place!”

“As I do,” agreed Maerdess. “It is just as well we have the same hair colour.”

“And that we serving maids wear headdresses and aprons,” laughed Buiowen. “You should have seen her face when she seized my arm and thought it was you! Ai! She says such unbelievable things sometimes. She said the lady Losgael gave you an epessë, and your new name is Maerdess!”

“Now that,” said Maerdess, “is true.”

“May I ask what is in the bag?” asked Buiowen.

“A little something for your trouble,” Maerdess told her, pulling out a small silver chain.

“Thank you, my lady!” said Buiowen in awed tones.

Maerdess smiled sweetly at the maid. That little gift would stop her asking any more questions. The evidence had gone into one of the braziers that burned near the feasting tables. They were used to keep food hot before serving. In the lamplight, no-one had thought there was anything amiss. Dirty rags and the like were often thrown onto the braziers if no other use could be found for them.

Brethilgwen went towards the boxes where the costumes were stored, ready for the lampoons. She had made up a few to mock Maerdess before, but because of what Glorfindel had said, she was unwilling to act in any lampoon about her this time. Anuhim expected her to appear in one, though, but she had been so preoccupied with other things, she had nothing prepared for it this time. What could she do?

Where was that impudent maid? Was she not supposed to be aping Maerdess? Was anybody doing what they had said they would do?

Two of the stable-hands rooted around in one of the boxes.

“What are you looking for?” asked Brethilgwen.

“Ai!” they cried.

Brethilgwen sighed and walked away. Everybody seemed to be jumping at the sight of her, as if she was a troll! This was unfair. When she found out who was responsible for this, there would be trouble.

Sitting side by side on the festive platform, Glorfindel and Losgael looked out at the colourful scene before them. The night air had become chilly, but because they were Elves, they did not get cold. There was a tang of smoke and trampled grass in the air from the braziers and lanterns around them. Before them, a profusion of colourful lights danced in the light breeze, and the white headdresses and aprons of the serving maids showed up in a pleasing contrast to the festival clothes worn by the revellers. Their position gave them a good view of the proceedings, and Glorfindel found that, although he was supposed to be enjoying himself, he was thinking tactically, as if considering how to fight a battle.

“I am surprised this is going so well, my lord,” remarked Losgael. “I am beginning to enjoy it.”

“As I am,” Glorfindel replied. “Do you have any idea who might have put our names in the boxes?”

“I do not,” she told him, “but I did not do it. I dislike being the centre of attention.”

“I have noticed that,” said Glorfindel, with feeling. This was a subject close to his heart, and he wished to have his thoughts on the subject known to someone who might be able to do something about it. “I dislike those people who thrust themselves forward, demanding to be noticed. It is undignified, and most unbecoming in a lady.”

“The thought of behaving in such a way makes me cringe with embarrassment!” declared Losgael. “Ai! The things I have seen some people do, and the stories I have heard! If anyone ever said such things about me, I am sure I would die of shame.”

“Even if those stories were lies?” asked Glorfindel, turning to her. He had never thought of the quiet, studious Losgael as being this way.

“No, my lord,” she replied calmly. “Only if they were true. How can these people live with such a reputation?”

“They pretend it is not their own,” he told her. That was another thing that annoyed him.

“Aye,” Losgael agreed, “I have seen that. That is why I gave Maerdess her epessë. She can build a new reputation now.”

“That was well done of you,” said Glorfindel sincerely. A gentle smile parted his lips and showed even white teeth.

Losgael's heart skipped a beat.

“Why have you befriended her?” he asked. “She is so different. You are like rock, and she is like water.”

“Indeed,” said Losgael with a knowing grin, “but water can wear away a rock, but when a rock falls into the water, there is a great splash!”

Glorfindel laughed. He had not seen this side of Celebrían's lady-in-waiting before, and he found that he liked it.

Silence fell on the garden, and the king and queen of the festival looked at the people, who looked expectantly at them.

Glorfindel sat forward. “My people,” he said, “let the lampoons begin!”

A round of applause broke out as two Elven ladies came forward. One of them bore a large basket full of cloths of different kinds. The other wore a dress that was supposed to be a fine gown, but on closer inspection, was made from scraps and rags.

They looked arguably like Maerdess and Brethilgwen.

TBC...