Sword and Arrow

Chapter 21

The elven clothes that the Galadhrim had provided for them were of excellent quality. They fit very well (except on Gimli, as they were a little too tall and quite tight around the chest). As the males came out of the room one by one, Beruthiel collected their dirty clothes and gathered a small pile.

She surveyed the pile of clothes at her feet and sighed. "I'll need help," she said. "To carry these, and to wash them too."

"I volunteer as tribute," Legolas said with a grin, raising his hand.

"I believe we have a volunteer," Beruthiel said, completely straight-faced. She crooked a finger at him. "Come on, then, my brave champion."

Legolas ended up carrying the majority of the dirty clothes. Beruthiel led the way to the bath — which was more like a small pond. Legolas set the clothes down beside the pool and glanced back at the trees that obscured them from the rest of the Fellowship. "Right then," he said in a low voice once he was sure that they were out of earshot. "I, uh, don't actually know how to wash clothes."

Beruthiel sighed, her hands on her hips. "Really?"

Legolas winced. "Yes?"

"Then, pray tell, why did you volunteer to help me?" Beruthiel untied her cloak and bundled it up, throwing it to the side of the small glade. She squatted down and put a few fingers in the water and hurriedly drew them out. It was very cold; probably fed by snowmelt from the Misty Mountains. Bathing in this was not going to be fun.

Legolas raised an eyebrow, sorting the clothes into three piles: Men and Elf, Hobbits and Dwarf, and Beruthiel. "Well... I'd like to talk to you, for one."

Beruthiel snorted. "Can't you talk to me when I don't have work to do?" She took a sack out of her pack and opened it. A small bar of soap, a rough, round rock, and a scrubbing board came out of it.

"Alone," the elf clarified. He glanced at the assorted tools lying beside the water. "You carry all that?"

"Someone has to, don't they?" Beruthiel looked over to the three piles of clothes, then picked up Aragorn's tunic and carried it to the water with a wrinkled nose.

"Is that preference?" Legolas said with a grin. "Do your friends get the first laundry choice?"

"No," Beruthiel said with her tongue between her teeth. She soaked the garment in the icy water, then jumped back as it splashed on her. "It's just that he somehow manages to get the dirtiest and smelliest."

Legolas tipped his head to the side. "Accurate," he muttered. "Now, what can I do?"

"First," Beruthiel started, "you can bring the first lot here to the water." She critically eyed his clothing, still holding the side slit of her dress closed. "And you might want to roll your sleeves up, if you don't want to get them dirty."

Legolas nodded, rolling his sleeves up. He elegantly kneeled beside her, Aragorn's clothes in a pile beside him. "And what about that pretty dress of yours?" he idly said, dipping a bloody coat into the water. It turned a rusty red.

Beruthiel shrugged. "I couldn't care less about it. The sooner I'm out of this scrap of lace and into some decent clothes, the sooner I'll be happy."

Legolas snorted. "I never understand you humans. Half of you refuse to wear anything beautiful, and the other half will complain if their clothes aren't beautiful enough."

"That's because half of us are peasants, or have to do actual work, and the other half are stuffy nobles."

"Ah," Legolas nodded, then took the offered scrubbing rock. He tentatively poked the garment with it, then rubbed the rock against the cloth.