#Monster Soup (Dilys Evans) with editing

[beaflower77]

Can’t We Build A Better Fort?

“When did it first begin?,” Avorndis inquired. After several seconds. “Hmm. Last week, I believe,” Enaria replied, while combing out the little elliths’ hair over and over. “Had you used the light ointment, or the darker?” Enaria looked at Avorndis with confused clarity, “Which one is darker?,” she asked. “The lighter one or the other lighter one?” 

Beatrice and the elder of the two elflings within the fort listened in on the conversation Avorndis and Enaria were sharing, and snickered. Looking at each other in jest, Beatrice made circling finger signs round her head. “Cuckoo,” she whispered to the elfling, causing the little one to smile and giggle more. “Enaria? But can’t you tell?,” inquired Avorndis, a little sarcasm showing. 

“Ouch!,” Beatrice yelped. They all turned toward her. “Sorry. Paper cut,” explained Beatrice and she shook her finger, all the while continuing to read with the youngest elfling.

The trio, Avorndis, Enaria and Beatrice, had taken shelter inside the blanket fort, and fortified themselves with food and Avorndis’ young elflings. Their husbands, Lhosben and Edwendaer, extremely proud over the blanket fort they collaborated on, decided to remain in a sunny, spacious alcove just a ways from them purely for guarding against possible invading dragons. Galearon, Beatrice’s own young charge, had also agreed to keep the females company. However the only contribution he made was his continual complaints. And today apparently, there were not many unwanted, unsolicited dragons within the city of Imladris. Faelor, Galearon’s older brother, was somewhere off and about with Lindir at the moment just looking for them. The troublesome dragons. The sunny alcove for the time being was devoid of disasters. For the moment. 

Continuing with the story, Beatrice read, “The long road increased in size.” The mistake in sentence structure stopped both Enaria and Avorndis’s conversation. “Beatrice stop,” Enaria posed. “No. Increased in size is not correct. What are you trying to say? Let me look at that.” And Enaria took the book away. “Here. See here? The road turned sharply round a bend. Not increased.” Enaria looked at the elfling explaining, “Lady Beatrice is a little cuckoo I think.” Enaria tossed her light hair, began her conversation with Avorndis again. “Alright,” Beatrice smiled, slightly embarrassed again, “The road turned sharply round a bend. And disappeared into a golden, bright forest. It was filled with all sorts of animals.”  

Outside the fort, their guards whispered softly among themselves.

The middle elfling appeared before the three women. He stuck his leg rudely in front of their faces. “My leggings came out of my boots for the fourth time,” Galearon declared, desperately trying to tuck them back in, starting to fret. Beatrice plunked her book down. Avorndis’ youngest elfling collapsed on her back in the middle of the fort in exasperation. “Ugh. Not again.” His misery continued. “My leggings,” were complained further. “Stop interrupting Galearon. It’s rude,” the little elfling begged of him in annoyance.

Beatrice closed the book, tossing it aside. While trying not to show annoyance, “Give me your leg. Take your boots off again. I’ll sew up your leggings. Again. For the fourth time,” and she pulled and tugged his tight boot toward herself as Galearon held tightly to the center pole. However, the pull of the boot gave Galearon such momentum, he hurdled backward, his body stumbling, tumbling out of the fort. And while tumbling, his hold on the pole slipped, causing the sole support of the fort to shift ever so slightly to the left. 

No one noticed.

The guards outside the fort were bored. Apparently, there were no dragons to save the damsels and elflings from at the moment. So being bored, not having much to trouble themselves over, they decided to nit-pick. Lhosben, one of Haldir’s soldiers, spent half his year with his wife and children in Imladris, the other half of the year in Lothlorien amongst the trees. That way everyone was satisfied, and their elflings grew up in two cultures. 

And as Galearon tumbled outside the fort without his boots again, Lhosben heard and stuck his head within Galearon’s sight, “Whatever will you do?,”Lhosben carped sarcastically of the elfling, a cascade of light, luxurious hair falling, dangling forth. “Leave him alone Lhosben,” Enaria scolded. “Go and tinker somewhere else.” And she flipped her hand away. Lhosben in disbelief, then turned upon his wife, Avorndis, and back to Enaria. “And where might that be, your Ladyship? I am meant to be here. Protection of my lady wife and children. Remember? I am meant to be a ‘tent guard’ while twiddling away my thumbs. But excuse me,” and turning, speaking to Beatrice, “while you three twiddle and garble under this silly nonsense of a massive blanket fort.” “Lhosben. Please. Find something out there to do.” Avorndis tried not to scold her husband. Enaria did that well enough. 

“My leggings.” again pleaded Galearon, still on his back and bootless leg raised.

Lhosben dragged his head out, rejoined his counter guard Edwendaer, and dutifully stood before the sonorous, quaint fort once again and gave a sigh. A slice of apple was handed him. “Dragon meat?,” Edwendaer asked, surrendering a large chunk over. “Tastes like apple though.” Taking the proffered dragon meat, Lhosben chewed a few edges and asked, “Do you not think dragons might invade us? Should we not have some sort of contraption to place them in? If they should suddenly charge our fort? This fort is rather flimsy,” Lhosben affirmed.

“Aye,” agreed Edwendaer. “I wonder how long it will remain standing. Dragons, you say? We will rope them in the corner there,” and Edwendaer tossed his head forward. “Pelt them with apples I think. You know, come to think of it, you’re a long way from Lothlorien these days. You miss the forest Lhosben?,” he asked. Lhosben thought, nodded, “Aye,” he conceded. “Though I hear Haldir will be coming this way sometime this week. I look forward to seeing him again. It has been too long. I am not too quaint on the term Beatrice uses for Avorndis and myself. Snow birds she says. What does that nonsense even mean?” 

And the two guards stood obediently and chewed, feasting on dragon meat. “I’m not one to usually eat dragon meat, you know,” Lhosben commented, which brought a smile to Edwendaer’s otherwise stoic features. Edwendaer smiled, chewed, “Dragon meat is good this time of year.” 

Inside the tent, Galearon crawled over the piles of pillows, blankets embracing the flooring, snuck up behind the littlest ellith and whispered in his most talented voice, “A silver-scaled dragon with jaws flaming red, sits at my elbow and toasts my bread. I hand him fat slices, and then, one by one, he hands them back when he sees they are done.” Waiting to see if Galearon would pounce upon her or not, the ellith then burst into fits of giggles and laughter, falling back onto the blankets and pillows. Beatrice watched in amusement. She did think Galearon had a talent with amusing others. 

Galearon, gladdened to see his poem amused the ellith, continued with another. This time not so amusing. “Greasy trolls out on a stroll, filthy goblin in the air, bully baffoons at my door, nasty orcies I don’t care, icky ghoulies always watching, little elflings best beware! Boo!” And he stretched out his fingers, pouncing upon her. “Eek!,” the little one cried, starting to pout and worry. Not knowing if it was the shock of the Boo, or the poem itself, all three females themselves jumped from being startled out of their own complacency. “Galearon!,” the females shrieked and scolded. “Stop that!” “That’s quite enough!” “That’s not like you!” Galearon for the moment settled upon being half amused and half embarrassed from being caught. In the end, he settled on giggling instead. It was beginning to be just too much minute by minute.

In the midst of calming one elfing down, scolding another, Edwendaer decided  to pop his own head in. “Tonight is the night when leaves make a sound, like a gnome in his home, under the ground. When ghouls and goblins creep out of holes mossy and green.” Galearon stopped his own teasing, looked up at Edwendaer, as his voice sank lower and lower. Galearon sat still and listened. The elfling looked toward Beatrice. She recognized Edwendaer’s own teasing, and gave him the smirkiest of looks. Continuing to enlist Galearon’s rapturous attention, “Tonight is the night when dead leaves fly like witches on switches across the sky. Whooo. When elf and sprite flit through the night and dance round their queen to her delight. When pumpkins come alive, they stare and spit. And ghouls and goblins roast meat of beasts on a spit. When there’s no more dragon on which to feast, the legs of elflings they will eat. Boo!” And shooing Galearon with his own surprise attack, Edwendaer shot out his arms, hands and fingers, trying to catch Galearon off guard. That Boo was just enough.

Galearon being startled, frightened, jerked his body back from Edwendaer’s face coming too close to the middle of their fort. Stumbling on a blanket edge, he grabbed for the center pole once again, missed, caught the heel of his boot on Beatrice’s knee, snagging everything. She stretched out her hands, but, too late. Galearon let slip his hands from the pole, his body continued tumbling and viola, perfect disaster befell.

And as the pole was pushed, leaning more left, pulled more right and forward, maneuvered, wrangled and such, the ceiling’s blankets came tumbling down. And just as the blankets fell upon the heads of the adults and three little ones nestling, muddling about underneath, Galearon’s favorite brother Faelor, a mischief maker in his own right, raced into their lone, sunny alcove, trailing behind a happily, silly, befuddled Lindir. Someone, somewhere, was yelling to the high valor. “Charge! Roar! I am fire! I breath fire! Beware elves of the alcove! And party forts! You’re fort is not safe from me!! You will never roast my dragon meat!!”

“Dragons! Dragons!,” Lindir yelled, while Faelor tried to stab Lindir in the backside, running him down. “Guards! Guards!,” Lindir shrieked, yelled, causing a ruckus. “To your posts! To your posts! I am being besotted and cooked! Dragons are upon us all! They mean to roast and eat us! To your posts!” 

Faelor and Lindir ran, raced and stumbled into the cozy, bright alcove. The supposedly talented guards on duty, Edwendaer and Lhosben, startled and confused with the sudden shrieking and cries from the females, children, on one end, Lindir and Faelor from the other end, were easily taken off guard. Turning abruptly, the guards tripped over blankets, upsetting the dragon meat, (their apples and pears), cheeses fell off their plates. Falling to the floor, the fruit rolled round beneath the guards boots. The cheese was squashed and damage. The noise, loud cacophony was heard all the way down the hall. Joyous yelling, stumbling and untold mayhem burst forth from the little alcove the group had hunkered down in. Shrieking erupted from two elflings, Avorndis, Enaria and Beatrice, Lindir and the guards of the blankets, and now two dragons, as Galearon decided to join his brother in the hilarity. Until..

A set of different boots marched themselves down the hall, entering the disaster pit of elves. Looking round the disheveled mess of an alcove, apples, pears, cheeses stuck to flooring, boot bottoms, nine elves and one woman, were a complete mess. Fort blankets had been pulled, dragged over and onto the occupant’s heads. 

And that was where Elrond looked upon the mayhem, his face a mess. Astonishment, bewilderment arose from his profile. “Silence!,” Elrond clamored and cried. “What is this mess!?” Elrond examined the disaster with annoyance. “Captain Haldir will be here any minute. Do you wish for him to see such going ons? What is going on here?!,” he demanded. Turning to Lindir, “Why are you not within your study, making ready for Haldir’s arrival?!” 

Three females lifted heavy blankets off their heads. Lifted themselves from the floor, while two trusted guards dusted their tunics fitter for appearances. Lindir simply looked upon Elrond, softly explaining, “Dragons, My Lord. We have been invaded. By dragons.” A light and awkward smile came over his face. Edwendaer picked an apple slice from inside one of the blankets, tossing it over his shoulder. “Dragon meat,” he simply explained. “Tastes like apple.” They thought Elrond’s abrupt, unamused intrusion would just go away. 

“Did you not hear me?,” Elrond continued, again explained, this time keeping himself under control, although not having time for nonsense and play. “Haldir will be here any minute.” Faelor, Galearon, attempted to crawled under the crumpled fort, behind the females. All was at a standstill, while the many sets of eyes turned their attention from Elrond to...

“Haldir is here now,” came a clear voice from behind all. As Elrond, visibly unamused swung round to see. Haldir strode in, stood and observed apparent mayhem. Spotting Faelor attempting to crawl to safety, Haldir swiftly reached out and grabbed Faelor’s boot, pulling him out like an squirming eel. An excited squaack issued from his mouth. Haldir tucked Faelor under his arm like a loaded wine barrel. A struggle began, as Faelor resisted being held that way. “Be still,” commanded Haldir, who stepped in further, grabbing Galearon from round his collar, pulling him up. “What have I found?,” he asked himself, looking from one elfling to the other. Galearon said not a word in response. he knew better. He would rather not be that wine barrel as his brother now was. A caught, vertical dragon was better he believed than a horizontal one. 

“And what is this? A blanket fort?” Quickly surveying the toppled, rumpled, ruined fort. Haldir tsked. “This is not the way in which to build a proper fort.” Edwendaer and Lhosben, their feelings hurt, as they had originally designed and built it, took a personal affront to the addressing of their fort, especially from Lhosben’s semi-annual captain. “And you have a better design in mind Haldir?,” Lhosben inquired. Quickly surveying the mess,“The center pole is much too unstable,” Haldir casually mentioned. “You will need two, possibly three poles to keep the walls from crumbling.” Edwendear folding his arms in diffidence, made a face, “Show us then.” 

Elrond interjected, “Captain Haldir does not have the time for this nonsense. He is here merely on business. We must keep to a schedule.” Haldir was not in the position, nor was he in the proper place to cross the line with Elrond, but something about the placement of the fort beckoned his keen eye. And annoyance. Turning to Elrond, still holding fast the two little brothers, “Perhaps only a moment of example, or assistance, Lord Elrond,” Haldir persisted, putting Faelor down, letting Galearon loose. They went to stand behind the guards. Haldir noticed. 

Considering all the time spent putting the fort together, the elflings feelings, and the enjoyment all were having, Elrond relented. Sighing, Elrond consented, “A moment then. Only a moment of example,” he allowed. 

“Remove the pole. And the occupants,” Haldir began. “Bring me two, no three more poles, a little longer than this original one.” Haldir supervised the new arrangements of the blanket fort, continuing with his moment of assistance for longer than a moment. Beatrice and the two elfings went to replenish their dragon snacks. Faelor stayed mostly out of the way. Galearon went to put on a new pair of leggings, throwing his old pair onto Beatrice’s bed without her knowledge. It fell off the bed, to be batted at by the cat.

Haldir and Elrond managed to have some coffee later. Much later, after dinner. Business was left for the next day. Lindir had to discontinue playing the dragon. And more loot was added to the newly designed fort.