Counting Sheep

 

Elrond frowned at the ceiling. He looked at his watch.

"Five in the morning," he growled.

Why couldn't he get to sleep?

He had woken Glorfindel and Erestor already to ask for help. Glorfindel had suggested a bottle of Dorwinion or counting Balrogs.

Elrond declined both. Dorwinion gave him dreadful hangovers, and he didn't particularly feel like counting flaming demons, as he wasn't very sure about the method's efficacy.

Erestor, ever more practical, had suggested counting sheep. And this was what Elrond had been doing for the past six hours, thirty-eight minutes and five seconds, until he had realised that it wasn't helping and had left off at the one thousand, eight-hundred and ninety-sixth sheep (an animal with a more than usually vacuous expression on its face).

It had begun to get slightly crowded with all those sheep in his head anyway. He hadn't had the heart to get rid of any of them. He wondered how Erestor ever managed to get to sleep with the confounded creatures running around and bleating every time he closed his eyes.

Then again, he thought, Erestor didn't have as overactive an imagination as he did. He probably didn't see any sheep.

Elrond sighed. He would have hung his head if he hadn't been supine.

Was this the moment to be worried about sheep and Erestor, he asked himself, when the hours of night were ticking away and he would be forced to smile and get up in another hour?

No it wasn't, he replied.

He sighed again. Lecturing himself was very boring. He didn't get as cowed as other people he lectured. Elrond supposed that it had something to do with always knowing what he was going to say to himself next. If you already knew the content of the lectures, it took some of the sting out of it.

Elrond spent a happy moment reminiscing about the lyrical lectures that he gave the twins. They were masterpieces of literature, in his opinion. However, the effect was always spoilt somewhat by the fact that Celebrían 'consoled' the little brats with hugs, kisses and candy behind his back.

Even his happy thoughts, however, didn't distract him enough. He was still wide-awake and grumpy. Exceedingly grumpy.

And he had twenty minutes left.

Elrond looked at the ceiling. He imagined a large sheep.

"One!" he said.

He banished the sheep to the Land where Sheep are Eternally Blessed.

He imagined another sheep.

"Two!" he said triumphantly.

It bleated mournfully as Elrond stopped thinking about it.

The third sheep was a particularly mournful animal, the sort that always seems to be thinking that other sheep are having a better time, eating better grass and generally doing more. Elrond was quite happy to be rid of it.

 

*

 

"Don't you think we should call Father?" asked Elrohir, somewhat worried. "I mean, it’s lunchtime and we haven't seen a sign of him."

"Let him be," said Erestor. "I think he had a bad night."

"How do you know?" asked Elladan.

"He entered my room at two in the morning – in his pyjamas, I might add – and asked me how I went about getting to sleep."

"He did?" asked Elrohir.

Elladan raced upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

He entered Elrond's room.

Elrond was on his bed, looking peaceful and happy.

And fast asleep.

 

THE END