I still don't own anyone apart from my OC's (And you can have the teacher if you want her) and my profoundedest apologies to Celegorm and Curufin!

This chapter is rather bitty, as it's basically an amalgamation of different ideas we had. I've tried my best to put it into some sort of order, but it's in bits and pieces. Hope it's not impossible to follow!

SSSSSSSSSSSS indicates the start and end of flashbacks.

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A few days later, Jayne got the class a new guinea pig, as she had promised. The day that she delivered it, Alfie came home to announce that he thought she'd like the name they chose for it.

"Really?" she asked. "What was it?"

"Well," he replied, "I expected another Fuzzy, but…

SSSSSSSSSSSS

"So, class," said the teacher, retrieving the new guinea pig from under her desk and putting him back in his cage. "What shall we call the new guinea pig?"

There was a pause.

Then a voice from the back called, "Caranthir!"

Alfie twisted round in surprise. It was the boy who had said before that he liked orcs and that Caranthir had nearly killed. Under their stares, he added, "He was cool!"

SSSSSSSSSSSS

The guinea pig turned out to be quite friendly, and not at all like his namesake.

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Over the next few weeks, several people noticed a marked change in the games played by the boys in that particular class. At first glance, it was the usual chasing-one-another-with-sticks, but they were wielded as swords, rather than pointed with appropriate 'pow!' sound effects.

And one would always stretch his right sleeve over his hand, and carry his stick in the left hand, even if he was right handed.

When asked, they would natter away about who they were supposed to be, but the names were unfamiliar to many of the teachers and parents that asked. The idea that they were hunting orcs quite clearly came from Lord of the Rings, but the names… there were no Legolases here, no Aragorns. It was always 'Maedhros' or 'Celegorm' or 'Amras'.

Very strange indeed.

As time went by, people also began to notice that the teacher was growing increasingly nervous. The next year, a child that asked about Santa's elves reported that the teacher had made a little whimpering noise and glanced at the door, before saying in shaky tones that, well, not all elves worked for Santa.

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This, however, was all into the future. A few weeks after the appearance of the Seven Sons of Feanor, Jayne's phone rang.

"Hello?" she said, readying the Doom of Mandos in case of Salesmen. It was funny how fast they hung up when she recited the bit about Slain ye may be and slain ye shall be.

"Doctor Ashwood?" It was Alfie's teacher. Jayne felt almost disappointed as she put The Silmarillion down.

"Yes, what is it?"

"They came back!"

Jayne raised an eyebrow. She could easily guess who 'they' were. Well, if the teacher was making panicky phone calls, everything had clearly gone all right.

"Which ones? All of them?"

"No, just four."

"OK, which four?"

"The one you kept talking to, with only one hand, the one that took Fuzzy, and the ones that were rifling around in the cupboards."

"Maedhros, Caranthir, Celegorm and Curufin." Well, it could, conceivably have been worse. They might not have had Maedhros with them. "So what exactly happened. Take a deep breath and tell me the details."

"Well, it was very strange…

SSSSSSSSSSSS

There was a tentative knock at the door.

"Come in!" the teacher called, absentmindedly.

The door was pushed open and she looked up, then screamed, leaping behind her desk to hide.

"It's all right!" said Maedhros, waving his hand in a placating gesture as he came in. "I've brought them back." Three of his brothers joined him, one kicking the door shut behind him. All three of them looked decidedly mutinous. "And," said Maedhros firmly, "They're very sorry."

Silence. The teacher tried not to hyperventilate. Maedhros elbowed The one that took Fuzzy, muttering, "Moryo!"

Caranthir stepped forwards and muttered, "I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused, especially scaring the delusional little boy, and I promise to take good care of Fuzzy." He spoke as though reciting a lesson learned by heart.

"Right," said Maedhros, and continued in firm tones, "Now go and wait outside the door…" He pointed. "Where I can see you!"

Caranthir left and went to lean against the wall outside the open door.

"Now you two."

The other two glanced at one another, at Maedhros, at the teacher, and at the floor.

"Go on!"

Slowly and resentfully, the two elves began retrieving from their pockets several small objects that had been missed over the last couple of weeks, and placing them on the teacher's desk. When they had returned several pencils and erasers, a paintbrush and one of the rakes from the sandpit, they stopped and stood with folded arms and closed faces.

"Is that all?" asked Maedhros, raising an eyebrow.

After a pause, Curufin put a pot of play-doh on the desk.

"Turko?"

Celegorm retrieved another pencil from his boot.

"That's the lot?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, there was all that stuff we got in that room on the way out…"

Maedhros sighed, casting his eyes skyward. "What is it with you two and cutlery?" He grimaced at the teacher and confided, "You can't take these three anywhere without having to go back, apologise, and return the cutlery!"

He bowed to her, the herded his brothers out. She could hear his voice raised in reproach and complaint all the way down the corridor in the direction of the canteen, though she couldn't make out the words; they were in a foreign language.

Now that she thought about it, she did remember the canteen supervisor complaining that numerous items of cutlery had gone missing in the last couple of weeks.

SSSSSSSSSSSS

… And they just vanished off down the corridor," the teacher finished.

Jayne nodded, stifling her laughter behind a hand. This was not the image most people pictured when they thought of the fearsome kinslayers.

"Well, I think I can safely say that you should have seen the last of them."

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"Honestly," muttered Maedhros, storming along the deserted corridor. "I do not understand what sort of crazed fetish you two have for cutlery. Ever since…" He glanced back at them. "Do you realise how much explaining father and I had to do that time? Manwe's best cutlery, which Aule made for him, on the instructions of Varda, for their anniversary! And what do you two do?"

Curufin said something breathless. Maedhros' superior height came from long legs, which gave him a very fast walk. His brothers were almost running.

"Only go and steal it!" Maedhros answered his own question. "It's like being the brother of a pair of magpies. I'm surprised that there was anything left for Glaurung, after you two had been through Nargothrond."

"Well," said Celegorm, "Under the circumstances…"

"I've spoken to you about that before. Only be grateful that I didn't send the pair of you back in person to apologise. For once it wasn't Moryo. Fortunately for you both I do value you enough not to want you shot dead by Nargothrond's archers."

"Thanks," drawled Curufin.

"You're welcome." Maedhros looked around. "Where did you get that cutlery, anyway?"

"Down here." Celegorm led the way. Maedhros soon overtook him.

"If father had known you half as well as I do, he wouldn't have dragged us all the way to Middle-earth without first making the pair of you turn out your pockets!"

"But we were out riding with you at the time!" cried Curufin, getting the reference.

"Hasn't stopped you before."

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Two years after the incident, when most people had forgotten the strange stories that had circulated for a while, (including the attorneys of one woman that had tried to sue the school after, allegedly, seven armed madmen had burst into the classroom and tried to murder her son), there was a news story concerning the school.

Alfie had left by this time; Jayne had decided that she was tired of teachers she considered semi-literate and had found him a new school. Nonetheless, she was shocked and horrified when she turned on the evening news bulletin and heard that the school had been burned down by an unknown arsonist.

Apparently the man, described as being tall, with black hair, dressed in a medieval-type costume complete with chain mail and weapons, had entered a class in the middle of a lesson and demanded "Some things that he called 'sill mar ills'. He had escaped the security guard that had been called in to remove him pending the arrival of the police, then had set fire to one of the basement storerooms. Fortunately, the school had been speedily evacuated and nobody was hurt. The police were calling for anyone who might know anything about the man's identity and whereabouts to contact them.

Jayne turned off the television and took a long sip of coffee.

She, of course, recognised the description, and briefly considered going to the police, but decided against it. The idea of telling a sceptical policeman that this crime had been committed by a fictional character did not appeal; they'd never, ever take her seriously.

"Curufinwe Feanaro," she muttered. "Mostly known as Feanor."

………………………

"I wouldn't mind so much," muttered Maedhros. "But we didn't go anywhere near the canteen."

THE END

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