Up until the age of five, Anomen had been used to bathing in a pool beneath a small waterfall near the cottage where he lived with his Edwin Nana.  Not too surprisingly, he grew to identify 'bathing' with 'swimming', and was always eager to leap into water at every opportunity.  His situation changed radically, however, when the Elven troop abruptly carried him away to Thranduil's Great Hall.  A bathing tub was set up for his use in the antechamber of his room.  Of course, it was fun to splash about even in such a confined space, but Anomen longed for the sylvan pool of his younger days.  Unfortunately, Anomen's agéd and unimaginative tutor was horrified when the elfling asked whether he might bathe outside.  "Utterly undignified," the older Elf spluttered with indignation.  Anomen never mentioned the matter again.

When Mithrandir brought Anomen to Rivendell, cold weather was just setting in, and as a matter of course Anomen was shown to the various rooms where bathing cauldrons stood ready.  When spring arrived, however, Anomen soon discovered that many Rivendell Elves preferred bathing outdoors in fine weather.  Delighted, he immediately followed suit.  So it was that one day he happily ran down to the banks of a particular pool that reminded him of the one he had bathed in so long ago as a very tiny elfling.  Water cascaded over a little waterfall into a pool that was deep enough not only for swimming but diving.  Arriving upon the bank, Anomen hastily shed boots, leggings, and tunic and leaped into the water.  Before too long, his singing and splashing attracted the attention of Elrond's twin sons, who were themselves returning from bathing in their favorite pool, which was rather more rocky than the one favored by Anomen.

Until this point, Elrohir and Elladan had largely refrained from making Anomen the target of their pranks—at least of any of their major ones!  The sight of his clothes scattered on the bank, however, proved to be irresistible.  Obviously they would have to steal these articles of apparel—surely they had been left with no alternative!  Creeping up carefully whilst Anomen had his back to them, they snagged the garments and raced off.

A long while later a very wrinkled Anomen—yes, Elves do wrinkle if they remain overlong in water—climbed onto the bank and looked about for his clothes.  He looked under and behind every bush before he reluctantly concluded that they had been taken—and he had a good idea who the culprits were!  He would deal with them later, he resolved.  For now, however, it was getting on toward dinner, and if he did not return in time, trouble would ensue.  But how could he return to the Hall without clothes?  He couldn't very well stroll up to the entrance.  Well, he thought, he could, but he didn't relish the spectacle that no doubt would result when a scandalized Door Warden sent word to Lord Elrond that matters at his post were not 'in order'.  But how else to enter the Hall?  Anomen remembered the trellis beneath the window of the room he shared with Elladan and Elrohir.  He would creep into the garden, where the bushes and trees would offer him cover, and make his way to the trellis.  Yes, that would work.

At first it looked as if his plan would succeed.  As the dinner hour approached, Elves generally retired to their chambers to wash and dress for that occasion.  The garden appeared deserted, and Anomen began to carefully cross it, flitting from bush to bush.

Ai! One Elf did remain in the garden—one elfling, actually.  Arwen had been quietly sitting in the shade of a bush stringing flowers into a garland.  A bird landed on a branch near her and began to sing.  Her attention captured by the melody, Arwen began to sing as well.  Anomen froze in dismay.  From the sound, Arwen was very close.  Worse, the bird fluttered off, right past Anomen's hiding place.  Still singing, Arwen arose to follow it.  She was going to stumble upon a mortified Anomen.

Anomen frantically looked about for a better hiding place.  He spied an old abandoned badger burrow.  The badger had been a good-sized one, and Anomen was still a slender elfling—slenderer than most, in fact.  He thought the badger hole would do.  Desperately he dove for the burrow.  Just in time, he scrambled into it, and he lay quite still as Arwen innocently passed right by his refuge.  Humiliation forestalled!

Once the sound of Arwen's song had died away, Anomen began to wriggle his way backwards.  Within seconds, he hit a snag—literally.  His arms were folded up under his body, his elbows akimbo.  As he tried to worm his way out of the burrow, one jutting elbow caught upon an exposed tree root.  Going in, he'd been able to slide past it, but now, with his arms bent so awkwardly, he could not retrace his path.  The more he struggled, the worse matters became.  Before too long he seemed to be irretrievably wedged.

At last he lay still trying to collect his thoughts.  Ai! The thoughts he collected were not very pleasant ones.  What would happen, he wondered, if the badger returned to reclaim its home?  Or if some other animal should happen upon the hole and decide to make it its burrow?  His naked feet were of course near the entrance to the hole, and Anomen began to imagine what it would be like to have some sharp-toothed creature nibbling upon his toes.  Before too long, it must be confessed, Anomen was sobbing.  For all that he had succeeded in making the arduous and dangerous passage from Greenwood to Rivendell, he was, after all, still very much an elfling.

It seemed to Anomen that an entire Age must have passed before he again heard a voice.  Someone else had come to sing in the garden.  The voice was deep—a male Elf, a grown one, someone who could help him!  Anomen had long ago given over any concern over his lack of clothing.  No matter what humiliation he might have to suffer, he wanted to be rescued!

"Help! Help! Saes! Saes! Help!" he screamed frantically.

Outside in the garden, Glorfindel, who had readied himself for dinner, had come to while away the last few minutes before that meal.  He heard muffled shouts for help and paused in his song, but when he looked about, he saw no one.

"Did someone call for help?" he called.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, please help me!" came the reply.

"Where are you?"  shouted Glorfindel.  "And who are you?"

"Anomen.  I'm in the old badger burrow."

Glorfindel bent down and peered into the badger hole.  He could just make out the pink soles of Anomen's bare feet.

"Why ever did you crawl in there?" asked the astonished elf-lord.

Sobbed Anomen, "I was trying to get away from Arwen."

Glorfindel was perplexed.  He knew Arwen could be demanding, but hiding in a badger burrow seemed a little—extreme.

Glorfindel lay down on the grass before the hole and reached in.  He firmly gripped Anomen by the ankles and began to pull him back.  Anomen screamed.  "My arm!  My arm!  It's bending the wrong way!"

"Are you caught on something?"

"Yes!"

Glorfindel sighed and arose to his feet.  "I'd best fetch Elrond.  Do not fear; I will return shortly."

Elrond was enjoying a before dinner glass of wine with Erestor when Elrond knocked on the door to his chamber.

"Enter.  Ah, Glorfindel, please join us."

Glorfindel shook his head.  "You are needed in the garden, Elrond."

Elrond raised one eyebrow.  "In the garden?  That is not usually my sphere of action.  Is this not something with which the Head Gardener could deal?"

"Oh," said Glorfindel glumly, "no doubt we will be forced to press him—and his spade—into service, but I believe you will first want to survey the situation.  It seems that your Greenwood fosterling, not content with clambering about the treetops, has decided to burrow into the earth.

Elrond raised the other eyebrow.  "Wonderful," thought Erestor, "a two-eyebrow crisis right before dinner."

"Burrow into the earth?"

"Aye, but he neglected to consider how he would return to the surface."

"He is trapped beneath the ground?"

Erestor shook his head in dismay.  "Elrond," he said sourly, "you were talking about strengthening ties with the Dwarves of Moria.  Let us send Anomen as an emissary, as he seems to desire subterranean experience."

"I second that recommendation," said Glorfindel, equally sourly.

"Ah, my friends," replied Elrond, "this is in fact an improvement over the previous state of affairs.  At least we know where Anomen is, and he is not going anywhere."

Erestor and Glorfindel had to reluctantly concede that Elrond was right on that score, and they accompanied that elf-lord to the garden in a slightly better frame of mind.

"Anomen," called Elrond once he had reached the burrow and stooped to peer into it.  "Are you hurt in any way?"

"No, Lord Elrond," came the muffled reply.

"Can you breathe easily enough?"

"Yes, Lord Elrond, but—mmph—I have got dirt in my mouth and it tastes nasty!"

"It has been said," opined Erestor sententiously, "that every elfling should eat a pint of dirt before reaching Elfhood."

"Yes," agreed Elrond, "but I do not think the statement is meant to be taken altogether literally—you, as a scholar, must surely appreciate that!"

Chastened, Erestor fell silent.

"Anomen," called Elrond again.  "We will fetch the Head Gardener, and he will dig you out.  You will need to be patient.  He will not want to dig too quickly, lest the dirt fall upon you.  Can you be a brave elfling and lie quite still to make his job the easier?"

Lie quite still?  What choice did he have!?"

"Yes, I will lie still, Lord Elrond."

"Good.  Glorfindel—"

"Yes, I will fetch the Head Gardener," said the balrog-slayer in a surprisingly cheerful voice.  The humor of the situation was beginning to soften his crusty exterior.

Glorfindel shortly returned with the Head Gardener, who carried not only a spade but several other tools that he thought might be useful in extricating an elfling from a tight spot.  Carefully he began to dig toward Anomen.

Before too long, a considerable number of Elves, attracted by the hubbub, had drifted into the garden.  Rubber had not yet been invented, so Elves such as these, eager onlookers at the scene of a disaster or crisis, were not known as 'rubber-neckers'.  Instead, they were called 'swan-necks'.  This writer believes the latter term to be the more elegant of the two.  Be that as it may, it amounts to the same thing as the modern phrase.  (Dwarves had another term altogether: 'bent-shovels'—apparently because that is what would happen to said tool when a Dwarf, distracted by curiosity, failed to notice that he was about to bring his spade down upon solid rock.  But enough of etymology and back to the story.)

Not too surprisingly, the twins were soon numbered amongst the 'swan-necks'.  They never failed to put in an appearance at the scene of something unusual or interesting.

"What is the matter?" Elladan asked their father.

"Anomen has crawled into an old badger burrow and gotten himself stuck.  Although why he should have crawled into such a place in the first place is beyond me!"

Elladan and Elrohir had an idea as to why Anomen may have done such a thing.  They stepped back, waited a few minutes, stepped back again.  Before too long, they had edged their way to the fringes of the crowd.  From there, they turned and slipped away.  The stable, they decided, would be a good place to spend the night.

Elrond had known from the start that Anomen was not wearing his boots.  As the Head Gardener shoveled away, Elrond soon saw that Anomen was naked to the knees.  No doubt his leggings somehow had been pulled or pushed up as the elfling had struggled to escape the burrow.  Soon, however, Elrond perceived that Anomen was naked above the knees as well.  As the Head Gardener drew close to unearthing Anomen's bottom, Elrond stopped him digging.

"Anomen?"

"Yes, Lord Elrond," came the muffled reply.

"Are you wearing your leggings?"

"No, Lord Elrond."

"Are you wearing your tunic?"

"No, Lord Elrond."

"Are you wearing anything at all?"

Silence for a moment, then a soft "No."

Elrond turned to the assembled Elves.  "We need silence in order to hear the elfling's words so that we can be sure that the shovel does not hurt him as we draw near.  All of you must disperse.  As it is past the dinner hour, and no doubt the Head Cook is getting frantic, you are all to go to the dining hall at once."

Reluctantly the elven onlookers straightened their 'swan-necks' and drifted off.  Elrond commanded the Head Gardener to recommence digging.  Here came Anomen's bottom, now the waist, and at last the Head Gardener reached Anomen's elbows.  The troublesome root was visible, and the Head Gardener promptly severed it with his clippers.  Glorfindel once again took hold of Anomen's ankles and gently pulled him the rest of the way out of the remnants of the burrow.  Elrond handed Glorfindel his cloak, and the balrog-slayer wrapped the elfling in it.  The Head Gardener, meanwhile, surveyed the damage with dismay, both the gaping hole and the grass and flower beds trampled by rescuers and onlookers alike.

"My Lord, I had just finished planting this area!  I will strive to repair it with all diligence, but I am afraid that a year may pass before this part of the garden will be equal in beauty to the remainder.

"A year is only a moment in time," replied Elrond calmly.  "Do as best you can, but be not troubled.  Next spring the damage will scarce be apparent.  Glorfindel," he said, turning to his friend, "let us see about cleaning up Anomen.  A considerable amount of soil seems to have attached itself to him."

Indeed, this was true.  For the first (and, Anomen devoutly hoped, the last) time, the elfling was out-and-out filthy.  His hair was matted, dirt was rubbed into every pore, his fingernails were rimmed with earth.  Had it not been for his pointed ears, he would have been unrecognizable as an Elf.

"You had better carry him, Glorfindel," said Erestor.  "Else he will leave dirty tracks throughout the Hall—and the Head Housekeeper will not be pleased."

Obligingly, the balrog-slayer hoisted the bundled elfling over his shoulder and carried him to the nearest bathing room.  There he placed Anomen directly into a tub, and the Elves commenced pouring water over him.  It cascaded down his body in brown rivulets.  Before too long Anomen was standing up to his knees in muddy water.

"Glorfindel," suggested Elrond, "why don't you put him into that tub over there so that we may start afresh."

And so Anomen found himself standing in a second tub whilst the Elves again poured water over his head.  Indeed, he was on his fourth tub before the water began to run clear.  At last Elrond stood back, satisfied.

"You look almost like yourself, Anomen."

"Almost?" said Anomen worriedly.

"Well, you do appear a bit bedraggled, but once you have dried off, eaten, and had a good night's sleep, you will look much better."

"And dressed?'  said Anomen hopefully.

"Oh, yes, of course, dressed.  Come, let us wrap you in a towel and get you to your room so that you may be clad."

A little while later a warmly dressed Anomen sat in Elrond's chamber sipping mulled wine and devouring the late supper that had been sent up for him.  After he had satisfied his hunger, he sat back and sighed contentedly.  Seeing him so recovered, Elrond decided that it was time to enquire into how the elfling had come to be in a badger burrow.

"Anomen," he said gently, "a badger hole is a most unusual place to find an elfling, especially one such as yourself, who has always been preferred to climb up rather than burrow down.  Pray explain to me how you came to be stuck in such a place."

"I was taking a bath," declared Anomen stoutly.

Elrond raised an eyebrow.  "Anomen, a bath does not usually conclude with burying oneself in the dirt!"

"Well, after I finished bathing, I could not find my clothes."

"Oh, and have you any idea what happened to said garments?"

"Yes.  But I would rather not talk about that," Anomen added hastily.

"Indeed?"  Up went the other eyebrow.  Well, Elrond thought, perhaps it would be best if Anomen handled the twins himself.  "Pray continue."

"I didn't want to create a stir, so I decided to climb up the trellis to return to my room."

Climb up the trellis.  This sounded more like Anomen's typical behavior.

"I was making my way through the garden to get to the trellis when I heard Arwen singing.  I didn't want her to see me, so I hid in the burrow.  But then I couldn't get out again!"

Elrond nodded.  All in all, Anomen had acted with a sort of elfling logic so that, given his age, his behavior had been reasonably sensible.  After all, how could he have foreseen that he would be trapped by a tree root?

"Well, Anomen, matters have not ended too badly—except for the trouble that you have caused the Head Gardener.  Now let me give you some advice.  No doubt you wish to deal with the matter of your clothes.  Have a care that you do not cause too much trouble when you do so."

"But I may, um, 'deal with' the culprits?"

"Yes, but deal wisely with them.  Some boundaries must be maintained."

"Yes, Lord Elrond."

"I have kept you up far too late.  To bed with you."

"In the morning," began Anomen hopefully.

"In the morning you will attend lessons with Erestor as usual," said Elrond firmly, his eyebrows beginning their creep up his forehead.

"Oh, of course," Anomen said hastily.  He arose and took his leave.  To his surprise, but also his relief, the twins had not returned to their shared chamber.  He wanted some time alone to think how best to pay the twins back without crossing any of the 'boundaries' that Elrond had alluded to.

For several weeks Anomen considered how best to get back at the twins for the theft of his clothes and the resulting humiliation.  At last he thought that he had happened upon the perfect opportunity.  From time to time Glorfindel would call together the Elves of Imladris to witness an exhibition of the archery and swordsmanship of his elfling and novice students.  Anomen knew that Elladan and Elrohir hoped to do particularly well in the archery contest.  Well, Anomen would see that they did not!

On the morning of the exhibition, Elladan and Elrohir felt more than usually confident about their shooting skills, for they had done exceptionally well in their practice sessions the prior week.  Only Anomen had shot better than they.  Elladan went first.  He stepped jauntily up to the line and drew an arrow from his quiver.  As he fitted it to the bow, however, he noticed that the fletching was damaged.  He set that arrow aside and drew another.  Before he could nock it he noticed that it too was damaged.  He set that arrow aside as well and drew another.  Damaged.  Increasingly uneasy, he drew arrow after arrow from his quiver.  All spoiled.  At last he looked up at Glorfindel.

"My Lord, all my arrows have been damaged."

Glorfindel's face was impassive.  "It is the responsibility of the archer to check his arrows before the commencement of the contest.  A warrior who did not make sure of his weapon would be a very poor warrior indeed."

"My Lord, I checked these arrows last night, and they were all sound!"

"Nevertheless, you are disqualified.  Step back and allow the next archer to approach."

Humiliated and miserable, Elladan withdrew, to be replaced by his twin.  Elrohir drew forth an arrow.   Damaged.  Frantically he went through the arrows in his quiver until none remained.  Not a single one was sound.  He looked up at Glorfindel.  The balrog-slayer shook his head.  Elrohir, his eyes upon the ground, retreated to stand by his brother.

It was now Anomen's turn.  Beaming, he confidently strode up to the line.  Glorfindel came to stand near him.  Anomen drew forth a pristine arrow, nocked it, pulled back the string, and prepared to release his shaft.  At the moment of release, however, Glorfindel jostled his arm almost imperceptibly.  Since Glorfindel stood on the far side of Anomen, none of the onlookers could have seen this, but the impact of his action on the elfling's aim was considerable.  His first arrow went wide of the target.  The onlookers gasped.

Shakily, Anomen drew forth a second arrow.  He glanced up at Glorfindel.  His expression was unreadable.  Carefully, Anomen prepared to release his second arrow.  He looked up at Glorfindel one last time, took a deep, steadying breath—and Glorfindel brushed him once again at the very moment that Anomen let fly the shaft.  It hit the target, but only just.

Glorfindel spoke.  "You have not shot well enough to advance to the next round.  Retire from the field."

Now it was Anomen's turn to skulk back to the spectators with his head down.  He went to stand silently beside the equally silent twins.  Elrond was silent as well, his face grim.

Lunch that day, which should have been celebratory, was instead a painful affair.  Only Arwen was her usual self.  Anomen and the twins sat looking at their plates.  The food was, as always, excellent, but they took scarcely a bite.  Elrond and Glorfindel ate but said little beyond the necessary.  Erestor likewise ate.  From time to time he glanced with sympathy toward the elflings, but he said nothing.

After lunch the twins disappeared to the stable and Anomen sat lonely in their room.  Before too long, however, Erestor arrived to tell him that he had been summoned to Elrond's chamber.

When Anomen arrived at Elrond's sanctum, he found Glorfindel and Elrond sitting side by side.  They did not invite Anomen to likewise take a seat.  He stood uneasily before them.  Suddenly he realized that he had a dreadfully irritating itch between his shoulder blades, but he did not dare tend to it.

Several minutes passed in silence, the elf-lords staring steadily at Anomen, who was unable to meet their eyes.

"Anomen," Elrond said suddenly.  The elfling jumped.

"Ye-es, my Lord."

"You tampered with Elladan and Elrohir's arrows, is that not so?"

There was no use in denying it.

"Yes, Lord Elrond," Anomen said softly.

Elrond looked at Glorfindel and nodded.  The balrog-slayer arose from his chair and stood towering over the elfling, who by now was quaking.

"Anomen," growled Glorfindel in a dreadful voice, "no matter what tricks a warrior may play upon his comrades, he NEVER EVER tampers with their weapons.  NEVER EVER."  After glaring down at the elfling for several minutes, Glorfindel at last resumed his seat.  Anomen continued to stand trembling.

Elrond spoke more gently now.  "Do you know why you must never tamper with your comrades' weapons?"

Anomen spoke so softly that the elf-lords had to strain to hear him.

"A warrior may be called upon at a moment's notice to defend his life and the lives of his people.  He must always be in readiness.  That means his weapons must always be in readiness."  Even more softly, Anomen added, "I crossed a boundary."

"Look at me, Anomen," said Elrond.

Reluctantly, Anomen looked up at Elrond.

"You have answered wisely, Anomen.  I trust that this incident will never be repeated."

"Oh, no, Lord Elrond!  Never!  Never ever!"

The elf-lord nodded.  "Good.  Of course, this incident is not quite at an end.  I am sure Elladan and Elrohir will be waiting for their chance to exact vengeance."

Anomen cringed.  Would it be safe to sleep tonight?  He doubted it.

Elrond smiled a little and turned to Glorfindel.

"Mellon-nîn, do you remember how we used to torment each other when we were elflings?"

Glorfindel chuckled.  "Indeed, I remember well."

"What prank outraged you the most?"

"I think it was the time you soaked the twigs I used to clean my teeth in some substance that turned my teeth orange."

Now Elrond chuckled.  "Aye!  I remember that incident.  I was very vigilant afterward, but you waited several months and at last had the satisfaction of turning my teeth purple."

Both Elves laughed heartily.  Anomen looked at both of them in amazement as they continued to reminisce about the japes and tricks that they had indulged in as young Elves.

"Well," said Glorfindel at last, "much as I am enjoying this conversation, there are matters that must be attended to.  Elrond, you are of course correct in saying that this incident is not quite at an end.  Anomen, you will accompany me to the armory.  There are arrows that need to be repaired—and before you eat any dinner, I might add."

"Yes, my Lord," said Anomen meekly.

Hours later, Anomen at last staggered into the room he shared with Elrond and Elladan.  The twins looked as if they were sound asleep, their eyes open but glazed over in the fashion of Elves lost in dreams.  Even so, Anomen was afraid to allow himself to rest.  He perched on the edge of his bed staring at the twins, watching for any sign that the twins were dissembling.  He was very tired, however, and repeatedly found himself swaying, his eyes losing their focus.  At last he gave in and lay down.  After all, he thought to himself, even if he stayed awake the whole night, he would only be delaying the inevitable.  The twins would pay him back, of that he was certain.

Sure enough, when he awoke the next morning, the twins were gone and Anomen's head felt rather odd.  He dragged himself to the mirror and groaned.  Whilst he had slept, the twins had shaved either side of his head, leaving a strip standing up in the middle.  Anomen resignedly dressed and pulled his hood up over his head.

All were seated for breakfast when Anomen entered the dining hall, hood still up.  Anomen hastened to the head table, bowed to Elrond, and took his seat.

"Anomen," said Elrond.

"Yes, Lord Elrond?"

"We do not wear hoods at the table."

Elladan and Elrohir were shaking with silent laughter.

"I am very cold, Lord Elrond," Anomen said in a pitiful voice.  "May I not keep my hood on this one time?

"No, Anomen, you may not."

Sighing, Anomen slipped the hood from his head.

"Anomen," cried Arwen, "what has happened to your hair?"

"It disappeared during the night."

Arwen looked alarmed.  "Will my hair disappear in the night?"

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances and grinned.   They sobered rapidly, however, when their father fixed his eye upon them.  In a frosty voice, he declared, "It had better not."

Elladan and Elrohir developed a sudden interest in their plates.  It seemed to their beleaguered father that lately this keen interest in the china on the part of the twins had been increasingly at an alarming rate.

After breakfast, Anomen and the twins returned to their usual routine of morning lessons with Erestor in the library.  It was a subdued class, however, as the twins were still holding themselves aloof from Anomen, and vice versa.  When lessons had concluded for the day, the twins at once vanished, probably heading once again to the stable.  Anomen lingered moodily in the library, running his hands over the bindings of the books stacked so neatly upon the shelves.  Erestor took pity upon him.

"Anomen, here is a book that will cheer you up, I think.  It is a narrative written by Elrond himself.  The later chapters may not interest you, filled as it is with accounts of trade negotiations.  The early chapters, however, I believe you will find quite interesting, even at times amusing.  He writes of some of his adventures with Glorfindel when he was little older than you are now."

Gratefully Anomen accepted the book and returned to his chamber.  After reading a few pages, Anomen realized that Erestor was correct.  Elrond had led a fascinating life, some of his adventures exciting, others funny, many both.  That week Anomen spent at least a little time each day reading Elrond's account.  Between the pleasure he derived from that, and the fact that the twins had begun to speak to him again, by the end of the week Anomen was feeling his usual happy self.

A week to the day after the archery contest, Anomen arose quite early and hastened into the bathing chamber to ready for breakfast.  He spent quite a lot of time preparing this day.  Well scrubbed, hair immaculate, teeth scrubbed, he at least appeared in the dining hall.

"Where are Elladan and Elrohir?" asked Elrond.

"Oh," said Anomen cheerfully, "they were still sleeping when I left the chamber."

Elrond sent a servant to fetch the twins and gave the others permission to commence the meal.  It seemed to be a long time before the twins appeared, and when they did so, it was easy to see that they approached the head table with reluctance.  They bowed to their father but said not a word.  Nor did they eat any of the food that was placed before them.  Elrond spoke after several silent minutes had passed.

"Elladan, Elrohir, why are you not eating?"

Mutely, the two twins looked at him, shaking their heads.  Elrond grew a trifle impatient.

"It is customary for one to speak when addressed by an Elder.  I say again, why are you not eating?"

"Not hungry," mumbled Elrohir, scarcely opening his mouth.

Elrond noticed that the tutor Erestor was shaking with silent laughter.  His eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows went into high alert.

"It is also customary for one to enunciate clearly.  Open your mouth when you speak.  Why is it that you are not hungry?  You ate little enough yesterday!"

Reluctantly, Elrohir at last opened his mouth—and dazzled the onlookers with his bright purple teeth.  Elrond turned to Elladan.  "Now you open your mouth," he commanded.  As he had expected, Elladan's teeth were a radiant orange.

Glorfindel looked at him and smiled.  "It seems to me that no boundaries have been crossed this time," said the balrog-slayer."

Elrond nodded and smiled as well.

"Aye, my friend.  Let us get on with breakfast."

After the meal, Elrond took the twins to his chamber to remove as much as possible of the dye, although several weeks would pass before it was altogether gone.  As for Anomen, he had a book that he needed to return to Erestor, so he made his way to the library.

"Ah, you are finished with the book, I see," said the tutor.  "Did you find it interesting?"

"Oh, yes," Anomen said enthusiastically.  "Many of the stories were quite exciting—and this volume is a treasure trove of information."

"Is that so?" said Erestor.  "Yes, if I do recall correctly, Elrond tended to be quite detailed in his explanations of how he pulled off his various, ah, exploits."

"Yes," agreed Anomen, "quite detailed indeed!"

"Well, my lad, if you ever wish to refresh your memory about the accomplishments of the Lord of Imladris, feel free to once again borrow this book.  I will set it aside in a safe place for you."

"Thank you, Lord Erestor," Anomen replied gratefully.  Why had he ever thought that their tutor was a bit of a stick?

"Pity," sighed Erestor, "that I didn't keep a journal of my own.  Some of my exploits came near equaling Elrond's.  Be that as it may," he said briskly, "I shall just have to live vicariously through you, Anomen.  For now, however, take your seat and we will resume our study of the geography of Gondor."

Anomen sighed.  Some things would never change.  But at least, he thought, spirits brightening, he was sure of having a stock of ideas—appropriate ones!—for defending himself against the combined onslaught of Elladan and Elrohir.  Otherwise, he thought, the upcoming century would have proved to be a very long one indeed!