It was natural that their talk with Mr. Baggins and
Hallam's translations of the Lay of Turin would turn
the children's minds to Dragons and a new play.

   A cave was ready to hand, a little grotto in the
gardens near one of the smaller waterfalls, but they'd
also need a hoard and that posed difficulties.

   They had some jewelry of course, especially the
girls, things the Elven smiths had made for them or
they'd inherited, but even piled all together on a
table in the day nursery it wasn't nearly enough for a
Dragon hoard.

   A thorough search of the nurseries produced a set
of ivory horses with beryl eyes, three silver backed
mirrors, four suits of gilt armour for toy knights, a
rose crystal vase and matching bowl, a handful of
uncut gemstones and a small carved sardonyx box with a
sapphire set in the lid.

   "Still not enough." Hallam said, discouraged, as
they stood looking at their disappointingly small heap
of treasure.

   "What about Mother's things?" Amin suggested.

   Hallam shook his head. "They're for the baby when
she's grown."

   "Yes I know, but couldn't we borrow them?"

   "No!" strongly from Estel. "We musn't take anything
that isn't ours. Remember when we built the city of
Gondolin out of Uncle's books?" Everybody did, and
winced at the memory.

   "But she was our mother too." Amin argued. "Don't
we have some right to her things?"

   "No." this time it was Berya, very decidedly.
"Jewelry goes to daughters, everybody knows that."

    "And the baby's too little to play." said Meleth.

    A gloomy silence. "I guess we could pretend -"
Hallam was begining when Estel interupted.

    "Wait a moment! We have a real treasure don't we,
why not use that?"

    "You mean the things in the windowless tower?"
Hallam asked doubtfully. "I don't know if we should -"

   "Why not?" Meleth demanded. "It's ours isn't it? or
at least Estel's."

   "Partly yours too." her brother said. "You're all
just as much descendants of the Kings as I am."
    *********************************************

   The windowless tower stood by itself on one of the
lower terraces surrounded by a stone wall. It was here
Lord Elrond kept the heirlooms given into his care by
the Heirs of Isildur. Neither gate nor door was
locked, there was no need here in Rivendell, and the
children had often spent cold or rainy days there
pouring over the belongings of their ancestors.

   The treasury itself was up a long winding stair, an
octagonal room lit by candles, with large ironbound
chests set against each of the seven walls, the
shelves above them lined with smaller caskets of wood
or metal and ancient weapons - some dating back the
Wars of the First Age - of Elf or Dwarf make or forged
an Age ago in lost Numenor.

   The mithril chased box holding the Elendilmir stood
in the place of honor on the top shelf opposite the
door. A longer box on the shelf below held the Silver
Rod of Annuminas, the scepter of the High Kings. Other
caskets contained the Nauglamir and the Jewels of the
Queens, the scepters of the Kingdoms of Rhudaur and
Cardolan and Jewels worn by Kings and High Kings.

   Shields hung on the walls above the shelves,
emblazoned with devices in precious stones and metals
and the great chests held armour plated with gold and
silver, mithril, galvorn and culurin and weapons of
lesser lineage if not workmanship. Jewels worn by
Princes and Princesses at the Courts of Annuminas and
Fornost, and vessels of precious metal some decorated
with gems.

   It was a treasure any Dragon would covet and
undeniably their own. Made for the Kings of Old,
stored away now in Rivendell because Rangers in the
Wild had no use for such things.
  
   "I don't know," Berya said looking uncertainly
around her. "maybe it isn't right to play with these
things."

   "But we do," Estel argued, "all the time. Remember
when we were Kings of Numenor and Feanor and his
sons?"

   "Of course we musn't touch the Elendilmir or the
Scepters," Hallam agreed, "but Estel's right, nobody's
ever minded us playing with the other things."

   "That's true." Berya conceeded.

   Hallam unfastened his cloak, spread it out on the
floor and started scooping cups and plates from an
open chest. Berya shrugged and began collecting
jewelry into one of the larger boxes. The younger
children quickly followed suit, loading themselves
with jewelry, weapons and bits of armour.

   The treasure completely covered the floor of the
little grotto and piled high against the walls. Sun and
candle light reflected off gold and silver and set
jewels afire. The five children stood back, admiring
the effect.

   "All right, we have our hoard, who's going to be
the Dragon?" Estel wanted to know.

   "Hallam." Meleth answered promptly. "He's the
biggest."

   Her cousin opened his mouth to protest, then
thought the better of it. "All right."

   "I guess that makes the rest of us Turin and his
Outlaws." said Berya.

   "I don't want to be Turin." Amin said decidedly.
"He's wet."

   "Me either." equally firmly from Estel.

   "He did make rather a mess of it didn't he." Berya
agreed. "I know, let's be King Valandur and his
warriors."

   "That makes me the Worm of Gram Mountain." said
Hallam, "Good, it's a better story anyway." *
    **********************************************

*  Valandur was the eighth King of Arnor. He won the
loyalty of the Hill Men of Rhudaur by killing a
Dragon who'd been preying upon them - but died of the
deed and was buried upon Gram Mountain.