The children knew the Dunedain of the North lived
in hiding and that they themselves were a carefully
guarded secret, just as they'd always known the
Southern Kingdom rejected the sovereignity of the
House of Isildur. But they had never realized the two
things were related, or that history and their own
lives might have been very different had the people of
Gondor chosen otherwise. It was a peculiar and
uncomfortable feeling.

   "But why did they refuse Arvedui?" Amin demanded
over their dinner that evening. "Didn't they know what
would happen?"

   "They can't have," said Hallam. "or they wouldn't
have done it."

   "He should have told them." said his brother.

   "Maybe he did," Berya said quietly to her plate,
"but they didn't believe him."

   The three younger children stared at her appalled.
"Well if they think the Heir of Isildur would *lie*
then I don't want any part of them." Estel said hotly.
"They can keep their old city, and their kingdom as
far as I'm concerned!"
  
   "Me too!" said Meleth loyally. And Amin nodded his
agreement, mouth full.
  
   "That was all settled a long time ago." Hallam
reminded them. "Gondor is no concern of ours, or ever
likely to be."

   "Unless it was a true dream." said Berya.
   ********************************************

   Once allowed out again the children were promptly
caught up in the whirl of preparations for the
Midsummer festival. There were songs and dances to
learn, fittings for new clothes, and above all else
the difficult problem of gifts.

   As they had all learned painfully over the years
grown-ups don't like, don't want, or can't use just
about everything that seems like a good present to a
child.

   Berya, being a good needlewoman, had a definite
advantage over the others in the matter of gifts,
although even she admitted the *last* thing
Grandmother, their mothers, or the twins needed was
yet another embroidered girdle or pair of gloves. But
she was justly proud of the present she'd made for her
Uncle; selected verses from the Lay of Earendil
carefully inscribed in a little vellum book and bound
in a silk cover she'd embroidered herself.

   Berya's little book had given Hallam the idea of
having the smiths make a place marker to go with it.
It was of ivory and gold and inset with the seal of
Earendil in jewels and enamel.

   The three younger children agreed their Uncle was
the hardest person in Middle Earth to get a present
for. Baskets of fruit and flowers, (and some of the
sweets left over from their illness) did for their
mothers and Grandmother. And the now half-grown
kestrel chicks they'd been hiding in the Summer Tower
were for the twins. But what to give Uncle? They
turned to their Grandmother for advice.

   "I see your difficulty." she said meditatively,
stitching up a long rent in one of Estel's tunics. "Of
course you know what I give your Uncle every year;
accounts of skirmishes, patrols and other happenings
among our people for his Chronicle. Perhaps you could
do the same."

   "How?" Amin wanted to know. "We can't ride around
the holdings to hear the news."

   "I mean a chronicle of your own doings, here in the
Valley." Grandmother explained.

   "But he already knows about those." Meleth pointed
out.

   "Yes, but this would be for his library, for him to
read when you're grown and gone. And others after
him." the children still looked doubtful. "Don't you
like to read King Valandil's book? and hear stories
about the other children who've grown up here in
Rivendell?"

   "But we don't have time to write anything before
Midsummer eve." Estel protested.

   "That's true." Grandmother conceeded. "But there's
always next year."

   It was a good idea all right - but they still had
to think of something for *this* year. In desperation
they went to Gandalf for suggestions.

   "Mmmmm....yes, quite a problem. What does one give
to the Elf who has everything?"* He puffed his pipe,
thinking hard. "I happen to know your Uncle will make
a trip over the mountains in the very near future,"
the Wizard said at last, "what about something he'd
find useful on the journey?"

   "Like a saddle and bridle?" Amin asked, "what else
do you need for a journey?"

   "Cloak, boots, weapons, saddlebags, blankets, a
water bottle.." Estel listed.

   "But there's no *time*!" Meleth interupted. "It's
too late to have anything made."

   It was clear from Estel's face he had an idea.
"Gandalf, would it be all right to give Uncle
something from our treasure?"

   "That would depend on what you have in mind." the
Wizard said cautiously.

   "It's one of the special things on the shelves,"
Estel explained as they climbed the winding stair to
the treasury, "I thought of it when when I said
waterbottle."

    It was in a simple but elegant wooden casket on
the lowest shelf, just under the scepter of Annuminas,
a small bottle cut from a single enormous green beryl,
with a silver stopper. Gandalf turned it over in his
hands. "It's not a waterbottle, Estel, but a flask for
miruvore." he cleared his throat. "I think Elrond
would appreciate it very much."

   Three small sighs of relief fluttered the still air
of the treasure chamber. "Give it to me." Meleth said,
holding out her hands. "I'll have Lady Lorellos fill
it for us."

   "And I'll find a pouch to put it in." said Amin.
    **********************************************

* Sorry, I couldn't resist. Somebody just *had* to say
that line ;D