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"Why camels?" the tall rider said irritably. "They are so uncomfortable! I much prefer horses!"

Next to him, his companion rolled his eyes. "You know full well that horses could not go this far, or endure such conditions! So stop complaining; we'll be there soon anyway!" he said.

"Good!" came the reply. "Apart from being uncomfortable, this smell is bloody awful! The sooner I'm rid of it the better!"

Slightly behind the bickering riders rode a third, who had tried to avoid the fighting by staying behind. Now, however, he spoke up, sighing softly. "Remind me again why I agreed to this?"

The other two turned to him, one arching a dark eyebrow at the question. "Because we are of the eldest and most respected," he said, in a remarkable imitation of the one who had sent them here.

The first of the riders snorted, in a most unbecoming manner. "Believe that and you'll believe anything! No one else would go!"

"It is a great honour to be chosen!" The dark-haired rider protested.

"Then why didn't They have us arrive closer to out destination?" The rider grumbled. "Instead of having us trek for miles, following *him*of all things!" He pointed up at the night sky, where a single star shone brightly. "Does he even know where he's going? It's not as if he gets out much!"

His dark haired companion visibly bristled. "Of course he knows where he's going! How could you doubt him?"

"Easily," the tall one muttered and then quickly rode ahead at the glare he received.

Backing off a bit more, the last of the party left them to it again.

He turned his own gaze to the star above. "You had *better* know where you're going," he muttered under his breath.

********************

Several hours later, the trio finally came upon their destination – a small town, ramshackle by their standards, but a welcome sight nonetheless.

"At last!" the tall rider was off his camel in an instant and rubbing his sore behind.

"Come, let's do what we came to do and then find food and a soft bed!" His eyes lit up at the prospect.

Getting off his own camel, the last of the riders finally rejoined the other two.

Glancing around the town, he shook his head. "I wouldn't count on that. The place looks pretty full to me."

"Typical," the dark figure muttered, "all this way and nowhere to rest." He sighed. "Let's get this done, then."

The other two nodded and they began to walk into the town, still following the bright star above them as it led them at last to their destination.

When they reached it, however, the dark-haired one was less than pleased.

"A stable?" he cried, outraged. "That is not a fitting place to birth a child!"

"Hush!" The quiet figure whispered. "We have arrived; behave yourselves!" he sighed. "Do you all have your gifts?"

They others nodded, though the first of them looked displeased. "I do not see why I have gold. Mithril is much more beautiful and valuable!"

The dark one groaned. "Didn't you listen to what we were told? The world does not have mithril any more!"

The other gave him a condescending look. "Then Men must be stupid indeed, to lose mithril!"

"Enough!" The last of them was sorely tired of the bickering. "We are going in *now*!" He glared at them and both had the grace to blush.

Then all three straightened up and schooled their expressions into serene masks as they slowly entered the stable, gifts in hand.

As they walked in, a young woman looked up, smiling in welcome, though she clearly did not know them. Behind her, a young man stood quietly, his hands on her shoulders.

"Welcome," she said softly, her hand on the manger in which her newborn son lay.

The three bowed deeply and the first of them stepped up. "Greetings, dear lady," h said. "I am Thranduil; my companions are Elrond and

Celeborn. We have come from far away to bestow these gifts upon your blessed child."

"Does he have to be so pompous?" Elrond muttered.

Celeborn shot him a look. "It's better than one of your dull speeches!" He hissed. "Now shut up!"

Elrond glared, but returned his attention to Thranduil, resolving to have words with Celeborn later.

"I bring you Gold, to signify the Kingship of your child," Thranduil said, handing the gift over and gesturing to the others.

"This is Frankincense, to show that your child is born of the One,"

Elrond told her as he placed it at her feet and moved aside for Celeborn.

"I give you Myrrh, to remind you that your son is still mortal and that this should never be forgotten," the silver lord said, smiling softly.

The gentle woman bestowed a smile upon them. "I thank you for your gifts and your words," she replied. "I promise I will not forget them."

The three Elven-lords smiled, all touched by the purity and serenity that the young woman radiated.

"Then we will take our leave," Thranduil said. "May your lives forever be blessed."

"I wish the same to you," she said, bowing her head to them. "Peace and thanks to you, my lords."

They stepped back, bowing once more before exiting the stable. The exit was not quite as grand as it might have been, though, for Elrond found himself trying to tug his cloak away from the mule which had started to chew on it without him noticing. Attempting to keep smiling, he bit back a curse as a large part ripped off and left swiftly, while Celeborn and Thranduil tried not to laugh.

As they walked away, Thranduil turned to Celeborn. "Tell me, do you really think this child can save the world of Men?" He asked.

Celeborn sighed. "You just don't get it, do you? This child is a gift of hope!"

Elrond smiled then, remembering another Hope, long ago. "That is a heavy burden to live with. Yet I have a feeling that he will do just fine."

"He had better do!" Thranduil retorted. "After all we've been through!"

Celeborn laughed. "Do not worry! I think Elrond is right – this night will not soon be forgotten!" He grinned. "Now, let's see about something to eat!"

The three walked off into the centre of the little town and as they did, Elrond, who was feeling in a much lighter mood, began to sing.

"We three kings of Valinor are,

Bearing gifts we travelled afar,

Field and fountain, moor and mountain,

Following Eärendil's star!

Oh, Oh…"

"Oh, do shut up, Elrond." Thranduil said. "No one sings rubbish like that."

Unfortunately, none of them noticed the Shepherds nearby, who thought that the song would be rather good, after a small change or two.

THE END