*****Rivendell*****
As usual, Ciri was overly optimistic. She and Elrohir both returned with discouraged faces and empty hands. Elladan, sitting among a group of hobbits, whom nobody any longer trusted to stay away from the water, and reflecting on the ironies of his career and the question of how he had come to be designated nursemaid, greeted them with a valiant attempt to be cheerful. The lack of food worried him little on his own account--he'd gone farther on less-- but the hobbits looked sad and dismayed, and Elladan could only imagine what it would be like, trudging through the wilderness with the despairing and half-starved. Fanelen returned soon afterward, with a couple of rather unimpressive fish.
"Doesn't anything live out here?" burst out Thule, who had been too deeply absorbed in her mysterious plans to participate in the hunting.
"Why don't you try it, guide?" flared Meneciriel.
Elrohir shook his head and wandered off. Mikhelm was beginning to mutter something about his own hunting skills and his preference for wild birds, a quiet tirade that only the other dwarves seemed to really understand.
"This is a stroke of luck, Fanelen," said Elladan, erasing any uncertainty from his voice. "Just look at these fish! Beautiful! Our old supplies wouldn't have been half as good. Now, what did I do with my pans?"
He built a fire, continuing to praise the fish, until the hobbits seemed quite convinced that their meal was nothing short of magnificent. "Cooked by Elves!" whispered Brando, as he finished his share. "Have you ever tasted anything like it?"
"No," said Hardo, "although it's much flavor and little substance, seems to me."
The Dwarves ate little on this occasion, unwilling to be shown up in generosity by a band of ridiculous Elves (or, at least, such Elladan imagined thier thoughts to be), and the Elves less. Surely they would have better luck in days to come, thought Elladan. He watched the hobbits eat with a concern that suprised him. He was growing attached to them, after all.
[ November 03, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]
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"I hate dignity," cried Scraps, kicking a pebble high in the air and then trying to catch it as it fell. "Half the fools and all the wise folks are dignified, and I'm neither the one nor the other." --L. Frank Baum
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