Glorfindel marches up and down the aisles, loudly ringing a bell. "Here ye, here ye! There is no intermission seven! Here ye, here-"

"Fin, what is the meaning of this racket?" Erestor grabs the bell from him. "What in Arda do you think you're doing."

"I am announcing to the ladies reading the story that there is no intermission seven," explains Glorfindel. Haldir marches up and grabs the bell from Glorfindel.

"I shall thank you to know these are MY ladies, and if anyone is to announce anything, it shall be ME." He clears his throat and prepares to ring the bell, but stops and looks over at Glorfindel. "Why is there no intermission seven?"

Glorfindel looks over his shoulder, where seven very tired authors are sleeping, curled up under the trees. "That's why."

"Then why in all of Imladris were you ringing a bell and shouting such news?! They are obviously tired, they do not need you – either of you – waking them up!" Erestor pulls the bell from Haldir's hands and tucks it into his robes. "I swear, sometimes I think neither of you has any commonsense for all your years."

"As warriors, we're not paid to have commonsense. That's your job," reminds Glorfindel.

"You are here to impart knowledge and wisdom. We're here to protect from orc attacks and make the ladies swoon," adds Haldir, puffing out his chest.

Erestor rolls his eyes, seeing someone off in the distance. "I thought there were only seven ladies writing."

The other two elves look to where Erestor is pointing. "Ah, could it be?" wonders Glorfindel.

"I believe we shall have to find out," grins Haldir.

"I wouldn't suggest…oh, never mind…" Erestor shakes his head. "They just won't listen."

As Haldir and Glorfindel approach the eighth lady, sitting innocently under a tree, a shadow suddenly looms over them. They swiftly turn around, looking nervously to one another. The elf says nothing, merely looking from one to the other.

"Your majesty…" stutters Haldir, bowing suddenly. "We were just…"

"Admiring the view…" says Glorfindel, most unconvincingly.

The elf narrows his eyes. His attention is caught by something behind the pair of elves, and Haldir and Glorfindel turn to see the lady give a small wave and smile to the elf confronting them. They turn back, fidgeting and looking rather pale.

"We just…thought we'd…go now…" Glorfindel finally manages. The elf gives a slight nod, and Glorfindel and Haldir scurry back to Erestor.

"And what have we learned?" questions Erestor.

"That Thranduil does not play well with others," mumbles Glorfindel. He is smacked on the head with the bell and snorts. "Not to try to take the toys of other elves without asking permission first."

"Very good," Erestor says. "Time now for a nap."

Will Haldir and Glorfindel get their bell back from Erestor? Will they make anyone swoon this afternoon? Will we ever find out who the mysterious eighth writer under the tree is? Well, yes, we will, because I already know who it is, she's written our epilogue for us, which was just completely and totally sweet of her, but we need to get the final chapter poster first, so you'll just have to wait for that…anyhow… Tune in later, dear readers, for the exciting CONCLUSION of..."All's Fair in Love and War"