“Mroww?” said Dae, as she weaved in and out of the hem of Galadriel’s gown.  The Lady reached down and ran her slender hand along the plump cat’s head and down to its shoulders.  Dae arched her back and then with another meow threw herself against the Elven Queen’s leg. 

Cirdan chuckled softly and wondered if his cat’s grey hairs would cling to his guest’s raiment.  “Now, let me see,” he said, “I believe I have some most unusual gifts you could give Lord Celeborn for Yuletide.” 

He bade her come with him to a great hall.  To Galadriel, it resembled nothing so much as a trophy room, though she would never suggest anything so vulgar to her host.  From the far corner of his hall, Cirdan retrieved a brightly painted shield and elaborately decorated spear.  The arms were quite beautifully made and the Lady had never seen their like.  She expressed this to the shipwright and he seemed quite pleased that he had presented to her something outside of her experience. 

“I acquired these in the travels of my younger days,” he offered. “I sailed around the cape of Far Harad and journeyed to the lands South of there.  There in a kingdom of Men named Barund Dai, there dwelt together three different cultures of Men.  One group stood the same height as any other Men, but another stood only so tall as Dwarves, while a third…” he paused for dramatic effect, “stood taller even than Celeborn and myself.”

“Indeed, these are scaled to a warrior slightly taller than our people,” Galadriel said, admiring the sharpness of the spear’s blade.

“Why, Galadriel,” Cirdan replied with mock chagrin, “did you think I was lying to you?" 

“No, no of course not!” she defended herself.  “Oh, Cirdan these are wonderful.”  With spear in one hand and shield in the other, she took various defensive and offensive stances. 

“Perhaps I should have made a gift of them to you,” said Cirdan, fingering his beard. 

Galadriel laughed, a bit self-consciously, and then cut the air with a swish of the blade.  “Thank you, Cirdan!  Now, I have something for you to present to your Lady.”

Galadriel brought in a large package containing a pale pink silken negligee made by one of the few Easterling peoples of Rhun who were not hostile to the West.  The package also contained a matching robe, lavender in colour.  Both were of a somewhat short cut.  If the Elven sailor was of the race of Men he surely would have blushed.

“Galadriel…these are lovely.  I have never quite seen their like.”  He was clearly pleased. 

“I guessed correctly then, that not even you had traveled much in Orome’s old hunting grounds.”

“And I am sure I would not have known where to procure such garments if I had traveled there,” Cirdan replied.

“Mrrowww!” insisted a voice from below.  Galadriel looked down to see Dae peering up expectantly.

“Oh, and I have not forgotten Lord Cirdan’s other Lady,” said the Queen of Lorien.  So saying, she drew forth a mint-green bow with a ribbon attached. She stooped and fastened it comfortably about the cat’s neck. 

“I should like to see how long my tough old ship’s cat keeps that fancy thing on,” said a bemused Cirdan.  

“Meep!” said Dae, protesting his characterization of her as tough and old.  And it must be said, the bow stayed on Dae longer than the lingerie stayed on Cirdan’s wife once he had beheld her in it.          

The End