Summary: Someone had to clean up after the dwarves' food fight.

Disclaimer: I clearly don't own the Hobbit.

Notes: Takes place just after the Hobbit Rivendell Dinner extended scene.

"Lunch was interesting, my lord."

Lindir laughed as he saw his lord kneeling on the floor, cleaning up the mess made earlier. The dwarves had decided to share their culture with the elves. It did not go down well.

"Interesting, Lindir?" Elrond looked up, seeing the minstrel stood on the top of the step, fighting off a smile. "I admit interesting is not the word I would have chosen... but each to their own."

Elrond returned his gaze to the food on the floor.

Lindir finally smiled and walked over, joining his lord on the floor. He began picking up a small amount of food. He then wondered if it was at all wise for him to have joined his lord, as it meant he would then have to help scrape the splattered food from the walls.

"But you have to admit... The song was rather catchy."

Elrond coughed. "Catchy? Maybe, but I am sure you could do better. Besides... if they are going to act hostile towards me in my own homely house, they can expect green food and classical music."

Lindir let out a laugh which had been building up ever since Bofur stepped onto the table. He then turned serious for a moment. "My lord, I fear I have some grave news." Elrond looked up sharply. "There is no easy way to say this... but the dwarves... they have found our wine."

Elrond gasped. "That is grave news indeed, Lindir. Whatever shall we do?"

"Beg the elves of Mirkwood to send us some?" Lindir suggested, laughing to himself. "The dwarves are sleeping now, or at least they were the last time I checked. So we have a least a few hours of peace."

Elrond smiled. "Then let us savor the next few hours. And I have a dead leg."

The two elves helped each other to stand, Elrond ignoring the tingling feeling of the blood rushing back through his legs. "I have been at this for hours... and it looks no better. Ow I feel stiff."

"My lord..." Lindir began. "...may I ask you something?"

"Of course." Elrond nodded once. "What troubles you?"

The two sat down on the table to take a little rest. Lindir took a deep sigh. "It is just... the dragon... I understand Thorin's desire to reclaim his homeland and I fully support him, but..."

Elrond sighed. "You worry they will disturb Smaug and allow him to escape; to find other realms to take over or destroy. While I admit I do not know how this will turn out... I do know that the journey will take them into the Greenwood... or rather Mirkwood forest." He added with a sad tone. "Thranduil will never let them continue with their journey."

"If they managed to get past the spiders, that is." Lindir added with the same sad tone.

"True." Elrond rolled his eyes when he saw a pool of spilled wine which was now soaking his robes. He leaned over and picked up the cup, which still had a little wine left in it. "Besides... there are more pressing matters at the moment."

"Oh? Like what?"

Elrond fought valiantly to hide the smile. "Like however are you going to get the scent of wine out of your hair?"

"What do you mean?"

Lindir gasped when his lord leaped off the table and threw the leftover wine all over his hair. "In response to the dilemma, I feel I should claim what is rightfully mine."

"And what is that?"

"Revenge!" Lindir yelled, throwing some sticky substance from the table at his lord, who barely managed to duck in time.

From the arch above the stairs, Gandalf and Thorin watched as the two elves engaged in a food fight of their own.