"Meleth nin!" Eilanneth exclaimed when she saw his apparition locked into a battle with the letterbox in the centre of Rivendell. Often a meeting point for friends and kindred but today, a wrestlers match between the selfappointed bard of Vanimar and what could have been misinterpreted as a great monster fighting to get the treasures Lindaire was grappling for. Eilanneth blinked as she realised he would very likely spend an evening writing such an ode to his adventure nonetheless. As she rushed to his aid, she quickly noted that a part of his forearm had been swallowed by the 'beast'.
"What happened?" She carefully peeked inside the gaping mouth of the wooden cannister, effortlessly trying to see where Lindaires precious hand had gotten lost.
"I am stuck!" The owner of the hand seemed frustrated, annoyed, agitated. Lindaire looked at her with pleeding eyes to alleviate himself of this charmless creature. Whereas many would assume Lindaire of being ashamed of his recent fate, Eilanneth knew better. He was merely incensed at the fact that his limb had been eaten by something as lowly as a holder of messages.
"Mmm, I can see that, my dear. How did you manage to get stuck?" Eilanneth ceased with her investigation and patiently awaited her husbands response.
Lindaire glanced at his hand, as if he did not want to be known as the carrier of such a treacherous object. As he turned to Eilanneth, he whispered in a soft, conspiratory tone of voice.
"I wish it be known that it was not my fault. I was mearly reaching for a parcel, a gift for my love. " Passion never escaped Lindaire, not even in ordinary settings like these. Well, what was ordinary about this situation, anyway? Eilanneth thought. Apart from the fact that Lindaire's knack for getting himself into trouble had made her come to his aid once again. She adored his clumsy, musical self, even if it sometimes meant that she had to rescue his body from its owners mistakes. Lindaire smiled at her, clearly at ease at her side.
"Oh, I do not doubt your innocense, sweetest. But I... " Stopping herself from reaching inside the opening to pry his hand lose and risk getting caught, she heard a voice from across the yard. A voice hiding the merriment of an amused bystander. As she looked upon the being carrying the barytone, she noted a tall man in his best years. The stranger spoke, giving voice to his thoughts.
"Excuse me, I could not pass without noticing your predicament. Do you need a hand?" Eilanneth smirked, Lindaire laughed and the man grinned. Eilanneth thanked him, for it was polite to do so towards someone offering to help.
"Perhaps, should you know the solution to this peculiar fate of mine." Lindaire announced it as though he was preciding as the king of his own court and the man was one of his subjects. The man excused himself and departed for his horse. As he rustled in his saddlebags for something vital to solve the problem, Eilanneth patted Lindaire's arm to calm him.
The man returned with a jar halffull of a golden liquid, handed it to Eilanneth and smiled again. A good luck and a wave goodbye later, he was already on his horse managing his exit from the valley. Eilanneth could have sworn she heard deep and hearty laughter echoing over the bridge as the man crossed it.
"Such an odd smell!" Lindaire exclaimed, oblivious to the man's joyful escape. Eilanneth nodded and poured some of the jars content unto Lindaires forearm, noticing the liquid slowly but effortlessly trickling down towards his hand. As he tried to pull it out yet another time, he yelped and was almost lose. Eilanneth cursed silently, looked into the darkened crevasse and caught a glimpse of Lindaires clenched fist.
"Oh, dearest! Why are you grappling that thing! No wonder you cannot free yourself!" Eilanneth wagged her finger in front of Lindaire, as if to scold a naughty child. Lindaire had the decency to blush a smidge, but smiled staunchly in response.
"I need it! You need it. It is a gift for you from me." Lindaire declared triumphantly. Eilanneth almost relented, knowing that he would not give up until he had accomplished his goal. His determination was one of the reasons they married in the first place. In a fit of inspiration, Lindaire twisted his hand inside the maw of the fiendish letterbox and suddenly he came lose. Victoriously he handed the now oilcovered box to Eilanneth. She smiled at him, accepting the gift with a cloth to wipe its wrappings. She handed another cloth to Lindaire who promptly dried himself of the slick substance.
"Now, what could have been so important to make you fight this epic battle today?" Eilanneth smiled again, glad that the issue was solved and that her husband was free to play music instead of instigating a war with that receptacle of written thoughts. He scoffed at the letterbox, as if to say 'you did not best us!' while Eilanneth went on with the business of unearthing the contents of the salvaged package.
"Oh! ... how lovely. " Eilanneth resigned, put the gift in her pocket and smiled lovingly towards her lifelong mate. "I shall keep it with your other gifts." She patted his arm once again, prepared to listen to the ode of the mornings crusade against the forces of evil as they moved towards the house of Elrond.
