Genres: Friendship, Humor

Rating: G

Summary: It is really, really not fun at all when your friends are ganging up on you…

Notes: In Silm, it was said that Daeron’s serth lettering was quite unpopular during the peacetime in Beleriand, when Melkor was imprisoned in Valinor. Here is my take on that. And in my universe, the three Ellyn were among the Unbegotten Elves. (I don’t know if Menegroth was there or not during this story; but it wasn’t yet built, as far as I remember.)

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Sounds of footsteps got louder in the silent hall outside. Daeron quickly hid what he had been writing under the table.

Mablung appeared on the door just as he was straightening up, towing Beleg behind him. “Greetings, Squiggles,” they said in unison, each giving the scowling Daeron a wide smile.

And then Beleg piped up, “What is that, under your table?”

Red-faced, Daeron bit back defensively, “Nothing for you to care about. And would you just stop calling me that? I am not a worm!”

Mablung grinned cheekily. Striding into the bedroom, he gave Daeron a bear-hug; meanwhile, Beleg darted to under the table. And during all that, Daeron struggled futilely in Mablung’s embrace.

The three of them ended up sitting side by side on Daeron’s bed beside the table, while Beleg scrutinised the pile of parchments bound together neatly that he had seized from its hiding place. “What is this?” he asked, baffled.

Trying to seize the bound volume from Beleg’s hand, Daeron growled, “What it appears.”

“Well, there are squiggles inside, so what would you name it, Squiggles?” Mablung smiled.

“Mableg,” Daeron grumbled under his breath. And hearing that, Beleg thumped him on the head using the sheaf of parchment.

Mablung seized the volume next and looked over each sheet of the parchment carefully. “T, Æ, L – You are recording our time in the Lake?”

Daeron ceased trying to grab the item, freezing in place like a cornered deer. Mablung and Beleg raised their eyebrows in sync.

Then Beleg said, slowly as if thinking aloud, “I suppose we can hand such recording to someone, who will give it to another that wishes to know, without the messenger having to know about the subject in the first place.”

Daeron perked up, happy and hopeful.

But then Mablung piped up, “Still, there is the question of if the receiver has known of dear Daeron’s squiggles here beforehand…”

The playful scuffle that ensued was heard even outside the small house.

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Additional Note: “The Lake” is essentially Cuiviénen. In my universe (again), the Quendi built their first ever community around a big lake, abandoning their respective places of awakening.