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   The lofts above were very cavelike with their low
vaulted ceiling of rough stone and it was here the
children had taken refuge, making themselves nests out
of the straw and pretending to be the outlaw band of
Barahir hiding from the Orcs.

   In fact they were hiding from their mothers, and
their uncle and most especially their grandmother. It
had seemed like such a good idea at the time; they'd
been climbing the northeast wall of the valley and
rested on a shelf next to one of the innumerable
waterfalls, very hot and dirty from the climb. So when
Berya suggested they make a pool to bath in they'd all
agreed, even Estel and Amin who weren't usually very
interested in getting clean.

   They'd built a dam out of loose rocks and clay,
getting extremely wet and muddy in the process, but
instead of pooling the water had found another channel
and gone plunging down *right* into the gardens far
below. Of course they'd torn the dam down as quickly
as they could but the damage was done.

   They meant to confess all and take their
punishment, (as if Uncle wouldn't know who was to
blame without being told!) but, as Hallam pointed out,
there wasn't any hurry about it. Why ruin the entire
day? Especially as it was likely to be their last day
of freedom for some little time.

   Meleth thought it very unfair they should be
punished for what was, after all, a simple mistake. In
the interests of justice she suggested they do
something naughty on purpose.

   As they were already quite high up the choice was
obvious. They climbed right out of the valley and
spent the rest of the day on the fells. Caught fish
with their hands in a mountain stream and cooked them
over a fire to eat with the bread and fruit they'd
brought from home. Picked flowers in a bog, getting
thoroughly mired in the process. And built a fort out
of crumbly stone which Hallam and Berya held very
successfully against the younger three. All in all a
very satisfactory kind of day.

   At sunset they climbed back down into the valley
and stole back to the House, pretending to be Luthien
and Beren in Angband, settling themselves in the
stable loft to fortify themselves from the store of
sweets they kept there against the unpleasantness to
come. Now that the hour of doom was nigh at hand their
philosophical resignation was begining to desert them.

   "I wish we'd gone straight back after the business
with the waterfall." Berya fretted. "It'd be over
now."

   "And we'd have lost the whole day." Hallam pointed
out, yet again.

   "It'll be bread and water and double translations
for *weeks*." Estel said gloomily.

   "A few days at most." Berya corrected. "You know
the Elves will start sneaking us things to eat if it
goes on any longer."

   "I'll cry." Meleth offered. "Maybe that will help."

   Estel shook his head. "Tears work on Elves, and
maybe a little on Uncle - but not Grandmother!"

   "No indeed." Hallam agreed. "Remember what she said
the last time about being a naughty little girl
herself and knowing *all* the tricks."

   "I tried to get her to tell me what she had done,"
Meleth admitted, "but she just said she wasn't about
to give me any more ideas."

   "Hist!" Amin said suddenly. "Ware, Orcs approach!"

   At first they thought he was just trying to change
the subject but then the rest of them heard the jingle
of harness and deep grumbling voices from below.
Wriggling to the edge of the loft floor they looked
over.

   The first thing they saw was a large blue pointy
hat - Gandalf! Meleth gave a very small gasp of
delight and the wizard looked up, directly at them,
blue eyes twinkling. Then one of his companions said
something and he looked down again to answer.

   They were Dwarves, more than a dozen of them each
leading a tired poney, which was fairly astonishing in
itself as Dwarves and Elves don't get on as a rule and
aren't in the habit of exchanging visits. But even
more remarkably one of them, at the far end where the
children couldn't get a good look, was shorter than
the others and beardless, a child perhaps?

   Long ago the Rangers had sheltered the refugees
from Khazad-dum and helped them on their way to
permanent haven with their kin in the Blue Mountains
so the children knew Dwarves didn't 'grow from stone'
and that their women and children didn't have beards
as some ignorant Men said. Other children were always
exciting, as they saw so few, a Dwarf child would be
trebly so for nobody ever saw them!

   The Dwarves' voices were so deep and rumbly it
difficult to make out what they were saying but mostly
it was about dinner and sleeping dry and something
about Trolls. They were obviously in a great hurry for
they got the harness off their ponies in record time
with only the sketchiest of rubdowns before trooping
off with Gandalf.

   The children promptly climbed down to get
acquainted with the newcomers and were busily currying
them when three of the stable Elves arrived with
buckets of oats and mash.

   Then it was all up of course. They were marched
straight away to the nursery to be greeted with cries
of dismay by their nannies, Nuneth and Iorwen, and
assorted Elven attendants.

   "Good heavens but you're filthy!" Nuneth exclaimed
taking Estel by the shoulders.

   "We washed before we came in." he said defensively.

   Her answering look of open skepticism was not
unjustified. The quick dip in a river pool had indeed
removed most, if not all, of the mud and mire but it
had also left them decidedly damp when they crawled
into the stable loft. Now they were stuck all over
with hayseeds and bits of straw and the girl's hair
looked like bird's nests and the boy's hung in
strings, not to mention the sticky mouths and hands.
Grown ups tend to be over particular, Elven gown ups
especially so, but this time they had a point.

   There was no help for it, off they went to the
baths each with an Elf or two to see to it they
remembered to use soap and to comb tangles out of
hair. When the children finally met back in the day
nursery they had been tubbed and scrubbed until they
shone and dressed in their best which could only mean
they were to be presented to the guests. A very
unusual treat indeed.

   Meleth, who at eight was the youngest, was very
pretty even at her most unkempt with dark brown curls
that had a coppery sheen in sunlight, huge grey eyes
and a fetching sprinkle of little gilt freckles across
her nose. With clean face and yellow gown, combed hair
held back by a fillet of thin gold with a tiny gilt star
on her brow she looked like the little princess she
was.

   Berya was *not* pretty. At fourteen she was long
limbed and gawky with enormous hands and feet and nose
and cheekbones too large for her thin pointed face.
Glossy black hair that had never been cut and a pair
of eyes grey as clear water under a twilight sky were
small consolation. Bad enough to be a princess without
a kingdom she would say, but a plain princess at that!
And her mother and grandmother would smile as if they
knew something she didn't. Still she was looking
unusually presentable in pale green with little,
chiming silver bells and river pearls braided into her
hip length hair.

   Hallam was fourteen too, and every bit as lanky and
unfinished looking - not that it mattered so much in a
boy - with golden brown hair and an intense grey stare.
Estel and Amin, at ten and nine respectively, were still
at the pretty stage. Both were dark haired but Amin's
eyes were a true, deep blue while Estel's varied
depending on his mood. At the moment they were grey
reflecting equal parts annoyance and apprehension. All
three boys were dressed in shades of grey worked with
gold and silver thread.

   The children sat down to the supper laid out on the
large table but ate very little being rather full of
comfits, pastries and cakes. The Elves serving
pretended not to notice as they squirreled away meat
and fruit against the dearth to come.

   It was Glorfindel himself, Lord Elrond's herald,
who came to fetch them. A familiar mithril casket in
his hands.

   "The Elendilmir!" Amin blurted, astonished, and
Hallam and Berya exchanged startled glances as
Glorfindel lifted the jewel from its casket.

   It was a large Elf crystal, glinting like a star
with it's own light, attached to a collar of mithril
and adamant. Long ago it had been worn as a crown by
the High Kings of Old. The Chieftains still wore it
from time to time on especially grand occasions. If
Uncle wanted Estel to wear it now the guests must be
much more important than they had thought.