A/N:  Sorry for the teaser!  This has been such a bad year that my writing has fallen off considerably; I figured a weekly deadline would galvanize my sluggish muse, and besides being held accountable (even in cyberspace) is good for everyone.  I hope you enjoy this next foray into the Green Knight universe ... I'm having fun writing it! -- Le Rouret

Fastred had achieved but twelve summers – indeed he was looking forward with great eagerness to his thirteenth, a propitious number, he thought, and promising much fun and distraction upon the banks of the River with his friend Halgond – when he discovered that to be the eldest son of the Prince of Ithilien was even more a burden than he had previously suspected.  He had as a small boy never been completely resigned to his fate, one of pomp and ceremony in which he was forced to wear elaborate and uncomfortable clothes, and eat oddly-prepared foreign foods on gold-rimmed platters, and listen to portly grown-ups make tiresome and protracted speeches, and sit in the far corner of the great ballroom while old ladies in stiff brocade dresses pinched his cheeks and called him "cunning."  It all seemed like such nonsense to him, to prattle on about money and crops and letters and taxes, when there were right outside the city walls horses to ride, rocks to throw, streams to explore, ducks to chase and fish to catch.  He would much rather have spent the time with Halgond, who was a year his senior in age, and lived in a small house by the outer city wall overlooking the north hook of the river.  Halgond was, he was sure, a superior companion to any of his noble parents' acquaintances (barring of course Lord Lassah of Dol Galenehtar, who was good as a boy most of the time, when he was not required to act like a grown-up), and in Fastred's point of view it was preferable to avoid those social functions to the best of his ability.

However, as he grew older he discovered to his further displeasure that his presence was expected in more feasts, more receptions, more functions than before; his sister Hísimë did not seem to mind, possessing a more docile nature and more interest to the fashions of the court, but poor Fastred, being a boy (and a bold and adventuresome one at that), found them terribly dull, though he was always careful never to say so in company.  Those complaints he saved for Halgond when they played together, and for his youngest sibling Théodred, though to be sure Théodred was quite small, and not much good at anything yet, save stealing sweets from the kitchen, and holding his tongue, which so endeared him to his family he was more a pet than even their pretty blond sister.

Fastred had great plans for that summer.  He and Halgond had inherited Halgond's uncle's old skiff, and after patching a few holes in the bottom, and repairing the makeshift sail, and bartering Fastred's father's old fur cloak for two mismatched oars from one of the west bank boatmen (Fastred assured Halgond that his father would never miss it), he and his friend had drawn up a little chart of the river near Osgiliath, and marked with ink on this map where they might go in their new vessel.  The more they planned the more elaborate the arrangements became – they would take the skiff round about the entire city – they would take it down to the west bank – they would take it to Dol Galenehtar's docks up the eastern estuary and visit the Elves – they would take it downriver to the docks at Minas Tirith – they would borrow tents and bedrolls and sail down to the Pelennor to fish and camp – by the time two weeks had passed they were contemplating rowing upriver to Cair Andros, though Halgond thought perhaps that might be beyond even their abilities.  But Fastred and Halgond were yet young, and had – or so they thought – the whole world at their feet; there was nothing (barring parental disapproval) to keep them from carrying out their happy scheme, and so Fastred watched the waning of the spring and the planting of the fields with mounting excitement.

The disastrous news that so disrupted his plans for a jolly summer upon Halgond's little skiff descended on Fastred's head one warm night whilst dining with his family.  They were alone save for the valets, and Fastred was quite happy with that; it was one of his favorite things to do, to sit upon the low balcony over the walls of Osgiliath overlooking the river, with no visiting lords and ladies or other such dignitaries around whom he must needs guard his tongue, watching the reflection of the torches on the undulating water being split and shattered by the paddling of the ducks and grebes and geese, listening to the low mournful cries of the owls and herons among the dark trees and reeds at the River's edge, and the ting and clang of the bells above them in their campaniles, and the occasional shout of laughter, or sudden happy speech of his Lord Father's servants in the rooms below them.  They did not have to wear their good clothes then, which Fastred thought quite fine, for his dress doublet pinched so about the shoulders, and the collar scratched him.  He was far more comfortable in his old brown tunic, though he was not averse to admiring his mother in her simple blue gown, her golden hair wound about her head like a living coronet; Fastred was convinced his mother was the loveliest lady in all Osgiliath, an opinion shared by his father, who seemed to take every bit as much pleasure watching his lady as did his eldest son.  The valet had just served the fish, pointing out with a sly wink to Fastred's Lady Mother that it was the selfsame trout her son had caught that morning – Fastred had stared at the fish, cheeks flaming; it did no longer resemble the bright, flashing, flopping thing in his bucket that he had so proudly presented to the cook downstairs; it was filleted and herb-speckled and swimming in hot butter; he was both pleased and embarrassed to have his parents know he had been mucking about in a skiff like a common fisherman.  But his Lord Father had smiled, and his Lady Mother had laid a hand on Fastred's arm, gently remonstrating:  "There, Fastred; it is no shameful thing for the lord of the land to bring the fruits of his labors to the table; why, does not your Lord Father go with the huntsmen betimes and provide us with our venison?" At that reminder Fastred's mortification had melted away, and with a lighter heart he fell to the trout, which was, he congratulated himself privately, very good.  After the valet had refilled his parents' goblets with sweet wine, and reassured himself the three children were well provided with milk, he had retired back to the kitchens, and then Fastred's Lord Father had given his wife a careful look, and turned upon his eldest son and said:

"Fastred, my son, after much discussion and thought, your Lady Mother and I have determined you shall go to Rohan to live with your uncle the King."

A silence fell about the small table then; Fastred, frozen in the midst of bringing a forkful of flaky fish to his mouth, sat gawping, staring at his father; Hísimë gave a startled squeak, quickly muffled, then covered her lips with her serviette, blue eyes wide; Théodred looked from one sibling to another, his little brows pinched over his eyes, wondering why going to see Uncle Éomer would be so horrible, and why his brother's face had gone so pale.  Éowyn their mother glanced thoughtfully at her husband, her gray eyes troubled; she placed one white hand upon Fastred's shoulder.

"Did you not attend unto your Lord Father, my son?" she asked, her voice careful.  "And do not sit so gaping like the fish upon which we feed; it is unbecoming."

Fastred's fork, still full of fish, clattered upon the porcelain plate, spraying herbed butter over the white tablecloth.  "But I do not want to live in Rohan!" exclaimed Fastred, his heart starting to beat very fast, though it felt heavy and cold to him, sitting in his chest.  "I want to live here in Osgiliath, which is my home!"

"We have conversed upon this topic before, my son," said Faramir firmly, putting his own fork down upon his plate and fixing Fastred with a resolved yet sympathetic eye.  "You are the heir to the throne of Rohan, the country of your mother's people.  As there is no heir at Meduseld to carry on your uncle's line this duty and privilege falls to you."

"To me and to Théodred, you said!" cried Fastred, feeling his throat tighten.  He remembered the conversation of course – remembered listening to his Lord Father's long and rather involved explanation about birthrights and distaff lines and dynastic changes – but it had been so long ago, several months in fact, and he had thought his father in silence had dismissed the subject.  The thought that what had been simply discussed would in fact be carried out was appalling to Fastred.  It had been bad enough to contemplate the issue, and he had cherished secret hope that his father would relent.  The thought of leaving Gondor, and studying to become king over a foreign country -- !  It made Fastred's eyes burn.  But he would not cry – he would not!  He was twelve, and the son of the Prince of Ithilien; twelve-year-old sons of princes did not cry at the dinner table.  He swallowed heavily and said, "Father, you said we were both princes and of the line of Éomund and either of us would do – "

"And after discussing you both we have chosen you," said Faramir.  "We have also heard from your royal uncle, and he said the situation calls for more speed and less temperance; he has need of you now."  He gave his stricken son a kind look.  "You are older than Théodred, and have had much more schooling – "

"But he is only five!" protested Fastred, his voice rising in agitation.  "He has not had time yet – "

"Fastred!"  Éowyn's voice was sharp as a knife, and her eyes flashed with anger.  "Do you not quarrel with your Lord Father; such speech is unfitting his rank, and yours also."

Abashed by his mother's censure before his siblings, Fastred dropped his face in his hands, his ears flaming.  Through the fingers pressed into his ears he could hear his father speaking, though his voice was muffled somewhat through Fastred's attempts to block out his voice.  "You are, as I have said, my son, Théodred's elder; you have achieved almost to thirteen summers, and have grown tall; also have you excelled at the many subjects your tutors have given to you; you keep books, and read and write, and as to the art of warcraft you are young yet for a warrior but your skills bespeak great promise.  Your studies in the realm of affairs of state are advanced for one of your years and you are both decisive and tractable.  King Éomer had need of an heir such as you; he did say to us he would be proud to have you as his successor."

Fastred said nothing for a moment, breathing hard as though he had been running; he was very frightened, because he did not want to leave his family; he had hoped Théodred being named for the old king's son would be chosen.  After all Théodred was as golden-haired as his mother; Fastred was dark, as befit a child of Gondor.  His father's accolades comforted him not, for thirteen summers or no, he felt very young, and very ill-equipped to be king over a country in which he had never lived, only visited on occasion, and he did not want to leave his family in this manner, to never return save for periodic visits; also he regretted his friend Halgond, and puttering about on his small boat; what would he tell Halgond when he heard the news?  He could not bear it – to leave his beloved house, his mother and father, his siblings and friends!  And to go to that great howling land, with its folded and furrowed fields of grass, the cold blasting wind and shallow winding rivers, the strange mountains and treeless hills!  Even the people there did not speak his tongue; how could he govern a people he did not understand?  He was silent so long that Théodred began to fidget on his high chair, kicking his small shoes against the footrest, and after a moment his mother spoke; her voice was gentle, but still adamant.  "Well, my son?" she said, and Fastred could hear the steel therein.  "Your Lord Father has given to you high praise unsolicited; have you naught to say to him then?"

Fastred, for he had been raised properly, mumbled through his fingers:  "Thank you, Lord Father."

"My son," said Faramir, and Fastred felt his father's hands on him then, strong but tender, pulling Fastred's fingers wet with tears from his face.  "Ah," said his father, sounding sad; "do not weep, O my son; I did not mean for you to believe you should leave us alone and forthwith!  It was not my intent to throw you out of doors with naught on your back but your tunic.  I am not so harsh as that, you know."

"I know, Father," said Fastred; he gulped back his tears and fought to keep his lips from wobbling.  "But – " he paused, glancing at his mother, who though clement still had steel in her eyes.

"Speak, my son," said Faramir gently, and Fastred turned to him instead, looking up into his father's kind dark face.  His Lord Father had always been gentle with him, at times indulging him so that his Lady Mother would reprimand them both for their caprices, yet he was steadfast in his decisions; Fastred knew that once his father had made up his mind, it was Death or Catastrophe changed it … and betimes the latter would not work, either.  Yet remembering his father's kindness he took his courage in his hands, mustered his manners, and spoke.

"This is my home," he said, and cursed his voice for shaking; how could he expect his father to listen to him if he sniveled and sobbed like a little boy?  He had to sound reasonable, grown-up, logical.  He swallowed and said, his voice a little steadier:  "I do not know the language in Rohan, I do not know the people, I do not know the land.  I am not even of Rohan, Lord Father; I am of Gondor.  I do not want to leave you and Mother and Hísimë and Théodred and … and … "  He faltered then, because Hísimë had given a low sob; Fastred hoped her grief would sway his parents, and despite the wry look his father was giving him ploughed on:  "… and I am not old enough, and I do not want to go so far away, and – "  In sudden inspiration he said, "And I do not want to leave Lord Lassah – I mean, Lord Legolas – "  He glanced over at his mother, whose lips were pressed in a thin line.  "For Lord Lass – Legolas – said I am coming along quite well in the bow, and the lute, and he hopes to teach me the halberd when I am stronger, and I will not remember my Elvish if I leave – "

"Enough," said Faramir, and he and Éowyn exchanged odd looks; Fastred thought perhaps they looked as though they were going to laugh, but as the situation was so serious he was certain he was mistaken; perchance they were so cross with him they could not arrange their facial features in repose.  Had he said too much?  He bowed his head and stared at his plate, at the white trout congealing in the butter, and wondered if they had trout in Rohan, and if it was any bit as good as Anduin trout.  He doubted it very much.  "We know the difficulties attendant upon you with our decision," his Lord Father was saying, gentle but firm.  "Do you not suppose your Lady Mother had the selfsame quandary, coming from her home in Meduseld to dwell with me in Ithilien?  There were obstacles and conundrums aplenty – "  Now his father did smile, and turned to his wife; her lips twitched as she met his gaze.  "Remember, beloved, when the Lord of Erui rebuked you for wearing a riding-skirt upon the lawns of Minas Tirith?  It was during that luncheon-party, to welcome the delegation from Belfalas, as I recall. He had expected a meek answer from a young woman of Gondor, but that is not what he received from you, is it?"

Now Éowyn did smile, though her cheeks turned pink at the recollection.  "Ah!" she said.  "Yes, I do recall dredging my memory for the proper expletives.  Undómiel was mortified, though of course she is far too polite to show it; even the ladies of the court were disapproving.  I did not know at the time that such language was not commonly used in Gondor, particularly amongst high-born women, for I had been but six or seven months here."

"O Mother, you did not!" exclaimed Hísimë, shocked and indignant; she had definite ideas about such things as comportment and propriety and conducted her small self with enough decorum to suit a queen mother.  Fastred, though he did not share his sister's fascination for protocol, nevertheless stared at his Lady Mother in consternation, trying to imagine poor Queen Undómiel's dilemma, and the general embarrassment engendered by such a social gaffe.  Éowyn turned her eyes upon her son; he was relieved to see she had recovered her humor; in fact she seemed both abashed and amused by the reminiscence.

"I did," she said solemnly, looking about the table at her little ones.  "And, my children, did I spend much of the following days composing letters of apology, and creeping in my mortification about the halls of the palace.  I had never offended so many people in public at once; there were, if I remember properly, well over forty folk in attendance, and it is a credit to my brother's tutelage I managed to save much time and effort, and to affront all in one blow."

"They were not all affronted, my bride," said Faramir smiling.  "Remember you well that Legolas laughed."

"Aye, he did, did he not?" said Éowyn thoughtfully, picking up her goblet of wine and taking a sip.  "Laughed long and loudly, and clapped his hands; Lady Mithdael was most offended at him.  I do not, however, recall him writing letters of apology."

They both chuckled then, and exchanged fond looks; on most occasions watching his parents act in this way gave Fastred great pleasure, for he basked in the love and affection his mother and father had for one another; yet now he was too trammeled up inside to give it much notice, and thought upon what his mother had said, that she had embarrassed herself in her new land, and had been forced to write letters of apology.  Fastred hated apologizing and the thought of having to beg the pardon of the entire nation of Rohan for some inadvertent insult was overwhelming.  He did not want to move to Rohan and risk that – it had been bad enough last winter, having to stammer an apology to Lady Lalanath of Amon Din for spilling red wine on her pretty silver gown; how horrible it would be, to have to apologize to an entire assembly!  He could not do it – he would not.  Somehow his mother and father must be convinced to send Théodred.  He looked at his younger brother then, at the curve of his little mouth, still dimpled and babyish, and at his fat little hands clutching his wooden spoon and trying to put a piece of fish in his mouth.  As Fastred watched, the fish fell off the spoon and landed on the linen beside Théodred's plate; undeterred by this social blunder the little boy simply picked up the fish in his fingers, placed it back upon the spoon, and put it in his mouth.  His feet in their small shoes were swinging back and forth beneath the table, for unlike Fastred he was not tall enough to reach the floor, and as he ate he watched the proceedings with innocent disinterest.  Fastred swallowed.  No, Théodred was far too little to go to Rohan; he would not understand what was expected of him; besides which if Théodred left, Hísimë would pine, and Fastred had a secret horror of ever hurting his pale thin sister like that.  Poor Hísimë had not been quite right since two winters before, when the horrible ague had stricken the city, and so many had died amongst the children and elderly; Lord Lassah had taken the children of the Prince of Ithilien himself, nursing them in his private quarters, feeding them broths and applying poultices and giving them tonics until the danger had passed.  Fastred remembered clearly how tiny Théodred had looked, round cheeks flushed by his fever, lying listlessly upon Lord Lassah's lap while the Elf sang to him and brushed back the flossy curls with his long white hands. And how ill Hísimë had been, for weeks past the day she ought to have recovered; at times the fever drove her to delusions, and only Théodred's presence and voice would soothe her, as he curled beside her burning body in Lord Lassah's big canopied bed, putting his little hands round his sister's fingers.  Fastred shuddered at the memory – no, he could not send Théodred to Rohan!  What would Hísimë do; what would his mother and father do, without Théodred?  Fastred swallowed hard and decided that, if his parents would not bend in sending him to Uncle Éomer, he would never try to convince them to send Théodred in his stead.  Then he realized his mother was speaking, and he had been so absorbed in his thoughts he had not attended to her; startled he looked up, to find her eyes upon him, and upon her face was a look of both sympathy and resolve.

"Any change is difficult, and we find other lands and peoples passing strange, despite our love for them, and our determination to dwell with them," she was saying; Fastred noted with a pang that his Lord Father held her hand tight, and wondered if he would some day be constrained to wed a foreign bride, and if it would be awful, or if his marriage would fall into pleasant lines, as had his mother and father's.  "But by our birthrights and our lines we have both privilege and duty accorded us, in equal portions; to date you have been enjoying but the privilege of your birth, the wealth and honor attendant to your rank and position; now however do the duties of your royal family press upon you, and your uncle has desperate need of you.  You are not solely of Gondor, O my firstborn," she said, leaning forward and taking his chin in her fingers; Fastred felt her tip his face up to his, and he was struck anew by his mother's beauty; could there be ladies in Rohan to rival this?  "The blood of Eorl the Young flows in your veins, commingled with the line of the Stewards of the White Tower.  Your ancestry is noble and honorable, whether on your Lord Father's side, or upon mine.  Until now you have been but a son of Gondor; that is only half of your legacy."  She smiled then, her eyes shining.  "Take you up this honor, my firstborn; succor mine own people, and give to them a hope and a future, for this is the debt of your blood, and the will of the royal house of Rohan."  She released him then and sat back, and Fastred, feeling as though his head had been turned in on itself, could say nothing.  In fact he remained silent throughout the rest of the meal, ignoring his sister's pleading looks, and his parents' quiet talk, eating little; when at last he was excused from table he went not to the dock below the kitchens, where waited Halgond his friend with the boat, but to his rooms, where he lay on his cot for some time, his face buried in his arms.

He could not send Théodred to Rohan; his mother and father would not relent; he himself would be sent.  He would leave his beloved chambers, with his toys and scrolls and books, and the wolf-skin rug by the fire that Lord Lassah had given him; he would leave Halgond and Hísimë and Théodred and his mother and father; he would leave Osgiliath and its high walls from which he would look to the west, and see the tower of Ecthelion shining against Mindolluin, or to the east and see the gold-tipped tower of Dol Galenehtar piercing a living canopy of green; he would leave his tutor, and the servants, and the man who sold bread from his cart in the early morning who made such splendid sticky-rolls; he would leave the high pines where he and Halgond would climb, and the low hills east of the river where he and his friends would play, and the armory, and the olive groves and vineyards and wheat fields.  He held back his tears, reminding himself that sons of princes did not cry, and consoled himself by saying:  "Well at least I shall not have to leave my Karakse."  Karakse was his gelding, given him by Lord Lassah four years before; he was next to Halgond Fastred's best and closest companion, for like Halgond he was loyal and possessed of good temperament and bravery (and slightly oversized); however unlike Halgond he had no especial lineage save he was a half-blood horse of Dale; Halgond was the second son of Hallas of Lossarnach and failed not in reminding all and sundry of this; at least Karakse comported himself in all humility.

Upon considering Karakse Fastred paused; the poor beast was unlike the horses of Rohan, which were small and swift; Karakse though a brave and powerful beast was large as his sire, and though quicker than most of the Dale beasts as befit his dam did not resemble his uncle's stock in the slightest.  He had long powerful legs, streaked with muscle, and hooves obscured by rich silky feathering, and his face was hooked not dished; he was placid in temperament and tireless, but fully twice the size of his mother's horse, which was of the royal stables of Meduseld.  He thought of a group of pale-haired Rohan boys circling his Karakse and laughing in their strange tongue at him, and his heart hardened.  He might be resigned to going to Rohan but he would not let the Rohirrim laugh at his horse!  He would rather leave Karakse in Ithilien than to subject him to such treatment.

But what would he do with his steed?  He could not leave him in Osgiliath; who would ride him?  Halgond had his own horse, a sturdy cow-hocked roan, and his aunt would have no room in her stables for another.  Also Karakse due to his great size ate at least twice as much as Halgond's Speckle; Fastred was coming of an age to understand that though his friend's line was noble that in no way meant he had as much money as Fastred did, and he rather suspected Halgond's aunt could no more feed Karakse than an additional herd of sheep.  Fastred sighed.  He would have to send poor Karakse back to Lord Lassah; at least he knew Tyarmayél the stable-mistress would care well for him.  Lord Lassah would be disappointed, but –

Fastred sat up so abruptly his head spun.  His heart clenched within him and he began to feel both excited and afraid.  Dol Galenehtar!  He had solved his problem.  He would not have to go to Rohan.  He would not have to leave Ithilien.  He would not have to leave his friends and family.  He would not have to abandon Karakse.  And he would not have to leave Lord Lassah!  It was so simple!  Why had he not arrived at this solution before?  Lord Lassah loved him; that he well knew.  Lord Lassah opened his doors to all travelers and wanderers; Fastred knew that, too.  Lord Lassah was only a half-day's ride away … by that time, Fastred knew that fact very well.  Since infancy had Fastred gone to visit Lord Legolas of Dol Galenehtar, called by Fastred, Hísimë and Théodred "Lord Lassah" (though their Lady Mother tried with increasing frustration to make them call him by his proper name); in Lord Lassah's towers were many rooms, filled with marvelous things – large curved fireplaces with white marble mantles; huge gilt-framed mirrors bezelled about the edges that threw rainbows about the walls; shelves filled with books and scrolls and maps; and outside the towers were gardens with hidden fountains and herbs and peacocks; stables smelling of sweet hay and horses; kennels with dogs that snuffed at one's trousers and thrust wet noses in one's hands; hills green in summer to roll down, till one was covered in grass-stains, and white in winter to sled down, till one was covered in snow; and trees – trees by the thousands, hoary oaks, slim lindens, bristling firs, stalwart pines, standing about streams and waterfalls and rock outcroppings that hid badgers and rabbits and, on the rare and exciting occasion, skunks.  And Elves!  Dol Galenehtar was full of them – merry-voiced, bright-eyed, quick-tongued, beautiful Elves, and Lord Lassah their Master, who called him either "Lord Fastred" or "Little One," and took him as seriously as he took the mortal adults of his acquaintance – thus, not at all  -- yet sparred with him in the armory, or helped him win snowball-fights, or rode with him into the woods and taught him the names of the trees and shrubs, or how to imitate bird calls, or took him down to the kitchens to find something good to eat at hours when most little boys ought to have been asleep in bed.  Some of Fastred's happiest moments were at Dol Galenehtar, particularly when he was not constrained to share Lord Lassah with Hísimë (who wanted to brush his hair) or Théodred (who wanted to play hide-and-seek) – when it was simply Lassah and Fastred, sipping honeysuckle, skipping stones, sharpening hunting-knives, practicing marksmanship upon the wide green lawn to the east of the Great Tower, lying in his cot listening to Lassah read to him old tales of war and bravery and errantry, or – best still – being allowed to sleep in Lassah's own bed, wrapped in the soft fragrant sheets and watching beneath heavy lids the Elf's slim tall form upon the balcony, shining hair twining in the shifting breeze, lifting his hands to the stars as he would sing Fastred to sleep.

Fastred lay back down on his bed and began to think about what he should bring with him.  He only hoped he could slip away with no one noticing.

When one is raised by a Ranger of Ithilien, and when one's mother is a Shieldmaiden of Rohan, and furthermore when one's most cherished adult companion is a Wood-Elf with many centuries of war and privation beneath his belt, one has a better sense of travel preparation than the average child; thus Fastred found himself two mornings after that fateful dinner with his small satchel packed, his escape route premeditated, and his dream of freedom firmly entrenched.  He had taken stock of the situation, and carefully planned out what he would need for his day's journey, whether things went well or ill; he had surreptitiously secreted bread and cheese beneath his tunic and smuggled them up to his room; he had filled his travel flask with clean water and sharpened the dagger his sister Hísimë had given him; he had most circumspectly tested his tinder-box and bow-string; he had collected all the spare arrows he could find, including some from his Lord Father's private stock (he knew well they would function, for had not he inherited his father's bow from when he was a child?); he had packed his small bed-roll; he had even fed Karakse extra from the grain box to compensate the steed for a day's ride and checked and polished all his tack.  He had, for he was an orderly boy, thought of writing out this list and ticking his tasks off one by one, but he possessed a secret horror of anyone ascertaining his plot, and thus in the dark hours of the night he could be found reciting his errands one by one, anxiously double-checking to be sure he had missed nothing.

He considered leaving a note telling his parents where he was going, but then bethought to himself perhaps they would pursue him, either with a guard or by themselves (the former alternative would be degrading; the latter, terrifying); so he decided he would leave the telling up to Lord Lassah, who surely would write to them upon Fastred's arrival, saying he had their son, who had sought asylum within Dol Galenehtar's walls, and would succor and protect him from any harm.  Indeed Fastred's secret thoughts concerning this were quite elaborate; he saw himself riding post-haste toward the Elven citadel, with guards holding wide the gates and cheering him on; he further saw himself approaching Lord Lassah's dais, grandly throwing back his travel-stained cloak, his hand on his dagger, whilst Elves in bright array stood respectfully by; he heard himself give his oft-rehearsed speech:  "I claim sanctuary behind your noble walls, and beg indulgence and protection from harm."  And then would Lord Lassah with tears in his eyes approach him, embracing him and calling him "son," and order a great feast be prepared for the brave young lord who had in desperation called upon his dearest friends, and then – well, by that point in Fastred's fantasies he had drifted off to sleep, so that he never got to eat his dream-feast, which disappointed him, for the cooks and pantries and cellars of Dol Galenehtar were the stuff of legend and all who sojourned in that land found themselves upon leaving a good two stone the heavier.

He had thought at first to leave at night when all in the palace slept, but realized after due reflection that such an act would immediately arouse suspicion should he be seen; he therefore resolved to leave in that magical hour betwixt the valet's waking him with a hot breakfast and his tutor's arrival. He judged that if he ate quickly, he might have a full hour and a half with which to secure his departure before Iordred came in with his books and scrolls, and had arranged within his mind what he would say, should anyone question him:  "I am only going for a ride on Karakse before my lessons; it is so fine a morning."  Fortunately for Fastred the day he had chosen for his removal was fine indeed; the sun had yet to peer over the craggy peaks of the Ephel Dúath but the sky was pearly blue and streaked with golden clouds, and there was a fresh wind blowing up from the south.  Fastred peered out his bedroom window, his heart full of mingled excitement and shame; now that the time had come to leave, he was not so certain he wanted to; how could he leave behind his family and his friends and his city?  "I must be resolved," he told himself firmly, pushing the traitorous thoughts down, and seating himself at his little table he quickly ate his breakfast, though upon reflection slipped some extra slices of toast and rashers in his serviette for later.

When the valet had collected his tray and gone Fastred pulled out his sack from beneath his cot.  In it he had packed his good doublet and extra linens; his favorite book, which Lord Lassah had given him, The Valaquenta; a marvelous collection of animal's teeth that he had gotten from Halgond the previous winter; his stolen food; several gold coins and twelve silver pieces wrapped in a chamois cloth; his tinder-box; and lastly a striped rock flecked with glittery bits that Théodred had found by the river, and in an act of profound selflessness presented to his beloved brother.  Beneath Fastred's riding cloak (a gift from his mother, with a brass horsehead clasp holding it beneath his chin) he secreted his bow and arrow, though he hung his dagger and flask upon his belt, reasoning no one would question their presence there.  When he was done he stood before the cheval glass and straightened his brown tunic.  He did not look so bad, he thought; no one would ever guess he was planning to run away; he looked only like a boy out for a morning ride.  He was pleased with his preparations and truly believed he could not but succeed.  Yet despite his resolve and anticipation he was afflicted with a deep sadness, for that he loved the most was what he turned his back upon – his family and home; he hoped they would understand, though he was fairly certain that they would not.  After all, what could parents understand, who willingly let go their eldest child to the wilds of the North?  No, his Lord Father and Lady Mother would not understand; therefore there was no use in trying to explain himself.  With a sad sigh he opened the door of his room and slipped out.

No one challenged him in the halls of the palace; he saw but few servants, and those were engaged in their morning rituals of the sweeping out of fireplaces, the laying down fresh of rushes, and the carrying of meals hither and yon.  To his relief he did not see anyone from his family, for he knew that if he once laid eyes upon them he would crumble, and he had planned too much to let such weak feelings be his ruin.  So with his heart in his throat he traversed the dark back stairs to the door leading out to the east courtyard; only a few chickens were out, having already broken their fast; they regarded the boy with looks of beady-eyed contempt and let him hurry past on the dew-slicked stone.

Hoping the groomsmen were busy elsewhere, Fastred went to the stables, trying hard not to run; he did not want to attract any undue attention.  He let himself in through the back door and took a deep breath; he loved the smell of hay and horses and other such homely scents, and a rich golden light filtered through the barred windows, calming his heart; he could hear the other horses shuffling about in the hay, or nickering to one another. He passed through the hall, sparing a quick scratch between the eyes for his sister's mare Goermeril, who looked at him in surprise over her gate; then Fastred opened the door to Karakse's stable.  Windfola, his Lady Mother's first destrier, raised his head over his own door and watched him with dull eyes; he was very old, and had long since been relegated to a warm hayrick in winter and a quiet pasture in summer.   Karakse seemed very strong and hale indeed by comparison; he pricked up his ears when Fastred entered, and came forward eagerly, snuffing and nudging at Fastred's tunic in search of some sweet thing for him to eat.  Fastred absently petted the horse's nose, and taking him by the halter led him from the stable to the front room.  His horse's huge hooves clattered loudly on the stone floor, kicking up old straw and musty dirt; he hoped the groomsmen were not about.  "I really have no other option open to me," he said to himself again, fighting back a growing feeling of shame; "I must not go to Rohan, and I cannot stay here; Dol Galenehtar is mine only choice."  He began to be afraid someone would come, so he tacked Karakse as quickly as possible, his hands shaking; when a mourning dove hooted dolefully in one of the dovecotes he jumped, his heart hammering.  At last Karakse was ready; he had on bridle and saddle and numnah, and was looking round the back courtyard, nostrils flaring, catching perchance some of Fastred's own excitement and eager to go; seeing this, and descrying the way clear to the alley behind the palace, Fastred mounted and led Karakse out through the postern into the city.

So far Fastred had seen no one out of doors; this comforted him, and he urged his horse into a trot.  Karakse's fullered hooves made what seemed to Fastred a horrible racket on the pavers; however none but housewives sweeping their stoops paid him any mind as he passed, looking up and nodding politely to the young lord.  Once before gaining the east gate Fastred espied the sops-in-wine, who knew him, and his heart turned to lead within his breast; however the man but waved once, and went back to trundling his cart, his face downcast and uncaring.

Fastred breathed a great sigh of relief when he got to the gates.  They had opened at dawn, as was the custom thereabouts, and the gatekeeper was engaged in some task in his house and did not even mark Fastred's passing; Fastred and Karakse crossed the shining span of the bridge to the east bank unchallenged; the boy was so troubled in his mind, and anxious lest he be caught, that he scarce noticed the silky dark water beneath them, nor the great white egrets standing about the reeds on the far bank.  Fastred began to grow nervous again when they got to the guardhouse on the far end of the bridge; however the guard glanced up and saw naught but a boy on a horse out for an early-morning ride, and waved him through.

Fastred took a deep breath.  The sun had just cleared the tips of the Ephel Dúath and bathed Osgiliath in light; his city when he turned to look at it shone like a white jewel set in the liquid silver of the Anduin, the gilt spires of the campaniles glinting and the gleaming marble so bright it hurt his eyes.  How he loved Osgiliath!  How he yearned to run through the cobbled streets dim and blue in shadow, to trace out the ancient patterns on the walls made by both men and war; how he longed to turn Karakse's head and gallop back across the bridge, back to his home!  But then he remembered his Lord Father's mandate and he hardened his heart.  Go to Rohan?  Never!  If he could not live in Osgiliath at least he could stay in Ithilien, though he cross demesnes to so do.  Had he asked he was sure Lord Lassah would say yea; therefore there was no need to ask.  Turning his back on Osgiliath Fastred clucked to Karakse, who had already begun to fidget with impatience, and boy and horse headed down the winding dirt road toward the forest.

The eastern settlement, built on the fertile plain betwixt bridge and wood, was new, and the folk there both brave and a little strange; others in Osgiliath thought them foolhardy to so dwell beneath the mountains of Shadow, and wagged their heads at the huts and houses, the piers and pastures.  But those who resided on the eastern shore of the Anduin laughed at their chary neighbors and said:  "Did not the Dark Lord hate Elves more than Men?  And we have Elves a-plenty betwixt us and his land." For their parts the Elves of Dol Galenehtar took especial care of Lord Faramir's folk on their western borders; 'twas they with whom the Elven merchants traded first and best, they to whom were given the grandest and richest gifts, and they for whom the Elven minstrels reserved their newest and finest songs.  Fastred preferred the peasantry upon the eastern shore himself; anyone who enjoyed the company of Elves was to his mind a superior person, and he had gained the reputation there of being both open-handed and friendly with the settlers there.  So he crept through the outskirts of the settlement as carefully as could be; he had no desire to be recognized by its citizens, who would surely point out to his father's rangers where the young lord had gone.  He passed from the last field beneath the boughs of the wood, and was just believing himself to be in the clear, and to breathe a bit more easily, when with dismay he heard running footsteps behind him; he was sure he had been caught and would be brought forthwith to face his father's wrath.  However when he took courage and turned he saw not the familiar faces of farmers or vassals but only a small girl in a ragged dress running to him, her dark hair flying behind her.  She seemed very thin and pale to his eyes, and Fastred was dismayed to descry her soiled hands and knees; she looked as though she had been digging in the dirt, perhaps attempting to unearth roots of some sort.  He knew there were some small handful of the destitute in all areas of his father's demesne despite great efforts to feed and clothe everyone, and to witness such poverty so close to his own great home, whilst clothed in warm wool and full of eggs and toast, was nigh unbearable.  He turned Karakse and slipped down off his saddle, waiting till she approached.

"O sir!" she panted, coming to a halt and holding her side, puffing and blowing.  "I so feared I should not catch you!  O sir, have you naught to spare my brother and me?  For my father was drowned last week and my mother had nothing to give us for supper last night, and has nothing to give us for breakfast this morning either.  I do not mind for myself so much, but my brother is very small, and he is hungry, and when he asks for food my mother cries."

Realizing by her carefree address she had not recognized him Fastred took heart.  "Why certainly!" he cried, and turned immediately to his sack.  "I have food here, enough to feed him and you and your mother all three."  He brought out his purloined bread and cheese, wrapped in a scrap of linen, and showed it to her.  "It is not much – " he began apologetically, but the girl laughed and clapped her hands and said:

"Why that is more than we have eaten all week!  O sir, you are certain you can spare so much?  This is a feast!"

"Of course!" said Fastred, cut to the quick; he did not know what it was like to be hungry, and it had just occurred to him that, had he not been in the process of running away, he could have brought her plaint himself before his Lord Father and so improved her fortunes.  "Perchance I might mention it to Lord Lassah," he thought, handing the girl his food; "perchance he might send some Elves to succor her."  "What is your name?" he asked, while the girl carefully wrapped the bread and cheese in her apron.

"Beraen," she said, giving him a quick smile.  "O thank you, sir; I so hoped you could help us!  The Valar bless you for your kindness!"  She turned to go, but then when Fastred put his hand upon his sack he felt the serviette.  "Wait!" he cried, and she turned; Fastred ran to her, and gave her the serviette.  "Here are four good fatty rashers," he said, "and some buttered toast, though it is cold.  But now you will have some meat for your meal."

"Sir!" the girl exclaimed, her thin face flushed with pleasure.  "Such riches!  Why, I have not tasted rashers in well over a year!  You will surely be blessed, sir; no one else has given us so much.  I only wish I could give you something in return!"

"You may," said Fastred eagerly.  "Will you tell no one of my passage?  I wish to travel in secret, and do not want anyone following me.  Can you do that for me, Beraen?"

"I can and will, sir," said the girl stoutly.  "You have spared nothing and given us much.  It is the least I can do for you, sir."  She cocked her head then, looking for all the world like a little bedraggled wren; she asked, "And what is your name, sir?"

Fastred gaped, then answered quickly, "Halgond."

"Ah!"  The girl smiled.  "Then none shall know Halgond passed here."  And giving him a wave of her hand she was off, clutching her treasure close; Fastred breathed a sigh of relief.

"There!" he said to Karakse, who was eating early clover by the roadside.  "I knew that food should come in handy; I have eaten well today, and she not at all. What matters it if I suffer the pangs of hunger upon this short journey?  Better I am deprived and so give to those who cannot provide for themselves.  And this way I know she will guard my passage; she owes it me, and seems clever enough to confound any who might question her.  O I hope Lord Lassah can help her poor mother! It is a nobleman's greatest duty to feed the poor – Lord Lassah said that, you know, Karakse, and he is middling wise, so I suppose it must be true."  Karakse, being a horse, did not reply, so Fastred mounted and rode deeper into the woods.

He had been that way many times before of course; from infancy had his noble parents brought him to the Elves of Dol Galenehtar for visits short and lengthy; betimes Fastred would stay in Legolas' tower for a month at a time, toddling round the white halls and green gardens and lisping out his Elvish to the jolly laughing dwellers in the wild; as he grew older it became a great treat for him to so do, to play upon the hills and in the streams, to ride behind Legolas on his great black destrier as he inspected the olive groves and vineyards and herb gardens, to play the lute and practice his marksmanship and eat bread-and-milk in the starry evenings upon the upper balcony of the great tower.  Always before had the wood seemed to him a friendly and magical place, for he had ever traveled in company with his mother and father then, and a great company of Rangers; even in the dark had there been torches and lanterns, and the merry voices of his people had mingled with the welcoming cries from their Elvish neighbors, making the forest of Ithilien innocuous and secure.  Fastred had never traveled the long forest road alone before.  He had never seen how dark it was beneath the looming firs, how the glossy thick branches crowded out the light, how the shadows beneath the brakes rustled and clicked with secret movement.  He had never before noted how the low cry of the owl, or the guttural voice of the quail, or the shattering bolt of a frightened rabbit broke the heavy silence, and when he heard the far-off shriek of a wild cat he jumped and put his hand on his bow.  Karakse did not seem overly concerned, though, so he quieted, and attempted to still his hammering heart.  He consoled himself instead with thoughts of his arrival, how the ladies of the court, Seimiel and Hirilcúllas and Dúrfinwen, would exclaim over his bravery and kiss and pet him, and how proud Lord Lassah would be, that he had traveled the whole way alone and with no one to help him.  "How courageous he is!" the women would cry, and Fastred felt his heart lift within him.  It would be a very fine thing to be thought brave, even if it were just the ladies who said so.

He could barely track the course of the sun, hidden as it was behind the thick branches; however after some hours he exited the fir forest and found himself amongst more oaks, whose boughs were lighter and let in more air.  He looked up, trying to determine the hour; he knew it must be round luncheon, for he was hungry.  He thought about the food he had given Beraen and fought back regret; then he remembered the silver he had packed and was filled with vexation.  "I could have given her silver to buy food," he thought, chagrined; "then she could have got the fresh, and I could have eaten my day-old bread, and hard cheese!"  He looked round, hoping to espy some edible herb or root, but recognized nothing; he was at least woodsman enough to know experimentation could be fatal.  With a sigh he said, "Well, at least you will not go hungry, Karakse; there is still grass to be had in these little clearings.  Are you hungry, Karakse?"

Karakse swiveled his ears but as before replied not.  Fastred dismounted and led him off the path into a small clearing, sun-dappled, and filled with green grass and small yellow flowers.  "Dandelions," he thought, and pulled up a few slips to eat; they were bitter, but better than naught.

His ears caught the sound of a running stream and he said, "Are you thirsty, Karakse?  We might as well drink, we two; I do not know how much longer we are to travel."  He looked around again; he did not recognize the clearing.  "I know that this is the road to Dol Galenehtar," he said slowly.  "But I do not remember how long it takes to get there; also I do not know how long we have been riding.  'A half-day's ride,' Father always says; but I do not know if we have ridden for half a day yet.  It feels like it, does it not, Karakse?"  Karakse was occupied in tearing up great mouthfuls of the sweet green grass and did not even mark what Fastred was saying.  "Well I am going to drink," said Fastred firmly, "and I do not want you running off, Karakse, so you shall come with me."  He took up his horse's reins and pulled the reluctant beast toward the sound of water chuckling over stones.  Sure enough he found a small estuary, brown and sparkling in the filtered sunlight; striders were dotting the still spots by the water's edge, dimpling the shining surface, and he could see small speckled fish undulating in the swifter part of the stream. 

"Trout!" he exclaimed, falling to his knees in the mud beside the stream.  "O Karakse, would not trout taste so very good right now?  But I have no hook nor line, and anyway," he sighed, getting up and brushing off his knees, "it would take far too long to build a fire, I suppose."  Then his eyes lit upon a pile of driftwood on a sandy spit, and he said slowly, "Well … to get a good bed of coals; that takes but an hour, does it not, Karakse?  And while it is burning perhaps I can convince one of these fish to swim over here – see this, Karakse?  If the fish swim round here it is trapped, then I stand like so and can perhaps catch it with my hands.  What think you, Karakse?"

Karakse did not seem to think too highly of this plan, but as his small master had already begun to dig out his tinder-box it became apparent any objections would be ignored.  So the horse continued to tear up the grass while Fastred hurriedly lit a small fire and fed it with all the dry wood he could find; then as it burned he went to the little hollow by the stream in which all manner of things had been trapped – twigs and leaves, and the occasional fry – and attempted to catch a slippery trout with his bare hands.

It took longer than he had expected, and by the time he had landed a small trout his fire had all but burned out; however with much blowing and the feeding of twigs and small branches Fastred managed to get it burning again.  Then he cleaned the fish, wrapped it in wet oak leaves, and set it sizzling on his hot coals.

When the fish was done Fastred ate it; it did not taste quite so good as the trout he had caught the other morning, but he attributed that to his lack of butter and salt, and his ignorance regarding fresh herbs.  Yet he was hungry enough to do it justice, and had just licked his fingers clean when a low sullen rumble caught him by surprise.

"Thunder!" he exclaimed, looking up at what he could see of the sky; the sun was gone, and between the branches were only gray clouds, hidden betimes by the tossing boughs.  "I did not expect it to rain," he said with dismay, kicking dirt over his small fire.  "Well at least we have eaten both, Karakse; we shall not arrive at Dol Galenehtar over-hungry … and there shall be a feast for us you know, Karakse; I hope they have cherry subtleties, for I am fond of them."  He took hold of Karakse's reins and led him away from the stream.  "I shall save you some sugar," he promised his horse, patting the piebald neck.  "Do not the cooks at Dol Galenehtar make marvelous subtleties?  If they make one for me with the spun-sugar icing I shall break some off and give it you. Will you not like that, Karakse?"

He walked with his horse for some minutes in the direction of the clearing, but after a short time he stopped.  "This is not right," he said hesitating.  "I was sure we would have found it by now."  He looked round again, then up at the sky, which was growing ever darker.  "If only the tiresome sun would show her face!" he exclaimed.  "I marked my pathway by her presence; how can I find my way back without her?"  He turned round.  "I think we'd best return to the stream, Karakse," he said.  "Then I will pay the closer attention and we will find the clearing; never fear!"  He said this more to comfort himself than his horse, who as before had not replied; when he realized he had lost his way he felt within his heart a sliver of cold fear, quickly tamped down.

"These woods belong to my Lord Father and to Lord Lassah," he told himself.  "Even should I lose my way it shall be but a brief time before I am found – "  Then he remembered he had told no one where he was going, and had asked Beraen to hold her tongue, and with a sinking feeling realized that not a soul knew he was in the woods save a peasant bound to secrecy.  He bit his lip to quell the sudden treasonous tremble and walked back towards the stream.

This time however he could not find the stream.  He looked upon the loamy floor of the forest for clues to their passing but saw none; the moss absorbed all signs of their footsteps and Karakse contrary to his nature had not even left some telltale load behind them.  Fastred stopped and listened hard for the sound of flowing water but all he could hear was the thudding of his own heart, then the low cracking boom of thunder.  High above them in the canopy of the trees came a light pattering sound; it had begun to rain.

"Well," he said to Karakse, sounding cheerier than he felt "we have got wet before, and I am sure we shall find the road soon; after all there is little but road hereabouts; we are bound to run across it eventually."  For though in his father's training he had prepared for any delays he did not want to stay in the woods overlong; the trout had been very small and he was sure he would be hungry again in a few hours' time.  "A half-day's ride," he muttered to himself, casting about on the ground for some clue as to his whereabouts.  "I know I came uphill; why is it when I go downhill I do not find my way?"

He wandered about thus, growing ever more agitated; Karakse followed him through brake and shrub, up rocky faces and down shingled dells, his long tail catching in brambles and thorns and his feathered fetlocks choked with cockleburs and grass; though the boughs protected them somewhat from the rain they began to get more and more wet, and when Fastred pulled up his hood Karakse shook his head and spattered rain drops all over Fastred's face.   At last over the thunder and drumming rain Fastred heard the cluck and chuckle of moving water; with mounting excitement he led his horse to it.

It was not however the stream he remembered; this was a broader expanse of water, and far swifter; a small cataract led it away from them down a steep slope, and Fastred could see the water rushing headlong into a low scrubby valley.  It had begun to grow darker and Fastred was hungry; however he well knew he could neither catch a trout, nor build a fire, under these circumstances, and his frustration gave way to fear; for the first time that day he wished he had told someone of his plans, or left some note; he knew his father's Rangers could have found him, or Legolas' scouts.  But no one looks for that which they know not is lost, and Fastred with sinking heart admitted to himself that things had not gone as well as he had planned.

"I was to be in Dol Galenehtar by now," he grumbled to Karakse, who was pulling half-heartedly on a gorse bush.  "I was to be warm and dry and eating a fine meal, and you were to be in one of Tyarmayél's nice warm loose-boxes eating mash with your sire."  He sighed and looked up at the darkling sky, blinking past the rain drops.  "Well before it gets much darker I suppose I'd best find some place for us to sleep," he said; "at least you will not go hungry, Karakse!"

He led the horse up away from the gorge, flanking the stream; the way was rough for many rosemary and boxwood bushes impeded their passage, and the ground thereabouts was rocky and slick. At last they gained the summit and Fastred looked around, hoping to see in what direction he should go; the sky however was so heavy he could not even tell which way was west, and though he had climbed was not so high he could see the horizon, or determine to which way lay either Osgiliath or Dol Galenehtar.  In fact all he could see were more trees, colorless in the gloom – ash and maple and pine and fir, with oaks scattered throughout.  He could not even see woodsmoke, for the mists that lay about the hills obscured that as well.

"I do not remember climbing so high before," said Fastred to Karakse, who was standing with his head hung dispiritedly before him.  "I am quite tired.  Do you suppose we might find a cave hereabouts where we might spend the night?"  The thought of a cold damp cave was uninviting; he had entertained such lovely thoughts about his reception at Dol Galenehtar that he felt very flat and disappointed.  He cast one last dejected look round about him and was about to crest the hill when a breeze tattered a wisp of cloud, tearing it like filmy gray cloth before his eyes, and he saw a long winding track below them, dark and glossy with rain.  His heart leaped and he cried, "The road!  Look, Karakse!  The road!  We are safe now!"  With joy he led his steed down the far slope, crashing through thick brakes and fighting his way amongst the wirevine and moneywort which wound round his legs; he fell once, landing heavily upon the heels of his hands and cutting them on the sharp rocks, but in his excitement did not even mark the pain; he ploughed forward in the growing darkness, eager to find the road.  When at last he saw a dim twinkle through the trees he tightened his grip on Karakse's reins and said:  "We are nearly there, Karakse!" and plunged through the forsythia hedge onto the smooth, flat road.

He knew beyond a doubt he was in Legolas' demesne; the road was not the rough rocky track leading from the Ithilien proper here.  Hwindiö and his workers had paved and leveled it and marked it at intervals with beaten bronze signs hung on the trees; the sharp facets and pierces threw back even the dimmest of light and their sparkling rays cried comfort to all travelers.  "We must have gone up round the boundary-markers," he said to Karakse, who only twitched his wet ears at him.  He sighed.  He had hoped one of the guards at the boundary-markers would have gone ahead of them and announced their arrival, ensuring a warm reception; however it could not be helped, and Fastred thought perhaps it would look even better for him were he to arrive unannounced; how surprised Lord Lassah would be, that he had eluded the border guards!  Fastred smiled to himself; for a twelve-year-old boy to circumvent discovery by Elven scouts was unheard-of and he was certain Lord Lassah would be quite impressed.  "Though I will admit to him it was naught but an accident," he said to Karakse, who was looking at him reproachfully.  "It would not do to get his guards into trouble!"

He looked at the bronze markers; on one side of the road were runes carven that read "North-East;" on the other, "South-West."  "Well I suppose we want North-East," said Fastred slowly; "though I would have thought we should be heading South-East instead." There was another grim roll of thunder; Fastred looked up at the gloomy dark sky.  "We cannot be that far," he said cheerfully to Karakse, mounting; "we might as well ride 'til we get there."  He clucked to his horse and Karakse started out.

They rode for about an hour in the pouring rain, and it grew darker and colder; Fastred was drenched, and he could see rivulets of water streaming off Karakse's flanks.  He was dreadfully hungry and wished he had caught two trout and not one.  To pass the time he began to daydream about what a feast he would have at Dol Galenehtar – he was far too tired now to want a great gala, but would settle comfortably for one of Bandobras' rich meals in Lord Lassah's chambers – roast venison perhaps, with thick heavy gravy swimming with onions; light fluffy bread and soft sweet butter; spicy terrine with aspic, sharp creamy cheese with a floury rind, sweet wine cut with cold water –

He jerked his head up; he had nodded off in the saddle!  His eyes felt very sandy and dry, and his limbs were heavy.  He looked around.  Even in the dark he could tell they were not in the forest anymore; Karakse had halted at a clearing.  The road led through the clearing, which was strangely ovoid, and covered with soft-looking grass; tall white pillars surrounded it, and on either side of the road were white marble ewers, filled with rain water and choked with leaves.  Fastred frowned and urged Karakse forward, but the horse shied, dug in his hooves and refused to proceed.  With a sigh Fastred dismounted and let the reins hang; Karakse was too tired to run away now.

"What is this place, Karakse?" he asked, approaching the nearest pillars flanking the entrance.  "I do not think I have ever been here before."  He looked back at his horse.  Karakse was shifting his hooves nervously, rolling his eyes and shivering; Fastred frowned and said:  "There is no need to be so foolish, Karakse! After all we are in Lassah's domain and naught can harm us here."  He turned, brushed the water from his eyes and walked into the clearing.  Suddenly he heard music and laughter, and saw bright lights, and smelled fresh bread; though the voices were ghostly and he could see no one for some reason he was not afraid.  He stumbled a little as he passed the pillars, and rubbed at his eyes; a feeling of contentment and lassitude filled him then, and with a happy sigh, not even noting Karakse's anxious whinny, he sank to the damp grass and fell into a deep sleep.

Fastred opened his eyes.  He was lying in a soft bed, looking up at a strangely familiar white plaster ceiling, with a crack in one corner shaped like a bird.  He looked round.  Sunlight filled the room in which he lay; the walls were yellow stone and decorated with bright tapestries, in which had been woven silver and gold threads, glinting and flashing against the fine wool.  At the open window were gauzy white curtains, shifting and billowing in a fresh breeze, and upon the table beside his bed was a beautifully painted blown-glass pitcher filled with water.  He blinked, and sat up.

He recognized this room; this was the nursery where he and Hísimë and Théodred would stay, when they came to visit Lord Lassah.  Yes – there was the tapestry with the mûmak on it – and the little rocking-horse in the corner, that Lord Gimli had made for Théodred – and Hísimë's doll house – and his lute!  Filled with excitement Fastred bound from the bed and ran to the window.  He had done it! He was here, in Dol Galenehtar!  Sure enough outside the window he could descry the green lawn, sparkling with the night's rain, and rimmed round with cedars and linden; in the midst of the lawn laughed the round white fountain throwing up its bright foamy spray to the early morning sun.  And he could see the tile rooftops of the other edifices of Lord Lassah's domain, the stables and the armory and the smithy and the kitchens and the other buildings, and the fields and vineyards beyond, crowned by a sharp high peak; he knew if he ran to the other window he would find the barns and the ricks and the woodcotes and the storage-houses and the view down the green valley to the estuary, and if he ran down the stairs he would pass rooms and offices and libraries and the big ballroom and the dining hall and then on to the throne room, where he would find Lord Lassah.  So overjoyed was he that he started to the door at once, only to look down upon himself and find he was clad in naught but an oversized nightshirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and hanging down round his ankles.  "It must be Lord Lassah's nightshirt," he thought, his heart swelling, and he cast about near the bed for his clothes.

He could not however find his sack, nor his other possessions, not even after looking on shelves and in boxes and under the bed and in the wardrobe; there did not seem to be any spare clothing in the nursery at all.  "How vexing!" he thought; he could not run to the throne room in a nightshirt, and a borrowed one at that; it would be far too unseemly, and mortifying beside – what would happen if one of the ladies, such as Seimiel, or worse Dúrfinwen, found him?  His face flamed at the thought; it would not be worth the risk; he would have to wait 'til someone came to fetch him.  So being still somewhat fatigued after his strenuous ordeal the day before he clambered back into bed and pulled the counterpane up round his waist, and tried to remember how he came there.  But though he put his head in his hands and thought as hard as he could he did not recall coming to Dol Galenehtar, to the bright bronze gates hung in the white marble, flanked by Elves in dark armor bearing tall spears; he could not even remember the approach road, lined with carven posts painted white and festooned with vines and flowering shrubs.  In fact he could remember nothing beyond riding Karakse to the clearing; it was very puzzling, for he recalled well his long cold ride in the rain, and his catching of the trout; had he fallen perhaps, and knocked his head?  He was just feeling his scalp for a lump when the nursery door opened, and Fastred looked up eagerly, expecting Lord Lassah; however he was disappointed when he saw it was only Kaimelas, Lassah's valet.  Yet still he smiled, for Kaimelas was a blithe and good-hearted Elf; however the valet did not answer his smile, but looked instead quite put out indeed.

"So you are up!" Kaimelas said rather abruptly.  He crossed the room to the boy and dropped a bundle on the bed; Fastred saw it was his clothing, cleaned and dried.  "I thought you should sleep the morning away.  You have made everyone very late; get dressed and hurry; Cirien has already crossed the border, Andunië has not yet returned from the hunt, and Hirilcúllas and my lady wife are far gone in panic."  He turned to go, stepping briskly as was his wont when preoccupied; greatly bewildered, and not a little provoked by this cavalier reception, Fastred leapt to his feet and cried:  "Wait a moment!" 

"What is it?" asked Kaimelas, his hand already on the doorknob.  "Do you please hurry; I am quite behindhand this morn, and waiting upon you has delayed me unreasonably."

"I want to speak to Lord Lassah," said Fastred angrily, wishing he were not wearing a nightshirt; it was difficult to be authoritative in one's underthings.  "I want to know how I came here; and there is no need to be angry with me; I have done nothing wrong!"

"O have you not!" exclaimed Kaimelas turning; though always Fastred had known him lighthearted and kind he was startled to descry the umbrage in the Elf's eyes.  Kaimelas drew himself up to his full height; Fastred had never noticed how tall he was, nor how commanding; Kaimelas had ever been "Lord Lassah's valet" and it was with chagrin Fastred late remembered that the Elf had prior to his injuries in Amon Din been one of Legolas' chief scouts, and a brave and canny warrior.  He looked every inch of it now, grim, his dark eyes blazing, and Fastred realized he was a little afraid of the Elf.  When Kaimelas spoke next his voice was low and cutting, causing the boy to flinch as from a blow.  "Do you then please explain that to Meivel and his twenty best soldiers, who rode off in the gloaming expecting an invasion of orcs or evil men into our borders, preparing themselves for battle, yet found to their amazement and irritation only a small wet runaway in one of our sacred clearings!  And do you also explain that unto your Lord Lassah, who turned so white upon discovering it was your body lay in Meivel's arms, thinking you dead or gravely wounded, I feared he should swoon in his fear and dismay, being filled already with alarm at news of your disappearance!  And furthermore do you explain your lack of misdeeds unto your noble parents, who spent all yesterday searching the river for you, believing you drowned, and the nearby forest, believing you dead in the mudslide upon the slopes of the Ephel Dúath – O yes, to your Lady Mother, from whom my lord received a letter written in shaking hand, far gone in fear and dread, begging his aid in the search for her beloved son, who so unaccountably went missing!  And lastly, O Lord Fastred, do you explain that once again to my lord, upon whose shoulders you have dropped yourself as a burden and a disgrace, trespassing upon his hospitality and mercy, bringing mortification upon him that he must needs explain your transgression unto your poor mother, sending off in the darkness and rain two scouts with word of your mischief and selfishness, staying up all the night awaiting her reply, and further increasing the yoke upon his neck, that he must occupy his time with your aberrant self in concert with his other duties this morn!  O no, little Lord Fastred," said Kaimelas turning from the white-faced boy standing stunned before him; "there is no reason for me to be angry with you – not one!"  He wrenched open the door and would have stepped in the hallway, but Fastred leapt forward, catching him by the sleeve.

"Wait!" he cried, his heart turning to lead within him.  "I did not mean – I did not think that – I did not know!"

"Well then you may tell my lord that when he arrives," said Kaimelas coldly, pulling away.

Fastred gasped.  "He – he is coming?" he stammered, suddenly afraid.

"Indeed!  He has cut a good stout willow-branch which I am certain will soon be well-acquainted with your hindquarters," said Kaimelas, turning away.

Fastred felt his stomach sink.  "Lord Lassah would not whip me!" he cried defiantly, balling his hands into fists.  "He would not dare!"

"My lord dares much," said Kaimelas grimly.  "He is reasonably wroth with you, not only on his own behalf, or on his household's; but also for the pain you have caused your parents, for whom my lord has greatest esteem, and deepest friendship; upon discovering the distress your duplicity has caused them he was so gone in wrath he could scarce speak.  And now I suggest unto you, Lord Fastred, that you put on your trousers; it shall not sting so much that way."  And he went out and shut the door behind him.

Fastred stared at the oaken door, shaken to the center; this had not turned out well at all, and he was both angry and abashed.  Then when he ran back to his bed the words Kaimelas had spoken regarding his perfidy swept over him, and he stopped as though struck, stunned and horrified.  He had frightened everyone – the Elven soldiers, Legolas, his parents!  He saw in his mind Legolas' white face looking down upon his still form and his heart wrenched within him.  Then he thought upon what his mother's ruminations must have been, believing him drowned or crushed, and the strength left his legs; he collapsed upon the bed and covered his face.  Then he remembered that Lord Lassah was on his way upstairs to whip him and he threw himself facedown upon the bed and began to weep.  He cried for a while, then grew angry again, but this time with himself.  "I am not fit to be a Ranger's son!" he exclaimed, dashing the tears away with his knuckles.  "I planned my route but disdained my consequences.  I thought only of myself and my own aim and not of my parents – nor of Lassah and his people – nor even Hísimë and Théodred!  O how miserable they must have been, and how deeply injured by me!  And Karakse – I rode him all day and I am sure he was tired and hungry and cold – if they even found him – what if he still wanders the woods; O that would be terrible!  And now I am causing even more trouble – and my Lord Lassah is angry with me – and Kaimelas is angry with me – and how disappointed my Lord Father must be – and in the end I did not even get here on my own – Meivel had to rescue me, or I should be out there yet!"

He sat for a moment looking out the window, staring unseeing at the bustling courtyards below.  It was clear to him now that he had acted a fool, and a selfish one at that; he had angered and frightened many people, and put everyone off their labor by his imposition; he had caused his Lady Mother to think him dead and his Lord Lassah to sit up the night attempting to heal this hurt.  He had driven many good and kindhearted Elves out of doors at night for no good reason save his own duplicity, and was further delaying and inconveniencing the very ones he hoped would welcome him; his heart hurt, and he wished Lassah would come, so that he could abase himself and beg forgiveness; yet he also hoped Lassah would not come, for the thought of the Elf lord's distress and anger was painful to him, made the moreso by knowledge of his own contribution to it.  He concluded it would have been far better for him to have run to Rohan and not from it; then with another sickening inward wrench wondered if his royal uncle would even want him when he heard of Fastred's flight from duty.  This notion so depressed him he lay back down on the bed and hid his face in his arms, wishing with all his might that he could disappear, or better still, die and have done with his suffering once for all.  So immured was he in his private misery that though he marked the sound of the door opening softly it touched him not; thinking it was Kaimelas or some other servant come to reprimand him further he said into the crook of his elbow:  "O please do you let me alone in my abasement; I can sink no further, and when Lord Lassah comes he shall whip me, and though I know I deserve it I wish he wouldn't, I wish I were dead, rather than be whipped by Lord Lassah!"

"Is that so?" asked a voice softly; there was warmth in the tone of it, and compassion, and taking heart Fastred raised his head.  To his mingled joy and horror he beheld Legolas himself, clad in pale blue and crowned with mithril; tall and forbidding he seemed to the boy, gray eyes sober and mouth downturned.  He did not however hold a willow-switch, which Fastred found slightly gratifying; but the expression on the Elf lord's face was not one to inspire him to relief; Legolas looked very stern, which was so unlike the benevolent Lassah Fastred knew he would rather have seen the willow-switch than that frown upon the fair face above him.  Recognizing his guilt Fastred slid off the bed and stood face downcast, staring between his two bare feet, hoping he would get the switch and not a lecture, for a whipping was over in but a moment, however Fastred had learned through experience that a lecture might last for hours. 

There was silence for a few moments; all Fastred could hear was his own breathing, and the far-off voices of Elves in the courtyards below; after a time Legolas said:  "Well."

Fastred gulped back the lump in his throat.  He could hear the disappointment in Lassah's voice and it cut him deeply.  But he steeled himself for Lassah's displeasure; his culpability demanded it after all.  Before the Elf could speak again Fastred said with a shaking voice:  "I am sorry, Lord Lassah.  Please whip me and be quick about it; I need to be punished or my heart will surely break."

There was a pause; Fastred did not dare look up; had he done so he would have seen the determined frown on Legolas' face twitch, and his eyes soften.  "And why, Lord Fastred, should I be constrained to whip you?" he asked. 

"Because I have run away from my parents your friends, and I have frightened and discommoded everyone, and made many people angry with me; therefore I should be whipped, and better you should whip me now and have done with it, Lord Lassah, than my Lord Father whip me, for the longer he waits the angrier he gets, and it shall take at least a day for me to ride back, that is if Karakse is even able to, otherwise I shall walk, and by the time I get home Father will be so angry with me that I shall not be able to sit down for three days."  Fastred took a deep breath and closed his eyes; he could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks but did not care then that he was a twelve-year-old son of a prince; he must weep or die.  "So please will you whip me forthwith, or at least when I have put on my trousers, for Kaimelas said it will not sting so badly if I am wearing my trousers."

"Fastred," said Legolas gently, kneeling and holding out his arms; Fastred burst into tears and threw himself at the Elf, clinging to him and sobbing.  Legolas embraced him as he wept, stroking his dark hair and holding him tight; at last when Fastred's sobbing stilled he kissed the boy's temple and set him back, holding him by his shoulders and looking up into Fastred's tear-stained face.  "Little One," he said seriously, "I deem betwixt Kaimelas' words and your own flagellation you have been whipped enough; I can see that you are contrite and repentant and I do not wish to subject you to further humility.  However reparation must be made; though I forgive you completely – and how could I not, Little One, when I love you so well, and you express regret so earnestly!"  Fastred sobbed again, though even he could not tell whether it were in relief or mortification; Legolas rose and stood before him, wiping the tears from the boy's face with his fingers.  "Lift your face unto mine, Fastred of Osgiliath!" he said, and Fastred swallowed his next few sobs and raised his face to Lord Lassah's; the compassion and concern he saw there drove all thoughts of whipping from his mind.  "You have apologized well for your offense against me and against my people, and I shall forgive you; you came to me not in malice but in ignorance, and I know that with thought and sober effort you may find a way to recompense us for this crime.  But the greater transgression you saved for your noble parents, and your sister and brother; that still must needs be addressed ere I return to my guests in the throne room.  Now Fastred, my dear Little One, what think you that you must do, to make reparation for what you have done?"

Fastred thought hard, biting his lip; at last remembering his mother's words at table, when she spoke of her offense committed in Minas Tirith, he said: "I must write unto each one of them a letter of apology, outlining my misdeeds in detail and repenting of each one of them, and promising never to so do again; also must I offer unto each of them some act of retribution to repay them for their pain."

"Ah!" said Legolas with satisfaction.  "That is indeed an excellent answer, Little One, and I commend you for it.  Whilst I welcome my visitors and hold court upon the dais you shall consign yourself to this task; there are quills and ink, and parchment aplenty at the desk there; I shall read over what you have written at luncheon, and we shall decide then if your missives express contrition enough to soften your Lord Father's heart.  But Fastred," Legolas said seriously, tipping the boy's face up to his own.  "What will you do then?  Where will you go?  Back to your home, to your tutor and friends?  You came to me for a purpose, Fastred; what purpose was that?"  When Fastred blushed Legolas said:  "Nay, speak and be not silent!  In back of your small head was some plan, of that I am certain.  To what end was your flight?"

"I – I hoped you would offer me sanctuary," muttered Fastred, blushing even redder and staring at his toes.  "I did – do – not wish to go to Rohan and I thought that – well, since you open your doors to the oppressed, and give refuge to the helpless, I – I hoped that you would – "  He stammered a moment, deeply embarrassed; at last he looked desperately up at the Elf and blurted:  "I hoped I could stay here with you, Lord Lassah, that you would keep me safe."

Legolas bit his lip; Fastred could not tell but he thought perhaps the Elf were thinking.  "Well that is true," said Legolas slowly; "on many occasions have I succored the broken and lost, and given safe haven to those who wander with no home to welcome them.  But that sanctuary comes with a price, Little One; did you know that?"  Fastred shook his head, eyes wide with wonder; he had thought Lord Lassah took in all and sundry without question, and contemplated whether the gold and silver he had brought would be sufficient.  "O no!" smiled Legolas as though he had read the boy's mind.  "Seldom do I ask for money or treasure – that is not the price I ask.  Nay, my Fastred, the cost for my refuge is commensurate with each expatriate's skills and need – for the widow and orphaned of a village they might feed the livestock or do some light tasks in the stables and barns; for a nobleman divested of his riches, service with my soldiers or in the council-chamber do I require; for a maid fleeing her oppressors work upon the loom or wheel; for a workman accused unjustly, a stable-hand or laborer.  Yet these I feed and house most generously; and when they feel it is safe to return to their lands they do so.  Do you see, Little One, what it is in common I require from them, peasant, gentry, nobility all?"

Fastred considered this for a moment, then said slowly:  "Well, Lord Lassah, I guess it is a sort of temporary servitude – as though you made them to be your vassals, until they could go back unto their own people."

"That is so," said Lord Lassah smiling.  "And had you come to me truly in need I should have extracted such a vow from you too; there is no sense in letting folk think they have but to plead a sad story and get free food and shelter.  Had that been the case, Dol Galenehtar should be choked with mortal indigents, and I left a beggar!  Nay, Fastred, 'til now you have been a child and a guest, but now you come to me pleading sanctuary, and that is denied you save you swear unto me you shall work for your shelter; in that way you shall earn your keep, and learn the ways of the workings of my demesne, and repay the debt you owe my people.  Fear not!" he laughed, when he saw the look of apprehension on the boy's face; "I do not propose to send you out to weed the vineyards, or to manure the olive groves; you are the son of a prince, and such tasks would be beneath one of your birth and upbringing.  However you are not sufficiently wise to aid me in the council-chamber or the treasury; therefore I think I shall put your especial talents to some other good use, should you choose to stay with me.  Otherwise I shall be constrained to send you back to your noble parents, to deal with you as they see fit."

Fastred reflected on this carefully; it seemed to him the duty imposed upon him by Lord Lassah might be harder than that which he imagined his noble parents would require of him; yet he was unwilling to return to Osgiliath yet, hoping perhaps Lassah could change everyone's mind, and he not be constrained to go to Rohan; for was not Lord Lassah his father's friend, and King Éomer's beside? Perchance with time and good behavior he could persuade Lassah to take his part, and Lassah should become his advocate, for Lassah did say he loved him, and would perhaps be distressed by his removal.  It seemed therefore to Fastred a safer plan to stay in Dol Galenehtar; and besides he would not have to continue his studies with Iordred, which had reached the ancient history of Ciryandil, who was notable only for his death in Haradwaith.  Fastred thought perhaps he could learn a more engaging history from the Elves.  "I shall stay with you, Lord Lassah," he said after a moment.  "I shall claim sanctuary and swear fealty and do the work necessitated." 

"Will you Little One?" smiled Legolas.  "Then apply yourself to your first task, and write those missives unto your family; come luncheon we shall see what further labor I shall extract from you."

"I will, Lord Lassah!" said Fastred, relieved.  Legolas kissed Fastred upon the crown of his head and turned to go; however Fastred thought of something and exclaimed, "O, Lord Lassah!"

"What is it, Little One?" asked Legolas looking back at him.

"If I swear fealty unto you I can no longer call you 'Lassah,'" said Fastred, distressed.  "I must call you 'Lord Legolas' for I shall be your vassal!"

Legolas regarded him soberly.  "That is so," he said, his gray eyes twinkling despite his somber mein.  "Well you had best start at once; it shall be good practice."

Fastred hesitated, then bowed deeply to the Elf and said, "As you wish, Lord Legolas."  Legolas smiled at him then and went out, leaving the boy to his task.

Legolas shut the nursery door behind him and took a deep breath.  He looked up and down the hall, determining he was well and truly alone, then closed his eyes and let his shoulders sag.  "Well that was not so bad," he murmured to himself, absent-mindedly straightening his doublet.  "He seems contrite enough, and very repentant; he is though as Mistress Pearl said very high-spirited and will need much labor to quell him; also he has inherited from his distaff side a stubborn willfulness that must needs be tamped."  He started down the white hallway to the staircase, looking longingly betimes out the narrow windows set at regular intervals in the polished stone; their panes were thrown back and the shutters opened, and a cool breeze stirred his hair with each passage; he could descry the bright fresh green of late spring and brilliant blue of the sky, streaked and blotched with high filmy clouds tearing along as though they were in a terrible hurry.  As he watched the starlings tumbling by, buffeted by the wind, he heard above him the caroling of the tenor bell in the west campanile.  "The third hour and I have not yet broken fast," he muttered to himself, rubbing the aching spot between his eyes.  "O how I crave a corner of cheese and a glass – nay, half a glass of wine!"

He determined to visit the kitchens before going in to greet Cirien; after all Cirien had only just ridden into the compound and would likely be speaking with the guards and workmen and of course Galás, who, as Gimli had once said, "chattered like a mad magpie" to all and sundry; also Araval was already ensconced in Dol Galenehtar and as that jolly lord rarely followed local custom it was unlikely he would wait with the rest of the court to foregather with his knightly friend.  Surely, Legolas thought, he would have sufficient time to fill the aching void in his mid-region before he were too sorely missed.  Humming lightly to himself he tripped down the stairs two at a time, trailing his fingers along the smooth banister as he went.

His journey to breakfast was interrupted however; first did Hirilcúllas catch him unawares by the library, demanding his signature and seal on several documents, including one involving the livestock upon the Pelennor; no sooner had he escaped his secretary's clutches than Sólormoïle his chief messenger caught him up, still fuming over Fastred's untimely arrival, and Legolas spent a good five minutes hearing once more the litany of Fastred's infamies, the list of scouts sent with messages back and forth to Osgiliath, and the prognostications of further delays and inconveniences visited upon them by Legolas' unexpected charge; it took an additional ten minutes to soothe his envoy's trammeled spirit and convince him Fastred's presence could perhaps be turned to advantage for all involved; by that time his stomach was so empty he felt one side surely flapped against the other like two flags on the same pole.  Yet even so he was fated to be overdue for his morning sustenance; as he rounded the corner to the hallway leading to the kitchen courtyard Tuilíndo was there with news of a shipment of silks fresh from Erui; there was some confusion regarding the color green used in its pigment, which he and his son Laivánwa objected to greatly; however they were reluctant to send the shipment back, for three reasons (Legolas stood silent as long as he could, composing his features into a semblance of interest during this): First, the merchant involved was the premier seller of silks and widely acknowledged not only as the purveyor of the finest of fabrics, but also capricious and easily offended; Dúrfinwen had already caused some small trouble with her comments upon the shade of green used (Legolas was not sure but it sounded as though it were more a brilliant poison-green than the requested grass-green); the merchant was now offended and finding someone else who could sell them silks of such quality was doubtful; also, both Laivánwa and Hwindiö had examined the weave of the silk in question and been greatly intrigued by its construction; apparently it was double-woven, with the offensive green upon one weave and a brilliant silver upon the other, giving the cloth a shimmering quality not normally seen in silk; lastly, it was quite obvious the silk could not be used for its intended function, that was in the construction of banners to be used for the presentation of the new Heir to Edoras; did his lord think it possible, asked Tuilíndo, that the silks be purchased forthwith and used for some other purpose, and a new order made for a heavier cloth in a more conventional color?  It would entail additional funds –

Lack of rest the previous night and a dearth of food in his belly had caused Legolas to lose track of the explanation by that point; he could see past Tuilíndo's earnest countenance the doorway to the outer kitchen courtyard flung wide, giving him tantalizing glimpses of the back door of the bakeries, and the crisp breeze blew in the enticing scent of freshly-baked turnovers, which provoked Legolas' stomach into such twists and turns it quite hurt him.  He thought longingly of butter and sugar and perhaps if he were lucky a bite of bacon while Tuilíndo explained the difference in the cost of the silks from the docks of Erui to those from Eryn Vorn; after a full quarter hour of tedium had passed he realized with a start that Tuilíndo was now looking at him expectantly; apparently he had posed some question, or required some decision, which his lord had missed; hurriedly and rather distractedly Legolas said:  "Well as always, my friend, whatever seems best to you, I shall support you in it," and hoped it was a sufficiently vague and encouraging answer, that would send Tuilíndo back to the merchant, or to Laivánwa, or anywhere but in front of him, so that he could see to filling his belly; however fate played against Legolas' hunger and with a smile Tuilíndo said:

"Well, my lord, since you are so amenable, then let us go unto the merchant straight way; he is not tractable, you know, my lord, and far gone in pique; I have so far been unable to quell his resentment, but simply your noble presence, my lord, and your gracious words, shall soothe his spirit, and perhaps I shall be the better able to bargain with him when we order the new silks."  To Legolas' horror the deputy seneschal took his lord by the arm and led him away from the kitchens back to the tapestry workrooms, in which they discovered Dúrfinwen, lovely in her blue and silver gown, but with a distinctly affronted expression on her fair face; Laivánwa Tuilíndo's son, anxious and well-prepared with several scrolls, a chart, and a pencil; Hwindiö in his rough working clothes and burn-spotted leather apron, arms folded across his chest and eyes twinkling with secret mirth at the conundrum; and in their midst a very short, very grubby, very irritable mortal man, with out-thrust lower lip and beetling black brows, scowling at the newcomers and emitting a miasma of stale sweat.  When Legolas was introduced the merchant's look of resigned umbrage doubled, and Legolas, with thoughts of glazed raisin bread and salted ham and Fastred's letters chasing themselves round his addled brain, was constrained to spend another half-hour appeasing and pacifying all involved, including Dúrfinwen who felt her aesthetic sense had been challenged; he fingered the felonious fabric appreciatively, flattered the merchant into good humor, jollied a reluctant smile out of Dúrfinwen, and at the earliest possible moment and with as much diplomacy as he could muster, excused himself from the workrooms and fairly fled along the corridors in search of nourishment.

His sharp eyes and many years' training in tracking and spying held him in good stead as he made his careful way back into the main halls; he managed to hide himself in an empty closet whilst Hirilcúllas went bustling by, her arms full of papers and parchments, a harried look on her face; he ducked round a bend into a dark alcove and waited breathlessly for Galás to pass, for his seneschal had the look about him that he was in search of someone, and Legolas did not want to wait to find out that it was he; he was forced to double back when Meivel and Himbaláth came down the hall, speaking earnestly together, for Legolas remembered he had asked specifically for his general to give him a full report of the security of the eastern borders; by the time he managed to find himself completely alone he was in the opposite end of the tower from the kitchens, and so dreadfully hungry he could scarcely think.  He had just resigned himself to dodging round the back lodgings to the kitchens and risking discovery when he heard the gloriously familiar sound of small feet pattering behind him; he turned with hope, and sure enough round the corner came his esquire Bandobras, his arms full of parcels; he stopped at once when he descried his lord, and gazed up at Legolas in amazement.

"Master!" he exclaimed, his brown eyes sweeping critically over Legolas' form.  "What in heaven's name are you doing in this part of the palace?  You ought to be in the throne room or the Great Hall, getting ready to greet Cirien; he's just seen to his horses and cleaned up and is looking forward to being presented to you."  When Legolas did not respond at once he added, "And you're looking awfully harried, Master; why you look like my old friend Holbard always did when he was caught doing something naughty.  What've you been up to, Master?" asked the Hobbit, cocking his little head at the Elf and fixing him with a stern glare.  "You've gone and stained your shoulder, now; that pretty blue sateen is all spotted, and you shall have to change doublets before the presentation or my reputation will be fair ruined.  How did you go and spill something all the way up there?"

Legolas turned his head to look at his shoulder; sure enough the pale blue fabric was blotched in several places.  "It must have been Fastred; he wept when I held him," he said wearily, trying to brush the offending marks off the blue fabric.  "O do not be cross with me, Little One; such a morn have I had, with the little son of Ithilien, and Sólormoïle raging about, and silk-merchants to appease, and to cap it off no breakfast!  I am near faint with hunger, my Bandobras; have you no morsel in your pockets to give a poor starving Elf-lord?"

"My poor master!" cried Bandobras, stricken. "Why I had no idea you hadn't had breakfast yet – what was Norolindë thinking, letting you go off like that? But of course it's been nothing but bedlam round here since yesterday evening; I'm the more surprised you're even on your feet.  Come with me, Master," he said, turning and gesturing with his head for Legolas to follow.  "I'm on my way to Mother's rooms; I'll fix you a nice cup of tea, and I'm certain she's got some breakfast still on her tray."  Legolas fell into step beside his esquire and reached down to help him with his packages; Bandobras added, "Thanks, Master – that one was starting to get heavy – I think it's a pitcher or something like that – and there are pots of some sort of unguent in that one; mind you don't drop it – got it off Liquíseleé, you know," he said, his voice faltering somewhat, and Legolas paused in the dark corridor, despite his fear of discovery, and dropped to one knee, his heart turning over.  Bandobras stopped as well, his eyes downcast, and let his master embrace him, even though they were both impeded by paper-wrapped packages.  He too as Fastred had done pressed his face into Legolas' shoulder; he did not cry, though his master knew he wanted to.

"She will be well soon," Legolas assured his esquire, though his words sounded hollow even to him; Liquíseleé and Aragorn both had looked grim enough the last time they had examined Mistress Pearl, for after all two years was such a long time to be ill, especially for a Hobbit.  "We are making her rest, and she seems very happy here."

"I know," said Bandobras with false cheer, pulling back and smiling bravely up at his master.  "And she's a Took, you know; we're terrible stubborn.  It'll take a good bit more than this to keep her down."

"That is true," said Legolas rising.  "I have much experience with the obduracy of Tooks after all."  This earned him a more genuine smile from his esquire, which comforted him somewhat, and they continued on the corridor to a bright hall.  At the end of the hall was a low oval door painted yellow, with a bright brass doorknob; Bandobras walked briskly up to it, tapped on it twice, and walked in.  Legolas was obliged to duck beneath the lintel but he did not mind; once inside he felt as though he had been transported; the plaster walls were hung with bright paintings, and the low-beamed ceiling festooned with dried herbs and garlic and onions; yellow check curtains hung from the windows and a cheery fire burned in a cozy grate.  Before the fire sat a Hobbit matron in a comfortable armchair, holding an embroidery hoop; her curly hair was pulled back into a gray-streaked knot, and she had a gaily-colored rug spread across her knees.  However this Hobbit-matron was not like her peers in the Shire; her cheeks which ought to have been round and rosy as apples were sunken and pale, and her twinkling brown eyes were shadowed and lined.  But in her face was strength and character and bravery, and she did not appear sad or discontented at the least; she seemed instead to savor some secret jest, which she turned over in her heart when troubles pressed upon her, and so brightened her countenance.  She looked up at her visitors with delight, and favored them with a bright smile and said:

"Well, now my morning is truly a good one!  I have my two pet boys come to visit me; what more could a lady want?"  She accepted her son's perfunctory kiss of greeting, and when Legolas bowed to pay her honor she said impatiently:  "O let us have none of that, son of Thranduil!  Why do you constantly treat me like a queen?  My son's your esquire after all.  Stop being so formal, and sit yourself here beside me and warm your hands; your fingers are so cold they are like ice."

"He has had naught for breakfast, Mother," said Bandobras, dumping his packages upon a nearby table, and going to take the others from his master's hands.  "Been up all night, and running round all morning; can you believe that?  And he's got to go see Cirien right away, but he can't do naught on an empty belly.  Have you anything left from your breakfast tray to feed him?"

"Of course I have!" exclaimed Mistress Pearl cheerfully. "As though Norolindë didn't give me enough food for twenty young Hobbits each morning; I don't know what she is thinking, that I could eat so much.  'A cup of tea and some toast is all I need,' I tell her, but she sends in two full trays each daybreak, with tea and toast all right, but with meat and sausage and cheese and pastries and porridge beside.  A waste, really; I can scarce eat but a tenth of it, and what she does with it when I send it back I don't know; I hope she feeds it to the pigs at least.  Bacon in, bacon out, as my father always said.  The tray's on the table, Bandy; warm the bacon and sausage by the fire, and freshen up the toast, but the porridge ought still to be hot enough.  Drop a little sugar in it, and a dot of butter; that'll be quite tasty."  She turned to Legolas, who stood bemused before the fire, holding out his hands and warming them by the inglenook.  "Pull that rug down there so you don't spoil your nice clean hose, Legolas, and sit down.  No, not the brown one; it's too small; get the blue one over by the herb-pots.  Are your shoes damp?  Do you need to take them off and air them out?  You can set them on the hearth over there.  Ah, and there's the kettle just starting to sing.  Bandy!  Make a fresh pot, don't use that old stuff; it's boiled too long.  And get some of that nice cream and sugar out of the pantry for your master too.  Are you comfy now, pet?  There you are … Bandy'll set you straight."

Obediently the Lord of Dol Galenehtar collected a knitted rug from a nearby couch and spread it on the floor, lowering himself onto it and accepting a hot cup of tea from his esquire with a grateful sigh.  He sat and watched, snug and sleepy, as Bandobras bustled about his mother's rooms, setting up vases of fresh flowers, and pots of preserves, and vials of medicines, listening to the two Hobbits bicker affectionately with each other, as he accepted platter after platter of eggs, rashers, ham, sausage, bread, sweet rolls, stewed fruit and toast and butter until he was warm and full and contented.  He thrust the dirty plate aside, pushed Mistress Pearl's hoop out of the way, and lay his head on the matron's lap with a happy sigh.  She smiled and stroked his sleek pale hair, and looked over at her son.

"Well, this is better, I guess," she said, her eyes twinkling.  "You can't do much without a good breakfast – two to be safe – and now at least he'll have the wherewithal to stand up on that dais and listen to all those long tiresome speeches."  She ruffled the flossy gold spread over her knees and said, "And what did he do, little Lord Fastred?  How did he take your lecture?"

"I had no need to lecture him at all, Little Mother," said Legolas, feeling very hazy and unperturbed.  "Kaimelas went in to bring him his clean clothes, and let him have it 'twixt the eyes – you know how long-winded Kaimelas can be, when he is properly motivated."

Bandobras from where he stood by the pantry grunted.  "I certainly do," he said blackly.

"Anyway when I came in Fastred was weeping and thoroughly repentant," continued Legolas, closing his eyes and relishing the touch of Mistress Pearl's fingers in his hair.  "He accepted culpability and recompense both, and works as we speak to mend his error."

"I thought he might," said Mistress Pearl.  "He's a good sensible boy, if a tad high-strung."  She stroked Legolas' hair a few minutes more, then asked, "And which path did he decide to take?  The one to Osgiliath, or the one to your work-rooms?"

"As you foretold to me he chose to remain in Dol Galenehtar and work out his retribution," said Legolas.  "I am not certain but I think I shall send him down to either Tyarmayél or Andunië, as he loves to be out of doors, and has shown himself capable of establishing easy rapport with our animal-friends.  In the kennels and stables he might make himself quite useful; the work shall be difficult, but he will be in a site pleasing to him and befitting his parents' interests."

"Better make it the stables," cautioned Bandobras.  He sat upon his mother's other side and picked up a stray piece of rasher from the platter on the floor, took a bite out of it and chewed thoughtfully.  "What with Lady Éowyn being from Rohan and so horsy and all, seems to me he'd fit in there real well.  And we're taking him to King Éomer, and the practice ought to do him good.  Besides – don't get me wrong, now Master; I mean no offense – Andunië's a fine woman but she's mighty standoffish."

"Don't speak with your mouth full.  Tyarmayél's too soft-hearted," said Mistress Pearl to her son.  "And putting Fastred in the stables for punishment would be like sending you to the pantry if you'd been naughty.  He'd find it too much fun; it would be more like rewarding him for running away."  She patted Legolas' head.  "Take my advice, Legolas; send him to Andunië, or even to Hwindiö or Liquíseleé.  Hwindiö would strengthen his back and Liquíseleé his mind."

"And Kaimelas his hindquarters," said a voice from the doorway; Legolas' valet stood there, a silver doublet slung over one arm; on his face was an expression of irritation overlaid with amusement.  "So I have run you to earth at last!" he said to his lord, who sighed in a resigned fashion and rose to his feet, shaking the crumbs off his lap.  "Cirien awaits you, as does the rest of the court; you are quite recalcitrant this morn, my lord."  He held out the doublet.  "I did notice – as I am sure did your excellent esquire – that little Lord Fastred's repentant tears stained your blue doublet; can you imagine, my lord, what Seimiel would say, should I let you appear so before our noble guests? Indeed my life would be a burden to me! Give to me that garment, to remove the watermark, and put this on, and get your royal self down to the throne room, ere Cirien sleeps in his ennui in the entry.  And hurry!  Galás is quite restless, and Tyalië did inform me he and Araval are plotting some mischief unbefitting that lord's age and repute."

"I do think me your case to Fastred supplied ample whipping," said Legolas, removing the doublet and submitting to Bandobras brushing down his linen shirt with a soft brush; the Hobbit was so short he was constrained to stand upon a low stool in order to reach his master's shoulders.  At Kaimelas' raised eyebrow he said further:  "There shall be no more talk of whipping, nor of lashes or straps or belts; your remonstration was sufficiently severe to bruise his soul, and he was to me amply repentant; you may tell all to whom you protested this morn that Lord Fastred shall work out his redemption with sweat and toil, even within our own courtyards."

"Indeed!" said Kaimelas with a smile.  "Then, my lord, did I carry out your directives satisfactorily?  My sternness fulfilled its task, and he is truly sorry?"

"He is," said Legolas, holding out his arms and letting Bandobras button up his silver doublet.  He looked down at Mistress Pearl, who was smiling up at them both.  "You once again hit the target in the mark, Little Mother; with the one harsh and the other kind did we bring him low, yet were not compelled to undue chastisement."

"Despite his Lord Father's consent," said Kaimelas, and added with a grin, "and mine own inclination!"  He looked Legolas over once and said reluctantly, "Well, my lord, I deem you are satisfactory; I should rather you had assented to wear the gold robes – "

"Too formal," said Bandobras primly, straightening his master's hair.  "Let's save that for the feast tonight, Kaimelas."

"As the Little Master wishes," said Kaimelas with a polite inclination of his head.  "In that fashion we might make him to wear the wire coronet – "

Just then the tenor bell rang four times, and Bandobras with an exclamation of dismay said:  "O look how late you are, Master!  Hurry, hurry, and do not wait, for though Cirien won't get mad you don't dare leave Galás there alone for fear of what hijinks he and Araval will get up to."

"I am going, I am going!" laughed Legolas.  He bowed gracefully to Mistress Pearl and took her hand.  "Little Mother, I am so far already in your debt it is unlikely I shall ever find us on equal footing," he said, kissing her fingers.  "Your advice as always was flawless, and Fastred did just as you said he would.  You have once again proved that your expertise in the raising of small boys is unsurpassed on both mortal and immortal soil, and I am very grateful."

"You are also very late," said Kaimelas firmly, taking his lord by the arm and steering him to the door.  "Bandobras!  Do you attend to your master and be sure he gets to the throne room immediately!  And if any attempt to impede him you have my express permission to run them over, though be you sure to proclaim For Halflings and the Shire! at the top of your voice."

"Count on me!" said Bandobras cheerfully, and taking Legolas by the hand ran out the door, the Elf lord trailing behind him.  Kaimelas and Mistress Pearl could hear Bandobras' little voice speaking excitedly as they ran, and Legolas laughing replied.  Kaimelas shook out the soiled doublet, looked critically at the water mark, and shook his head.

"Many ages has it been, since I was forced to think of the ways and motives of small boys!" he said.  "Indeed the last boy did I take hand to raise was the very one to whom I pay obeisance; though many centuries have passed but yesterday does it seem I taught him first to draw a bow.  So between us two we have yet another thing in common; invalids we might both be, yet we work together to make sure our boys grow up well."  He went to the door then, but paused with his hand upon the lintel and said:  "Did you note, Mistress Pearl, that the odor of breakfast clung to him still, despite the changing of his doublet?  Now he shall be obliged to greet his noble guests smelling of toast and sausages!"

"I cannot for the life of me imagine either Cirien or Araval will object; they are quite nice smells and far more pleasing than any of those fancy colognes they sell in Serni," said Mistress Pearl comfortably, taking up her embroidery hoop once more; Kaimelas agreed laughing and went out.

(A/N:  Yes, I know; Monday is supposed to be Green Knight Day, but I was in Arizona.  So sue me.

I hope you like this week's offering!  Chapter warning: food descriptions! -- Le Rouret)

Cirien of Langstrand was tall and thin and had achieved in his middle-age that spare wiriness of form so envied by the corpulent; he had also a lean hooked nose and low brows, and his pale hair was thin and wispy atop his bony head.  His features were gaunt and his emblematic air one of resigned tolerance to his lot in life; this was deceptive, for Cirien was acknowledged by friend and foe alike as a man of keen insight and deep understanding.  He sat upon the low soft chair by the inglenook, his doublet collar so stiff and high it seemed surely to hold up his head upon the thin neck; in one hand he cradled a crystal goblet; with the other he perused a letter, his lips pursed in deep thought.

His friend at the hearth beside him could well have been chosen as an exemplar of a perfect opposite to the wise knight reading the vellum missive; he was swarthy, and jolly, and rather fat; he had at one time been a stout and muscular man but retirement and inactivity (not to mention a love for that peculiar red wine so commonly found in Dol Galenehtar, where he was a regular guest) had rendered his muscle down into flesh, and he was more inclined to sit at table than upon his destrier, as had been customary in his youth.  He too held a goblet filled with his favorite wine; indeed his host had been so thoughtful as to put a decanter at his elbow, so that when the goblet emptied, as occurred with a touch more frequency with him than of his two companions, he was not obliged to request more and so discomfit himself, but could refill his glass at will.  He watched Cirien read, his expression somewhat more subdued than was his wont, and the third member of their party, tall, pale, and full of restless energy, echoed his gravity, standing with arms folded by the mantle-piece, his golden hair shimmering in the firelight.  After a moment Cirien made a little huffing noise, folded the parchment in two with his fingers, set it upon the table, and took a draught of wine.

"Well, Cirien, what think you?" asked his host, stirring; the embroidery upon his doublet flashed as he moved.

"It does not look good, Legolas," said Cirien, setting his goblet upon the table beside the letter and leaning forward, putting his elbows on his knees, knobby in their scarlet hose.  His fingers laced together resembled wicker-work.  "This Théalof, who purports loyalty to the king; seems to me to speak out of both corners of his mouth; upon the one side he claims allegiance to the house of Éomund, praising King Éomer and making many broad felicitations to his allies; yet when he speaks of the dissenters it is as though he gloats over them; almost would I say he finds the discord in Rohan to be his king's just due.  Also I have difficulty believing, as he claims, that fully one-half of Rohan's populace wishes for Éomer to put aside his foreign wife and marry one of their own; the Rohirrim may be as many say barbarians but to my knowledge they remain at least honorable ones."

"It is not unheard-of for a barren queen to be supplanted by a younger bride," said Araval distastefully.  "It is not apposite but the lords in Belfalas have been known to so do."

"To hear of something and to do it are, I hope, two very separate things," said Legolas dryly.  "Nay, friends, I do not think Éomer would divorce Lothíriel, even if it were found she were of Harad, or worse, Umbar.  Nor should the Rohirrim – at least the ones I have had occasion to meet – support their king in that decision; Lothíriel is well-loved though she came as a stranger; she gathers unto herself ladies' maids of Edoras and the nobility in its surrounds, has learnt the language passing fair, adheres to the customs, and moreover she is generous in her works of munificence and an untiring source of mercy to her assumed people.  In fact the only fault one might find in her as queen is her inability to produce an heir to the throne, which to my mind begs not the question of supersession, nor even of divine disapproval as some have suggested, but of natural incapacity, and I do not, mere Sinda that I might be, claim to know the Valar's mind in their workings on this.  My lord of Langstrand, you and I are as one in this; I do not trust Théalof, and am chary of meeting with him as he suggests.  To ask me to consider neutrality rather than risk my ties with the trade-houses of Edoras!  He thinks little of me, if he supposes my exchequeur controls my loyalties.  Rather would I have naught to do with such men, who attempt to draw me in one side or the other; Éomer is my friend, and I will brook no attempt to divide us, nor will I allow spies and liars to weaken the bonds betwixt our lands with idle gossip or malicious deceit."

"What will you do then?" asked Araval, refilling his goblet.  "Tell him not to come? He did say in his letter he had planned already to meet with you in a fortnight's time."

Legolas made a face.  "That would be very rude," he said.  "You know well, my friend, my mother raised me with better manners than that.  I refuse hospitality to none, despite my personal estimation of a man's comportment."

"I suppose," said Araval, his eyes twinkling, "you might arrange for him to get lost in your wood – turn him off the proper path, perhaps; lead him up into the knees of the Ephel Dúath – the longer he wandered, the more you might put off the fateful meeting; and if he should happen to run across a hungry bear, or to accidentally fall into a crevasse – Well!"

Legolas laughed.  "That should surpass rudeness and sink well into the depths of vulgarity!" he said, going to the sideboard and fetching a goblet.  As he poured out a quantity of wine for himself he added, "Besides, it is my duty as one of Elessar's vassals to search for and rescue all who go missing in my demesne; my scouts are far too well-trained – they should find him immediately, and then not only would I be constrained to speak with him about the uprising but nurse him back to health as well."

"Pity," sighed Araval.  "It should have been such a neat solution."

"You cannot, I think, short of giving offense to him and his followers, avoid meeting with him and discussing the succession," said Cirien, turning the goblet round about in his fingers.  "He is quite insistent – bringing in your friendship with Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn and your position as the White Lady's champion, your attendance at the wedding of the King and Queen of Rohan, and your approval in Éomer's wish to adopt Fastred as his heir.  How, by the way, O Green Knight, did he discover that particular tit-bit of information?  I myself had no idea you had discussed this with Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn; Fastred's legacy was a surprise to me when I heard of it."

"I know not," said Legolas shrugging.  "Gossip runs faster in the fields of Gondor than a startled rabbit – indeed it runs as erratically, and with as little purpose and direction as well, making it an uneasy cohabiter.  Théalof as a special envoy of Rohan in Minas Tirith could have heard it from any visiting dignitary I suppose.  We made no exceptional care to speak covertly; servants were about, and the occasional minor cleric.  After all it is no secret the King of Rohan is childless, and his closest kinswoman in possession of two fine sons."  He hooked his foot round the leg of a light chair and pulled it up to the fire, sitting upon it and staring into the flames.  "And also it is no secret the children of the Lord and Lady of Ithilien are welcome and frequent guests in my halls; think you, Cirien, if you sought enlightenment concerning their doings and futures; whom should you inquire of, their parents, or a family friend?"

"I suppose if I desired to seek information in secret I should ask the friend," said Cirien, "for a parent might be wary of a grown man inquiring into his child's affairs, but to gossip as one lord betwixt another of an acquaintance's family seems the more innocent.  And you are one of the Firstborn; few of the Rohirrim – few Men, for that matter – know aught about you and your folk; it is likely he thinks you an easy target.  Also, Legolas, you are viewed in some quarters as quite soft; your largesse is well-known, as is your tender heart toward little ones; there are many who think a kind heart obstructs a shrewd eye."

"Yes," said Legolas thoughtfully, thinking of Fastred running blithely to the shelter of his halls.  "I know that full well, though those seekers find otherwise when they ask charity of me."

"And whilst we speak of it," smiled Cirien, "what shall you do with the eldest son of Faramir of Ithilien?  Will you send him back or keep him here, to keep the sharper eye upon him?  And if you keep him here what will you do with him?  He is too old to let play and wander; especially now that so much depends upon him in the North."

"Your kind heart hides not your shrewd eye," said Legolas with a light laugh.

"But then I am not so kind as you," said Cirien wryly, "so my shrewdness is not quite so obstructed."

"Quite so," said Legolas.  "Well I am going to keep him, my friends; he came to me seeking sanctuary, so sanctuary he shall find here amongst my people in Dol Galenehtar.  He has promised to swear temporary fealty unto me, which perchance might hold him harder than filial ties at the moment; I have sent a message unto Faramir telling him of this, and plan to keep him here with me ere we set out for Rohan at midsummer."

"Knows little Fastred you take him to Rohan?" asked Araval in surprise.

"Nay!" said Legolas.  "Had he known he surely would have fled not towards me but from me.  I shall hold that niggling detail from him for now; it would do us no good to have him run away again, and who knows where he would go a second time?  I should like to have him at hand when I need him, and not go running about looking for him.  Besides what would I say unto his lady mother, if I lost him whilst he was under my care?"

Araval shuddered.  "O do not suggest such a thing; it is terrible to contemplate!" he said.  "Rather would I explain his loss unto his father than to the White Lady; he is adamant but she is frightening."

"So what will you do with him?" asked Cirien.  "Make him a page?  Take him as a second esquire?"

"Now it is you, Cirien, who frighten me," said Legolas, smiling.  "One esquire is enough, thank you!  No, I have decided he shall work in my hunting-barns."

"Capital!" cried Araval, clapping his fat hands.  "The dear small warrior, he will like that quite well.  Tyarmayél then?"

"No," said Legolas.  "I am sending him to work under my huntsmistress; he loves horses and riding, and would find the stables no chore at all.  Amongst the dogs and falcons is work aplenty, and he will learn the more that way."

"You are not sending him to Andunië!" exclaimed Araval aghast.  "What a terrible punishment for the boy!  Surely his iniquities deserve not that!"

"Andunië is not cruel," chided Legolas, raising his eyebrows at Araval.

"Not cruel, no," admitted Araval reluctantly; "but she is so stern and unmoving; that will be so hard on a boy of high spirits.  I mean no offense, my friend; I have known colder women, but to be sure they were already dead."

Despite himself Legolas laughed.  "You have not known her as have I," he said, draining his goblet.  "She is not cold – far from it!  There is fire in her though buried deep; one has but to wait and to listen and to work along side her and the warmth seeps out – reluctantly, I do admit to you, my lords both; she is stiff and unbending and it is a patient man who whittles away at her hard shell.  But as to Tyarmayél – she should be far too easy on Fastred; that, coupled with his love of horses, which he surely has inherited from his lady mother, should turn his stay here into a holiday, and that would not suit my purposes for him at all!  He has done his noble parents great injury, and sent a subtle insult also unto his uncle; for that he must be duly disciplined, and play and merriment are not part of that plan.  Nay, friends, it shall be Andunië, and her cool silence and brusque way; he respects her greatly, and even fears her a little; she shall have no trouble with Little Lord Fastred at all."

"Dear me!" sighed Araval.  "Poor Fastred!  Despite his perfidy I do feel within my bosom the stirrings of compassion and pity."

"For myself I should rather pity Andunië," said Cirien dryly.  "Have you told her, O my friend, that she shall be burdened with this young charge of yours?"

"Not yet," admitted Legolas.  "I think I shall spring that surprise on her when she is in a better mood than present; she has lost a falcon today, and is cross; after the feast this eve, when she learns from Tuilíndo that I have requisitioned the purchase of three eyasses from Targond in Minas Tirith – two speckled peregrines and one gray goshawk; a fine creature – with noble enough pedigrees; fierce and loyal and hand-fed from capture.  That I deem shall raise her spirits sufficiently, and as we discuss how she shall train three at once I shall slip in the news of Fastred's labor with her."

"A capital plan!" cried Araval approvingly.  "Perhaps then she shall not scold you overmuch."

"O Andunië never scolds me," said Legolas, waving one long white hand.  "Hirilcúllas scolds, Dúrfinwen scolds, Seimiel scolds, even Leithwen scolds, though gently.  But Andunië has never scolded me; ever her bearing towards me is one of acquiescence – disapproval betimes, but always acquiescence."  As he spoke there was the chiming of bells; Legolas looked over his shoulder out the window, through which he could descry the sun.  "One hour 'til feast-time!" he said cheerfully, getting up and setting his goblet upon the mantle.  "I ought to get me to my chambers to dress, ere Kaimelas and Bandobras come to look for me – I was so late this morn I have set them all back, and if any should scold me this day it shall be those two.  Have you all you need, my friends?  Shall I send in your esquires unto you?"

"Nay, I am knowledgeable enough I think to negotiate your halls," said Cirien; "Araval, shall I call your esquire, or perhaps some random Elf to get you up?  You seem less portable this eve."

"It is the wine," said Araval with a laugh.  "It is so good; I cannot but drink it!  Yes, perchance you might send in some agreeable Elf to aid me to my rooms – getting up is harder these days; I do not know how you stay so nimble, my lord Cirien.  One would think you were ten years my junior."

"I shall send Kaimelas," said Legolas.  "Then he will not have such occasion to reprove me for my tardiness.  By your leave, my lords both!"  With a graceful bow he exited the room, leaving the two knights in the gloaming.

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Legolas as lord of the feast did excel in amiability that night; his Elves, forever hospitable and merry, made the banquet hall to ring with laughter, filled as it was with the delectable scents of the harvest of the kitchens.  Even Araval, forever hungry, was satisfied with the roast venison, the geese stuffed with bread and chestnuts, the boars' heads surmounted with apples, the platters of dried sausages and creamy cheeses, the thick-crusted bread that broke apart into steaming white marrow when torn, the olives and potato fritters and pickled vegetables, and the abundance of wine of course – sweet cold white wine from the eastern slopes of the Ephel Dúath, sharp blush from the fields of the Pelennor with a bite to match the dark yellow cheese with which it was paired, rich dry red wine from the lower vineyards to drink with the game.  Indeed Araval had sampled so much goodness that by the time the pork pies were served his trencher was sodden with gravy and he was obliged to request a new one, offering the old to the huntsmistress, Andunië, for her dogs.  After the serving-Elf had brought it over Araval watched her where she sat, near the lower end of the hall off the dais, clad in a simple gown of pale green, her tawny hair pulled back with a gold fillet; though all her companions laughed and sang and spoke in merry revelry Andunië held herself still, absorbed with her trencher in silence, attending with preoccupied air to the conversation about her.  When the serving-Elf presented to her the trencher, with the message from Lord Araval of Tarlang that it was to be brought to her hounds, she turned seeking him out amongst her lord's guests on the dais; Araval smiled at her and raised his great silver goblet in salute.  She in turn raised her own plain tumbler up to him, acknowledging him with a slight upward curve of her lips and an inclination of her head, barely marked.  Pleased with himself, Araval took a deep draught, and humming a lively air set himself to carving a large portion of the smoked pheasant sitting before him, making sure to take with it a goodly scrap of the richly seasoned skin.

"For shame, Araval," said a cheery voice in his ear; "you flirt so with my house-maidens and distract them from their proper duties.  I shall inform your wife of this, and she shall take unto you a good heavy belt when you return to your home!"

Araval turned to see his host beside him, resplendent in his ornamented robes of green and yellow; the elaborate beading and embroidery flashed and sparkled in the mellow light of the candelabra above them, and the great mithril crown surmounted his head like the nimbus about a snowy moon.  In one hand he held his golden goblet, filled again with dark red wine; in his other he took a small pasty in his fingers, which he popped into his mouth with a wink.  "Try the pasties, my lord of Tarlang!" Legolas said, taking a drink.  "They are made with mushrooms and thyme – I shall set you a game now; do you guess for me who made them!"

"That is no game but a sure thing," said Araval; "if they contain mushrooms for certain it is your esquire had much to do with their composition!"

"Ah, you are too canny for me," sighed Legolas with mock-sorrow.  "Soon even you shall rival Cirien for wisdom.  Tell me, O my friend, for what purpose did you send your trencher to my huntsmistress?  Seek you alliance with her, or are you as Galás has just now suggested entranced with her many charms?"

"Neither!" said Araval, his belly jiggling with mirth.  "Rather I wished to see her smile; I have watched her this night as she sits there betwixt Tyarmayél and Hwindiö, and have not seen even the ghost of a smile upon her lips since she entered the hall.  I did however manage to eke one out of her; I thought I might, if I sent a gift to her dogs; I am convinced one could give unto that maiden an offering of the most splendid of gems and jewels, set in twisted gold and shining silver, and get naught for one's pains; however to send a present to her hounds might perhaps stimulate her to more lighthearted mien.  And as you can see, O Green Knight, I was correct; did you not see that she smiled at me?  To be sure it was not much of a smile, but it was more than I have seen of her since I have made her acquaintance, and it is rising ten years for that."

"Very well," said Legolas, his eyes twinkling; "I shall absolve you then of attempting to waylay my maids with your sly ways.  But know you this; already have I coaxed a smile from her, when I informed her earlier she should be receiving those falcons."

"I am crushed yet again!" said Araval shaking his head.  "But perhaps it is just as well; I would not have you telling tales on me to my wife for anything."

"Behave yourself then," smiled Legolas, clapping his friend on the shoulder, and went to attend unto his other guests.

"Where is Fastred?" asked Cirien when Legolas had gone to him and bid him try the pasties.  He unlike his friend Araval had abstained from the richer foods, finding them indigestible, though Legolas noted with pleasure he seemed to be enjoying the boiled beef with herbs.  "You have not forbidden him from feasting?"

"Nay!" said Legolas.  "So fatigued was the poor thing this eve that he took but a bowl of broth and cup of fresh milk ere retiring; perchance he shall be rested enough in the morning to foregather with you and my Lord Araval.  He did good work today, writing for the redemption of his conscience five letters of apology; I perceive his breast is well-beaten and on the morrow he may start his apprenticeship with my huntsmistress."

"I venture to guess that our friend Araval sent unto her that trencher to cheer her countenance," said Cirien, looking across the table at that jolly lord of Tarlang, who was laughing and talking with the Elves all round him.

"He did," said Legolas; "to Araval's mind the sober face is the sad face; he knows not the joy can be hidden beneath such gravity."

"And is Andunië joyful this eve?" asked Cirien with a smile, refilling his friend's goblet.

"I assure you she is," said Legolas; "so pleased was she with news of her three new charges I felt confident enough to tell her about Fastred; she did not so much as flinch, my Lord Cirien, and even ventured to admit – albeit grudgingly – that he might be an aid unto her as she trained the eyasses.  And though Tyarmayél is disappointed I did not assign Fastred unto her (for he has been since birth an especial pet of hers), she graciously consented unto Andunië that Fastred would be better suited in the kennels, furthering the goodwill betwixt those two in the barns."  He lowered his voice then and said, his fair face serious:  "I have had a letter from Éomer; it was delivered by one of Elessar's messengers not five minutes before I left my chambers for the feast.  The news is not good; will you meet with me after the dances in my offices?  For I greatly desire to speak with you regarding this report, and to garner such wisdom as you might be benevolent enough to bestow upon me.  I might ask Araval to join us anon," he added, smiling, "should that good lord abstain some from the wine-jugs; otherwise it might be best to leave him here."

"I am as always at your eager and immediate disposal," said Cirien.  He glanced round the hall then, at the chattering Elves, the merry musicians, the servers running to and fro with platter after platter of good food, and said, "The feast is likely to go on into the night – will you dispense then with your presence in the dances?"

"I had best not," said Legolas shaking his head; "Bandobras becomes quite irritable when I neglect my duty in that area.  I am constrained to at least five rounds; you might show due support of your poor host and join him in the fray." When Cirien hesitated Legolas added slyly:  "I shall find for you a good partner, fair of face and not given to much prattle – Liquíseleé perhaps?  She is quiet enough, and possesses both visage and carriage so well-designed as to turn any man's head, even one so sober and careful as your own; also do I recall your predilection for fair-haired maids.  O do you join us, Yellow Knight; many years has it been since I have seen you to make merry upon my rushes."

"You are too kind," said Cirien wryly.  "Very well, I shall dance as well, and so please my host and his Halfling."

"Your humble servant!" said Legolas, rising and bowing floridly; with a laugh and a wave he went off to see to his other guests.

Legolas' private offices were in daytime bright and airy, with tall paned windows topped with stained glass, which broke into brilliant rainbow colors about the floor when the sun streamed through; the marble walls were white and hung with pale tapestries, and the floor satiny sanded oak, so smooth it was a pleasure to walk upon barefoot.  The rooms were filled with bookcases and tables stacked with rolled parchment, and hung upon the walls were maps and naval charts, calendars and star charts; however wherever one looked there was paper – reams and reams of it, printed with plain ink, or covered in spidery or loopy script, or scrawled with charcoal, or decorated with colorful calligraphy.  The paper was stacked in neat piles upon his large black desk, and Hirilcúllas his secretary kept them from blowing off or shifting round by the simple expedient of placing large polished rocks upon each pile, preventing them being lost or muddled.  During the late fall and winter months the desk was nearly empty of these papers, showing its glossy polished surface to the high-beamed painted ceiling, and affording its owner little concern; the few documents that accumulated there were quickly dispensed with, and the Lord of Dol Galenehtar could enter his office with a feeling of quiet satisfaction.  In the spring and summer however did the paper flowers bloom thereupon, vexing Legolas with their presence and insistence, like dandelions persisting upon a clean green lawn.  Hirilcúllas and Tuilíndo did their best to shield their master from the effluence engendered by reason of his wealth and nobility, but there were many items that could only be managed by the Green Knight's personal touch and seal; far from engendering pride in his position it served only to make the Elf to sigh mournfully, and whilst he attended to these myriad matters Hirilcúllas betimes caught him gazing out of his mullioned windows at the mountains beyond with a wistful expression upon his face.

In the dim hours after midnight his office took on a gloomy, shadow-strewn aspect, as though it had thrown on a dark cloak and stood half-obscured by shade.  Tall beeswax candles were lit, and the fire set the shadows to dancing; the high ceiling swam with silhouettes and the tapestries whispered and shifted upon the walls like tall ghosts; the star charts glimmered and the papers hissed and rustled against each other as the breeze wandered through the rooms, round columns and behind curtains, stirring parchment and cloth, and setting the Lord of Dol Galenehtar's flaxen hair to winding about his head like gold floss.  He sat not behind the overburdened desk but in a soft armchair by the inglenook, and round about him were seated his hastily-assembled council:  Cirien, haggard in the gloaming; Araval, nodding and snoring despite his good intentions; Bandobras, bleary-eyed but still alert; Galás and Meivel, those polar opposites, flanking the mantle, looking oddly alike with arms crossed and faces grave; and Hirilcúllas and Andunië, still shimmering in their finery though Andunië had let down her hair; Hirilcúllas sat primly beside her fellow maid, dark eyes attentive, but Andunië despite the muted splendor of her green gown looked as though she would have rather been clad in her leather tunic and riding-skirt; she leant her tanned face upon one hand, which was propped by the elbow upon the arm of the couch, and played absently with her sash. Her green eyes were fixed upon her lord, though her face as always betrayed not any sentiment; she appeared more bored than otherwise.

Legolas looked round about him, satisfied with the wisdom he had collected in that room; he cast a tolerant eye upon Araval slumped slumbering in his armchair, and spoke into the silence which heretofore had been broken only by the snaps and hisses of the fire.

"Well, friends all, what think you?  A pretty problem, is it not? And coming as it does upon the heels of this trade proposal with Éomer's cousin; does it seem to you, as it does to me, that this has been rather more carefully orchestrated than we had previously supposed?"

"You need not ask my opinion of that, my lord!" said Meivel grimly.  His arms were folded across his chest, and his jaw was set; his pale eyes flashed.  "Not since this Théalof first set foot in Minas Tirith have I been at ease with him; he smiles and flatters and turns his head to look at you, and I am reminded of a snake on the hunt for an unsuspecting dove.  He is to my mind a man over-ambitious and possessing no restraint – see you how he works to garner approval and alliances within Elessar's court! – edicts go missing, gossip spreads, and ever does Théalof, whose first allegiance ought to be to his king, smirk and apologize and slander the house of Éomund, though in dissembling guise and with soft convincing words.  I do think me he craves the Golden Hall for himself, and thus seeks connections with those of influence in Gondor; hence for what reason would he insinuate himself into the minor houses of Langstrand, or promise land to our own lord?  And as for these letters you have received, O Legolas my friend, first from Bréawine, then Théalof, and now King Éomer, I am the more convinced Rohan is become a breeding-ground for deceit and treachery."

"Surely you do not include the king in this estimate of venality!" exclaimed Hirilcúllas.  "Why, Meivel, if any one man has aught to lose in this commotion it is he."

"Please, Hirilcúllas, do you not put such words in my brother's mouth," said Andunië, toying listlessly with a ribbon on her sleeve.  "The three letters were written by three separate men, all purporting to have three separate designs for the future of Rohan and the throne in Edoras."  When Meivel gave to his sister a nod of approval she added, "Yet, O my brother, must I express my disagreement with you upon one point; these past years you have as you said been wary of Théalof of Rohan, and I doubt that not, for of all gathered here yours is the more suspicious mind – "

"I give no argument to that opinion," said Galás dryly, and he and Bandobras exchanged winks; Andunië continued as though he had not spoken.

" – Yet I feel Théalof seeks discord not for the throne, but for fiscal gain."

"A cogent point," said Cirien from the hearth.  He rubbed his bony hands together near the flame, for the night was chilly, the hour was late, and he was feeling his age.  "I have shared with you, gentles all, the trade proposals, the concessions, the grand promises made beneath the seal of the King of Rohan, yet I am uneasy; my fellow knights in the south are eager to concede to these pacts for the terms are generous, but I am not sanguine for the promises come not from the hand of the king but from his emissary, and I as Meivel here do not trust him.  Indeed I have never trusted him, from the moment I met him in Erui; smooth I thought him, smooth and slippery like oil slicked upon water, and his words though purporting to be gentle and wise are laced with bitterness and deceit.  I will have naught to do with him, though my brother knights chivvy me along.  'Leery' they call me, and laugh; we shall see who laughs last."

Legolas sighed, and the fire reflected itself in his eyes as he gazed into the flames.  "Power and wealth," he said, his voice tinged with both anger and sadness.  "O how foolish are the children of Men, who so desperately chase after such fleeting things!  Upon their pathways are haste and misery and despondency, for their years are brief, and thus they trample underfoot the poor, the weak, the worthy toward whom their energies ought rather be directed.  And a great pity it is Elessar opened the way for treaties to be signed betwixt his vassals and foreign powers – 'twas a generous sentiment, but misguided perhaps."  He was silent a moment, then said, "So is it power, or wealth?  Meivel says power; Andunië says wealth; Cirien hints at both."  Bandobras shifted on his stool, and Legolas turned to him with a smile.  "Speak, Little One, and be not silent!" he said.  "I can see you have your own opinion on this matter."

"Well, Master," said Bandobras slowly, picking up the thick yellow sheets of paper with the great green seal of Meduseld broken upon it.  "I read this here letter from King Éomer and I don't see a man thinking his emissary's getting the best of him, nor that he might get into trouble due to this Théalof's sneaking ways.  But neither do I see him blowing kisses at him, no indeed.  Seems to me, Master, my lord and everyone else, that he don't trust Théalof much neither, but got him out of Rohan because he couldn't do naught with him anyway, him being the king's cousin and all.  And maybe he's thinking Théalof'll cause less trouble away from home than in it.  Look here – "  He unfolded the parchment, scanned down the second page with his finger, and said:  "Here it is.  'Inasmuch as Théalof is my chosen agent I have given to him certain liberties, which he has executed to the utmost of his abilities,'  but then a few sentences later he says: 'My representation in Minas Tirith is ineffectual and touches on the inconsequential, affording me little protection.'  Mighty big words he uses," sighed the Hobbit, "but you see what he says – he put Théalof in Minas Tirith for a reason, and gave him a good bit of leeway, but all those 'liberties' as he said Théalof used up pretty quick, and in all the wrong places, and looking to make himself rich, and not helping his king out nohow."

"It seems to me as though Éomer wishes for allies in the south, and sent his emissary down to so do; yet now he suspects himself denuded of them by reason of his emissary's duplicity," said Cirien.  "My brother knights in Langstrand sign the treaties, but to date I have not, for I see that though the proposals are beneath Éomer's seal, the documents have but Théalof's signature and sign."

"That bodes ill for King Éomer," said Hirilcúllas.  "He might believe himself to have support in Langstrand then, but Théalof has naught to do but to call upon these knights and when Éomer needs them Théalof may hold them in abeyance."

"To what end does Théalof pursue them?" asked Galás curiously.  "What I mean, my friends, is, does he desire trade with them, to so increase his wealth, or will he instead use these treaties to withhold help?  If he wants solely to enlarge his fortune that is bad enough; but if he seeks to keep their allegiance for himself that may argue some deeper and more sinister plan."

"You mean treason?" asked Hirilcúllas, her eyes flashing.

"Do not look so surprised, Little One," said Legolas to her with a grim smile. "This is not the first time in Rohan's brief history that the kingship has been disputed.  In our talk of Théalof we do not mention Bréawine.  Do we consider them to be working separately?  You, Andunië, seem to think so."

Andunië shrugged.  "They would be odd allies," she said disinterestedly.  "It is possible though, I suppose."

"Possible!" exclaimed Cirien.  "I do beg your pardon, Andunië, but I should not have thought so.  Firstly, O huntsmistress, do you take into account their heritages; Théalof is Éomer's cousin – a distant one to be sure but perchance he considers himself a more appropriate heir to the throne.  Bréawine instead is of the line of Helm Hammerhand, and the lord over a strong-willed and obstinate people who through history have not often been loyal to the throne in Meduseld.  Did they both seek power, they should be in contention; Bréawine has said publicly no son of Dol Amroth shall rule over Rohan, and opposed Éomer's marriage to Lothíriel.  Yet Théalof is better served to remind the people the line of Éomund is a legitimate one, for that brings him the closer to the throne.  Also consider their separate pleas to the Green Knight! In this also to me they appear to be working at cross-purposes."

"How do you see that, O Lord of Langstrand?" asked Galás.

"Think you again upon Bréawine's letter to your lord, my friend Legolas," said Cirien.  "He asked for support from you and Aldamir of Amon Din to drain the marshes about the Onodló to increase the amount of arable land."

"It seems a reasonable request," shrugged Galás.  "The marshes have expanded these past ten years, washing over field and pasture and permeating the good black soil there, giving pleasure to naught but ducks.  Both my lord and the Lord of Amon Din have good engineers and much experience in the draining of marshland, and they are both on excellent terms with King Éomer.  Why should he not ask for their collaboration?"

"To begin with those marshes do not belong to him," said Cirien.  "They were ceded not ten years ago to Errakh-hem of the Dunlendings.  King Éomer wishes to keep the Wildmen out of Rohan, yet does not want to slaughter them, for he is not only a warrior but a just and compassionate man.  So he has given the fenland to Errakh-hem and his tribe to fish upon and to live within.  But Bréawine's holdings are to the marsh's north-west corner and perchance he wishes to expand his demesne.  And it is this very land Théalof also holds out as a tempting morsel to the Green Knight; Éomer's it might be to give unto Legolas rather than to Errahk-hem, but Bréawine's, no!  So for both men to offer unto your lord this land seems to me to be imprudent; it belongs to neither.  Therefore I say they work against one another, for if Bréawine knew Théalof offered the marshland to Legolas he would rather beg Legolas' help, and did Théalof know Bréawine's plans likewise he would wish for clemency – or rather play at working to protect Éomer's assets, which is more like unto the Théalof we know – crafty and underhand."

"Hirilcúllas," said Legolas, "where is the letter in which that information was given me concerning the ceding of the marshes to the Dunlendings?"

"A moment, my Lord," she said, rising and going to the back of the room with a candle. She searched through some shelves for a moment, then came back holding two envelops.  "Here you are, my Lord," she said; "it is a letter written not long after our arrival, from Lord Aldamir; he mentioned it in detail, for it concerned some of his own demesne."  She handed Legolas the first envelope and he read through the letter within; he frowned and nodded and said:

"Yes, it is as I remembered; Aldamir and Éomer both were concerned with the restlessness of the Dunlendings; not so much out of compassion for their lot, being pressed in this vise betwixt Amon Din and Rohan, but out of concern for their own folk, for whom the Dunlendings were fast becoming a threat to their property and well-being."

"And remember also, my Lord," said Hirilcúllas, handing him the second letter, "you and King Elessar discussed this; Elessar out of concern for his brother king, and for his vassal Aldamir, considered eliminating the Dunlendings utterly, but you dissuaded him, reminding him of his own homeless wanderings in the wild; here is the copy he did send to you, my Lord, of his reply to Éomer, that Gondor would protect folk threatened by the Wildmen, but not persecute the Dunlendings."

"As I recall that was a point of some contention betwixt the two kingdoms," said Galás, taking the papers with a frown.

"Yes," said Legolas shaking his head regretfully.  "It pained me to see them so divided, but in truth I could not encourage Aragorn in the indiscriminate slaughter of those people; I know their presence is a continual thorn in Éomer's side – and do we not see evidence of the Dunlendings' violence and hatred whenever we look upon the sickly countenance of the daughter of the Lord and Lady of Osgiliath! – yet it has always galled me that they had no home nor land nor lord.  That they have chosen this Errakh-hem to lead them promises further discord, for he may be strong enough to convince them to oppose even Éomer's men."

"Hence Bréawine's arguments seem the more convincing," smiled Meivel.  "If he is able to absorb the fens into his own demesne and dispossess the Dunlendings, how happy will be the people of the Onodló and Amon Din!"

"And how unhappy the Wildmen," said Cirien.  "Will that not stir them to further discord?"

"It would me," piped up Bandobras.  "Get given a gift of land, and then get turned out of it?  A false giver, that's what we Hobbits would call the king if he did such a naughty thing.  Unfair, that's what it would be.  Not so bad now that it's rising summer, but it gets mighty cold in Rohan in the wintertime, and that's the truth.  Think about it, folks, these Dunlendings aren't just the men running round burning and killing and stealing; they've got to have wives and children same as everyone else, or how would they keep breeding?  What can they feed their little ones when they ain't got barns and cows and such?"

"Well spoken, O Halfling!" said Cirien.  "We do not wish to see the folk of Onodló and Amon Din harassed by such as these; nor would we wish to watch their little ones starve or freeze to death upon the plains.  What said you to Bréawine, Legolas?"

Legolas smiled.  "Bréawine knows I opposed displacing them and he wishes to change my mind," he said; "he attempts to undermine my allegiance to Éomer with promises of fiscal remuneration, and to placate me with offers of land.  Not wishing to show him how firm my loyalties lie with my friend Éomer I have given him naught but vague replies."  At Hirilcúllas' muffled exclamation of annoyance he added with a laugh:  "I have composed my answers couched in platitudes and inanities such that he will think me a complete idiot, and an uninformed and naïve one at that.  Hirilcúllas seems to think it reflects upon her own duties that her master is seen to be so foolish, but in this way it is easier to put him off than to make him aware I am his enemy."  He smiled at his secretary, but she only tossed her dark glossy head and frowned at him.

"Better he think you an idiot than an enemy; he will not see you coming this way," said Cirien; "that was wise I deem."

"To be wise by playing the fool?  Perhaps," said Legolas.  "Well, and now we have decided Théalof seeks wealth, and Bréawine land; what is it Éomer asks of me?  For of these three men he is the sole claimant for whom I have the inclination to help."

"Can't ask you directly, can he, Master?" asked Bandobras, looking down at the letter.  "Never seen a note from him as is so fuzzy.  Makes me think maybe he knows his letters might be read."

"As well they may," said Cirien, "since they go through his envoy first."

"Think you then Théalof reads his king's correspondence?" asked Hirilcúllas looking shocked.  "It is hardly within the boundaries of his position to so do, and shameful beside."

"I do not suppose that would stop him," said Meivel.  "King Éomer is wise I think to couch his fears in such a circumlocutory fashion."

"The letters are sealed though upon their arrival here," protested Hirilcúllas.

"O but that's not so hard," objected Bandobras; "all you need's a hot knife and nimble fingers, Hirilcúllas, and you can lift a seal and leave not a trace.  Why I can do it quick as a flash, and you'd never know I done it."

Hirilcúllas looked scandalized, but Galás laughed merrily.  "Capital!" he exclaimed.  "O that I were a Hobbit and could think of such perfidy!  Do you show me how to do that, Bandobras, I beg you!"

Bandobras blushed deeply and looked up at his Master, but Legolas was smiling.  "Peace!" he said to Hirilcúllas, who was very affronted; "it is a wise lord who knows the best and most loyal spies."  He turned to Andunië.  "And how went your day, Little One?  Did the heir of the throne of Rohan perform his several duties to your standard?"

"Hardly," said Andunië, her green eyes cold.

"I am not surprised; you are such a martinet," grinned Galás; when Meivel frowned at him he added, "Ah, I did not mean to insult you, O Sober-and-Conscientious!  There are none to rival you in that area, not even your sister here."

Meivel took in his impudent air with the disapproving look he always reserved for the seneschal.  "Though you meant it as an insult I shall consider myself flattered," he said.

"Enough!" said Legolas, running his hands through his hair; "Andunië, do you know why I have sent Fastred unto you?"

"Yes, my lord," said Andunië evenly.  "You either hate me, or are cruelly punishing me for some unknown offense."

There was some muffled sniggering at that, and Hirilcúllas laughed aloud.  "Nay!" said Legolas, his eyes twinkling.  "Wished I to discipline you I should have taken your riding-clothes away, and made you to wear your pretty green dress and slippers every day, and to put up your hair in ribbons, and do naught but teach him to dance."  Andunië's mouth twitched at that, but not even Cirien could tell whether she had stifled a smile, or a frown.  "Listen well, Little One!" said Legolas, reaching across to the couch and taking her by one slim wrist.  "I consign Fastred's little heart unto you; it is hard still, and aching with affront.  But by your insistence upon hard work, your ideals for a job well-executed, and your lack of sympathy for any who complain about their lot in life, he shall at first be frustrated, but your firm resolve and unswerving perseverance shall overcome him, and he be taught to accept his destiny and go unto his uncle – not uncomplaining, perhaps, but at least willingly."

"You ask much of him," said Andunië, looking hard at him, "and of me, my lord."

"I would ask naught of either of you if I did not think you capable," said Legolas firmly.

They held each others' gazes a moment, Legolas adamant, Andunië reluctant; at last she said:  "Very well, my lord."

"Excellent," smiled Legolas releasing her hand; "I knew you to be the fitting one for the job at once, despite Araval's objections – "  That knight, hearing his name spoken even in the midst of his slumber, muttered and shifted; Legolas smiled down at him, then looked to the others.  "Tyarmayél is disappointed, Andunië my friend, that you have been so privileged to take upon yourself the schooling of the heir of Rohan, but I am confident in you and know Fastred will be the better for it."  Andunië said nothing, but only bowed her head in acquiescence; Legolas turned to the rest of his companions and said:  "Well!  Have we determined anything, or have we as I suspect merely run about in circles, deciding nothing of import, and having no plan for the future?"

"Circles, my lord," said Galás promptly.

"O I don't know," said Bandobras; "We decided Éomer knows something's up, and the Dunlendings are about to get their noses put out of joint, and Bréawine and Théalof aren't what we'd call bosom companions.  I think that's doing well, Master."

"It leaves more questions unanswered than answered however," said Meivel.  "Still, my lord, we have not determined what you should do – we trust not either Théalof nor Bréawine; Éomer warns you though surreptitiously of trouble in his land; Fastred is known to be Éomer's chosen heir and it will not be long ere both Éomer's enemies descry his presence here.  You did plan, my lord, to go to Rohan with Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn as they delivered their son up unto the King of Rohan to be his heir; yet here is Fastred living in Dol Galenehtar.  What will you do?  Send Fastred to his noble parents to let them bring him to Rohan themselves?  For if you are in the vanguard with Rohan's heir they shall know full well your compliance and loyalty, and you shall lose what edge you have over Éomer's enemies."

"That is true," said Cirien thoughtfully.  "It seems to me, my friend, you would serve Éomer better by withholding any outward displays of allegiance; in this manner you might further determine the depths of Théalof's machinations and Bréawine's plots.  So long as they are determined to bribe you with promises of land and monetary reward they will speak with you, albeit deceitfully; however as you are able you might sift through their empty promises and flattering words and see more of the truth which you could then use to strengthen Éomer's hands against them."

"And well he needs it!" said Legolas fervently, taking the letter from Bandobras and looking down at it with a frown.  "Poor Éomer," he added softly, shaking his head; his pale hair swung round his throat and glinted in the dim light.  "To have taken up the throne with such hope, and pride, and confidence; then to be openly criticized for taking to wife the daughter of Imrahil … then the blight and famine which nearly beggared him … heir after heir stillborn; dissention from Bréawine, violence from the Dunlendings, and now to suspect treason at the hands of his own ambassador to Minas Tirith!  A pity it is Elessar and Undómiel are at Fornost; he has the authority and the armies to wrest peace even in a separate kingdom, and we his vassals do our small best in his place."

"Then you must needs forego thinking yourself his vassal," said Cirien firmly, "and remember instead you are the son of the King of Eryn Lasgalen, and in yourself a free agent with the authority of the Firstborn behind you."

Legolas cocked his head at him, his gray eyes sparkling.  "So I am," he said, laughing, "and I thank you for your timely reminder!  My friends, what think you?  Should I comport myself as the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, or as Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen?"

"Your Highness!" said Meivel, putting his hand upon his breast. "But speak the word and we shall comply. We might well live amongst the mortals of this land but we never forget that the length of our days and the hope of our future are tied up in the heavens and stretched upon the surging sea; the time for play-acting at mortality is at an end.  Take you up your crown and scepter, O Prince, and we shall follow you with all faith, for you are far more than Elessar's vassal, or even the Lord of Dol Galenehtar.  You are Legolas Thranduilion and come of the line of Doriath and your enemies will do well to be reminded of this."

Legolas rose to his feet, and Galás, Meivel, and Bandobras rose as well and bowed to him, and Hirilcúllas and Andunië rose themselves and curtseyed.  Legolas smiled, but the eye he bestowed upon his subjects was grave nonetheless.  "Very well then," he said, looking about the room.  "The Green Knight goes to his friend King Éomer of Rohan and brings with him the stanchion of the Firstborn.  I give permission to no man to speak of my doings concerning this for now I act in secret, in order to determine how best to uphold the line of Éomund."  He turned to the inglenook; the Yellow Knight sat there, his lined face grave, and Araval still slumbered in his chair.  Legolas asked, "Are you in agreement with this, O Cirien of Langstrand, my friend?  Will you, as you have always done, hold your tongue when men ask of my doings?  And will you lend unto me your support and wisdom, so that I as Prince of Eryn Lasgalen might go with better will unto my friends in Rohan?"

"You know that I shall," said Cirien; "you may do more as Prince Legolas than as the Lord of Dol Galenehtar anyway; you must needs act as two entities ensconced in but one vessel."

"My thanks, dear friend!" said Legolas, returning to his seat.  "And now as it is nearing dawn it is time for our mortal friends to get them to their beds."  He looked at Araval, who was breathing deeply, slumped in his armchair.  "Galás," he said, "find Araval's servant and get him to roll his lord to his chambers; we have no further need of his wisdom this eve."

"As you will, my prince," smiled Galás, and went out.

"And I'm off to Mother's rooms," piped up Bandobras cheerfully, pattering over to his Master and throwing his arms about the Elf's neck.  "It's still nippy these nights and I want to make sure she's got enough quilts and coverlets so she don't take another chill.  Will you come in and say good-night to her, Master?  Mother sleeps so restless nowadays, but she seems to drop off faster if you go in and see her for a bit first."

"I will certainly do so," said Legolas kindly, kissing his small esquire upon the crown of his curly head.  "Do you go unto her now and see to her comfort, and I shall come in scace ten minutes or so; I have some trifling thing to see to here ere I enjoy your mother's company."

"All right," said Bandobras, and giving everyone else a wave with his hand trotted from the room.  Meivel offered his arm to his sister but Legolas said:  "Nay, my good Meivel! Take unto yourself instead Hirilcúllas here and accompany her to her rooms; I must speak with your sister a moment."  Meivel nodded gravely to them and he and Hirilcúllas left as well.  But though Andunië waited patiently her lord said nothing to her, engaging instead in desultory conversation with Cirien ere Araval's servant came to aid his master to bed; when the three men had departed Legolas gestured Andunië to the chair beside his desk, and as she lowered herself into the chair he sat at the desk across from her.  He folded his long hands on the polished black surface, studied them silently a moment, then looked up at his huntsmistress; his hair in the dim firelight gleamed golden, but Andunië's tumbling locks were burnished copper, and her eyes though downcast flickered green in the gloaming.

"Be you sure Fastred learns to track with and without the hounds," he said, "and teach him the importance of keeping the kennels and roosts clean and the animals in good health.  Work him from sunup to sundown, with only short rests to eat.  He is soft, and he will need toughening ere he takes up his duties in Edoras."

Andunië raised her head; her face betrayed no expression, and her eyes were distant.  "And his marksmanship and swordplay?" she said; her voice was almost disinterested.

"In three weeks' time, when he is quite resigned to his fate, shall I send him unto Himbaláth for those things, but only when he has completed his work to your standards," said Legolas.  "And when he is brought up to our measure shall I commence his education in reading the stars; I ought to have begun this instruction last summer but he was distracted by the fishing-boats.  When do you think you will have the three new eyasses ready?"

"With the boy's help, perchance two months' time," said Andunië.  She reflected a moment, her eyes distant, then said, her cool voice husky and warming:  "They are good birds, these eyasses you have purchased for me; the goshawk in particular, my lord, is very fine.  I foresee no difficulties in training them to their duties."

Legolas heard her emphasis on the word "them" and smiled.  "Boys are not eyasses," he said gently; "but then, Little One, save in the Misty Mountains eyasses rarely become kings."

Andunië regarded her lord with sober eyes.  "We are far from home," she said simply.  But Legolas shook his head, rose, and held out one hand to raise her to her feet.

"This is home now," he said, and saw her out.  But despite his conviction when she had gone he sat for some time at his desk, his eyes turned to the stars which twinkled and burned in his windows; then with a sigh he rose to go see Mistress Pearl.

Lady Éowyn of Osgiliath sat upon the high chair in the Great Hall, clad in a gown of pale filmy blue overlaid with tiny golden stars; her yellow hair wound about her head like thickly-braided ropes, and upon her slim white neck she wore a gold collar set with gems.  The Hall was quiet, for it was as yet early in the morning; yet even so she had heard five plaints and given just judgment, signed three official letters and set thereupon her seal in blue wax, set two amercements for minor infractions, and met with her advisors concerning the outstanding bill for the repair work on the Pelennor.  The last courtier had just pattered away from her, dissatisfied but with his grievance managed, and Éowyn sat stiffly upon the hard embroidered cushions, wishing the Hall were empty so she could rub her back, which had begun to ache.

She looked round, wondering who would next occupy time better spent in the stables, and gave a fleeting but longing look out the high windows, through which she could see the sky, blue as a robin's egg and likewise speckled though with sparrows; narrow strips of sunlight lay across the gray stone floor mocking her with their warmth.  The peat fires were far from the dais and though summer approached the stone houses of Osgiliath were as yet cold.  And then, proving that though a Shieldmaiden she was foremost a mother, she thought of her eldest with a pain edging upon anger; she ached for his presence, yet when she remembered his flight she ground her teeth in frustration.  And ever in her mind spun the same questions, unanswered yet repeated in round:  Was he well?  Did he truly regret his actions?  When would he come home?  What would she do when he did?  What would she do if he did not?  Did she truly, as she and her husband had decided, want to send him to her brother in Rohan?  The ache began anew and deep within the recesses of her heart she began to doubt her resolve; this angered her for ever had she been stern and unmoving, and to find within herself this duality of spirit dismayed her.  She saw Beregond approaching from the far end of the room, his face purposeful yet unhurried, and let out an impatient sigh; this could mean but one thing:  There was yet another plaintiff to be heard.  She dutifully cast aside thoughts of her comfortable riding-skirt and the feel of Hásef's reins in her hands, and awaited him wearily.  She did not want to hold court; she wanted to escape to the outdoors, to drown out her roiling thoughts and battered heart with the thud of hoofbeats and the whistle of the wind in her ears.  Yet she schooled her expression to one of attentive stateliness; it was a comfortable mask and one she was accustomed to wear at least, and had stood her in good stead during many trials and difficulties in her life, so that she could show a proud and indifferent face to both dependents and detractors.  Beregond gained the dais and bowed deeply to his lady.

"Yes, Beregond?" she said, hoping she did not sound so jaded as she felt.

"My Lady," said Beregond; "I have dismissed the minor courtiers and villeins; you have a guest who though unannounced I am sure supersedes all other plaints and affairs."

"Who is it?" asked Éowyn in surprise.

"Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen, my Lady," said Beregond promptly.  Éowyn frowned at the title given, though she felt deeply relieved it were her champion above all others; she had hoped to foregather with him, to speak with him of her son, and also to receive from his hand her eldest, for whom her heart did writhe in tumult; she did not know whether to whip or embrace Fastred upon his arrival, and heartily wished Faramir were there, to soften her temper, and restrain her tongue.  Yet she felt within herself a burgeoning joy at the thought she would soon hold within her arms her son, whom she had thought dead during that long horrible day; she longed greatly to look upon his face, and to touch him herself, to reassure herself he was well and truly alive.  "And how happy Hísimë and Théodred shall be!" she thought, her heart lightening; "and how good it shall be to have him to table once more!"  Faramir was often gone, and Éowyn could take his empty chair during dinner with equanimity; however the absence of one of her children pained her, and the sight of Fastred's empty seat had quite taken her appetite.

"And why do you announce him as the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, Beregond, and not by his proper title?" she asked.  "Have you then forgotten he is Lord of Dol Galenehtar and our close neighbor and fellow vassal of the King?"

"Well my Lady, he has proclaimed himself thus," said Beregond, shrugging.  "He came unto the gates and said to the gatekeepers: 'Tell the Lady of Emyn Arnen that Legolas Prince of Eryn Lasgalen seeks audience with her.'  I do not know, my Lady, for what purpose he advertises himself in this fashion, but as he is certainly of royal blood it is his proper appellation; also he has been a loyal friend and close companion to Osgiliath, and has brought us wealth and protection and respite in festival; it is only fair we go along with his whims."

"Very true, my friend," said Éowyn; "well bring him in then, and have the herald announce him as Legolas Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, since that may make him happy.  We all know he is the Green Knight; it is not as though he is a stranger here."

"As you wish, my Lady!" said Beregond, bowing again, and went back to the doors.  Sure enough in but several minutes the brown-clad herald banged his spear upon the floor and declared in a voice that boomed and echoed through the Hall:

"Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen seeks audience with her Ladyship, Éowyn of Emyn Arnen, Princess of the House of Éomund."

"Éowyn of Emyn Arnen welcomes the grace and wisdom of the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen," replied Éowyn in a ringing tone, and the remaining courtiers and advisors stood respectfully by. The great oak doors swung open, and the Elf came through, unattended, though clad in richly beaded garments and with a fine fur cloak cast about his shoulders.  He strode the length of the Hall, his fair face composed and placid, and in one long white hand he held several heavy parchment envelopes.  Éowyn rose to her feet, grateful to have an excuse to shift her position, and Legolas with a polite inclination of his head ascended the dais and bowed over her proffered hand to kiss it.

"My Lady," he said courteously, rising.

"My friend," said Éowyn warmly, smiling; he answered her smile and handed her the envelopes.  "And do you play messenger-boy this morn?" she asked gently teasing, taking them from him.  "Where is Sólormoïle? Is he become so weary of his running to and fro betwixt our demesnes you must needs deliver your letters unto me yourself?  I did not realize, Legolas, that this was one of the duties of the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen."

"Did you not?" he said dryly.  "It has been long since last you conversed with my father then!"

Éowyn glanced about the Hall, to be sure none of the courtiers could hear.  "Where is my son?  Where have you left him?" she asked in a low voice, careful to not let her anxiousness show.  Legolas had no such compunction; he grimaced, and said as he unfastened his cloak:

"As Prince Legolas plays at being messenger-boy, so does Little Lord Fastred play pin-cushion," he said, and when she gave him a sharp look added, "Never fear!  As I said to you in my last missive, O Lady of Emyn Arnen, he comes to no harm within my borders.  He is training eyasses with Andunië, my Lady, and finding their talons a tad sharper than he had first estimated."

"Why did you not bring him with you?" asked Éowyn growing distressed.  "Is it not enough, O Prince of Mirkwood, that I suffered a mother's greatest fears at his disappearance?  Do you withhold him from me so to protract my misery the more?"

"Never!" exclaimed Legolas looking dismayed.  "Think you so little of me, my Lady, and of our long friendship?  Do I not come to you in body and not simply send notice of my doings?  Have I not spent three nights away from mine own chambers attempting to rectify his errors?  And have I not cared for your son as though he were of my own people?  I came to you as soon as I could; I have ridden the night and gained your gates after sunrise in order to speak with you, not wishing to merely send another letter, but to speak with you face to face, so that all might be explained and justified."

"My apologies then," said Éowyn though she was keenly disappointed; "and now I perceive the time to speak in public is past; we shall quit this Hall then and go unto a private chamber, where you shall explain and justify to your heart's content."  She gestured to her herald, who came forward; she said to him:  "Announce to the assembly I go to meet on matters exclusive with the Green Knight and shall reconvene court on the morrow."  The man nodded and turned to the Hall, and while he was speaking Éowyn took Legolas' proffered arm and they exited.

They went along a long low allure, dark with shadows and lit solely by random oilettes, for they were in a more ancient part of the castle; several torches in iron sconces burned, and the floor was worn and curved.  Éowyn led Legolas through several crumbling arches until they had gained the solar, its pocked walls covered over with new white marble, and opening to an inner courtyard; it was light and airy, and warmer than the Hall.  Éowyn gestured to the servingman and he brought forth hot spiced wine for them both; she lowered herself into a comfortable couch, taking a goblet; Legolas however remained standing, hands behind his back, looking out onto the courtyard, his face sober.  When the servingman had departed, and the Lady of Emyn Arnen alone with her visitor save for the sergeant-at-arms who hovered always in the pediment, Éowyn turned to Legolas, who with a sigh closed his eyes, and leant upon the window arch.

"Why did you not bring my son with you?" she asked reprovingly.  "Surely you know, my friend, how I long for his presence, to reassure myself he is well! Why would you leave him behind, yet come through the night to see me?  Do you disdain then a mother's love for her firstborn?"

"Why do you ask questions like that of me?" asked Legolas; he sounded tired.  "Do you disdain then my love for you, and for your husband and children?  Do you suppose I leave him in Andunië's care for my own benefit?  Do you not think I should rather have delivered him here for you to deal with as you wished, and not keep him underfoot to wreak havoc on my household?  And do you not think I have good reason to withhold him from you?  Or shall you commence with the firing of arrows ere the white flag can be raised?"

Éowyn stared at him in surprise; she had not seen him so dejected in many years.  "My pardon, O Champion!" she said in astonishment, rising and lifting the other goblet, steaming and fragrant; she held it out to him.  " 'Twas my mother's heart spoke to you so; that is why I rejoined in bitterness, for out of the fullness of my heart do I address you, and I apologize for my harsh words.  In future shall I attempt to speak to you solely as a Shieldmaiden, trusting your judgment as I ought, and believing good and not ill of you ere you disclose to me your motives.  O Legolas, come sit with me, and drink some wine, to mend my hasty words!"

Legolas turned and smiled at her, and taking the goblet from her said:  "Give to me no contrition, and keep such lowly talk from your lips!  Otherwise I shall believe myself to be in some other castle than the Keep of Osgiliath, and to converse with some puling and weak-minded lady, not the Shieldmaiden whom I promised to champion.  Shall I not continue to uphold your cause?  Drink then with me, O Éowyn of the House of Éomund; as a sister you have ever been to me, the sister for whom I mourned my want of a true companion as a child.  Many times did I harrie my good parents, begging them to give unto me a small sister, yet of all good gifts they gave unto me I lacked that one.  And now that I have found you, why do we quarrel?"  He lifted his goblet unto hers and said, "To the drumming of hoof-beats upon a wide plain!"

Éowyn's face broke into a smile.  "And to the thunder of battle that precedes no rain!" she cried finishing the salute; they drank together, and when Éowyn sat again upon her couch Legolas sat across from her, stretched out his long legs in their mud-spattered boots, and sighed, closing his eyes.  Éowyn watched him, wary of the ache for her son now, but strengthened by his assertion of his affection for her, and wondering how she would have fared, had she been brotherless, living as an only child in the halls of Edoras.  Far down in the courtyard below they could hear the strains of music as one of the serving-maids sang during her duties, and there were echoing through the screens the sounds of people going to and fro in their work, talking and laughing.  After a few moments Legolas opened his eyes and drained his goblet; leaning forward Éowyn grasped the pitcher to refill it.  "I have waited these past five minutes for you to put your boots up on the table here," she said smiling.  "The Lord of Dol Galenehtar perchance may be too well-bred to so befoul a Princess' stand, but I had thought better of an Elven prince."

Legolas looked down at his boots.  "They are quite muddy," he said.

"And you are quite weary," Éowyn answered; "did you not say to me, O Champion, you have foresworn sleep these past three nights?  Of the Firstborn you might be and immune to mortal fatigue, but even an Elf must needs take a little rest."

"Very well; as you have no ladies' maid present I shall offend no one's sensibilities – save your sergeant-in-arms there."

"Telumel is impervious to dirt," Éowyn said.  "Sit and drink, but do you please have pity upon me and tell me your errand!  I can be patient only so long; a Shieldmaiden I might be but I am also a woman."

"I shall sit but not drink overmuch," said Legolas, propping his feet upon the table.  "Else I shall sleep and speak not."

"That would astonish me more than anything else you could do," said Éowyn; "I have never known you to be without words."

Legolas laughed, and put the goblet down.  "Very well!" he said.  "I shall begin with the question foremost in your mind – why I have not brought your Fastred back to you.  Believe me when I say unto you, O Sister-In-Arms, that I do this not out of perversity, but in an attempt to champion your cause once again.  You must know your resolution to give Fastred as heir unto your brother sat ill upon your son's heart; 'twas for that reason he fled his home to the sanctuary of my borders."

"I thought perhaps it was so," sighed Éowyn.  "O Legolas, what shall I do?  For truly I do not want to lose him; it is said mothers should not play favorites but Fastred is the core of my heart.  Rather would I have sent unto Éomer his brother Théodred, but he is so young, and Éomer has need of an heir of an age to take some measure of command.  I am resolved in this, yet greatly pained, for I do not wish to lose him, though he go to succor mine own people."

"I do not wish him to go either," said Legolas.  "Many happy hours have I spent with him in your demesne and mine; he is more like unto a small playmate to me than the son of a neighboring lord.  And 'twas for that reason he came to me, for in his mind I am naught but the rich and merry and indulgent lord who lets him come and go as he pleases, and presses him to no labor; you and your noble husband, however, are now seen as the enemies of his happiness, and Éomer and Rohan the darkness that covers his future.  But fear not!  I have a strategy in place to reverse his viewpoint, so that he will long for you, and regard Rohan as a haven."

"You plot to change a young boy's mind?" asked Éowyn in amazement.  "Are you not aware, O my Champion, that Fastred is mine own son, and is possessed in no niggling measure of my obduracy?"

"Say not 'obduracy' but 'tenacity,' " said Legolas mildly, lifting his goblet to his lips.  "It is not so discourteous that way.  Yes, O Lady of Emyn Arnen, I am well aware of his … tenacity; it is that very attribute I hope to use to turn him to our will."

"Speak then and be not silent!" said Éowyn.  "Now I am more curious than provoked, which was no doubt your aim in presenting your scheme to me in this roundabout fashion."

"It is thus," said Legolas.  "Do you know, O Shieldmaiden, for what purpose he came unto me and my people?"

"To claim sanctuary," said Éowyn.  "He must have thought you would accept him unquestioning, and allow him to live on there as he wanted, free and unfettered by the constraints of court and obligation, having naught to do but hunt and fish and play and eat, for that is why he loves you so."

"And know you," asked Legolas, "how came he to my people?"

"Nay," said Éowyn.  "Only that Meivel fetched him in a swoon, in the dark while it was raining, and Himbaláth found his horse so choked with brambles he could scarce move."

"He came upon one of our olintalari in the southern part of our sacred groves," said Legolas.  "I had set enchantments about it so that any one who journeyed uninvited in our lands, and came upon our feasting-rings, should fall into a deep slumber, and I be alerted forthwith, so that I could send out soldiers to deal with any intruders."  Legolas shook his head.  "I confess to you, O Éowyn, that my mind was full of thoughts of Fastred's disappearance, and I imagined any trespasser to be part of the puzzle; there are severe consequences in Eryn Lasgalen when one of my Lord Father's olintalari are breached – as Gimli's father Glóin knows full well! – and perpetrators of such infamy are customarily sent to the dungeons.  By my laws, which echo my Lord Father's, I could very well have sent Fastred to the dungeons – "

"Do you have dungeons?" asked Éowyn in amazement.  "I have never heard of any dungeons being built beneath Dol Galenehtar."

"Well, not dungeons as such; more holding-cells, if we have a visitor of low rank who makes himself a nuisance in some way, such as stealing, or prowling about.  It is a foolish ruler who assumes everyone behaves well at all times.  Anyway I could have sent Fastred there, but the thought galled me; yet I knew his perfidy to be true, for I had heard already of Éomer's need and your solution, and it angered me that he should so set your authority to naught, and turn his back upon his royal uncle; also it vexed me greatly he should have the effrontery to assume I was soft as well as kind.  Kaimelas wanted to whip him, but though that thought appealed to me I felt I could not administer such chastisement lacking his parents' permission – "

"Which you would have got; that thought was foremost in my mind as well," said Éowyn grimly.  Legolas laughed again.

"Being but Elves, and unused to the motives and minds of small mortal boys, we instead requested the aid of an expert."

"Who?" asked Éowyn.

"Pearl Took," said Legolas, his gray eyes twinkling, and Éowyn laughed.

"And what did Mistress Took prescribe?" she asked.

"That Kaimelas should flog him with words to stir his conscience, and I come in sorrow and silence to prick it; it worked quite well, for he wept, and said he was sorry, and begged my forgiveness.  And also did Mistress Pearl say to us that Fastred should be given a choice, whether to be sent in disgrace to his home, or to stay in Dol Galenehtar, and predicted he should choose to stay; also did her words hit target, for that is what he did.  And she further said unto me, O Lady of Emyn Arnen, he should work out his punishment and thus pay for his lodgings, and I should find for him some work so disagreeable he will be dismayed by it; also that I turn from him my desire for companionship and good camaraderie, treating him as a vassal, so that he will become angry, and disillusioned with Dol Galenehtar and with me; I shall also impress upon him the importance of his duties, and work him hard with no rest, so he be weary of my home and my presence and think longingly instead of Osgiliath and his family, and know that to reign in Rohan is better than to toil in Dol Galenehtar.  And so that is what I shall do, my Lady; he is with Andunië now, who as you know is brusque and exacting and unsympathetic; he works sunrise to sunset with little rest, and thus is trained and toughened and made more a man than a child.  And it is for that reason, O Éowyn, I keep him from his mother; for he is angry and chagrined, and though he writes letters of apology to you and to your husband – " Legolas gestured to the envelopes he had delivered, which Éowyn had dropped upon a footstool unseen
"  – still he harbors within his small heart the resentment he shall be forced to leave his home and go to your brother's kingdom; this anger will not fade if he be kept here, among his friends and family and in his comfortable room; the anger will turn upon me instead in his exile, thus preserving his regard for you, and giving unto him the desire to escape from me."

Éowyn considered this for a time, her eyes upon the window to the courtyard; she looked troubled.  "But though he turn his hard heart from me he shall hate you," she said; "how can you bear it, to have Fastred hate you thus?"

Legolas sighed.  "Well my lady, I am your champion after all; it is my right and duty to uphold your honor and judgment.  And also I am not merely the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, or even the Green Knight; I am first and foremost the Prince of Greenwood the Great, and it is a grave thing to seek sanctuary of me, for I espouse obligation over fancy and value trustworthiness more than many bright gems.  Fastred's view of me has been only Lord Lassah of Dol Galenehtar; he shall know me now as Prince Legolas, who is far more stiff-necked than he – after all I have been at it longer, and am better at it having had so much practice."

Éowyn shook her head, but leant forward to take Legolas by the hand.  "Then I endorse Mistress Pearl's judgment and bow to her decision," she said, her eyes bright with tears.  "Though it pains me to so do I shall relinquish the chastising of my son's soul unto you, O Prince of Greenwood.  Only tell me, I beg of you, when shall I see him?  For my heart yearns toward him and he is greatly missed not only by his mother but by the entire household."

"Mistress Pearl said to give him two months, three at most," said Legolas.  "Then perchance shall his heart be softened toward you, and he might stay with you for a night during our journey unto Rohan.  O yes!  I am taking him to Rohan, my Lady; do you not look so surprised!  Better the hand administering his fate to be mine own than his mother's, for he shall hate me the more, and cling to soft and tender memories of you in his sorrow."

"Two months!" sighed Éowyn shaking her head.  "But that is nothing; I am constrained to lose him for good by sending him unto my people."

"Say not 'for good' but 'for Éomer,' " said Legolas tenderly.  He rose, brought her to her feet, and kissed her upon the forehead.  "He is fortunate indeed to have you for a sister; you are generous and kind and faithful and devoted!  He reigns well who has such bastion behind him; stand well upon your promise, O Princess of the House of Éomund!"

"Let me be your sister then, and you might be unto me a bastion and fortress as well," said Éowyn.  "I am losing my son – he is already gone; it is as though I have sent him out into the wilderness, away from my help and succor!  O what have I done, my Champion?  I am losing him; he is already gone.  But I cannot go back on my word – Rohan needs him.  O I am so weak; help me to be strong!"  And she wept.

Legolas took her into his arms to comfort her.  "I am here," he promised; "I will always be here."  And he let her weep upon him for a while, that her mother's heart would find some respite not only in her tears but in his strength.

Soon spring gave way to summer, and the bright new green of the leaves darkened and deepened on the trees; the sky blew open its dome of brilliant blue and settled into a warm yellow haze as the pine trees set forth their seed, and the clouds clotted and rumbled together, scurrying past and dragging their shadows behind them, surprising everyone with violent showers or letting out gusts of hot damp air, booming and cracking when a thunderstorm struck, and roosting upon the horizon to set sunrise and sunset glowing with golden molten embers.  Birds nested in the green leafy towers of Dol Galenehtar in droves, chattering and bickering over branches and seeds; deer rutted and bawled, squirrels built huge untidy nests in the tops of the pines, and the last winter snows upon the slopes of the mountains melted and rushed down the rivers and cataracts in white surging plumes, stirring up huge mists that watered the ferns and boxwoods and rosemary brakes nestled in the rocky cliffs.  In every dell the daffodils and narcissi and hyacinth gave way to daisies and violets and dandelions, and the gardens of the Elves burst forth in fragrant display, twining with vines and blossoms and trumpets and tendrils.  The vineyards started to put forth good show with huge clusters of dark grapes upon the eastern slopes, and tiny bunches of white grapes huddled beneath dark leaves in the southern fields; the olive trees were laden with fruit and the herb gardens heavy with scent, and with the hum of the bees darting to and fro seeking nectar. 

But Fastred's thirteenth summer, that he had anticipated with such great pleasure and elaborate scheming, crawled by with an interminability tantamount to eternity.  Summers had ever been fleeting affairs for him, flashing by as quickly as a bright sleek trout in clear water, pleasing yet brief, and when autumn came he had always found himself wondering where the warm lazy months had gone, and why he had not been able to accomplish all the wonderful things he had planned in the spring:  the building of tree houses, the climbing of cliffs, the exploration of the ruins of the old citadel, the fishing and camping and tramping and boating – there had never been time enough before; summer had always fled past on feet too swift to stay for him even an instant.  But not this summer!  Ever did Fastred toil in the back courtyard, hot and aching and weary, with scarce a moment to spare to gaze out the gates to the delights beyond; but oftimes his thoughts wandered back to Osgiliath, and to his friend Halgond, and a sharp pain pierced him when he would realize this last summer here in Ithilien would have been spent with his friend, had Fastred not run away.  And he would think of his brother and sister, and the many happy hours he ought to have spent with them in the nursery, building up treasures of memories to bring with him when he went alone to Rohan, and then he would miss them terribly; also he thought upon his Lord Father and Lady Mother and his heart was wrung with a sickening mixture of guilt and longing.

Worst still was Legolas' indifference – Fastred had thought that at least in his toil he might foregather with his Elvish friend but that was not to be so; the Elf lord came rarely to the back courtyards but kept himself to his chambers and offices and throne rooms, and when he would ask Andunië her lord's whereabouts she would shrug and say:  "What matters that to you?  He is likely too busy."  Fastred could see from the dusty yard the citadel walls and the high tower of Dol Galenehtar – clad in white marble, girt with gold leaf and dressed in verdant ivy dotted with flowers – could see the tall windows sparkling with cut glass and oriels, could see the dovecotes and terraces and balconies and the many Elves going to and fro about their business.  But he did not see Legolas, and he could not go there; he was confined to the eastern courtyard where worked the huntsmistress upon her dogs and her falcons and her young mortal charge.  There were no feasts nor outings nor quiet lazy days with books or toys for him; he had sworn fealty unto the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, bowing before his beloved Lord Lassah and taking an oath to work through his sanctuary, and his days of leisure were past.  His disappointment in his friend turned slowly to resentment, and then to sorrowful acceptance; his thoughts became bleak and sad, and he found himself missing his brother and sister all the more, and his own room with its big comfortable bed – Andunië insisted he sleep in the kennels – and especially his noble parents, against whom he had rebelled so heartlessly.  He missed his father's gentle laugh, and twinkling eyes, and strong brown hands; he missed his mother's quick fierce embraces, and the proud lift of her chin, and her long golden hair.  When he recalled their thoughts upon his disappearance his throat grew a lump and his eyes stung; only Andunië's cool and disinterested face kept the traitorous tears away.

But once did Fastred admit to anyone his atonement had worn thin; Bandobras the Perian had passed his way and asked a question, casual and friendly as was his wont, on a day when Fastred's head ached and his back groaned and his heart hurt, and the Little Lord of Osgiliath tearfully vented his frustration, full of penance and anger and homesickness and weariness.  The Hobbit had only patted Fastred on the shoulder and given him what words of comfort he could find – "Well, it is only for a short time; soon you'll be going to Rohan anyway, and there'll be no more kennel-work for you – you'll be a prince then."  Fastred had agreed vehemently, his eyes clouded with tears yet glowing with the hope of his future, and Bandobras seeing this hid his smile behind his hand, and scurried off to talk to his master.

Andunië worked Fastred hard; he found her exacting and merciless, and was convinced she thought more of her birds and dogs than for the small boy placed in her care, and this was perhaps not far from the mark, for Andunië was unsociable and preferred the company of her beasts to that of her fellows.  Fastred was in awe of her, for her great ability to mold the animals' wills to her own, and for her innate understanding of their natures, and for her proud and thoughtless beauty; he feared her, and admired her wisdom and energy, and at times he quite hated her.  She never smiled nor laughed; her green eyes were hard as stone, and her face immovable; she was immune to entreaty and tireless in her duties, and expected the same perfection of toil in her young charge.  And when Fastred stung beneath her disapproval, or sweated through her orders, he found himself resenting Legolas the more, for it was he who had placed Fastred in this intolerable position – could he not have let Fastred work in the palace or the stables, where at least they might meet each other and speak?  But the Green Knight was nowhere to be seen, and Fastred felt quite injured by his insouciance.  "My Lord Father's belt would have been preferable to this," he thought to himself on more than one occasion; it would have been bad enough to be whipped at home, but it would have been better than to be ignored abroad.

At first he was required simply to clean the kennels and mews; this involved much shoveling and lifting, and was smelly and unpleasant; after a week of this Andunië trained him to clean the cadges and creances and jesses and hoods, being sure to point out to him every crease and crack he had missed, making him feel as though he could never please her; when she perceived his enjoying play with the dogs overmuch she confined him to the mews and to the caretaking of the eyasses and haggards, teaching him the importance of using the heavy leather manifers when the hawks and falcons perched on him.  He was surprised the first time the great goshawk stepped, nervous and unwilling, upon his arm; he had not thought so large a bird would be so light, and said so proudly to the huntsmistress.  Andunië narrowed her green eyes at him, and Fastred was filled with apprehension; sure enough she then forced him to carry several peregrines at once for an hour to show him how heavy a bird could become over time.  His muscles ached and he was covered with pin-holes and punctures despite the manifers; once an eyas bit him hard on the arm causing him to cry out; while Andunië mopped up the blood she simply said:  "You tugged too hard on the jesses; that is no way to man a raptor."  And Fastred's heart sank again; he was sure nothing he could do would ever rise to her standards.

And still he did not see Lord Lassah – or Lord Legolas, as he was now constrained to call him; Andunië had casually threatened to box his ears when he had once let slip the childhood nickname – or anyone from the inner court at all for many interminable weeks.  He did not know Legolas watched him anxiously from upper windows or behind fences and walls, marking his labor, his heart wrung with pity and frustration; he did not know Andunië would go to her lord every evening after Fastred had been sent to his cot, to give a précis of her charge's day in great detail, and to discuss with him Fastred's progress; he did not know Bandobras and his mother set spies upon him to see if he fared well or ill, sending special treats from the kitchens to augment his simple meals of bread and meat, and anxiously arguing whether the plan would work or no.  He had no idea Legolas' absence pained the Elf as much as it did him, and that his friend ached within, longing to see the boy, to embrace him, to give him a kind or encouraging word.  He knew only the Elves working within that courtyard for he was never permitted to leave it, not even to visit Hwindiö in the smithy; he had hoped at least to spend time in the stables, visiting with his Karakse and perchance hearing a kind word from Tyarmayél, for whom he had ever been a pet; but even that good woman gave him but quiet smiles and nods of greeting; he was trapped with Andunië, and was very unhappy.

After five weeks of this treatment, Andunië said he was ready to go out with the hunters.  Fastred exulted; he had longed to run in the woods and fields, to feel the cold wet noses of the hounds thrust into his hands, to ride upon his Karakse in the hunt.  But then he realized he was to be naught but a carrier-boy: They loaded him down with packs and supplies and went off ahead of him; he did naught but jog along behind them on his own two feet, bringing to them skins of water or replacement leather for hoods and jesses; his arms and legs were so tired that night he could barely move, but lay simply upon his cot and groaned.  And the following morning Andunië roused him before daybreak and said:  "On your feet, son of Faramir!  We go up the slopes to the high plateau to weather the eagles."  And for all that day, and for days after, did Fastred struggle behind the heartless hunters bearing their loads, so out of breath he could scarcely pay attention to the fruit of the hunt; after several weeks of this however he began to grow used to it, and with Andunië at his side learned how to slip the falcons, and stand back as their huge wings sent them aloft, how to call to them so they would wait-on, how to cast a recalcitrant bird when it bated, and how to feed it its reward without getting his fingers bitten.  Soon he discovered the tight-chested thrill of watching his eyas enter and stoop upon its prey, and when his goshawk at last perched upon his arm bearing in its beak a fat rabbit all the hunters applauded him, and his heart soared.  He looked to Andunië hoping for approbation but she only shrugged and said, "Adequate."  Disappointed Fastred put the rabbit in his pocket and hooded the goshawk, and followed the hunters back down to the valley.

That evening when he was raking out the mews Andunië called to him; he turned to her and was startled to see her holding a large heavy halberd, bound in iron and carved with Dwarvish runes, which she threw to him upright.  Automatically Fastred dropped his rake and caught it one-handed; he held it up to her, puzzled; for the first time he saw those agate eyes soften.  She approached him, took the halberd, and left the mews saying over her shoulder, "You are nearly ready."

Wondering what she meant, Fastred finished his chores and went to bed; he was tired as usual, but just before his eyes slipped shut remembered that, the last time he had tried to pick up a halberd, many months ago when he had been a guest and not a servant in Dol Galenehtar, he had struggled simply to lift it.  He gave his arms a tentative poke, and felt hard muscle; pleased, he drifted off to sleep.  And Andunië went to the trough and washed her hands and face, wiped her soiled boots upon the mat, and strode up through the citadel to the main tower to speak to her lord.

The next morning when Fastred awoke he went forthwith to the mews and lifted his rake, for that was his primary chore; Andunië however took from him the rake and said:

"Go see Hwindiö."

Confused but happy to leave the courtyard Fastred trotted away; he passed through the back postern and circled the inner ward past the buttery, waving to the cooks as he went; they all bid him good-morning and he sped past with a light heart.  He thought perhaps Andunië were releasing him to work in the smithy, which pleased him; he liked Hwindiö, liked his brash laugh and short shaggy hair, his cinder-dusted clothes and easy smile.  However when he gained the smithy there stood not before the door Hwindiö nor even the Man Onborn his assistant, but Himbaláth smiling down at him, his bright hair streaming about his shoulders, and two halberds in hand.  After Fastred stopped before him Himbaláth handed him a halberd and said:

"Now these blades are dull, Little Fastred, but one can still injure oneself or one's companions quite easily if the weapons are incorrectly used.  Stand to upon that mark, and I shall instruct you how to use it; it is not so elegant a weapon as a sword, but as you will see far more damaging to an enemy when wielded with skill and strength."

For the rest of that month did Himbaláth teach him to use sundry weapons – the halberd, both broad swords and cutlasses, a curved scimitar, and a flail.  Fastred was glad Andunië's rigid resolve had hardened his muscles for Himbaláth was as ruthless as she, pressing him and spurring him on, teaching him stance and cuts and blocks.  When on one broiling summer afternoon Fastred at last pinned Himbaláth to the fence with the handle of a battle axe Himbaláth had laughed and said:

"Hold, enough!  Yes, I concede you are ready."  And at that he had sent Fastred back to Andunië, and when Fastred running back to the eastern courtyard looked over his shoulder he saw the scout chuckling and gathering up his various weaponry, and speaking in his light cheerful voice to Hwindiö, who had come out to watch, and who was laughing at his friend.  And when he returned to the mews and presented himself to Andunië she looked at him simply and said:

"Go to the nursery and get your bow."

Fastred ran breathlessly into the citadel and up the stairs to the towers; he ran past courtiers and secretaries and servants and burst into the nursery.  There seated at the window, looking out upon the courtyards, his pale hair pulled back with a leather thong, sat Legolas; his long legs were stretched out on the window-seat and in one slender hand he held Fastred's bow.  He turned when Fastred entered, panting and red-faced and startled, and regarded his charge gravely.

"So, O vassal, you have manned eyasses, and hunted, and learned to fight with a halberd," said Legolas, fixing the flustered boy with a steely look.  "You have grown at least an inch, and are become strong; you have I am told work without complaint and perform your sundry tasks with alacrity. Have you ever shot an arrow from horseback?"

"I – no, I – I have not, my lord," stammered Fastred, greatly perplexed; he had not seen his Lord Lassah since swearing fealty to him in the throne room, and had assumed he took no notice nor interest in Fastred's doings.  That Legolas seemed informed of his progress made him feel at once comforted and very nervous, for though he was delighted to have Legolas speaking to him again it was disconcerting to have his friend use such a stern and austere tone with him.

"Then I shall teach you," said Legolas, handing Fastred his bow and striding to the door without looking back.  "Come with me to the stables; we will tack up your horse, and you shall learn how your brothers the Rohirrim use their bows."

Fastred's heart twisted within him; could not Lassah at least give to him some friendly word or look?  "Father would I am certain be happy about teaching me," he thought with resentment, staring indignantly at the Elf's retreating back.  "He would not regard me as some slave or ignorant serving-boy.  Does not Lassah remember I am a prince?"  Then he recalled his flight from duty and his heart heaved again, but this time the bitterness was turned toward himself, and not his friend.  Thus perplexed and unhappy Fastred followed Legolas to the stables.

It was much harder to shoot from the back of a moving horse than Fastred had imagined; it was made the more difficult by Lord Legolas' steadfast refusal to speak to Fastred as a friend.  Fastred had hoped that with time Legolas would soften toward him, but to his chagrin his friend acted as though Fastred were naught but an insignificant charge in his care; his voice, which to Fastred had ever been warm and affectionate, was distant and businesslike; he rarely said anything except:  "Have a care, or you shall pierce your horse's ear, and he will not like that much," or, "Sit up straighter, Fastred of Ithilien, so that your left arm is parallel to the ground," or, "That was good loft, but try to hit the target next time."  Fastred wanted very much to beg Legolas to call him "Little One" or to speak to him with warmth and tenderness as had ever been his wont; however he thought of what Legolas might say should he so entreat him, and of a steadfast rejection; the thought was mortifying, so Fastred pressed his lips together and firmly refused to notice Legolas' detachment.  And Legolas, who watched his little vassal behind a carefully crafted mask of indifference, felt his heart wring within him when he descried the boy's proud courage veiling his pain and disappointment; it took all that was in him to hide his grief, and when he would dismiss Fastred to the mews went forthwith to Mistress Pearl to lay his head upon her lap and seek solace from her mother's heart once more.

After some weeks Fastred was able to strike the target four times out of five, even when Karakse would go charging wildly by it; at the end of that afternoon Legolas had called him off his horse and Fastred stood respectfully by Karakse's side, waiting for the inevitable cold praise and dispassionate comments.  But Legolas had instead but given him a keen look, and Fastred to his surprise saw in those gray eyes the barest hint of grief and pity.  Then he understood why his friend was treating him so:  Fastred had failed his family and friends, and this more than the labor was to be his punishment.  Holding back tears as best he could he let Legolas dismiss him; but as soon as he was able Fastred fled to the hayloft above the stables and sobbed as though his heart would break.

As the solstice approached Fastred became aware of a quickening in his mistress' manner; she pressed him the harder and was more apt to snap and growl when he failed to rise to her measure, and Fastred threw himself desperately into his work in order to forestall any show of temper. Himbaláth had declared himself satisfied; even Legolas had by that time admitted Fastred rode and shot "passing fair;" why would Andunië withhold approbation?  At last upon one sweltering steaming afternoon, when the inner courtyard shimmered with waves of heat and even the Elves perspired, Andunië looked upon what Fastred had done with the goshawk's roost and delivered a cold sharp comment upon his many deficiencies.  Fastred's youthful heart heaved with the injustice of it but remembering the ignominy of his debt he bit his tongue and lowered his eyes, not wishing the huntsmistress to see the seething rebellion housed therein.  He listened to her move about the mews, rearranging things and speaking in a low soft voice to her raptors; then she said:

"Well I do not know why we bother with this; it is apparent you shall never attain the rank to which you might aspire; you are not meant to be a huntsmaster."

Fastred did not reply; his throat felt tight, and his eyes stung with tears.  Yet he continued to work upon the offending roost despite the sweat that rolled down his forehead and into his eyes; his arms were sore, and his back too, and he very much wanted a drink of water from the dipper in the corner, but did not dare ask for Andunië when her ire was so raised was a terrible thing to behold.  He heard Andunië close off the eyasses' cage and walk up to him; the heels of her boots beat a sharp rattle on the wooden floor, and her leather gauntlets made a soft rushing noise as they brushed against her riding skirt.  Still did Fastred fix his eyes upon his work, not wishing her to see the indignation and hurt therein.  After all he had never sought to be a huntsmaster; he was here solely for penance for his misdeeds and not as an apprentice, and heartily wished he had never rebelled against his parents' edicts but accepted his lot as a prince of Rohan.

"And what have you to say, Fastred son of Faramir?" Andunië asked; her voice was very cold.  "How shall I answer my lord when he inquires of me your progress?  Are you not mindful your deportment reflects upon me and mine own labors?  You are making me appear incompetent before him! At this rate it shall be years ere you are capable of running even a kennel."

Fastred bit his lip hard, not wanting to reply; he could not say to her that it was beneath him to be a kennel-hand, for not only was he as Andunië under Lord Legolas' protection and rule, but to imply he outranked Andunië would be both insulting and ridiculous. He was after all merely a twelve-year-old mortal boy, and Andunië had, as he had heard from Tyarmayél, managed first King Thranduil's kennels in Eryn Lasgalen, and followed her brother Meivel to Dol Galenehtar to be Lord Legolas' huntsmistress after.  That she believed him solely capable of such menial labor made him all the more conscious of that from which he had so heedlessly run.  He thought of the great wooden throne in the Golden Hall, upon which he had seen his uncle the king hold court; he thought of the high-beamed ceiling carven and painted, and the gilt horse-heads hung upon the pillars, and the pierced golden crown resting upon Éomer's noble brow.  He looked down on his own hands, that had grown knotted and strong with his labor, and the muscular arms streaked with dirt and sweat, and tried to imagine instead of the lathe those same hands gripping the great broadsword girt upon his uncle's hip, tried to see himself swinging it aloft, astride a gray horse, crying out in a strange language to a fierce and adamant people, who likewise drew their swords and called out to him:  "Westú Fastred hál!"  But he had run from that glorious future and wound up a common kennel-hand instead.  It was not his parents' fault Éomer needed an heir; it was not his uncle's fault either, nor even his aunt's.  And it was certainly no fault of Legolas that a selfish, boorish, fickle boy had proved so untrustworthy that instead of thrones and scepters he was given a straw cot and a lathe.  At least he was being trained; at least he had learned to fight with halberd and axe and bow; that proved his inheritance was as yet secure, and taking small comfort from this Fastred took a deep breath and said:

"I shall not be a huntsman.  I shall not run a kennel.  I am not certain why I work here for you; I do not know why Lord Lass – Legolas has placed me here with you, for my hope is tied to my blood, and I belong elsewhere."  He glanced through his matted wet hair up at Andunië, who was regarding him darkly, her green eyes hooded.  "When the summer is ended and my servitude paid I shall go to my uncle in Rohan and learn there to be king – if – if he will yet have me."  These last words were uttered in a choked whisper, for Fastred knew well the shame he had heaped upon his family's head, and knew also it was not unheard of for a king to reject an heir who had proved himself unworthy.  That Éomer should after all deny Fastred his birthright was a very real possibility, and the boy's heart was heavy because of it.

After a moment's silence in which he was well aware of Andunië's silent presence whilst he worked to rectify his trifling error he heard a sigh, and glancing up at his mistress saw she regarded him if not with compassion then at least with clemency; she removed her heavy gauntlets, ran dirty fingers through her dusty copper hair and said with satisfaction:

"It is as my lord promised to me; you are ready at last."

She stepped forward and removed the lathe from his fingers, dropping it upon the bench beside him.  Then she took him by his shoulder and led him to the doorway of the mews.  Through it Fastred could see the dusty hot courtyard, undulating beneath the blazing sun; he could see here and there in the shadows of the outbuildings Elves and Men moving about, leading horses and carrying burdens and going about their business; then a lone figure detached itself from the doorway of the kennels and approached them where they stood in the shadows.  The sun kindled the pale hair and illuminated the white linen doublet until it was so bright tears pricked Fastred's eyes anew; at last the white disc of the shining face coalesced beneath the shade of the lintel, and Legolas stood there, his pale eyes bright with gladness and his arms outstretched.  Fastred gulped, his heart leaping within him; no longer was his beloved Lassah's face detached and cold; his mouth smiled and upon his countenance was a look of deep affection.  Fastred bolted into Legolas' arms which held him tight; he could hear the Elf's voice speaking, oddly dissonant, through his chest.

"At last, Little One – at last."  Then Legolas spoke to Andunië; Fastred was surprised to hear the Elf's voice tremble:  "Thank you, my child; your gift to me is beyond price."

"O I think not," said Andunië dryly.  "There is that litter of pups for sale at the village in Rammas – the weanlings sprung from the king's bitch out of that great deerhound of Lord Aldamir's.  Only one has been sold; there are five remaining still, or so I have heard."

Fastred heard Legolas chuckle into his ear.  "They are yours," he said, and released the boy; Fastred looked up at him, greatly perplexed, but filled with happiness to have Lassah restored to his usual disposition.  Legolas smiled down at him and took him by the hand.

"Come, Little One!" he said, and laughed; Fastred could hear the relief therein.  "This is no place for the prince of Rohan.  Let us go together to mine esquire, and he shall instruct you in the proper manner in which to prepare for tonight's banquet, and in this fashion he might also have ample opportunity to dress me as he likes, and bully me into wearing my heavy gold crown – that is a favorite of his after all!"

"I shall wear whatever Bandobras likes, so long as I might with him wait upon you, Lord Lassah," said Fastred earnestly, his heart soaring; to his delight Legolas laughed again and embraced him, and hand in hand they left Andunië standing in the mews as they went to make ready for the banquet.  And the huntsmistress watched them as they went, arms folded across her chest; her face was as ever impassive, but if one looked carefully one might descry a glint of satisfaction in her green eyes.

Cirien sat upon the westward balcony and looked out over Ephel Dúath's slopes to the shining serpent of the Anduin far below, its silver gleam obscured by tree and hill as it wound its corkscrew way through the valley.  He could see to his right the vast undulating fields and vineyards and orchards of Dol Galenehtar, richly green and verdant and burgeoning with fruit; to his left he could just descry beneath the heavy boughs of the trees the glint of the estuary leading to the docks beside the Elvish city, upon which now and again he might catch sight of a small skiff or fishing-boat.  He knew that if he foreswore his comfortable arm-chair, with its tasseled footrest and conveniently located table sporting a carafe of wine with which to replenish his silver goblet, he might lean over the balustrade and look directly below the high balcony, to the entryway of the great Tower of the Green Knight, the pavers white and shining in the bright noon sun, the gleaming sweep of marble walls, the proud columns and brilliant green lawn with its sparkling fountains.  But Cirien was far too comfortable to peer over the edge of the balustrade and gaze down at the foreshortened figures of the Elves below; he had icy yellow wine, and crisp savory shortbread upon a salver, and a deliciously cool blue shade all about him; he was discovering in the advancing of his years a delight in ease and well-being, savoring small luxuries over the revered status he had known, and enjoying the value of rest and peace and quiet, far from the duties of his own house.  That the Lord of Dol Galenehtar received his aged friend joyfully and accorded him full welcome and bounty within his gleaming halls was yet the primary part of Cirien's delight in this country; here upon the heights of the hills breezes blew still in the simmering summer, and one could find soothing dark shade beneath the firs and lindens and pines; the waters flowing down the mountainside were cold and fresh, and the food plentiful and rich.  It was so unlike his own land in the midsummer, dry and rocky and blasted by hot heavy winds; the heights within his demesne were burnt brown in the heat, and seared gray in the cold; Ithilien was lush and green and growing.  And of course whenever Cirien turned a corner there were Elves – beautiful Elves, hale and strong and laughing; they gave to the Yellow Knight a tantalizing glimpse of what a life would be without illness or penury or hardship, and offered also unto him hope for the future of his kind.  And betimes as he lay in his comfortable canopied bed in the blue room, that was his for when he came to visit, he would think upon his poor beloved wife, who had died of a lingering illness some years hence, and wonder to himself if she might have lived, had he met Legolas when she was young.  Then, he speculated, perhaps the peace and plenty within the Green Knight's walls might have succored her and strengthened her, and the terrible gripping malady that had so haunted their years been stayed.

Yet despite his persistent sorrow Cirien found it difficult to be sad here; there was within the house of Legolas Thranduilion a tranquility that settled in one's core, coupled with an underlying sense of perpetual mirth, which was perhaps why sojourners to that land came eagerly and left with great reluctance.  Indeed Cirien himself had planned to be back in Edhellond some weeks ago, but delayed his departure, each day telling his host he waited still upon some important missive of his heir Gilmir that he would fain miss upon the road.  Yet this noon he was thwarted, for that epistle had indeed come, and Cirien had read it, so that coupled with his disappointment that he no longer had adequate excuse to protract his stay he was also much harrowed up in his mind on its account, and wished mightily to speak with his friend.  To make matters worse the envoy from the Rohan ambassador Théalof had come to meet with Legolas, and none within Dol Galenehtar looked upon this council with equanimity.  Cirien was amused to find Meivel was not the sole Elf within Dol Galenehtar's walls to look askance at King Éomer's cousin; even Mistress Pearl spoke of him with thinned lips and an expression of disapproval on her small pale face.  So Cirien waited upon the high balcony, watching the swallows swoop and swirl in the shade of a trembling aspen nipping up flies and sundry other insects in joyful pageantry and chattering and chirping one to another; Cirien knew he had but to wait until the fifth bell and Théalof would quit Legolas' presence for the front gate on his journey back to Minas Tirith.  Though Legolas received Théalof politely it was yet understood he was not welcome to sleep within his halls; feeling his host's censure Théalof but smiled and complied, claiming he must needs return to his offices by nightfall, and was thus escorted by a phalanx of Meivel's men – an "honor guard" Legolas called it, but all knew, Théalof as well, it was naught but indemnity against any men lingering uninvited.

Cirien had finished the wine in the carafe, and was watching the sun dip west towards the high white spike of the Mindolluin, when the fifth bell rang; he noted to himself Nyelledil had chosen to use the treble bell and not the tenor that day, and rose to his feet, listening to the bright clear chiming of the small brass bell calling the hour in the louvered campanile.  He passed within the solar from the balcony, pausing to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior after the brilliance of the outdoors, and made his way down to the Hall.  He nodded to the passing Elves as they went about their business, and when he gained the broad entryway to Legolas' Hall, whence emitted judgments and decrees and dictation, he paused by the great gilt oaken doors, for he could hear voices still within.  The guard at the door did not acknowledge him, but this astounded him not; the guards about Legolas' offices and chambers preserved a careful reticence and with Legolas' full knowledge allowed their lord's friends to overhear at will Dol Galenehtar's private business; in this way, Legolas laughingly explained, it saved him much time and breath rehearsing events in his council-chambers for their benefit.

"I assure you, O my lord of Dol Galenehtar, I doubt not your valor nor the security of your house; I have in mind solely the interests of my small cousin, who as I have heard through diverse means lodges here, far from kith and kin, and doubtless pines for those of his own kind.  It cannot be well for him, O Green Knight and Jewel of Ithilien, to live amongst beings so far above himself, both in age and wisdom; surely it shall spoil him, and he be made to look in scorn upon his rightful throne.  For all know King Éomer though wealthy and powerful in his own right cannot but sigh with envy when he thinks upon Dol Galenehtar and your great fortune and influence; 'twould be ill indeed for our little Fastred to become accustomed to your abundance and spurn his people in their time of great need.  And as I travel forthwith through Ithilien to Osgiliath to treat with his noble father, and with our Shieldmaiden his mother, it would be both pleasure and beholden duty for me to deliver him unto his family, or even to Rohan whence I came, to so relieve you of this load, and bring him to his accustomed people, for my cousin his uncle has great need of him, and pines for him; I would be churlish indeed to let him here, where he is naught but a burden unto you and your people, busy as you are; also I desire greatly to present him to my sovereign, who so longs for the little one's presence."

The speech was smooth and persuasive, and gave thought that the orator begged naught but to be of aid; Cirien recognized the voice of the man speaking and frowned.  That Théalof should yet be closeted with Legolas was no good thing; already three hours had he spent bending the Elf's patient yet unwilling ear, and Cirien knew his friend when tried became more like unto his father than his mother, and increasingly apt to sharp words and reckless impulse.  Thus it was with relief he heard Legolas reply in a voice both dulcet and temperate:  "O loyal vassal of the House of Éomer!  That all kings should have by their sides men such as you, who disdain personal consideration and comfort in order to succor their lords and betters, and lighten the load of those who strain beneath crushing work!  How happy my dear friend Éomer must be, to rest secure in the knowledge you watch out for his well-being, and the fortunes of his kin and heir, the child Fastred, first-born of my beloved neighbors the Prince and Princess of Ithilien!  I am reminded yet again of the selfless labor you have performed in accordance with King Éomer's requisites, of the many noble employments spent in self-sacrificing pleasure to your lord's wellbeing, and am overwhelmed by your most generous offer!  Truly is Rohan triply blessed to have you as the king's strong right hand in Gondor, and I shall cry abroad your praises that you seek to sublimate your own needs in order to succor the heir of Edoras beneath your wings, as a hen her new-hatched chicks."

"Laying it on a bit thick, ain't he?" muttered a small voice by Cirien's hip; he looked down and descried Bandobras there, ear cocked to the half-open doors; the guard in his splendid armour overheard him and glanced unmoving down; his lips twitched but he did not stir nor give any indication anyone was there, instead standing at attention, his body shielding sight from within, so that neither Théalof nor Legolas would see the two eavesdroppers.  Cirien smiled at the Hobbit, who rolled his eyes and jerked his head toward the door; Cirien bent over, and Bandobras put his mouth to the old man's ear.  "Been in there near four hours now … and the longer old Théalof speaks, the sweeter my Master's replies become, and the less he gives away."  He shook his head and said discontentedly:  "At this rate Master'll be obliged to let the dratted fellow stay the night – dinner's in two hours, and the kitchens are full of good things that I'm sure Théalof's men can smell – it'd be awful impolite to send them back with naught but their luncheon."

"Should we interrupt do you think?" whispered Cirien.  "It would be easy you know, O Bandobras Esquire of the Green Knight – I have within my doublet a letter concerning this man, and to insinuate ourselves into the conversation would be simple; also the information contained within this missive is such that Théalof should become discomfited, and remove himself forthwith.  But perhaps," he added thoughtfully, "'Twould be imprudent to so show our hands; I am sure your Master is well able to contain himself."

"Well, now, I dunno," said Bandobras, knitting his brow.  "Théalof's not so foolish as to think we're taken in by his smooth talk and sly ways.  And my Master's about had enough of this; it won't be long afore he starts picking the fellow apart himself.  Better it should come of you than of him, for then Théalof will still think my Master fair pickings, but from what you've said he knows you're a tough nut and won't dance to his music."

"Well spoken," murmured Cirien, and straightening his doublet and lifting his chin he nodded curtly to the guard, whose eyes twinkled, and who turned so that he faced the Hall, and spoke in a loud clear voice:

"Cirien the wise, Lord of Langstrand, the Yellow Knight and friend and counselor of the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, seeks the insight of Legolas Thranduilion of Dol Galenehtar, the Green Knight and Champion of Amon Din, and brings to his fellow vassal news of the sun-drenched lands of the south which are his home."

"Why, we're all eloquent today seemingly," said Bandobras looking with approval at the guard, who winked.  Bandobras answered the wink with a wave of his hand, and pattered down the hallway, his mind on his supper.  Fighting down a traitorous smile Cirien stepped into the Hall. 

He saw immediately and to his trepidation the tight firmness of his friend's mouth, which bespoke ground and clenched teeth, and there was a dangerous glimmer in those bright gray eyes.  Yet Legolas sat with seeming equanimity upon his throne, clad in a splendid robe of silver-blue glimmering with beads and metal threads, and crowned with the shining mithril coronet of oakleaves which glistened and flashed as the afternoon sun pierced the cool dim air of the Hall.  A square of sunlight lay upon Legolas' lap like a golden blanket, and tiny rainbows graced the arms of the white throne and danced with each immortal breath round about the alabaster hood above him; when he raised his hand in greeting the sleeve of the robe flashed, and Cirien's eyes were pierced by the light which shot from the green stone upon his finger.  To Legolas' right, seated in a comfortable chair several steps below the dais, was a tall clean-shaven man, fair and handsome and clad in a rich green doublet decorated with gems; round his neck he wore a heavy gold torc that would not have looked ill upon a mighty king.  Cirien felt his heart twist angrily within him, that this man should so array himself, as though he were as great a lord as the one who sat above him, and not a mere emissary; yet he as Legolas did comported himself with tranquility and showed not the apprehension upon his face.  He gained the dais and kissed Legolas' ring, careful to not look too deeply into his friends' eyes, for he knew once their composure were broken the charade would be revealed, and Legolas had an unnerving habit of making Cirien to laugh unexpectedly, which would at that juncture be disastrous.  So straightening up he stood respectfully at Legolas' feet, well aware the man of Rohan stood behind him, watching him, mistrusting him.

"The Prince of Eryn Lasgalen gladly receives the Yellow Knight," said Legolas; his voice was dulcet still, but brittle.

"The Yellow Knight thanks the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen for his clemency," replied Cirien, knowing he and his friend would laugh over their formalities later.

"You have met I am sure the ambassador of Rohan in Minas Tirith," added Legolas, gesturing with his glittering arm down the dais; Cirien turned and met Théalof's eyes, which narrowed at him. Cirien smiled but his own eyes were hard.

"O yes," he said coolly.  "I am well-acquainted with the deeds and doings of Théalof of Rohan; my brother lords in Langstrand can scarce pass a week without mentioning his endeavors."  Théalof's eyes flickered but he smiled anyway, and held out a placating hand to the older man.

"And I have for many years longed to know the Yellow Knight, Cirien who is called The Wise, Lord of Edhellond," said Théalof; his voice was sweet as honey.  "Yet an astonishing thing it is, that he and his esquire Gilmir are continually occupied when I pass through Langstrand.  Were his politesse not so famous I should almost think he were avoiding my association."

Cirien took the man's hand; it was cold and damp, and he suppressed a shiver.  "Then as my comportment is unimpeachable you must draw your own conclusions," he replied, withdrawing his hand and resisting the impulse to wipe it clean upon his doublet.  He turned his shoulder to Théalof and spoke to Legolas, upon whose face was a look of controlled interest.  "Your highness," he said, laying his hand upon the breast of his doublet, "I have at last received that letter which we have awaited these past weeks; it lies folded in my pocket, and contains therein news of the lands of Langstrand, my beloved home, and of the many pecuniary exploits accomplished by my fellow lords and knights there.  Believe me when I say unto you, O my dearly-loved friend and bravest of defenders, that the messages enclosed therein shall bring to your fair eternal face deeply-regretted expressions of concern and sorrow, for the fortunes of the lords of Langstrand hang in the balance, and I would fain join in their misguided folly, but seek the aid of all our lords – yea, even unto Elessar's distant gates to the north – in turning their hearts from this present disastrous course.  I know not the subjects upon which you and this good emissary confer," he lied, glancing back at Théalof who had grown quite pale.  "Perhaps they are to your mind, O Legolas the Benevolent, of greater import than this dire news I bear; if that is indeed the case, gentles both, I shall withdraw so that you might conclude your business, which seems to me to be greatly pressing as it has taken a full four hours of your sovereign time, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen."

Legolas opened his mouth to speak, but a flicker of dark humor ignited his eyes and he instead pressed his lips firmly together to stifle a smile, struggling for composure.  "Have you waited for me long, O my friend?" he inquired politely, arranging upon his face an expression of artful innocence.  "But you well know that time passes swifter than the fleet-footed deer pursued by hounds when one is closeted with compatriots bound to one's own purposes."  He smiled sweetly at Théalof, who had the look about him of a man trying to see whether or not he were insulted.  "My apologies, emissary of Rohan!  Through my indecision I have taken up valuable time from you, which would be better spent in your journey back to Minas Tirith!  Why if you do not leave forthwith surely it shall be gathering night ere you gain your rooms.  Therefore I give you leave to depart, to gather together your sundry men-at-arms and other advisors, so that your journey might be made the easier in the light of the sun.  We shall speak of our sundry matters another day, when there is not such ominous news from the south, where dwell not only my dear friend Cirien here, but also good Araval of Tarlang and Mardil of Ethring, the Dun and Silver Knights, who are my brothers in arms and close companions, and for whom I should willingly send forth my armies in all their strength, should the need arise, and danger await them.  Good journey to you, Théalof of Rohan; I shall consider with great care the proposal you have laid before me, and deliver unto you a message containing my reply at the first available moment."

Théalof looked from one to the other, his eyes wary.  "But the boy Fastred," he said at last; "forgive me, Lord Legolas, O Green Knight and the Protector of Ithilien, it shall take him some time to gather up his belongings so that he might accompany me back; perhaps I ought rather to wait upon him ere I depart, to give him sufficient time to collect his things.  To travel at night through your enchanted lands affords me no disquiet for I know well little occurs within your sacred borders to cause fear, and I have at my disposal many brave and strong men to protect him.  We shall arrive safely and the boy delivered in full health though we stay but an hour longer."

"That will be unnecessary," said Legolas, his voice cool and his eyes hooded.  "Fastred son of Faramir shall remain within my halls ere his debt to me is repaid.  There is no need to delay yourself on his account; you are free of obligation in that regard."  He watched Théalof as the man struggled to find yet another argument, then with a small smile said kindly, "You have my permission to withdraw, O Théalof."

Face dark with frustration Théalof bowed stiffly, gave Cirien a fearful look, and turned on his heel.  He walked the full length of the Hall under the unsympathetic eye of the guard at the door, whose face was unreadable, yet all watching the guard could see his hands tighten upon the grip of his spear.  Théalof did not hesitate but strode past the Elf, head high; he was confident in the courtesy of Legolas' house.  "Too confident," thought Cirien to himself, for he well knew Elves suffered from shortness of temper as well as their mortal friends.  He watched Théalof turn the corner and disappear, then looked back up at Legolas, whose shoulders had slumped, and upon whose face was an expression of deep disgust.

"Have I occasion to speak yet another word containing greater than twenty letters I shall surely commit gross murder," he said; he shook his head as though twitching away a teasing fly and added, "And hark at me yet!  By Manwë, I have not sounded so pompous in many years; would not my father laugh at me could he have heard me just now!"

"The greatest aggravation with such courtly language is that it is difficult to cast off once it is assumed," agreed Cirien. 

Legolas rose, removed his crown, and ran his long fingers through his hair, disarranging it and marring the studied perfection of his form.  "Well I want a drink," he declared, hooking the crown over the arm of his throne and loosening the hooks of his robe at his throat.  "Is the letter so bad, or was that simply your conniving way to rid me of that pest Théalof?  Either way I greet you with delight; I am once more deeply in your debt, O Cirien my friend.  But one more twisted phrase from those snakelike lips and I should have kicked him across the hall to the entryway, and down the main staircase through the front gates!  Indeed I have entertained such thoughts the past two hours, amusing myself with the image he would make, tumbling down the broad marble steps like a child's doll."

"I ought rather to have left you to it then," said Cirien smiling.  "But alas!  My news from Gilmir is not good, O my friend; Théalof has succeeded in securing treaties with all but three lords in Langstrand, from Calembel where dwelt the nefarious Eradan, to Poros by the Harad road."

"Those three lords being, I take it, you, Mardil, and Araval?"

"The acumen of the Lord of Dol Galenehtar once again proves itself," sighed Cirien, withdrawing the letter from the inner pocket of his doublet and handing it to Legolas.  "Even poor Hallas has succumbed to Théalof's honeyed tongue and the promise of wealth, for as you know he is poor; Baldor left him little, and his wife is most imprudent in the production of heirs."  The Elf shrugged off his robe, revealing a light linen shirt and trousers beneath, and casting his heavy garment upon the seat of his throne sat down on the steps of the dais to read the letter.  Cirien sat himself upon Théalof's chair and watched as his friend's face grew graver and graver.  After a moment Legolas raised his head and said,

"Well, now I need double the drink; this is worse than we had thought!  Théalof has managed to wheedle his way into the fortunes of Langstrand, betraying not only his own lord but our sovereign Elessar!  How angry Aragorn shall be," he sighed, resting his chin on his hand.  "Alas that he had need to secure his northern reaches!  That he were here to take this in hand himself, though to be sure I see not what part he could take, as he gave leave to his vassals to so ally themselves with Rohan.   Well," he said, folding the letter and handing it back to Cirien, "I know well my old friend Aragorn; he is not above rescinding treaties if they serve him not, and has the might of the armies to back him up if need be.  I hope it shall not come to this though, and Théalof be found a traitor ere force must needs be used.  Gondor is divided enough, and Elessar has had trouble unending with these southern duchies.  At least the fiefdoms round the Anduin are loyal.  Ah and that pricks my memory, O my friend; that serpent Théalof did suggest unto me, with regretful eye and diffident expression, that lest I claim the lands round Onodló the Red Knight shall be further beset by those unhappy pests the Dunlendings.  He indeed had sufficient effrontery to press me to accept the parcel immediately, claiming Éomer repudiated his claim there, yet, I did not fail to note, did not mention Bréawine at all. I do not think he is even aware Bréawine has approached Aldamir about the draining of the marshes; he surely would have mentioned it to me otherwise."

"The Dunlendings have ever been a threat to Aldamir's western borders," said Cirien, "and surely Théalof is well aware you have gone to his aid, beating the ruffians back at Aldamir's side, the Red and Green Knights resolved together.  Did Théalof indeed propose you take those lands not only from Éomer and Errakh-Hem but Aldamir as well?  It seems to me there are far too many claimants to that particular tract; does he propose apportioning each hectare by lot?"

"By arms more like," laughed Legolas, standing and stretching his long limbs.  "I find it unusual and inauspicious for a man of Rohan to be so wed to words; spear and sword are their preferred tools for negotiation.  He is as unlike my friend Éomer as a lion a fish; I know not the proximity of relation betwixt those two for the Rohirrim mark their ancestry in charts as convoluted as the Halflings have, but it must be a distant connection for save the color of their hair I can find naught in common with them both.  And to bring up his proximity to Fastred!  I know not what thought has he to take the heir from my protection, but I shall be fool indeed ere I let Faramir's son pass into the clutches of that rake."

"Perhaps he wishes to play upon Lady Éowyn's instincts, by delivering unto her the heir of Osgiliath, so that she will refuse her brother's need," said Cirien.  "It is a sore trial to her I know to so release her son to Rohan; Théalof must think her puling indeed to bend beneath such grief, for you and I know full well she is adamant and fiercely loyal.  But thieves think all think as thieves, and likely Théalof assumes all are fickle as he."

"Then we must needs play upon that failing, and let him so think," said Legolas.  He hesitated, his bright eyes distant and troubled, then said slowly:  "Yet his interest in my small charge disquiets me; I think I shall send someone to collect little Lord Fastred where he is and watch over him ere Théalof and his band of miscreants depart my halls.  So long as the serpent of Rohan lingers in my dwelling I do not believe the son of Faramir and Éowyn ought be left alone."  He gestured to the guard then and said, "Astaldir!  Tell Galás to send someone to Fastred of Ithilien, or to go unto him himself, and stay with him ere our friends from Rohan depart.  I do not want the boy wandering about alone."

"At once, your highness," said the guard with a bow, and left; Legolas turned back to Cirien with a smile and said:  "Now!  And what about that drink?  Perchance you are not so dry as I but I would fain drink alone.  Will you accompany me, O Yellow Knight and wisest of companions, to the buttery, where we might begin our feast early?  For the afternoon has been trying and your friend the Green Knight yearns for sweet yellow wine."  Laughing Cirien agreed, and the two knights left the Hall for the solar, and thence to the keep to seek solace for their stomachs.

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

As for Fastred, he was as his friend had feared quite alone; having finished his apprenticeship in the eastern courtyard he had been studying the stars, closeting himself in the nursery with charts and globes and astrolabes and spending many happy nights upon Legolas' balcony, watching the slow complicated dance of the planets as they wound their ponderous way about the vast wheeling dome of the sky.  He had just completed a new star chart upon a large piece of parchment, marking the movements of Alkarinque through the constellations of Menelmakar and Wilwarin, and was quite proud of it; once he had blotted it he rolled it up tight, secured it with a ribbon, and quit his room to find Lord Lassah, so that he might be released from his studies for the day.  He hoped he might persuade his friend to go riding with him, for he knew Legolas had been closeted with a visitor that day and like himself the Elf did not willingly foreswear sun and grass and tree for the dubious pleasures of the counsel-chamber.  So he trotted down the hall, preoccupied with thoughts of the hot sun on his back, and the squeak of Karakse's saddle, and the smell of dust and warm stone, and when he rounded the screen at the head of the stairs was so startled to see before him a group of men he stopped immediately, his heart pounding with surprise.

The men also stopped, and one of them stepped forward to him, smiling; Fastred hesitated, wondering what they were doing in that part of the tower, for it housed the personal apartments of the Lord of Dol Galenehtar and his closest friends and family and he was certain he had never met this man before.  The stranger was handsome and splendidly dressed, and his face open and friendly, but Fastred had been taken aback and hesitated to approach.

"Greetings, O my kinsman!" cried the man, holding out his hand and smiling in a friendly fashion at Fastred.  "How fortune favors me today!  I had just come up from Lord Legolas' Hall to seek you, and here you fall right into my lap!  What a joy it is to make your acquaintance, O Fastred Prince of Ithilien!  Long have I desired to foregather with you, for you and I are cousins, and blood calls to blood even in these sacred halls."

"I beg your pardon, sir; I do not know you," said Fastred politely, his heart slowing.  He looked round the group of men and saw they were of Rohan, and smiled.  "But you must be kin to my mother then; I do not often go to Rohan, though I am to live there anon."

"So you are; and as we go so shall you," said the man with an affable laugh.  "I have just spoken with Lord Legolas concerning this very thing; as I am on my way to Rohan myself it is far more practical to bring you with me, than for you to languish in these halls, the sole mortal child among such lofty beings.  I am Théalof, special ambassador of your mother's brother to King Elessar, and am charged with a noble task – to bring the heir of Meduseld unto my sovereign safely, so that you might begin your proper instruction as a man of Rohan."

Fastred went pale.  "I – I am to leave immediately?" he said, his heart sinking with disappointment.  "But – I have not finished my studies here – and I still have so much to learn ere I go unto mine uncle."

"Ah," said Théalof, shaking his head, "think you wisdom and knowledge reside in Dol Galenehtar alone?  I tell you there is far more that you might learn outside these halls; besides it is far more prudent to acquire knowledge appropriate to the kingdom in which you shall live.  Wise as he is, your friend Lord Legolas is an Elf – immortal, removed from our brief lives, possessing great knowledge in things that concern Elves and other such-like – stars and trees and jewels and thus; things we men of Rohan do not mark.  But you are a man, and it is better to be instructed by a man, since you shall rule over men and not Elves."

Fastred frowned; despite Théalof's flattering words he did not like to hear anyone disparage Elves, and Legolas in particular.  Notwithstanding his friendly demeanor he mistrusted this man, and did not think he wanted to go with him; besides something felt odd to Fastred, a tickling uncomfortable sensation in his heart he had come to recognize as a warning sign against a liar.  "Besides which I cannot believe Lassah would simply throw me out with no explanations or good-byes," he thought; "Lassah is not like that."  "I cannot leave straight way," he said to the man, hoping he could gain time.  "I have not packed my things.  I am not ready.  You will have to wait."  He took a step backwards, attempting to lengthen the distance between himself and Théalof; suddenly to his mind he heard Himbaláth's words, as the Elf had instructed him in the use of the halberd:  "Ere your enemy advances stand your ground; step neither forward nor back, for if you step forward you shall engage him when perchance combat might be avoided, and if you step back you shall encourage him to attack.  Let your enemy come to you."  Wishing heartily for a halberd in the place of his star chart Fastred stepped back again, and to his dismay Théalof and his men stepped forward, closing the gap he had made; then Fastred changed his mind about wanting a halberd and decided he would prefer Himbaláth instead.

"There is not much time, cousin," smiled Théalof.  "If we are to gain Osgiliath by nightfall we must needs leave immediately.  Surely your Lord Father and Lady mother have sufficient clothing and such in your home!  You may leave your things here to collect at a later time; imagine how glad your mother shall be when you arrive!  And the rest of your possessions reside still in your old rooms in Osgiliath.  Will it not be pleasant to use them again?  I am sure you miss them, and your family too.  So foreswear the few paltry items you have here; the sun falls westward and time is short."

Fastred took another step back, his heart starting to pound again; Théalof stepped forward, his hand still outstretched, his mouth still smiling.  Fastred opened his mouth to object but then his ears, sharpened by his fear, caught a strange sound – a click-click-click and a guttural grunt, coming from behind him.  He did not dare turn, but watched instead Théalof's face; it changed, the smile fading, and the eyes lighting with alarm; then a look of contempt crossed it, and he drew back, his smile sardonic.

"Well, maid, have you lost your way?" he asked, his voice cool.  "Methinks this not the place for such beasts, and by your attire I perceive you are better fitted the yards below."  A couple of his men sniggered, and Fastred turned.  Andunië stood there, clad in her dirty tunic and riding-skirt; in each hand she held a dog on a lead.  These were not the hunting hounds Fastred loved however, with their silky ears and tails like flags and easy dispositions; these were bull terriers, short-snouted, bandy-legged beasts with slavering tongues in their toothy grinning faces.  They strained against their heavy leads, sniffing the air and making anxious throaty noises, staring past Fastred to the men congregated by the screen before them.  Fastred's heart leaped with relief – any other maid, Dúrfinwen or Hirilcúllas or even Seimiel, would not have comforted him like Andunië; woman though she was Fastred knew her to be strong and quick and brave, and the presence of the terriers was also reassuring, for these were not friendly hounds but stalwart terriers, and though they might not be fully trained all beasts danced to Andunië's tune.  Not wishing her to think him cowardly he stood his ground and let her come round him, the dogs' nails clicking on the marble pavers, their brindled backs thick and muscular, the crooked little tails immobile.  They pricked their pointed ears at the men and watched, and though Fastred was a little afraid of the terriers he was greatly relieved to have them beside him.

"I know my way well round my lord's halls," said Andunië, her voice even.  "It seems to me rather you have lost your way, O Théalof of Rohan.  I do not recall your being invited into this section of Dol Galenehtar's towers."

"You will address your betters with some semblance of respect," said one of the men warningly, his hand on his hilt.  "His grace will not bear insolence from a common serving-wench."

Fastred's heart flared with indignation, but Andunië seemed unperturbed.  "I do indeed address my betters with respect," she said simply.  "I have naught for which to apologize."

The men stared at her, and Théalof's face went scarlet.  "I have not the time for such insignificant debate," he said through gritted teeth.  He turned to Fastred and his voice sweetened.  "Come, cousin!" he said with a smile.  "We need not stand about wasting time better spent returning to Osgiliath.  Bid the servant and her pets good-bye and come with me."  He took a step forward, holding out his hand to Fastred, but just then one of the dogs barked; its deep voice echoed through the hall and sounded very loud; the other dog began to growl, and Fastred saw its hackles rise.  Théalof hesitated, watching the dogs cautiously, then with a small smile turned to Andunië and said, "Hold your beasts, girl; it is unseemly for hunting dogs to roam the halls thus.  Go you unto your lord that he might mend your manners better beneath the headsman's rod."  The men laughed at this, though Fastred noted they watched the dogs carefully as well.

"They are not hunting dogs," said Andunië with an air of disinterest.  "These are war-dogs.  They have been trained to kill men not beasts."

There was a brief and rather uncomfortable silence following this announcement.  Fastred watched Théalof's face; he seemed to be struggling within; at last assuming an expression of low cunning he said: 

"I am surprised that you should lie so boldly to a visiting dignitary, girl; as anyone can see there are but bitches before me, and no bitch is used in the art of war."

Théalof's men grinned at that, and Fastred thought they looked quite pleased with what their lord had said; Andunië however only replied:

"The male dogs are used in battle; the females to protect those behind the lines.  There is no difference in skill nor ferocity; in fact it has been my experience that the female dogs far exceed their mates when ordered to defend the helpless, using their own lives as shields so that women and children might be safeguarded."  Théalof did not reply but watched her warily; Andunië's face was as ever a cool expressionless mask, and appeared quite calm, but Fastred could see her hands upon the lead-straps gripped the dogs tightly so that her knuckles were white.  One of the terriers barked again, and then they both set up growling and snapping their great heavy jaws; they felt their mistress' disquiet and tried to surge forward, pulling on the leads.  Théalof took another step back, and his men began to look nervous.

"I tell you, girl, contain your beasts," said Théalof; his voice was harsh now, and he looked angry.  But Andunië shrugged.

"They are strong, and I am but a weak woman," she said.  "Who knows how long I shall be able to hold them back?  And as you can see they do not seem to approve of you.  I suggest you go back down the hallway, to the keep, and thence to the entry way, and mount your steeds, which await you there; you have said your good-byes I think, and lack naught for your journey.  Terriers are tenacious, you know, O man of Rohan, and renowned for persistence and strength; did you know, for example, that this dog here – " she shook the left lead " – chased down a thief on a horse, hamstrung his steed, and dragged the man twenty yards through the shrub to his pursuers?  To be sure she was perhaps a touch too eager for by the time the man was brought back his throat had been torn out, and he died a few moments later."  The men looked at the dog with apprehension, and Andunië added objectively, "Nakthan is a good dog."

Théalof hesitated, then turned to Fastred; despite his anger and chagrin he smiled down at the boy.  "Come then!" he said, glancing quickly at Andunië.  "There is not a moment to lose; let me take you from this dangerous place!"

"I cannot go," said Fastred; his voice sounded very high and thin over the growling of the beasts by his side, but it was their presence gave him the courage to speak.  "I have sworn fealty unto the Lord of Dol Galenehtar and there remain yet two months' debt to him in his service.  I thank you for your offer, Théalof of Rohan, but I remain here.  Good journey to you," he added pointedly.

Théalof stood angrily with his men, his hands working by his sides; Fastred could hear even over the growling of the dogs the rough skittering noise of teeth ground together.  The left-hand terrier barked again and snarled at him; this appeared to make up his mind for him, for he gave Fastred a brief bow and with his eyes on Andunië and the dogs said:

"Very well, cousin – I will meet you in Rohan in two months' time then.  I shall leave you under the spurious protection of the bitches of Dol Galenehtar."  Then he turned and with a sweep of his cloak he and his men retreated down the hall, their booted feet clacking and clattering on the tiles.  The terriers renewed their barking, tugging on their leads and snarling angrily until Théalof and his men were out of sight; then Andunië said sharply:  "Hama, Nakthan!  Hama, Ndengina! Daro!"  The dogs looked up at her and subsided, though they still stood and watched after the men.  Fastred took a deep breath and turned to her.

"O I am so glad you came when you did, Andunië!  I did not know what to do; I did not think Lord Lass – Legolas would consign my fate to those men, but in truth I knew not how to avoid them."

"Hm," said Andunië disinterestedly, giving one of the leads to Fastred.  He took it with hesitation, but the terrier looked up at him and wagged her stump of a tail at him, and he felt better.  "Come back to the kennels," said the huntsmistress, and turned away, walking with the other dog back down the hallway.

"Why did you bring the dogs up here, anyway?" asked Fastred curiously, following her with his dog.

Andunië did not reply, but turned to a nearby oriel open to the hot summer wind; to Fastred's surprise a kestrel was perched on one of the crenellations, its bright yellow eyes staring unblinkingly at him; it clicked its hooked beak and flew off.  Fastred stared after it in amazement.  Then he realized Andunië was still walking down the hallway, and his own terrier tugging at the lead to follow her; he hurried to catch up with her, and they walked along in silence through the cool dark hall a moment 'til they reached the back staircase.  Fastred sighed.

"How I wish I could speak with beasts as do you!" he said wistfully.  "It must be helpful to have them tell you what passes, so you might act with greater speed."  Andunië was silent, and Fastred ruminated over what had just occurred; then with a start he recalled Théalof's words to her, and his heart filled with hot wrath.  "O that awful man!" he cried angrily, stamping his foot; "that he should call you such a thing!  O that I were full-grown so that I could take him to task for speaking an insult to a lady of the house of Dol Galenehtar!  O Andunië, I am so sorry one of my kinsmen could have said such a thing to you!  How shameful!"

Andunië looked calmly at him.  "Insults are like bird-droppings," she said.  "The smaller and more insignificant the bird, the less mess it will make."

Despite himself Fastred laughed, but then he thought anew on Théalof's words and shook his head.  "Well anyway," he said darkly, "I know you do not wish for a champion, Andunië, but someday I shall avenge his words and thrash him soundly."

Andunië yet did not smile, but her green eyes seemed to soften.  "That will be a great comfort to me, Fastred of Rohan," she said, and led him to the kennels.

(A/N:  I apologize for the dearth of posting!  I have had to go back to work, and am finding it more difficult than before to have the time to write to my standards.  I haven't abandoned you – I will see this through, I promise!  -- Le Rouret)

Legolas' wrath upon hearing of the incident with Théalof was terrible to behold, and Fastred was struck dumb by the sight and sound of his beloved Lord Lassah far gone in storming fury.  Never had he seen that fair face bled of color, the laughing mouth raging, the pleasant voice turned harsh and filled with the promise of violence, long white hands clenched into trembling fists and sweet demeanor turned over upon itself so that all within hearing range  – "they can probably hear him all the way up in Cair Andros; good gracious!" exclaimed Bandobras, his fingers in his ears – flinched back, Elves and Men alike.  At first Legolas proposed to go to horse himself and pursue Théalof, bringing upon his mortal head vengeance so complete as to be the end of the man of Rohan, his lackeys and steeds alike; when Meivel with great diffidence suggested unto his lord that course of action might prove imprudent, Legolas then commanded his Captain to assemble a group of stout warriors to go after Théalof and bring him back, in pieces if need be; at that point did Cirien clear his throat, bringing all eyes in the assembly upon him, and when Legolas had demanded, "Well, what?" Cirien had demurely said such an act would quite likely result in a serious skirmish, and might be seen by their mortal neighbors to be a direct provocation upon Rohan by Dol Galenehtar.  Seething with reluctant agreement, Legolas changed his tactic; Meivel was then ordered to send out his best and most canny scouts to follow Théalof to Osgiliath, Sólormoïle was told to depart with full guard bearing a message to Fastred's Lord Father and Lady Mother detailing the offense, and also a letter unto Fastred's royal uncle, to be delivered as quickly and secretly as possible, and Legolas was just calling Hirilcúllas up for dictation of a letter to be delivered to the Silver Knight in Celos, begging his aid in overturning Théalof's machinations in the South and warning all the lords about the banks of the delta to beware of the ambassador of Rohan, when Cirien, who had remained quite calm through this second tirade, cleared his throat once more and suggested to the Lord of Dol Galenehtar that such direct dealings would be premature, for until Legolas could prove to the lords of southern Gondor that Théalof acted against his sovereign's orders they might assume Rohan itself had conspired against the Steward of Gondor.  "And that, O Green Knight my friend, would surely be far more disastrous than your first impulse – bold and honorable though it was – to pursue Théalof forthwith and acquire from his shoulders his head so that you might convey it with full escort to Osgiliath, presenting it unto Lady Éowyn as her right and noble Champion; agreeable as that task might appear I am certain both actions would result rather in further obfuscation than solution, and I beg you to wait until your wrath, though justified, has subsided ere you embark upon so foolhardy a mission."   And while the remainder of the court that had not been harried from the Hall stood about eyeing their lord with deepest caution, Legolas ground his teeth in impotent rage, bright eyes flashing and fists working, standing trembling with suppressed fury before his throne.  And Fastred was not certain, for he was far too frightened of Lord Lassah at that moment to think altogether clearly, but he thought he could feel a growling oppression emanating from the Elf, a dark and dangerous anger flowing down the dais and roiling and rumbling about their feet, filling up the corners and creeping out the doors; even the torches seemed to flicker and fail.  The boy covered his eyes with his hands, his breath growing short in his throat; he could feel it flooding the Hall, filling up the air and choking out his breath; it seemed then to flow over his head like a wave, and it was heavy, pressing him down – deep ancient wrath, a black cloud flickering with lightning.  Then with an impatient exclamation Legolas stamped his foot once, the heel of his boot striking the paver beneath like a hammer upon a stone; it made a loud crack! and the cloud seemed to dissolve, so that Fastred wondered if he had but imagined it.  He looked back up at Lord Lassah, cold and shaking; the Elf was regarding Cirien with irritation and affection mingled, and a slow flush was creeping its way up his ivory cheeks.

"So that is your counsel, Cirien the Wise?" demanded Legolas, his eyes glittering silver in the lamplight.  "To let him go?  To let him believe me ignorant of his perfidy?  To allow your brother knights to be further confounded by this serpent? To continue to let him lisp his lies abroad, to my friends and yours, to Faramir and Éowyn, to Éomer?  To sit back and do nothing?"  Crack, crack!  Legolas' boot struck the pavers twice more, and his voice rang out in the Hall, echoing off the shining floor, disbelieving and indignant.  Bandobras opened his mouth to speak, appeared to think better of it, closed it again, and heaved a great sigh, ruffling his brown curls with his hands and shaking his head.  Meivel also glared at Cirien, for his blood was up, and he was eager to pursue and chastise the fiend for the infraction so boldly perpetrated within the halls he had sworn to protect; indeed he had been chagrined when his lord had changed his mind and decided to fight with the written word and not his sword, and harbored secret hope Legolas' temper would flare once more, and he be allowed to bring Théalof back to Dol Galenehtar for right and proper punishment.  All the Elves stood round, watching their lord apprehensively, and glancing from time to time at Fastred, who, being the subject of the current debate, had been placed prominently in the center of the floor before the dais, and stood awkward and anxious, shifting from one foot to the other, clutching still in his hand his star chart, and heartily wishing he could sink into the floor, away from the contemplation of the assembly.  After a long moment aged Cirien spoke, his voice as always composed and quiet.

"Well yes, O my friend, that is my counsel; I do beg your indulgence in this, for I know that contrary to courtly decorum have I twice spoken out of turn, not being asked for my mind, and also that I give advice unwelcome to your high spirit and quick nature."  He put his thin hands behind his back and cocked his head up at the figure standing seething upon the dais, and smiled; in his lined face was an expression of tender affection.  "I love you well, Legolas Thranduilion, but well do I know you also; you are long-suffering in many ways, especially concerning your own person and position, but when the helpless are harassed does a flame burn within you, and you stop at naught to pursue justice and vengeance, betimes assuming in your wrath the strength and might of many men, thus destroying utterly and laying waste, leaving nothing for those who might follow you attempting to garner knowledge of the perpetrators of the vile acts."  To Fastred's confusion Cirien glanced pointedly at the Halfling Bandobras then, who looked a trifle foolish and was intently studying his own toes; the Green Knight seeing this groaned and blushed bright pink; he turned, seeking his throne, and dropped upon it wearily, resting his forehead in his hands.

"You have made your point, I think, O my friend," he said, his voice rich with chagrin; he even smiled a little.  "Yes, of course, you are right; when motives are uncertain it is best to not slay every single enemy in sight – " Meivel looked to protest, but Legolas stayed him with a wave of his hand.  "No, dear child, not even in the interests of justice.  The Yellow Knight is right – again – is he not always right, Little Ones?  Until we know what Théalof wants it were prudent to let him run a bit; we have hooked him, and it will do little harm to allow him to think he has got free of us."

"But your highness, still he might affect some mischief in this freedom," said Meivel stubbornly, his jaw set.  "We know not his motives behind this, nor how many men he might have at his disposal, nor what armaments he might have accrued; how can we be certain he will not repeat this endeavor, when there is more chance of success?  Foolish though this Man may have been, had his goal been assassination and not abduction he might have succeeded despite my sister's intervention."

"And would have rightly had his throat torn out by way of retribution," smiled Legolas, looking into the shadows to his huntsmistress, who stood quietly with her dogs, her arms folded, her face serene.  "That would have been the way of it, would it not, Andunië?  I cannot deem what Théalof was thinking, that he could succeed in such a thing."  He turned to Fastred then, and his face softened.  "Fastred, Fastred!  Had he achieved his goal, whether it were to abscond with you, or to slay you, know you well I should not have rested ere his head graced the walls of your city!"

"I know, Lord Lassah," said Fastred, deeply embarrassed; he felt quite foolish, and wondered what the assembly thought of him, that he had been taken so unawares, and was in need of such protection.  He did not feel much like the son of a Prince, nor the son of a Shieldmaiden, and hotly resented the Elves' pity.

"Well he did not succeed," said Legolas firmly, holding out his arms.  "Come sit with me, Little One!  There is no need to stand so awkwardly before the dais – you are not on trial here, you know.  I am sorry; I was angry, though not at you.  From what Andunië says you handled yourself quite well – " Legolas turned to Andunië and laughed ruefully.  "Though he is too nice-minded to catch an insult right away, he is to be commended for his reaction, is he not, my child?"

There was some laughter at this, and Fastred blushed; he sat upon Legolas' right and wished he could go instead to his rooms, for he did not like to be looked at so, like a small and weak boy who could not even watch out for himself much less an Elven lady; however Andunië called over the court in her cool clear voice:  "Highly commended.  And he is good with dogs, you know."

Bandobras gave a surprised snort of laughter, quickly disguised as a cough when Andunië turned her green eyes upon him; he shuffled his feet upon the pavers and piped, "Well he's gone, Master, and the halls are shed of him; seems Araval was right and you oughtn't to've let him in at all.  But I don't know as you ought to just let him up and go – seems he's got a mort of mischief he might stir up, you know."

"Even so," said Legolas.  "What say you to that, O Yellow Knight?"

"I say," said Cirien, "give him his head, and he shall noose himself."

"He has had head aplenty, and shows no sign of being noosed yet," said Meivel disapprovingly, but Legolas appeared to consider this and said:

"Aye, it as you say … he must know by now I suspect him deeply, else he is a great fool, and he does not seem to me to be that bold.  Ever has he slipped and smiled and insinuated and this last brazen effrontery is far unlike him; methinks his plot has stumbled a bit and he felt need to hasten his strategy.  And if that is the case, what intrigues burgeon in Rohan?  For it is clear, O Yellow Knight, Théalof has some idea in mind for our Little One here, and I doubt me very much it is philanthropy guides him."

"I am one with you in this," said Cirien gravely.  "Something of import has occurred, or shall occur forthwith, in King Éomer's land, and this has forced Théalof's hand, though what it could be I am unsure.  Seeks he to hold Fastred hostage, or to slay him?  Either would throw the surrounding lands into confusion; for had Théalof slain Fastred blame should have been shed upon you and your people, and relations betwixt your house and his strained, and had he abducted Fastred he could have done with him as he would – held him for ransom, or sent him away, or killed him at leisure in some out-of-the-way spot."

"Perhaps; I shall inquire of him when next we meet, which I hope shall involve his groveling at sword-point," said Legolas with a small smile.  He sighed and looked at Fastred, who sat silent as he had naught to say; he had learned that trick from Karakse.  "Well my Fastred," said Legolas, his gray eyes serious, "what think you of this?  Something is happening in Rohan; that we suspect, and I fear it is not good.  Your uncle the king is in danger, and so are you, O my child, for you figure not only as Éomer's heir but are entrenched somehow in the plot of one of your uncle's enemies.  To go to Rohan will be perilous; to stay here restrictive, for you are menaced, and it is no longer safe for you to go about as you had before, riding and hunting and fishing and wandering; even in Osgiliath and Minas Tirith shall the shadow of this man haunt you, for he is not yet discovered as a traitor and is given full rein in Gondor.  Even when we tell your noble parents what has occurred, it is unlikely they shall be able to do aught but confine and guard you as shall we.  We have come to a crossroads and a decision must needs be made.  You are, I think, of an age that your thoughts in this ought be taken into consideration.  What is it that you think you should do?"

Fastred stared at Legolas a moment; did his friend mean to let him decide his own future?  In an instant Fastred's heart leaped – he could go home – he could rejoin his family!  Legolas had implied the choice were his – and that his odds were as bad in Dol Galenehtar as anywhere else – he might as well go back to Osgiliath – he could live with his mother and father again – surely they would not send him to Rohan, as it was so perilous – he would be surrounded by guards – perhaps even at playtime – and his brother and sister too, they would have to be guarded, for if Fastred were around them they would be in danger too …

It was like the slap of someone's hand upon his cheek; no, he could not go home.  He could not put his brother and sister into such peril.  And besides to be at home and not be allowed to go out, not even with Halgond, well, that would be no fun at all, and rather useless beside; what good would he be his uncle, if he stayed in Osgiliath?  He could of course stay in Dol Galenehtar – now that Meivel and the others were alerted to Théalof's plots he would be safe enough here.  But again … to what end would he come, and what would his uncle do?  He had no heir, and if this Théalof managed somehow to slay Éomer then Rohan would be kingless.  Fastred made up his mind then.  He was afraid, but the fear did not seem to matter to him; he would do what he had to despite his fears, for he was no weak boy after all; he was the Prince of Osgiliath and of Rohan and he could no longer hide in the nursery like a small child.  He took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and spoke not only to Legolas who sat beside him but to the entire assembly.

"I will go to Rohan," he said, his voice sounding very small and unsure; but it did not matter much then, for he turned to Lassah, and saw upon that fair face a look of pride, which comforted him, for Fastred then knew then that though he went to Rohan he would not go alone.

*****

They stopped for three days in Osgiliath, where Fastred's reception was joyous yet restrained; the people knew he went on to his inheritance and mourned the loss of one of their small princes, though their pride in his public elevation was apparent.  The folk on the eastern side of the city ran beside the great horses of the Elves of Dol Galenehtar, cheering and waving and calling out their felicitations; Fastred was delighted to see his old friend Beraen there too, no longer dirty nor thin; Legolas had as he had promised broached her plight to Faramir and she and her family were now well-cared-for, as her mother had been taken on in the sculleries of the house of the Lord and Lady of Ithilien.  Indeed Beraen as she ran beside Karakse did wave and smile, and Fastred smiled back; Beraen cried as he rode off: "Blessings on you, Prince of Rohan!  Go with strength to your next great task!"  Fastred had blushed then, but when he glanced over at Bandobras and saw his look of approbation, decided munificence rewarded not only the recipient but the giver as well.

His welcome at home was no less rousing; Hísimë had especially robed and gowned not only herself for the reception, but poor Théodred as well, who fidgeted and fussed in his fancy yellow doublet.  Their Lady Mother was there of course, flanked by her men-at-arms, clad in a gown of splendid blue with a pale circlet about her golden hair.  And though Fastred when they embraced repeated over and over to himself – "I am a prince – I am near grown-up – see all the people watching – this is a solemn occasion – ", he had to blink hard to keep the stinging tears away, and his voice when he greeted his Lady Mother wobbled a bit despite his fierce determination to keep it even. 

It was lovely to leave Lord Lassah and Lord Cirien and his Lady Mother in the solar over a carafe of wine, and run into the old nursery to be with his brother and sister, though Fastred discovered to his dismay that he had grown so tall he no longer fit into any of his old clothes.  Later after dinner, when he made this plaint to his Lady Mother, she but smiled and said:  "It is of no import, O my son; the tailors in Meduseld shall robe you more appropriately for your station."  Hísimë had looked envious, but Fastred was unhappy; he did not like doublets and robes and such, and preferred to dress more plainly; he glanced at Legolas then, who he knew also disliked the grand vestments he was obliged to don betimes, and they shared a private jest in silence, rolling their eyes, and tugging at their collars, which always felt tight and stiff no matter how loosely they affixed the buttons.  After dinner Legolas went back into the nursery with the children and Lady Éowyn, and let Hísimë brush his hair, and played hide-and-seek with the boys.  Théodred was happy to see Legolas again, though he made no secret of his indignation toward the Elf Lord, for not only had Lord Lassah let Fastred live with him all this time, Lord Lassah was taking his Fastred away from him again.  "It is not fair," Théodred said, stamping one small foot and scowling.  "You had him for days and days and days, Lord Lassah, and we have him only for three."  And he held up three fingers to Legolas, though he had to hold his thumb and small finger down with his other hand.

"Hush, hush, Théodred!" Hísimë said soothingly, giving Legolas an apologetic look.  "We have Fastred for three days, yes, and then Lord Lassah shall come back and we shall go to stay with him."

Théodred appeared to consider this favorably.  "To play with the dogs too?" he asked hopefully, some of the mulishness on his face fading.  "And the birds and the horses?"

Legolas only sighed, and let Théodred climb into his arms; he held the child whilst the boy clambered over his lap, playing with the buttons of his doublet.  "Andunië will never forgive me," Legolas said, giving the Lady of Ithilien a plaintive look, and Éowyn laughed; though Fastred noted when his Lady Mother watched Lord Lassah play with her children, her face acquired a pained look, as though Lassah were hurting himself somehow, and by proxy hurting her too.

Fastred's pleasure at being home faded quickly the following days, when he realized anew how restricted his movements were become, because of the man of Rohan who had endeavored to do him ill; he and Halgond could not go out on the boat but Halgond was constrained to come to him instead, and they discovered it was not nearly so much fun to wander about the citadel than to boat and fish and swim, and excellent playmates though Hísimë and Théodred were, when Halgond came calling Fastred did not care to be about them, for Théodred did naught but tag along after them and ask, "What shall we do now?  Where are you going?  What are you talking about?  I want to come too!" and Hísimë – well, that puzzled Fastred some; though she haunted their steps she would not speak to Halgond, and if he chanced to make some comment to her, she but blushed and giggled.  It was very irritating.

His last night there he lay awake for some time, listening to his brother and sister breathe beside him; the moon shone in through the open window, blurring and flickering with the movement of the curtains in the warm breeze, and the room was full of blue-gray shadows and milky light, and smelt of orris-root, and the bread-and-milk they had eaten ere bidding their Lady Mother good-night.  He was sad, for he was leaving the following morning, on a way that perchance might bring danger and hardship; however deep in his heart he felt a thrill of pleasure that he was now grown-up enough to be a proper prince, and travel in the company of the Lord of Dol Galenehtar and his retainers on the journey.  He might not be happy about inheriting the throne of Rohan, but at least he was resigned to it, and could look upon it with some degree of anticipation.  "At least Uncle Éomer's courts are not very formal," he thought to himself, and thinking of plain tunics and comfortable flannel trousers he fell asleep.

The fourth morning the Elves of Dol Galenehtar set out from Osgiliath by the West Bridge, which spanned the western half of the Anduin in a graceful white arch, springing from the ancient stones of the old city and resting upon the green sward of the bank, where it was flanked with tall graceful birches girt about with holly.  The bridge was lined with the denizens of the city in their bright clothing, like jewels set upon a circlet, and the people waved the white flag of the Stewards, and the silver tree of Gondor, and the green pennant of Dol Galenehtar and cried:  "Fastred for Rohan!  The Prince of Osgiliath goes to Éomer King!"  All the Elves were on horseback, their mighty destriers clad in but cloth trappers and braided manes, for they rode as always without tack; Cirien Lord of Langstrand was there, stately in his yellow doublet, and Fastred upon his Karakse, and of course the esquire Bandobras on the little hill-pony that had been a gift from Glóin of the Lonely Mountain.  Lady Éowyn rode proudly at the head of the vanguard beside the Green Knight, forswearing her tears of the night before; she and Fastred had said their good-byes in private, far from the eyes of any others.  But Bandobras, where he rode bearing the standard of Dol Galenehtar behind his Master, watched the Lady of Osgiliath with pity, for he knew better than Fastred how a mother's heart longs for a son dwelling far off, and his own poor mother's farewells rang still in his ears.

When they reached the Rammas Echor they met there Faramir, who had come down to the Causeway Forts from Minas Tirith where he ruled in the King's stead; he was accompanied by his Privy Council and the black-clad guards of the Citadel, and wore white, and held his Steward's staff.  He and his son embraced, and the Steward spoke at length to the young prince, giving to him what words of comfort and courage he might impart.  Fastred had dreaded meeting his Lord Father for he had feared censure for his prior actions, or worse maudlin reminiscings; however to his relief and pleasure his father wept not nor reproached, but instead declared himself satisfied with his son's choice, and confident in his abilities to overcome the obstacles before him.  Together father and mother commended their friend the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, praising his wisdom and thanking him for his hospitality; and afterward both the Prince of Ithilien and the Green Knight shared a stirrup cup, and swore friendship to each other anew, observed by all the citizenry of Osgiliath, and by the company out of Minas Tirith, who cheered and waved their pennants; this formality had been suggested by Cirien the Wise, who desirous of good relations betwixt Mortal and Immortal proposed a public reaffirmation of good-will, in order that Théalof would at least in that area be thwarted.  So after this ceremony, attended by nobility, gentry, and peasantry alike, had been properly observed the company got on their way, leaving the crowds behind.  Fastred turned a few times, seeing how his noble parents got smaller and smaller until at last the gleaming brooch upon his mother's breast no longer caught the sun's light to throw it back; then they descended into a fold in the earth, and his parents disappeared from sight altogether.

They rode in silence for a while, the only sounds the whisk of the wind through the tall brown grass, or the whistle of a bird hid amongst the thatches, or the stray clear song of one of their retainers.  The horses crunched and clattered their way down the Great West Road, flicking flies from their ears and swishing their tails upon their broad muscular flanks.  Karakse seemed content; he was riding beside his sire, the black destrier that bore Lord Legolas, and was in company with his most favored companion, the Halfling's pony Bumblebee, who though less than half his size more than rivaled the piebald gelding in cheek and hubris.  Betimes Fastred spoke to his horse, and patted his neck, reassuring him he would love his new home – "There is much grass there, Karakse, and O so many more horses, I am certain you shall find it much to your liking" – when Lord Lassah turned to him with a smile and said:

"Well, my Fastred!  Now we are on our way; now is our great adventure beginning!"  And he laughed, a lighthearted, jolly sound, one that Fastred had not heard from him in many months.  He regarded Lord Lassah with wonder, for the Elf's countenance was bright and cheerful, and his carriage upon his great dark horse springy and relaxed.  "We shall if we tarry not be in Amon Din by nightfall," Legolas continued confidently.  "Then shall we stay some nights there with my good friend Aldamir, the Red Knight – Ah, my Lord of Langstrand!  Shall it not be pleasant for you and I to foregather with him?  A pity it is Araval returned to his home; he should have taken much pleasure in such a jaunt as this."

The Yellow Knight regarded his friend with fond indulgence.  "So he should," he said dryly; "Aldamir is known for the bounty of his table, and the strength of his wine after all."  As Legolas laughed Fastred piped up:

"Lord Lassah – I mean, Legolas – " he had glanced back then and espied Andunië where she rode upon her bay Yavieba; the mare did not seem to mind his slip but Andunië had given him a warning look from beneath lowered brow.  Legolas smiled kindly at him and Fastred asked, "Why are you so happy?  We are leaving your land and bring but a remnant of your folk with you; we ride into danger, and my uncle your friend is in trouble; I have almost been kidnapped or slain and still a pall of trouble hangs over us.  Yet you laugh and speak as though we had naught but feasts and parties and hunts to come!  There is danger ahead; you said so, you know, and we shall be riding for some days, and staying in places that are not our homes.  Yet you seem to me to be acting as though it were the time of festivals."

"Ah!" laughed Legolas.  He turned his fair face to the sky, where the larks wheeled and cried, and the white clouds hurried across the blue dome to their roost in the northern downs.  His pale hair flew about his head like tossed flax, and his eyes shone.  "Behind me are home and bed and table to be sure," he said, glancing down at his esquire, who beamed up at him.  "But behind also are desk and pen, parchment and chart, obligation and engagement.  Ahead are dangers, that I know full well; what journey begins without the promise of some ferment?  But ahead also lie riding into the dusk, and sleeping beneath the stars, and listening to the beat of the hoof upon the tussock – freedom, my Fastred," he said, with satisfaction.  He stretched his long arms above his head and flexed his hands.  "These fingers have caressed the quill far too long," he said; his voice was thick with pleasure.  "But for now, the bow, the sword, the trencher – "  Cirien chuckled, and Bandobras laughed aloud.  "Yes, my children!" declared Legolas, laughing again.  "Begone dull duty!  This is the blessing of the nobly-born, Little Ones!"  And so speaking he urged Piukka into a canter, and together the company thundered up the slope to the crest of the hill where they looked down upon the yellow fields of Anduin Valley, and thence westward to Amon Din.

(A/N: I've gotten a couple of questions about a line in Ch. 10 -- "Fastred noted when his Lady Mother watched Lord Lassah play with her children, her face acquired a pained look, as though Lassah were hurting himself somehow, and by proxy hurting her too."  This was an obviously over-subtle nod to My Dear Bandobras, in which Eowyn and Arwen commiserate that Legolas will never have children of his own.  Sorry for the confusion!  -- Le Rouret)

The vast bulk of Amon Din blocked out the darkling sky and loomed black and knobbly against the opalescent, star-speckled dome hung above them; it was spiky with trees, with high narrow pines and ashes and firs, and hulking ungainly outcroppings of rock that jutted like the prows of so many monstrous ships from the jagged slopes, and at its crest was the great watchtower and beacon, a low squat turret.  Yet nestled in the arms of this fearsome hill was the sprawling town of Amon Din, sparkling with homelights and surmounted by the great Keep, which had brooded over the fertile valley below since time immemorial; it was a squat half-circle growing out of the side of the hill topped with drum-towers and turrets, and pierced with arrow-loops.  They could see the guards upon the crenellated battlements looking down at their company; their armor gleamed in the light of the torches they bore.  The pennants snapping from the poles upon the high towers were black in the darkness but they knew what they would see upon them in any case:  The red of Amon Din, and the fierce boar that was the sigil of Aldamir son of Castamir's house, gold and rampant and menacing.

The Elves and their companions jogged on the dark road, the horses eager to arrive for they knew within those walls were hay and warmth and rest.  All about them lay the fields and barns and meadows, thick with grain, and the orchards; one could not descry the fruit hanging darkly from the heavy boughs, but could smell apples and peaches, ripening in the warm late summer; here and there one could see the twinkling lights of some farm-house set back from the road.  The city walls rose above them as they approached, dark though topped with bright torches and lanterns, their harsh angles softened by the large hollies that grew all round the walls.  Then the great oaken gates groaned open, and a horn sounded within the wall; a company of twenty soldiers came out, all on horseback, in gleaming armor with red surcoats; at their head rode Aldamir of Amon Din, tall and dark, splendidly arrayed in his tourney armor; his snorting destrier pawed at the ground, its shaffron sparkling with carven metal and ruddy engraved runes.  The blood-red pennants stirred in the warm evening breeze and Legolas and Bandobras broke away from the vanguard, meeting Aldamir and his standard-bearer in the center of the road before the gates.  Green and Red came together, dismounted and embraced; then Cirien also approached, beneath a flag of yellow borne by the scout Lirlindil, and Meivel nudged Karakse with the butt of his spear, so that Fastred came forward as well, and behind him rode Himbaláth, bearing the flag of Rohan, a white horse upon a green field.  Aldamir turned from Legolas with a smile.

"O Cirien the Wise, Yellow Knight of Edhellond!" he cried, waiting respectfully for Cirien to dismount, which the old man did slowly, as his limbs did not move as briskly as they used.  The Red and Yellow Knights embraced, and Fastred clambered down from Karakse's back, feeling very small.  "And Fastred son of Faramir, Prince of Osgiliath and of Rohan!" said Aldamir, taking him by the shoulder and kissing the crown of his head.  "Welcome to Amon Din!  Many years has it been since you sojourned within my keep.  Happy is the day that I welcome knights of such honor and renown, but twice-blessed am I to house the heir of Meduseld, who goes forth from his land to succor his distaff peoples, and take up his royal duty as the future king of Rohan."  He turned then to his soldiers, and to the crowd of people who had come out of their homes to see what was happening, and proclaimed in a loud voice: "Amon Din bids the Green Knight welcome!"

"Hail the Green Knight, champion of Amon Din!" cried the people as one.  "Hail the Green Knight on his midnight destrier!"

"Amon Din bids the Yellow Knight welcome!" said Aldamir again.

"Hail the Yellow Knight, Cirien the Wise!" cried the people.

"And Amon Din bids Lord Fastred the Heir of Meduseld welcome!"

"Hail Fastred of Rohan!  Hail the Lord of Osgiliath!"

"There," said Aldamir quietly, turning back from the din to his friends with a twinkle in his dark eyes.  "That ought to satisfy them; they love pageantry, but I have yet to organize a private tourney for their benefit – harvest is late this year, you know."  And mounting their steeds the company entered the gates.  The people cheered and the women all fluttered their handkerchiefs and dish-towels and aprons and poseys, especially the young maids, for whom the arrival of all these beautiful Elven warriors was an occasion of great pleasure; a fruitless hope, but attractive nonetheless.  Legolas was an obvious favorite, and he acknowledged their cries with a sly smile and a wave of his hand; to Fastred's surprise Meivel and Himbaláth also came in for their just due of admiration; Himbaláth seemed sheepish and somewhat embarrassed by the accolades, but his dark superior simply gave the girls coolly disinterested glances, and then ignored them.  Hirilcúllas and Andunië who rode together were gazed upon with great interest and approbation by the young men; Hirilcúllas smiled down upon them from her golden mare, but Andunië like her brother marked them not, fixing her sober gaze instead upon the battlements above.

They passed beneath the barbican and thus into the keep, winding round the narrow cobbled streets into which were built the homes that housed the hardy folk of Amon Din.  They crossed into the bailey and thus to the palace; at its stout low gate stood a man in full armor, and a tall slender woman with two small boys.  The littlest of the boys was hopping up and down in his excitement and clapping his hands; as they approached they could hear him chattering breathlessly:  "O here they come, Mother!  Look, look, there is Lord Lassah now!  And there is his Bandy!  O look, look!  Look at all the pretty Elves with him, Mother!  And look at Lord Lassah's big black horse!  I want a big black horse too, Mother; if I am good do you think he will give me one?"  To this his brother replied scornfully:  "O be not so stupid, Túrgil; that horse is too big for you.  You will have to wait until you are very old to ride a horse like that."

"Hush!" said their mother mildly, smiling upon them with tender affection; then Aldamir dismounted and they embraced, and the Red Knight turned unto his guests.

"Noble friends!" he cried.  "Welcome to my house!  Enter and be glad, for though the world be not a perfect place it does achieve it close when such good friends draw near."

Everyone dismounted, and Legolas bowed to Aldamir's wife.  "My Lady Lalanath," he said, "it is with joy I look upon your fair countenance once more."

"Dear friend," smiled Lalanath as he kissed her hand.  "The children have been desolate in your absence."  They looked down at the two small boys, who were squabbling round their mother's skirts; when they saw Legolas was near them they both launched themselves at his knees, speaking at once.

"Look, look!" cried Túrgil.  "I have lost two teeth already, Lord Lassah!  See the holes in my mouth?  Now I can spit seeds twice as far!"

"I shot three arrows into the target today, Lord Lassah!" said Galen, tugging at the Elf's doublet.  "One of them even hit the second ring!  If the sun were up I could show you but because it is dark Mother says I must wait until tomorrow."

"May I have a black horse, Lord Lassah? Galen says I am too small but I should dearly love to have a black horse like yours."

"If Túrgil gets a black horse I want one too!" cried Galen indignantly.  Then he espied Fastred standing beside Karakse, and his eyes lit up.  "No, Lord Lassah; I have changed my mind; may I have a piebald horse like Lord Fastred?  Only I want one brown-and-white, not black-and-white."

"I want a piebald horse too!" shouted Túrgil.

"Yes," said Legolas wryly to Lalanath; "I can see their desolation writ large in their features."  The Lady smiled, and said to her sons:

"Do you not remember, O my sons, what I said unto you concerning our guests?  You are hosts too; do you please fulfill your duties in our house."

"Yes, Mother!" they both said, and ran toward Fastred.  "Fastred, Fastred!" they said, embracing him madly; Fastred laughed and hugged them back.  "It has been very long since you were here last," said Galen.  "Look; I am near tall as you now!  Or at least near tall as your chest.  I have a new catapult; would you like to see me use it?"

"Is it true you are going to be a king?" asked Túrgil.  "I think it would be very fine to be a king, for you will be able to sit and order people about and eat whatever you like.  What will your crown look like?  Do you think it will be heavy?"

"Mother and Father say you may come and stay with us," said Galen, tugging at Fastred's hand.  "We are eating in the nursery tonight, and we are going to have boar pie and stewed pears and sweetbread and blood sausage and bread and milk, and if we are good Nurse says we might have pudding.  You may eat with the grown-ups if you rather," he added in a low voice, "but I think it will be gayer with us, for grown-ups are so tedious, you know."

Fastred hesitated and glanced back at Legolas, who smiled and nodded.  "You shall be constrained to formality all too soon," he said.  "Go, foregather with your small friends; it may be long ere you are able to play again."  With a glad smile then Fastred let Galen and Túrgil take him by the hand, and together the three boys ran into the house.  Then Legolas turned to the knight, clasping his manifered hand with a glad cry.  "Mardil!" he said.  "This is a delightful surprise!  I did not know you had sojourned so far north."

The Silver Knight removed his helm, and he and Legolas embraced.  "I am actually further south, O my friend, than I have been these past six months," he said smiling.  "I arrived from Celduin two days ago, and our good friend the Red Knight implored me stay a while; as my seneschal has things well in hand in Ethring I allowed myself to be persuaded, especially as our Lord Aldamir did inform me you should be here as well, on your way to Rohan."

"Come; let us go inside!" said Aldamir, taking his wife's arm.  "The feast is prepared and I am sure you are all travel-weary."

"Not so weary as we shall be, I'll wager," sighed Bandobras, giving Bumblebee's reins to a waiting groom, and followed his Master inside.

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

The feast was everything even a Hobbit could have hoped for.  There were three kinds of soup and five of fish; the venison haunches were cooked to a turn, and the roasted boar so tender the meat dropped rich and wet from the bone; the skin was crackled and salty and dripping in fat.  The breads and pies and rolls were hot and fresh, and there were whole flocks of quail swimming in thick gravy.  Great yellow wheels of cheese were set out, and steaming boiled chestnuts, and hot aromatic herbs in heavy wooden bowls.  Aldamir had broached the best casks of wine in his cellars and it flowed purple and sparkling into the goblets and cups of his guests, loosening their tongues and brightening their faces; some of the Elves began to sing even as they ate, and the courtiers of Amon Din watched and listened to their fair neighbors with delight. After some hours the cooks came to the buttery hatches with shouts of acclamation, and all watched with pleasurable excitement as the subtleties were brought in.  There was one shaped like an armored warrior, covered all over with pale green leaves; from beneath the hard-sugar helm flowed yellow icing like hair; the Lord of Dol Galenehtar laughed when he saw it, and proclaimed any Elf eating of that subtlety would be guilty of cannibalism.  Several more came out, wonderfully crafted; a ship with spun-sugar sails, and a pitcher painted in bright gay colors and filled with sweet stewed cherries, and a great sunny mound set in a cloud of clotted cream dotted with tiny berry birds.  Most amusing of them all was the silvery castle, complete with tiny pennants and the figures of people looking out the oriels; the drawbridge was cunningly made, and when a small candy crank was turned it raised and lowered itself over a moat of rich spicy custard, in which were suspended little ducks and geese and grebes.  Legolas, to whom the subtlety was presented, protested it were far too clever to eat; Aldamir though broke off the upper turret himself and put it upon his friend's platter, and bit by bit the little castle was dismantled, until the outer walls were all broken away, revealing within candied fruit rolled in sparkling sugar, and fried nuts, and crisp white divinity coins.

After the feast there was a pageant, depicting the Green Knight upon his Midnight Destrier (actually the chandler, perched precariously upon the draped back of one of the cooper's assistants) charging to the aid of the people of a small village, who were being harassed by a terrible and very strangely-armed group of orcs, mostly the servants' children with fantastically painted faces, who shook candle sticks and pokers and other humble tools.  The chandler kept his seat admirably during the battle, but when the cooper was whacked by a particularly enthusiastic child wielding a chamber-pot the whole lot of them tumbled to the rushes with a great clatter and clank; the orc-army stared aghast, then bolted for the buttery hatches.  Though chagrined the mummers bowed and grinned when applauded, and accepted their payment of bone and trencher happily enough; after the servants had gathered the stray household implements scattered about the floor the minstrels took up a lively air, and everyone began a reel.

The merry Elves all joined the fray, circling and stamping and clapping with their mortal friends, and even the Lord of Dol Galenehtar enjoyed a turn or two, first with the lady of the castle and then with the wife of a visiting vassal; his white bejeweled doublet flashed and glittered in the lamplight, and his long pale hair swung round his shoulders like a golden curtain.  But after some time he returned to the high table where sat the Red and Silver Knights, speaking solemnly with Cirien.  Under cover of the noise Legolas drew near to them, and Cirien said:

"We are tardy, O Green Knight my friend; Théalof passed through here not two days hence."

Aldamir's kindly face was pained, and he said: "Alas that I knew not his latest perfidy!  I did welcome the miscreant within my halls, and gave unto him such hospitality as I saw fit for an emissary; had I known the depths of his vice I should have held him here awaiting your hand, O my friend."

"Had you done so you should surely have evoked violence from Rohan," said Legolas.  "It is as well you knew not his intrigues.  After all even Éomer withholds the hand of justice from him.  And your honest countenance would bring him hope and security; perhaps thinking himself safe he shall stumble the more."

Aldamir shook his head.  "That I have housed such a vile malefactor within my very halls!" he said.  "He even sat to table here, and with smooth and flattering words complimented my cooks, my house, even my family."

"You did well though," said Mardil.  "You did not set your seal upon the documents he presented unto you; you are under no constraint to ally yourself with him at least."

"Have you still these documents?" asked Cirien.

"I have not," said Aldamir.  "Théalof took them with him; he said he would set the scribes to altering those passages to which I took offense, so that our treaty might be made the better all round.  Yet it is the same as I have said unto you, my lords all; he requests I present myself and my army at his bequest – not Éomer's – and he offers a portion of the lands by the Onodló unto me, and treats that the roads be made the more open and safe, so that trade betwixt Amon Din and Rohan be increased – 'To the mutual benefit of our kingdoms,' he did say unto me, smiling his smooth smile.  And he did ask me, O my friends, if I were to be present at the coronation of the young heir of Meduseld; when I said I had not yet decided – for I could not tell whether or no he approved of such a plan, and did not want to show my hand to him, fearing his retribution – he congratulated me on my foresight, and said unto me the passing of the throne on to a son of Gondor would be greatly opposed by his people, and if I wished to maintain good relations betwixt Amon Din and Rohan I should abstain, for my presence would indicate tacit approval, and hurt the trade-houses."

"I do confess me I comprehend not his schemings," said Mardil frowning.  "To what end seeks he to garner support of my brother knights and vassals in the South, and persuade alliance from those neighbors closest to him?"

"It is Aldamir's proximity – not physical only, but political as well – that concerns him, I deem," said Cirien.  "After all the Red Knight is close not only to Anórien and the Eastfold, but to the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, who is in turn within the confidences of two great kings."

"Three," piped Bandobras, who had just joined them upon the dais, clutching a cup of ale in one hand, and a chicken wing in the other.  "Don't you go forgetting his dad, now."

"Three kings, then," conceded Cirien, smiling down at the Hobbit, who had clambered upon a chair beside his Master and sat, swinging his small feet in time to the music and starting in on the wing.  "Anyway should Aldamir be made to hold neutral, and Legolas as well, by the draining of these fens that shall strengthen his position in Rohan, and also in south Gondor where he has also managed to insinuate some control."

"I do not see the southern vassals dancing to Théalof's tune though," said Mardil.  "Misguided though my brethren might be I do not believe they shall do any harm to Rohan, treaties or no."

"I hope not," said Legolas; "that would be grave indeed, to set Gondor against Éomer.  And the vassals look to Faramir and to me for guidance in Elessar's absence, seated as we are upon the gateway of the northern kingdoms, yet as Fastred is Faramir's son I do not think he shall be able to hold sway should they march when asked to fulfill their oaths."

"And you shall not be there in any case," said Mardil; "you shall be in Rohan, and what shall your seneschal do in your absence?"

"O do not concern yourself with Galás," laughed Legolas.  "Blithe and light-hearted he may seem to you, my friends, but do you please recall he fought at my grandsire's side ere I was born or thought of."

"He is your elder?" asked Aldamir in surprise.  "I knew not that; I had thought you to be the older of the two."

"Nay!  Galás is old even as we reckon it," said Legolas smiling.  "Deep and merry and fierce is that son of Doriath; he and Kaimelas shall hold my tower safe, and guard the pass betwixt the two Ithiliens, should occasion arise.  But I hope it shall not so do.  Yet if the lords of southern Gondor answer Théalof's call, and pass through to the Druadan, you, Aldamir, shall be the last corridor to Rohan; will you hold it firm?  Combat I hope you might avoid, for though they disdain the words of the Steward and my seneschal, you are a vassal of Elessar and their brother knight, and they shall hear you when you speak."

"I am not known for my wisdom but my wealth," objected Aldamir looking pained.  "Why should they hear me?  I have no need to pander to foreign lords promising fiscal remuneration, but they do."

"As do I," said Mardil stoutly.  "By your leave I shall remain here, to treat with them should they come."

"I also," said Cirien.  "They know I withhold allegiance from Théalof; some already question their treaties.  Betwixt us three we ought to have sufficient argument to delay them at least."

"And forget not merry Araval!" said Mardil.  "He will come with them and chivvy them, so that when they arrive they shall already be harassed, and eager to listen to our message."

"I hope it shall not come to that," said Legolas.  "If fortune smiles upon us, I shall deliver Fastred unto Éomer, and unwind the plots of Théalof and Bréawine, and return home ere more trouble might arise."

"I'll drink to that!" said Bandobras, standing upon his chair and refilling the knights' goblets.  "I want to be home before it gets cold.  Mother worries so, you know, Master."

The knights smiled, and took their wine; after a moment Legolas' face changed, and he studied Mardil with growing concern; then he put down his goblet with some force, leaned forward with hand outstretched, and exclaimed, "Mardil!  What is that?"

"What?" cried Mardil, disconcerted, and the others stared at Legolas in surprise.

"That!" said Legolas, taking a strand of Mardil's curly hair in his long white fingers and giving a sharp tug.  Mardil grunted as the hair snapped free, and he rubbed his scalp indignantly; Cirien and Aldamir looked with consternation at Legolas, who was holding the hair before his eyes; the look upon his face was horrified.  "White!" cried Legolas in dismay; the hair trembled in his hand.  "What has happened, O my friend?  What terrible deeds were visited upon you, that has turned your hair untimely white?  What persons or events conspire to distress you so?"

"It is not so untimely, O Legolas; I have achieved thirty-nine winters," said Mardil wryly, as the Elf leaned forward again, touching the silvery strands tangled in with the black tendrils above his ears.  Legolas drew back, alarmed.

"Thirty-nine!" he cried disbelievingly.  "O no, Mardil; that cannot be – you are so young yet, a child still – "

"Thirty-nine," repeated Mardil with a smile.

"But you, you were so young when we met – " began Legolas, his fair face filled with anguish; Cirien chuckled and plucked the white hair from between the Elf's fingertips.

" 'Tis thirteen years ere you established your fiefdom, O Green Knight," he said, rolling the hair round in his bony wrinkled hands.  "Make the sum yourself, Prince of Mirkwood; we are none of us so young – save Master Bandobras of course."

"Not for long," protested Bandobras; "I shall achieve my majority in five years you know."

"But, but you have not yet wed nor had children," remonstrated Legolas; "you cannot possibly have white hair – "

"Ah!" said Mardil sadly, and took a deep draught of wine.  "Yes, 'twas for that selfsame reason I did take me to Celduin; a maiden there was, who through letters written betwixt her father and me ought to have accompanied me back to be my bride; however when I arrived I found the situation not so secure as I had been led to believe, nor the contract fast, and so I return with one horse empty-saddled, when before I had hoped for a full contingent."  He looked so despondent that Cirien and Bandobras turned away from his sorrow; Aldamir regarded his friend with deep sympathy, and Legolas, mercurial being he was, cast aside thoughts of white hair and gave a great leap, his face alert and calculating.

"Why Mardil, I did not know you were so intent upon finding for yourself a lady!" he said.  "Thirty-nine!  Aye, of course; it is past time for you to be wed; why have I not thought of it ere now?  And think you upon the many children you might sire, that I should dandle upon my knees!  Yes, O my dear friend, it is time you were joined with a suitable lady – "

"But that is the conundrum, O Legolas," said Mardil, now quite red about the face, and speaking very quietly, so that none in the hall might overhear.  "I have attempted for these past ten years to find for me a lady of suitable temperament and station, but have failed; there are none to be had in Ethring now, and I am unable to go far abroad much, for I have my own fiefdom to run.  I cannot run round looking for a lady, and matchmakers are too dear."

"I cannot believe there are no maidens who would not be overwhelmed with joy to be wed to such a brave and loyal knight as you," said Legolas waving one hand.  "Why you are quite good-looking you know, and there are maids a-plenty; I am sure once my current engagement resolves itself I shall be able to find you three or four unobjectionable maidens – "

"I require but one," said Mardil, embarrassed.

"Well, to choose from.  Let me think; I believe within the courts of Minas Tirith the Queen might have secreted a few – "

"Now, Master," said Bandobras, giving the mortified Silver Knight a sympathetic grin.  "Let's not go playing matchmaker; you know how hot under the collar you get when anyone tries it on you."

"O but I do not wish to wed, and Mardil does," said Legolas offhandedly. "This is very different, Little One.  Cirien my friend, does not Araval have a brood of daughters all unwed?  Surely he might spare one for a fellow knight – "

"Legolas – " began Cirien patiently, but Aldamir had been caught up in the excitement and he said:  "O but they are too young, and Mardil must needs have a good dowry to go along with her – Lalanath has a sister; she is not so young as she used to be, and a widow, but a good manager, and carries with her her late husband's estate, though to be sure the lands are round Cair Andros and would have to be sold for a profit."

"O he does not want a widow; he needs a young girl who will bear him many sons," said Legolas standing and looking round the room.  "Let me see – there is a girl over there, the one in the blue dress – "

"Married," said Aldamir apologetically.

"Master – " protested Bandobras, much exasperated.

"Wait a moment, my Bandobras, I am thinking – O what about that one, Aldamir, in the red with the roses in her hair?  She is stout and healthy-looking."

"Ah!  That is the marshall's daughter; I believe she has been walking out with one of the smith's sons."

"A smith's son!  What is a smith's son, compared to such a handsome and mighty knight as our friend here?  Come, Mardil; I shall secure a dance for you."  And grasping the reluctant Mardil by the hand he dragged his friend down upon the rushes; Cirien, Aldamir and Bandobras watched as the Elf flitted light-footed round the reels, bright eyes alight with interest; poor Mardil trailed behind him disconsolately, though Legolas did as promised get him to dance with the stout girl in red.  Cirien sighed and refilled his goblet.

"Poor Mardil!" he said shaking his head.  "Well do I know Legolas Thranduilion; he might soon become distracted from this current fad by our upcoming conflicts, but I do fear me the Silver Knight is in for a bad time of it."

"Perhaps," smiled Aldamir.  "But do you recall, O Cirien, 'twas Legolas' doing my Lalanath and I are wed; without his hand in the affair I should never have had courage to so speak."

"So long's he don't import any Hobbit-lasses for me I'm well satisfied," grunted Bandobras, and sliding off his chair went in search of a fresh cup of ale.

Much to Legolas' disappointment he was unable to procure a bride for his friend Mardil ere their departure two mornings later, though whether Mardil were relieved or saddened by this not even Cirien could tell.  They said their farewells to the three great knights, and to Lady Lalanath and her two sons, at the gates of the wall of Amon Din; all round them were courtiers, and merchants, and housewives, and children, and farmhands upon their shaggy drafts, cheering and waving, and some of the more adventurous cast flower petals beneath the hooves of the destriers.  Fastred was sad to go, for the sons of Aldamir were dear to him, and in their nursery he had found fleeting but joyful his return to childhood; Bandobras also regretted their departure, for the table of the Red Knight was well-known for its bounty, though he lamented the lack of dishes containing mushrooms.  But the Lord of Dol Galenehtar and his people were eager to depart; wide fields and rolling meads, dark woods and high hills awaited them and they would fain let the adventure wait.  So the Red Knight kissed them all in turn, promising to hold steady against Théalof and his machinations, and upon this affirmation they turned and followed the road out of the valley, and thence round the hill.

In deference to their horses and to their mortal friends, the Elves camped that night in Minrimmon Wood beneath the looming oaks which cast their hoary arms about them; the trunks and gnarled upthrust roots were cloaked in thick green moss, and the leaves were lush and dark, and rustled soothingly over Fastred's head while he drowsed beside Bandobras (who snored, and muttered in his sleep).  He could hear the soft murmur of the Elves' voices above him, and see the slight glimmer of pale light as they moved about the trees' heavy branches, and now and again he heard the snatch of song, or of light laughter.  The horses in their pickets whickered and shifted, and now and again Fastred heard the low hoot of an owl, or the warbling of a nightingale; sleep eluded him for a time, and he shifted upon the hard ground, wrapped in his wool blankets, and stretching his feet out toward the warmth of the fire.  The stars peeped coyly round the dark shifting leaves, or sparkled in some immortal downturned eye; it seemed to Fastred that the heavens and his Elvish friends alike watched over him, and thus reassured Fastred slept.

Thus they made their way through Anórien, trotting down the rocky track between Rohan and Gondor; at times they stopped at post-houses to catch up on the news, or saw the couriers on their swift steeds fly past with the wave of an arm, intent upon their destination. After the third day however Meivel, who had been riding point, turned his great cast-eyed warhorse and cantered back to his lord.  Taruku bared his teeth at Piukka and Karakse; Fastred's horse shied back, but Piukka knew full well he bore the Lord of Dol Galenehtar and snapped at the younger destrier.  Meivel swatted Taruku's ear and the horse rolled his mismatched eyes, but desisted.  Legolas clucked his tongue.

"I do think me, O Meivel, your new destrier to be as fierce a beast as my old Hatchet," he said, stroking Piukka's dark neck.  "If he mend but a little he shall be a fine horse indeed."

"He is too strong-willed," said Meivel sullenly, glaring at the back of his destrier's shaggy head.  "Rather should I have a gelding like unto Lord Fastred's here; Karakse is a good beast."

Legolas smiled, and looked to the west; then as his smile faded he said:  "Have you noticed, O my Meivel, how the post goes west but not east?  It is a curious thing, is it not, that letters travel only out of Gondor, and not to it?"

"I had noticed, my lord," admitted Meivel; "in fact it was that selfsame thought brought me back from point."

"Hm."  Legolas gazed westward, to the rolling hills flanking the long winding road, speckled with the dark bushy stands of trees.  The clouds roiled overhead in the turquoise dome, and far above them a falcon screamed, high and distant and lonely.  Taruku snorted and pawed at the ground; his huge feathered hooves dug up a great black furrow in the rich earth; Piukka, not to be outdone, let out a low bellow and tossed his great black head.  Legolas patted his horse's neck again, but absently.

"Meivel," he said at last; "go you to the end of the file, and instruct Himbaláth that the next courier attempting to overtake us shall be obstructed, and sent back to the last post-house, to inform the master there that the way is no longer secure, and further couriers ought to be arrested for their own safety." He looked seriously at his captain; his face was grave, and there was no sparkle of mirth in his gray eyes.  "Someone is waylaying the King's post."  Meivel regarded his lord with a piercing look, then soberly nodded and cantered to the end of the van.  Legolas urged Piukka into a trot, and Karakse eagerly complied, drawing close to his sire, his head proudly lifted; his black and white mane flowed from his great thick neck, and Fastred could see the muscles bunching and stretching beneath the glossy hair.  Piukka beside him was as of ebony, shining and dark and heavy, two hands his colt's height and though older equally as hale, and tried in battle; his brown eyes rolled and his black ears twitched, alert to any sound.  Fastred watched his rider; Legolas sat straight upon the black steed's bare back; his dark green tunic rippled in the stiff breeze and his flaxen hair floated back from his face, twining and flickering gold in the sunlight.  His expression was sober, and his eyes preoccupied, and now and again he worried with his teeth at his lower lip, as though deep in thought.  After a moment Fastred said tentatively:

"Lord Lassah – why are there no couriers coming down the Great West Road? And why do you want to stop any going to my uncle?"

Legolas looked down at him; his mouth twitched.  "Well," he said, "why do you think, my Fastred?"

Fastred applied himself to the question, digging round in his memory for some concept of equal gravity; all that came to mind was a rather disagreeable incident involving the sewers in Osgiliath, and his father's engineers' solution, unorthodox but efficacious. He asked slowly:  "Is it because the post is stopped up on the west end, and no letters are coming out of Rohan?"  When Legolas smiled encouragingly he added, "And you are stopping more couriers because you do not wish for whoever is apprehending the couriers to get any more letters, and you do not want the King's messengers to come to any harm."

"You will make a good king," said Legolas with satisfaction, and Fastred blushed.

Himbaláth turned four couriers back in the next two days.  They argued at first with him, but between Meivel's harsh words, and Legolas' undeniable authority, they relented and returned to their last posts, promising to pass the word along that all communication had stopped out of Rohan.  "Mark you well, though, O Green Knight and Rohan's champion," said one courier ere he left, calling back over his shoulder; "Gondor will not sanction such arbitrary action; the Steward in the King's absence will send soldiers forthwith."

"Tell Faramir to have patience," said Legolas offhandedly.  "There is no call to start a war with our closest neighbors and allies."  When the courier hesitated Legolas added with a laugh:  "Wish you to raise the ire of the Princess of Ithilien?  You are brave indeed, Post-Rider!"

The man flushed and said sullenly:  "I have never turned back from a task before; I am unused to failure."

"You live, and you bear tidings with you," Himbaláth pointed out cheerfully.  "That sounds not like failure to me. But then I am an Elf; perchance my standards are higher."  Thus consoled the courier turned back, but he did not appear sanguine about it.

They crossed the Mering Stream the fifth day out of Amon Din, their horses splashing noisily across the rocky ford.  The sunlight slanted through the dark trees, rough pines with spindly branches and low fragrant firs thick with glossy green needles.  The floor of the wood was carpeted in warm brown needles and their fragrance drifted up in the heavy moist air, pungent and spicy, and mingled with the scent of cold dirt and wet stone.  Hirilcúllas' palfrey Alfirin stirred up a handful of quail and they burst trilling from their hiding place in the thicket.  Andunië made an impatient noise behind them, and Legolas turned, his face split by a jolly smile.

"Fear not, O my huntsmistress!" he said cheerfully, laughing.  "You shall have your raptors in hand soon enough."

"It is the waste," grumbled Andunië; "all those good quail going free.  They were nice and fat too."

Hirilcúllas laughed, a musical sound, and several other Elves called out to Andunië, teasing her; Bandobras shook his head and said:  "O it is no use, Andunië; these fellows think of naught but the ride, and not of the meal at the end of it."

The Elves laughed at this, but Fastred thought to himself: "It is not the meal Andunië thinks of; it is the sight of the raptor stooping: That is what she misses."  And he thought of his goshawk then, and knew a portion of the sense of loss she felt.

They climbed up out of the stream bed and up the hill; the sun was westering and they were cloaked in blue shadow, though the sky overhead was brilliant and cloudless.  A strong wind blew from behind them, throwing their hair about their faces, and casting their cloaks about their hands.  The horses' hooves slipped on the steep wet slope, and all round them the Elves murmured their encouragement; one of them started to sing, a gay and lighthearted tune designed to cheer any who heard.  To Fastred's left one of the scouts, Romastáldë, laughed and began to sing along; behind him Tathársul took up the counterpoint and their voices twined together, soaring over the whistle of the wind, echoing round the rocks that hemmed them in and rising up over the shadows into the sunshine.  The top of the hill was just ahead, bathed in sunshine; it was so bright after the dim shadowy rocky hill that it made Fastred squint and turn his head.  Just as Meivel urged Taruku into the sunlight Fastred heard again the sound of a falcon calling out, far above them.

Everything seemed to happen at once.  Legolas and Andunië both cried out; Legolas shouted:  "Down!  Back!  Ware, Meivel!" and Andunië cried:  "Meivel! Come back, come back!"  Then Karakse shied, his eyes rolling; he leapt sideways and knocked against Romastáldë's steed; there was a whistle and thunk, and Himbaláth's horse went down with a squeal, thrashing; a black-feathered arrow protruded from its foreleg.  Himbaláth leapt from his destrier's back as it fell, and rolled to his feet with his halberd at ready; more whistles, and to Fastred's surprise Romastáldë raised his shield over Fastred's face so that he could see naught but the Elf's arm in its straps.  The arm shuddered and bucked as two loud thunks battered it, and Fastred heard Meivel give a terrible cry just as the sound of many men shouting filled the rocky valley.

Legolas gave a great shout, and ten Elves galloped behind him to the top of the hill, arrows strung and swords flashing. Fastred could see Meivel surrounded by men on horseback; his sword was drawn, and he was cursing, striking right and left with violent fury.  Bandobras pulled his pony up close to Fastred and drew his small sword; his face was grim.  "Ambushed!" he spat, as though he were disgusted; then the men charging down the hill clashed upon Legolas and his party, and things became very confusing.  Fastred saw Legolas swinging a halberd, striking one of the men; his opponent fell heavily, and the horse bolted; arrows whistled in all directions, from the men poised upon the ridge, and from Hirilcúllas and several other Elves arranged beside him; Andunië raised her hands above her head, and to Fastred's surprise began to sing, though just as he started to listen he heard Bandobras say:

"Draw your sword, you little fool!  Do you want them to kill you?"

Fastred was very frightened, but he drew his sword and held with his other hand to Karakse's saddle horn; his horse was snorting and shying, unused to the clamor of battle.  An arrow skidded off Romastáldë's escutcheon, held before the young prince, and Fastred could see Himbaláth standing before his writhing horse, raising aloft his halberd as the second wave of men came upon them.  The Elf looked very small and vulnerable standing there as the horses charged; his brilliant hair was dimmed in the shadows, and he stood alone.  However Andunië's song seemed to have had an unsettling effect upon their opponents, for their enemies' steeds were balking and slowing despite the riders' commands; it was an odd song, and made Karakse's ears twitch; Fastred could not tell but it seemed to him it told of rebellion and oppression and the desire to rid oneself of a heavy burden.  The man at the head of the charge slapped his reluctant horse's flank with the flat of his sword, and terrified it surged forward upon Himbaláth and within reach of his great halberd.  Fastred could see the muscles in the Elf's shoulders surge as he swung the mighty weapon.  With the curved edge the Elf hooked the horse beneath its jowl, slitting its throat and casting it to one side; as the dead horse fell its weight threw the man at Himbaláth, who on his backswing caught his enemy also at the throat, beheading him with a clean sweep so that the man's head flew several yards away.

"Fore!" crowed Bandobras, and kicking his pony's flanks galloped up to the Elf's aid; Himbaláth turned back to him, startled, his pale eyes confused, then the men dismounting charged, and Fastred was suddenly required for the first time to actively defend his own life.

It was horrible, and loud, and very hot; he parried a man's first blow clumsily, looking with terror into his enemy's eyes; the man's sword battered at him, but Himbaláth's training held true.  There was a horrible minute when Fastred felt he would fall from Karakse's back, for his destrier was frightened and kept trying to shy away; then at last Fastred gave a great heave and leant forward, striking as hard as he could, and to his surprise he looked down and saw his man fall, bloody and groaning.  Karakse let out a horrible bellow, and trod on the man's head, and then the man went still.

Through the noise Fastred heard Bandobras shout again:  "Don't kill them all, you silly Elves!  We need a few for questioning!"  Then another man came up to him, shouting, his face red with rage and blood, and Fastred ducked his first swipe and blocked the next; the man grasped him by the tunic and made to drag him from Karakse's back.  Fastred struggled, flailing with his sword; Karakse shied again, and Fastred lost his balance, falling upon the man.  Fortunately for Fastred, and quite unfortunately for his enemy, he fell sword-point-down, and to his great surprise Fastred discovered he had slain his second man.

He pushed himself off the body of the man upon his hands and knees, and looked around wildly; he saw his Lord Lassah upon the hill, wielding his halberd with terrible efficiency; the blood of his enemies ran down his legs and Piukka stood in a veritable pile of dead; he trampled and bit, slashing with hoof and tooth at the men who fain tried to kill him.  All round Legolas were Elves fighting, striking down the men who had attacked them.  Then he saw the men crying aloud with fright, and calling to retreat; they tried to scramble up the hill but the loose wet shingle impeded them, and the implacable Elves picked them off one by one.  As they fought to escape Legolas cried:  "Capture them!  Hold them back!"  And Romastáldë, Tathársul, and several others galloped off in pursuit.  Legolas glared round, his bloody halberd at the ready and his grey eyes flashing; he looked quite dangerous then, and Fastred was very glad he and Lord Lassah were on the same side.  Lassah dismounted and strode through the wreckage of bodies to him, and Fastred rose to his feet; he was surprised to find his knees were weak, and he was trembling; his stomach felt sick.

"Fastred!  Are you injured, Little One?" asked Legolas, dropping to one knee and subjecting Fastred to such an examination as he had thus far experienced only at the hands of his nurse, after falling from a tree upon his head and knocking himself unconscious; Legolas peered into his eyes, and felt round his head for lumps, and poked and prodded him to see if he had broken anything.  Fastred looked down at his tunic; it was splashed with blood, and the scent of it filled his nostrils.  He wanted to tell Lord Lassah that he was well, and that the men had not harmed him, but then his eyes fell on the face of the man Karakse had trod upon, and he turned away and became violently ill.

Through his mortification he heard Bandobras clucking his tongue and offering to make some tea if someone would be so good as to get a fire going; Lassah answered with dry humor:  "My Bandobras, do you be so good as to allow poor Fastred to empty his stomach first, ere you attempt to refill it."  There was some muted laughter at this from the Elves standing round, but then Fastred felt a woman's arm go round his shoulder.  He was sure at first it was Hirilcúllas, but to his surprise he heard Andunië's voice instead, close to his ear.

"Let him be, and get this mess up rather than tease him so.  He has had two men and deserves praise not taunting."

"My pardon, O Huntsmistress!" said Lassah, and Fastred looked up; Legolas was bowing politely to Andunië, in whose eyes burned hot indignation.  "You are right of course; I humbly ask your forgiveness, O my Fastred."

"That is well, Lord Lassah," said Fastred shakily; "I ought not to have gotten sick."

"Well, why should you not?" asked Himbaláth coming up to them; he too was spattered with gore, but seemed not a whit bothered by it; his horse limped disconsolately behind him.  "It is many years hence but I too reacted that selfsame way, when I slew my first orc."

"Ah, so you did!" said Lirlindil beside him cleaning his sword.  "I felt none too hungry after my first battle as well.  'Tis a natural reaction, Lord Fastred, and naught for which to feel shame.  Look!  Two men and by your own hand, and woundless beside; that is quite good for your first time."

"Aye; I am quite proud of you, Lord Fastred," said Himbaláth smiling.  "My training held in good stead, did it not, my Lord?"  He looked down at his prince, who knelt still upon the bloodied earth with Bandobras his esquire beside him.

"Yes; two men and no injuries; he may vomit all he likes," said Legolas with a grin.  "Andunië, O Little One, have you no sympathy left to spare your poor brother?  For he languishes upon the hill above us, and has no one but Taruku to fawn over him, and as we both know Taruku is a fine steed but not very compassionate."

"He is injured?" said Andunië sharply, rising; Legolas stood too and they both turned toward the hill.  Many men lay there dead, and their horses milled about nervously; the Elves were there, gleaning arrows and turning the dead men over, and at the top of the hill stood the huge form of Taruku, proud against the brilliant sky, but riderless.  Andunië broke away from her lord then and ran up the hill, and Himbaláth followed her.  Legolas held his hand out to Fastred and Fastred took it, letting Legolas pull him to his feet; he was still trembling but felt a little better knowing Himbaláth had vomited too.

"Is Meivel all right?" he asked.

"He has broken his arm, and sustained sundry cuts and bruises," said Legolas.  "It is naught but surface wounds however; he is more angry than hurt; he is not used to being ambushed and considers it a personal affront.  Do not forget to clean your sword, O Little One; it would not do to draw it before your uncle dirty and rusted."

Fastred looked down at his sword, still clutched in one hand, and wished he hadn't.  "Why did those Dunlendings attack us, Lord Lassah?" 

"Ah!"  Legolas went to one of the men Fastred had slain; he turned the body over with his foot and squatted beside it, fingering the clothing, which was rough and dirty.  "Why indeed," he murmured, and tearing a scrap of the man's tattered cloak he handed it to Fastred to clean his sword.  "How quickly the thoughts turn to Dunlendings, when travelers are waylaid upon the Great West Road!  And why should they not?  Tattered and dirty clothes; mindless violence – is that not how all think of them?  The unhappy Dunlendings have ever been a thorn in the side of the Mark; time out of mind has Éomer desired to rid himself of their presence once and for all, but compassion forestalled him.  But to have them attack his own heir, and a party of nobles and warriors from a neighboring land – that would spark his ire, would it not, Little One?  Éomer might perchance have desired to attack in turn and avenge our deaths.  Happily however we proved the fiercer warriors – though they attacked downhill and outnumbered us we fought well and fiercely and turned them back.  What was it, I wonder, that prompted them to spring their trap?  They had but Meivel within their clutches; had they only waited they could have inflicted far more damage."  Legolas pondered this a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line; Fastred cleaned his sword and Bandobras watched his master silently.  Legolas turned over the fastenings of the dead man's tunic, untied them, and slipped the hood from the battered head; it was dark with blood.  "Dressed as Dunlendings they most certainly may be," said Legolas, "but Dunlendings are dark, O Fastred; this man is fair – fair enough to be your uncle's own son.  Look at him!"

Fastred glanced at the dead man's face and looked quickly away.  Bandobras however leant over the body, twisting his face into a thoughtful scowl.  "Sure enough, Master; you've hit the target whang in the middle," he said.  "Dunlendings I've seen, but this man's of the Mark or I'm a donkey."  He nudged the body with his toe and said doubtfully, "If these men are Rohirrim, and they're dressed as Dunlendings, well, then …"

"Then we were meant to think we were attacked by Dunlendings," supplied Fastred, suddenly understanding.  "And then someone would tell mine uncle, and he would think – "

"He'd say," said Bandobras excitedly, " 'Why, here's them dratted Dunlendings at it again; they've killed my nephew and my friend Legolas and by thunder that's going too far.'  And he'd round up all the men in the Mark and plough 'em down.  That's what he'd do, Fastred, true's you live, and if I'm wrong I'll pay you a penny."

"And if the Dunlendings all were slain the lands above the Onodló should be cleared," said Legolas, frowning; "then would the pathway be open to bribe Aldamir with land … "  He looked down at his two charges; Fastred was puzzled, but Bandobras' face lit up with understanding.

"That's it, Master!" he exclaimed.  "Though," he added, his face darkening, "we still don't know if 'twas Théalof or Bréawine did it – both have a stake in getting Aldamir and you out of their hair."

"Indeed," said Legolas with a smile.  "And whichever of those men plotted this attack, had it succeeded he should have had double the victory – Éomer's vengeance upon the Dunlendings, and me removed from causing any further difficulty."

"If it were Théalof he should have had triple, not double, the victory," said Hirilcúllas coming over; she had refilled her quiver and collected about her three trembling horses that had belonged to their enemies.  They stood at her shoulder rolling their eyes, shifting uncomfortably upon the bloodied ground, and though she had bit nor bridle they shadowed her as though she were their sole protection.  "After all he has threatened Fastred already; with the heir's death he should have no need to abduct him."

"True," said Legolas rising.  He spoke softly to the horses clustered at Hirilcúllas' shoulder; hesitating they snuffled at his hand.  "Ah, poor friends!" he murmured to them; one hearing his soft voice nuzzled his breast, and he stroked the horse's nose.  "Noble are the steeds of the Rohirrim, and rarely used for such perfidy; have no fear, O children of Rohan; we shall turn your purposes to good once more!"  The other two horses crowded round him, one lipping at his pale hair, another nibbling at the buttons of his tunic.  "Hush, hush!" he chuckled, pushing the horse's mouth away.  "These are buttons not sugar-lumps."  He turned to Hirilcúllas, who was absent-mindedly untangling their long manes.  "Are any others hurt?"

"Horses, or Elves, my Lord?" she asked pertly.  Legolas attempted to frown and failed.

"Elves, of course, Little One."

"I know not; let me hobble these three and I shall ascertain."

"Do so."

The blue shadows of the hill deepened as the hours passed; the Elves stripped the spurious Dunlendings of armor and weapon and trinket to perchance identify them at Edoras, and dragged the bodies deep into the wood, digging a pit and casting them in, and covering them with dirt and rocks.  Fastred though a prince was not exempt from this distressing labor, and found to his surprise that searching the broken and bloodied bodies became easier the more often he did it; he was not so certain he approved of this adjustment.  While he was in the woods with the main body of Elves he heard hoofbeats; at first he was fearful, but then Malinadulin raised his head, listened, and said:

"It is Tathársul – he has returned."  He turned to Fastred and said, "Go you to our lord and see what they have brought with them; this is hot work and you are young yet."

Thankful to leave his distasteful task behind him Fastred ran through the cool woods to the clearing by the stream.  There he saw Lord Lassah standing by Bandobras and Meivel, whose arm was in a sling, and upon whose face was an expression of great affront; Himbaláth and several others waited near, watching as Tathársul and Romastáldë dismounted.  With their great destriers were other smaller horses, saddled and bridled but riderless; they were streaked with sweat and foam and trembling with fear.  Hirilcúllas and Andunië moved among them, removing their tack and speaking to them softly.

"They would not surrender, my Lord," Tathársul was saying to Legolas.  "We did ride them down, and Romastáldë and Kainendulin sent arrows over their heads in an effort to turn their horses; when we called unto their steeds the horses halted, though the men in their fear and fury did beat them; we came upon the men then, and in place of fighting or yielding they fell upon their swords, and did die."

"There; what did I tell you?" said Bandobras to Lassah; he looked irritated.  "I told you not to kill them all; I told you to leave some for questioning, but as usual no one listens to me."

"Did you not, O Bandobras, kill two men yourself?" asked Lassah mildly.  "I do not recall your granting clemency to either of them, nor ere slaying them inquiring of them whence they came, and who was their master."

"Well, I could scarcely let old Himbaláth here get it in the backside, now, could I?" demanded Bandobras huffily.  "And that second fellow would not let me be.  Frankly I thought it'd be better to get him out of the way – unintelligent looking anyway; not sure he would've been much help to us, even if he'd been inclined to talk, which really I don't think he would've been – not that it matters now, seeing as he's dead, but still."

They gathered up the surviving horses, and under Andunië's direction removed their saddles and bridles and tethered them near the stream.  "We will bring them to Éomer," declared Legolas, surveying the line; the steeds were fine and hale but showed signs of recent hard usage.  "Naught but a month in good pasture wouldn't cure," Bandobras said with satisfaction, and it seemed to Fastred the horses agreed; they drank from the Mering thirstily, and tore at the sparse grass upon the bank.  Himbaláth's horse had been shot in the foreleg and limped badly.  After conferring with Andunië he chose from the captured steeds a sturdy gray to bear him.  "I would not so misuse my Moina, riding him while he is hurt," he said, stroking his large chestnut destrier upon the nose as Andunië brought the new horse up to make acquaintance.  "I shall name you Utuë," he said to the gray; "for you were lost but I have found you."

They camped by the stream, building for themselves a large fire to warm and comfort those who had sustained injuries in the battle.  Fortunately these were few, and the injuries not great; only Meivel and one of his subordinates, Belegtilion, were incapacitated, and even then they were able to sit and eat with their companions.  Fastred was surprised to find in himself a great hunger and he ate ravenously despite the day's deeds; Bandobras but laughed and told him it was his stomach's response to how vigorously he'd emptied it before.  After the bread and bacon had been consumed, and all were sitting round the fire warm and full and content, Himbaláth turned to his lord's esquire and said, his fair face puzzled:  "What did you mean, O Bandobras, by shouting that word 'fore' to me, when I had slain that first man?"

"O!" laughed Bandobras, leaning back on his hands and smiling into the fire.  "That is nothing but a game we play in the Shire."  He grinned at Himbaláth, who still looked perplexed, and added, "Your form was perfect, by the way."

"Well," said Himbaláth slowly, "should I sojourn to your lands perchance you might show me this game, since I show some proclivity for it."

"I'll do that," promised the Hobbit.

 "What did you do, Bandy, when you had your first man?" Fastred asked later, as they set out their blankets beneath the trees, and the Elves set up a perimeter watch.  If slaying a man in such a fashion was considered to be a game in the Shire, he decided the periannath were fiercer than he had thought, and was certain Bandobras had done nothing like vomit after his first battle.  Had he been given a prize perhaps, or celebrated in some fashion?  But the Hobbit laughed and blushed.

 "Fell over and konked my head," said he with a grin; "clumsy little lout I was."

Next morning there was talk of pushing to Edoras, but after examining Moina's foreleg, and Meivel and Belegtilion's wounds, Lord Lassah shook his head and declared, "We shall wait one day more, to allow our injured to recover; I will not limp in to Edoras like a defeated battalion – that is no way to present a king's heir.  Besides which," he added with a laugh, "I should rather ride with all appearance of strength and victory; I have a reputation to maintain after all."  So all that day Fastred and Bandobras played in the stream, paddling in the shallows with their trousers rolled up, trying to catch crayfish and striders.  Several times dark, shining fish with luxurious fins flickered by, too quick to catch by hand; Bandobras exclaimed:  "Graylings! O for a hook and a pole!" and he and Fastred gazed longingly after them.

Next morning both Moina and Meivel were deemed fit to travel, though Moina limped badly and their pace was slowed, and Meivel was waspish for his lord would not let him ride point, but sent Kainendulin instead.  Himbaláth had begged for the privilege but Legolas forestalled him, saying:  "Nay, O my friend; we enter the Mark today, and as my lieutenant you shall bear the heir's standard, as you did in Amon Din."  So they rode four abreast, Legolas with his esquire and Fastred with Himbaláth beside him; the green pennants whistled and snapped in the high wind, and the grass upon the furrowed plain shimmered and danced like a pale green tide.  The clouds scurried overhead, thickening as the morning waned to afternoon, so that a roiling mass of pearly gray obscured sun and sky.  They passed over the Fenmarch into the Eastfold by evening, and camped beneath the leaden sky; it was dark, and their fire pit had to be dug deep to keep the wind from scattering sparks amongst the grass.  Fastred huddled in his blankets, cold and uncomfortable; he was tired of traveling and adventures, and missed his bed.  He stared up at the dark sky, hoping to see the stars; but all round him was obscured, and even the soft merry voices of his traveling companions were muted in the groan of the wind.  "I wish we were back in Amon Din," he thought discontentedly to himself, and with a sigh consigned himself to sleep.

Dawn was an affair of pink and scarlet and gray, heralded by a chattering group of larks quarreling amongst the grasses; the clouds had lowered and the wind stilled, and it was not so cold.  By noontime Fastred could see the peaks of the Ered Nimrais retreating from the road, and Bandobras where he rode upon his small pony said:  "Finally!  I was beginning to think we'd never get here.  But this is the beginning of the end, isn't it, Master?  For when the mountains move off to the left that means we'll be at Edoras by nightfall."

"Barring any further misfortunes, yes," said Lassah.  "See you that high peak, my Fastred?  That is Starkhorn; it broods over Meduseld as Mindolluin does over Minas Tirith, and as the Ephel Dúath over mine own demesne. When you are older we shall climb it; it is a harsh ascent, but can be done, though with care; it is very much worth it, for from its heights one can see from Edoras to Helm's Deep, and north through the Westemnet towards Fangorn."

"Look, my Lord!" said Himbaláth from beside Fastred.  "Here is Kainendulin; I wonder what he has found?"

The scout was galloping back, his destrier's thick legs veiled in grass; the Elf's bow was out.  "Men coming, my Lord!" he said as he approached; "they did not see me, for we were in a fold of the earth, but they are scarce two leagues off – fifty men, of Rohan; heavily armed, and riding of purpose toward us."

Fastred was afraid, but Lord Lassah did not seem overly concerned.  "Fly they the flag of Éomer King?" he asked.

"They do, my Lord," said Kainendulin; "the selfsame flag as Lord Fastred's, and from a shining spear."

Legolas glanced back at Meivel, who stewed fretfully with his arm in a sling, and Belegtilion with his bandaged head, and said, "Well we cannot outrun them, so we must needs meet them as they come.  Himbaláth!  Go you to the middle of the file with Lord Fastred, and place him betwixt you and Romastáldë.  Should these men prove treacherous it were prudent to protect him as best we may.  And tell all to have arrow to string, and loosen their swords."  As Himbaláth and Fastred turned their steeds Legolas said:  "Meivel!  Come you up here beside me – you too Fionim; you are grim-looking enough to bolster me adequately I deem.  Steady the standard, O my Bandobras!  And be you sure to hold your tongue if you can; it is possible these men know naught of the attack upon the Mering."

"I'll try, Master," piped Bandobras; "it's not so hard for me to be quiet as when I was young – guess I'm getting used to holding my tongue, like."

They rode forward not speaking nor singing; the only sounds round them were the whistle of the breeze in the grasses, and the crunch of their horses' hooves.  They rose up out of a fold in the earth and Fastred, peering round the heads of the Elves in front of him, could see approaching a group of men on horseback, cantering toward them; he could not make out the design on the pennant that flew from the standard-bearer but descried the glint of green beneath the spearhead.  "I am in Rohan now," he thought, his chest tight; "good or ill I must think and speak as my mother's people."  The men rode in formation, and swiftly; when they saw Legolas and his party they cried aloud and spread out in a great half-circle, and several drew their swords.  But Legolas rode forward confidently, with Bandobras bearing his standard; by his side were Meivel and Fionim.  Meivel had bound his escutcheon upon his broken arm, and held his sword, and Fionim had fitted an arrow to his string.  The men slowed then stopped; there seemed to be some hurried discussion, then four horsemen broke away from the formation and came forward to meet Legolas.

"Well-met, men of Rohan!" cried Legolas.  "I bring you greetings from Dol Galenehtar in Ithilien to Éomer King of the Mark."

"Your name and purpose, if you please, O Elf!" said the foremost man imperiously, lowering his spear so that it pointed to Legolas' chest.  "And tell your bodyguard to put down his bow."

"See you not the image upon my standard?" asked Legolas in mild surprise.  "Think you any but the Green Knight durst ride beneath this ensign?  Or are there so many Elf-lords about you must needs interrogate each one ere he passes through the gates of Edoras?"

"Easy it is to claim lordship when one's face is as strange as yours," retorted the man.  "Yet were you indeed the Green Knight of Dol Galenehtar your men should not threaten us so."  He gestured with his spear to Fionim, who scowled at him.

"O Fionim is harmless … mostly," said Legolas shrugging.  "With but one arrow fitted to his string he shall kill but one of you ere you charge.  It is the twelve other archers behind him whom you should fear."

The line of men bristled visibly at that, and their captain urged his horse forward despite Fionim's bow.  "If you are truly Legolas of Dol Galenehtar why do you ride thus?" he asked suspiciously.  "Armed and in file as though to battle, with bows strung and swords unsheathed?  What quarrel have you with the Mark?"

"None whatsoever!" said Legolas.  "What quarrel have you with Dol Galenehtar, or with the Green Knight's business?"

"These are troubled times in the Eastfold," growled the man; "the Dunlendings are restless; our men and horses go missing, and villages are burned.  We have had no word of Dol Galenehtar or of Ithilien or even from Southern Gondor – no letters or missives coming from the East have arrived at Edoras, and some say that our allies has turned against us.  Also there are rumors – " he hesitated then and his eyes were troubled; he lowered his voice.  "Strange beings walk about the edges of our lands; they lurk in the darkness with evil intent, and it is said they eat the dead from the ruined settlements."

"Indeed?" said Legolas; his eyes were wary.  "Grim as your words sound to me, that is no concern of mine at the moment; my path took me through Anórien, and toward Meduseld alone.  Will you let me pass, or no?  We go to Edoras yea or nay; you may ride with us if you like."

"If we like?" sneered the man next to the captain.  "O we shall ride with you, Elf; stay this impertinent manner before my Marshall, or you shall make your entrance into the Golden Hall in chains.  You show great effrontery by traveling through the Mark with such belligerence about you."  He looked round at the Green Knight's party, his eyes narrowed.  "And do not think we cannot recognize our own steeds!  These are horses of our own lands; they are nothing like the farm-nags you ride."

"That is so," said the captain.  "Whence came those horses which trail along behind you?  Stolen no doubt; and I am certain their riders you have slain yourself."

"I should rethink that accusation were I you," said Meivel softly, urging Taruku forward so that he and his lord stood together.  "These beasts are the spoils of battle – battle with Rohirrim such as yourself, who waylaid us at Mering." 

"You lie," said the captain angrily; "no man of the Mark would assail a traveling party."

"Yet we were assailed," said Legolas, giving Meivel a warning glance.  "Come!  There is no need to quarrel; we are all allies here.  I go to Meduseld; will you ride with me?"

"You go nowhere until we are satisfied," said the captain grimly; he gestured and the rest of his men came up behind him, spears lowered and swords drawn.  "Tell us where you got those horses!"

"We did tell you!" exclaimed Bandobras, exasperated past obedience to his Master's interdiction.  "Don't you see we have injured in our party?  Goodness gracious; the hospitality of the Mark's not what it used to be, and that's the truth.  First we're attacked, and then threatened; all we're trying to do is get to King Éomer, for goodness' sake!"

"I will not let so large an armed party travel at will through the Eastfold," said the captain stubbornly.  "Give up your weapons and we will escort you there."

"Give up our weapons!"  Meivel gave a short bark of laughter.  "After your brethren attempted to cut us down?  Nay; we are the injured party; you give unto my lord your weapons, and we shall travel at peace."

"And who are you, who makes such grand accusations, and perverse demands?" said the captain.  "Throw down your weapons, all of you Elves; we are prepared to do battle, and I do not think you shall be so successful against us as against our brethren whom you slaughtered upon the Mering."

Fastred who had been listening with increased agitation to this exchange turned to Himbaláth, upon whose fair face, of habit so merry, was an expression of angry gravity.  "Come," he whispered to the Elf, and urged Karakse forward; Himbaláth upon Utuë followed, raising Fastred's banner high over his head.  Gathering his courage about himself, the boy pushed past Romastáldë and Belegtilion and rode up to where Legolas sat upon his black destrier, facing the stubborn captain of the Mark.  Fastred looked hard at that captain; as things stood this man would one day be his subordinate and those in the éored his own men, and to cower in the midst of warriors was no place for a future king.  His heart was in his mouth and his head felt very light, but he knew he must speak out or admit defeat ere he joined in battle.  He drew up between Legolas and Meivel; he could see from the corner of his eye Legolas watching him, but his own eyes were fixed upon the Rohirrim, who stared at him with suspicion.

"Desist!" said Fastred loudly; he was very thankful his voice had not cracked or wobbled; he knew he needed to sound as though he spoke with authority and confidence, despite the fact he was trembling head to foot, and clutched at Karakse's reins so tightly his fingers were numb.  The captain and his standard-bearer gazed at him with wonder and anger commingled, and Fastred remembering his mother's ferocity stared back, lifting his chin as she was wont, and scowling.  But his next words were worthy more of his Lord Father's diplomacy than his mother's, for he spoke gently yet firmly, bearing in mind these men were of his own moreso than the Elves, though far less dear.  "I commend you, good Marshall, for your vigilance and care, yet do assure you in this instance it is excessive; this is indeed Legolas Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, called by our people the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, and friend and advisor to your king.  He journeys in this land far from his own demesne on matters of state, and he and his people have shown themselves worthy of your honor and vilification, not suspicion."

"And who are you, little master?" demanded the captain lowering his sword and staring hard at Fastred.  "A youngling you are yet you speak as a lord.  Upon whose authority do you demand our compliance?"

"Upon mine own and that of my mother-brother's," said Fastred firmly.  "Lower your weapons, men of the Mark!  For I am your prince and your sovereign's chosen heir, and I come to reign in Meduseld succored by the strength of Elves and in their protection."

The men lowered their swords and spears, staring at him in amazement, but the captain still looked doubtful.  "And how do we know, O Heir of Meduseld," he asked, "that you speak the truth, and that these Elves have come upon our horses honestly?"

"You know for I myself have said so," said Fastred growing angry.  "Are you blind, Marshall of the Mark?  Have you not eyes to see?  Or do you choose to disregard the standard beneath which I ride?  I am Fastred son of Faramir and I shall be your king.  So sheathe your swords; set your spears; quiver your arrows!  Part your company and we shall ride on; you may ride your patrol as you will, but the Heir of Meduseld has an appointment to keep with his mother-brother, and the chary skepticism of a minor captain will avail nothing to keep him from his duty and privilege."

"Well said!" murmured Legolas under his breath; Fastred glanced up at him and saw his face was grave, but there was a twinkle in his gray eyes that belied that gravity.  "At first I heard you speak as your Lord Father; but there was in that last speech more of your dear mother's fire."  Fastred flushed but held his ground; the captain was looking at him with dawning comprehension, at last lowering his gaze and saying:

"Put your weapons away!"

There was the sound of swords being returned to their sheaths, and arrows slipping into their quivers; Legolas nodded to Meivel, whose face was dark with wrath; but Meivel turned as well and spoke to his Elves in his own tongue to do likewise, and they did, though Fionim had the selfsame look about him as had Andunië before, when she watched the quail fly away.  Legolas turned to Fastred with a smile and said:

"How proud of you I am, Little One!  And how proud your Lord Father and Lady Mother would be!  Now come and make acquaintance proper of this captain; he is your man, and good relations 'twixt you two shall be essential."

So Fastred and Legolas rode forward, closing the gap between them and the men; the captain hesitated, looking uncertain; then he dismounted and bowed.

"Your Highness," he said, his eyes on the earth.  "I am Arúlf son of Brégund, a Marshall of Riddermark and your servant."

"Well-met, Arúlf son of Brégund," said Fastred carefully.  "I am pleased to meet with so valiant a warrior and I trust in future we shall be instead on the same side of the line, and not facing."

Arúlf did not seem to know what to make of this; he was staring round at the Elves who surrounded his prince, and looked very disapproving.  "We will see you safe to Edoras," he said; "I am certain Éomer King and his queen Lothíriel shall be gratified to hear of your arrival."

"An it please you, remount, son of Brégund," said Fastred, feeling very embarrassed and attempting to hide it.  "I do not like to see a man of the Mark off his horse; it is unnatural."  The captain looked at him in surprise, but smiled a little; he swung back up on his horse, and stared hard at the boy.

"My apologies," he said slowly.  "I did not know – no one knew you were coming so early."

"Culpability is colored with intent," said Legolas with a smile.  "You guard your king's lands well, O captain."

The Marshall looked at him with grudging respect.  "And you guard our king's heir well, O Green Knight."  He glanced distrustfully at Himbaláth then, who sat behind Fastred, holding aloft the banner of Rohan.  "But there is no need for such guard now; we are here and provide all the escort our prince will require.  I will get you a proper standard-bearer, your Highness," he said to Fastred, turning away from the Elf; "the ensign of the Mark ought rather to be borne by a man of the Mark; it is unseemly to have that fellow there to bear it, for he is not of our land; he is not even a man."

Meivel's face darkened again, and Himbaláth looked hurt; Fastred fought back a stab of anger, remembering Himbaláth's good humor and bravery, and attempted to mirror the dignity he had seen his own parents exude.  "That will be unnecessary, Arúlf Marshall of the Mark," he said, making his voice as cold as possible.  "Himbaláth is a mighty warrior and my good friend, and the ensign of my house is elevated not only by his hands but also by his proximity."  Then because he could not decide what to say should this decision be challenged, and because he was uncomfortable with the captain staring at him thus, he touched Karakse's side with his heels and they moved forward into the midst of the éored. The men parted before him as he rode, with Himbaláth by his side; Fastred did not dare look at the Elf, for either he would be offended by Fastred's insistence upon keeping him as standard-bearer, or immeasurably amused, which would be worse.  He heard all round him the men muttering, though he did not look at them but kept his head high; had he looked he would have seen them bow their heads to him as he passed.  He could hear Legolas behind him, speaking to the captain and to Meivel, and after he had passed through the éored knew Lord Lassah and his people were following, and the éored turned as well, and flanked them as they rode.  His heart still beat unnaturally fast, and he was finding it hard to breathe; he had to keep reminding himself to exhale.  After some time he heard Himbaláth give a ghostly chuckle and whisper:

"And do I, O Fastred son of Faramir, elevate your standard high enough?"

Fastred glanced quickly at Himbaláth, who looked upon the verge of laughter; he swallowed hard and said: "O do not tease me, Himbaláth; I was so frightened and angry!"

"But you showed it not," smiled the Elf; "you are your mother's son, of a certainty!"  They fell silent then, for several men were riding close; Himbaláth watched them carefully, for they were far ahead of the rest of their own party.  When one of the men drew up alongside them Himbaláth said to him: 

"Look!  I ride upon one of your own steeds; do you perceive it?  Mine own was injured in the skirmish at Mering so I took for myself one of these.  He is a beautiful horse is he not?  I quite like him; his action is loose and springy, and he is so agreeable.  Yours is the same I deem; I have never seen such well-set forelegs, and his coat is so glossy!  Is it true, O Man of Rohan, that the horses of this land may trace their ancestry back to Felaróf himself?"

He spoke such with the man for some time, cheerful and undeterred by the man's uncertainty; Fastred listened fascinated as Himbaláth at last beat down the man's defenses, though with smile and laughter not with halberd; and they and sundry other men spoke of horses, and swords, and whetstones, and oats, whilst he quieted his thundering heart and slowed his breathing.  After a while Lord Lassah and his party surrounded them once more, though Legolas was careful to keep Fastred at the head of the file; he did not speak to Fastred as they rode, but whenever Fastred glanced back at him Legolas was smiling, and upon his fair face was an expression of proud satisfaction.

They did as Bandobras had promised arrive at Edoras by sunset.  The wind picked up as the evening wound down and blew the clouds away; the sun westering in the roiling sky gleamed red-orange like a hot fire, settled upon her foamy blue coal-bed; the cedars flanking the meandering stream beside the road reached up to brush at the sky like great inverted brooms, sweeping at the clouds and casting them all aside.  The willow branches swung and waved, thick and green, over the winding watercourse, and the dark water chuckled and splashed, swollen to the tops of its banks by the summer flow.

They passed through the hedge and over the dyke and so on to the city.  There were soldiers at the gates, clad in bright mail and armed with sword and spear; several carts trundled in and out, filled with the bounty of the fields, and the common folk looked with surprise at the Elves in the midst of the éored.  Arúlf led them to the guard house, and a man in a green tunic came out and stared at them.

"What is this, Arúlf?" he asked in his own tongue; Fastred had need to think hard to catch the words, for he was unused to his mother's language.

"This is Éomer King's friend and ally the Green Knight," replied Arúlf; "with him he brings our new prince."

"Ah!"  The porter turned to Fastred and bowed low.  "Westu Fastred hál!" And turning to Legolas he said: "Welcome, O Green Knight!  We thank you for your kindness in bringing our heir safely to the gates of our city."  He turned to a boy sitting by the guard house and said:  "Hirdáf!  Run through the streets of Edoras; cry abroad the news that our heir is come to Éomer King."  The boy after a keen glance at Fastred nodded and ran out; they could hear him calling:  "The heir of Meduseld is here!  Come, all you people; come out to greet Fastred Prince of the Mark!"  And the porter waved them through the gates.

As they rode up the rocky track to the top of the hill they passed many stout wooden houses, with windows lit by lamp and fire; people came out of them to watch as they went by.  Fastred had never noticed the common folk of Edoras before, and found himself surprised to see them much the same as those of Ithilien and Osgiliath; the housewives wore homespun and aprons, and stood upon their doorsteps wiping work-hardened hands upon dishcloths; the children shouted and ran on their dirty bare feet beside the horses, and the menfolk stood about in heavy tunics, some with farm implements, others with weapons, some with their steeds, standing proudly by as they passed.  The Elves were hailed as benefactors and given high praise, for the people knew Lord Legolas to be a friend of their king, and remembered well his generosity during want in the past; Fastred however was stared at, and people spoke behind their hands as he rode by, looking sidelong at him.  He knew his face was scarlet, but he held his head high, hoping they were speaking of him and not of Karakse or Himbaláth.  The thought that his new subjects would think poorly of his choice of steed or standard-bearer sat ill upon his heart, and he desired to prove their opinions mattered little to him.

It had been some years ere Fastred had sojourned in Rohan, and he could hardly remember the road from the gates to Meduseld; it seemed though to be taking much longer than his memory served, and it was with great relief Fastred saw the gold-thatched roof of his uncle's home.  "My mother-brother's," he corrected himself once more; he would have to be careful now to speak as the Rohirrim did, so he would not stand out overmuch.  "I stand out enough, even with the difference in tongue and expression," he thought ruefully, looking at a couple of boys his own age pass by; they were tall and fair, with blue eyes, and looked very self-assured.  Fastred wondered if he would make any friends like unto Halgond, and wished he could have brought the boy with him.  "But Halgond would cause trouble here," he thought, smothering a smile; "he would insult the Rohirrim boys, and tease them, and make fun of their horses and their city; perhaps it is as well he is home."  He imagined what it was like in Osgiliath just then, and thought longingly of the cool blue shadows upon the white walls, the warm glow of the setting sun upon the rough stone, and the wide belt of silver as the river flowed round his city, cloven in two by the high white crown of the jewel of Ithilien, and of the tall campaniles ringing the evening hour, graceful white spikes circled about by wheeling swallows, rocking with the swing of the bells.  He thought of what his family were doing, of his Lord Father and Lady Mother sitting to table with Hísimë and Théodred, perhaps eating a haunch of venison taken by his father's own bow; he thought of Hísimë genteelly cutting her meat, back straight, chin high, lifting it to her mouth with her fork held properly, and of Théodred, growing tired of sawing at the cut with his knife and simply picking it up in his fingers to bite at it.  And he thought of how his parents would look at each other, secret sidelong glances and warm smiles, and perhaps his Lord Father would reach for his Lady Mother's hand beneath the table.  He felt a terrible pang in his breast then, and his eyes stung; he blinked rapidly, not wanting to show any weakness before those proud boys who stared at him so.

They gained the entrance of the Golden Hall, and dismounted; as they did a boy perhaps two or three years Fastred's elder ran up to where Hirilcúllas and Andunië rode together.  The two Elven women had garnered a goodly bit of attention from their escorts and were obviously much admired; Andunië had as always ignored the men about her, but Hirilcúllas had been quite friendly, smiling and laughing with the men as they strove to speak with her.  So Andunië was quite obviously not prepared for the boy's offering; he had somehow found a clump of late violets, and as she dismounted presented them to her stammering and blushing; it was the first time Fastred had ever seen Andunië look nonplussed, and he was so pleased by her perplexity he did not notice Meivel's black glare.

Standing upon the portico flanked by a full guard was Éomer, King of Rohan.  Tall he was, broad-shouldered, proud and stalwart and straight.  He held before him the great sword of the Kings of the Mark, that his own uncle had borne; it was bejeweled and ancient, point-down upon the pavers, and he leant upon its huge hilt; the pommel just reached his chin.  Beside him, the crown of his head no higher than the king's gold belt, stood a beaming Dwarf, richly dressed in red and gold, with a thick gold chain around his neck, and a gleaming circlet about his brow.  Legolas descrying him gave a glad laugh, and as he ascended the steps to the portico the king stepped forward, smiling.

"Welcome, my friend!" he said, extending his hand to the Elf.  "The King of the Golden Hall welcomes his ally and counselor, the Lord of Dol Galenehtar.  Westu Legolas hál!"

"Westu Éomer hál!" Legolas replied, and the two embraced.  Then Legolas turned to the Dwarf and said in a merry voice:  "Gimli, Lord of Aglarond, Elf-friend and staunch ally!"

"Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen, and Green Knight yet, despite your dearth of armor," grinned the Dwarf, letting the Elf embrace him.  "And hello to you too, Bandobras Took!  Not causing any trouble are you?"

"Not any more so than usual," piped Bandobras cheerfully, throwing his arms about the Dwarf's neck.  "But I'm sure if I think hard enough I'll come up with something."

"I am certain you shall," grunted Gimli.  He surveyed the rest of the Elves as they ascended.  "Ho, Meivel!" he said with surprise, looking the captain up and down.  "What have you done to yourself?  Not fallen off your horse I hope!"

Several Elves laughed, but Meivel looked annoyed.  "No, Lord Gimli," he said shortly.

Éomer had laughed with the rest; he knew Meivel of old.  "Welcome all of you," he said to the Elves as they assembled before the doors.  Then he turned to Fastred, who had been hoping to slip in unnoticed.  His eyes lit up then, and his smile illuminated the dark porch.  "Westu Fastred hál! Behold the son of my sister Éowyn daughter of Éomund; behold Fastred of Ithilien, my chosen inheritor!"  He took Fastred by his shoulder and brought him to the edge of the porch, turning him so that all assembled upon the platform by the fountain could see him clearly; he held his sword above Fastred's head and shouted:  "Hail the heir of Meduseld!"

"Hail the heir of Meduseld!  Westu Fastred hál!" cried the people.  Fastred blushed crimson; he did not care to be the center of attention, and wished he had at least had time for a wash-and-brush first; but he glanced sideways then, at Lord Lassah as he stood by Éomer upon the porch, and his friend looked down at him, and smiled gently. 

"Westu Fastred hál!" Legolas whispered, so that only Fastred could hear.

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

Fastred was given a room in the royal quarters behind the Hall.  A servant brought in a bath, and another his things; then they both left him alone in the room.  Fastred stood for a moment looking round.  "So this shall be my room," he thought, turning round about and peering into the dark corners.  "It is not like my room at home – the walls are of wood, and there are no windows, and the bed is very big, near big as Mother and Father's.  I hope it is a down tick – straw is so musty."  He went to the bed, tying the curtains aside, and sat upon it, bouncing a little; the ropes squeaked but were firm, and the mattress gave squishily beneath his bottom.  "Feather," he sighed, somewhat consoled, and stroked the bed sheets; they were linen, very old and soft.  "At least I shall sleep well," he said to himself, and quickly stripping stepped into the bath.

He washed as best he could in the dim light of the single candle that illuminated the windowless room.  When he arose out of the water and toweled off he hunted round for his good clothes, scattering his belongings over the bed; a dark-green bottle rolled out of a corner of his rucksack and he caught it ere it fell.

"Mother's olive oil!" he thought.  "I had forgotten; she entrusted it to me to give unto my aunt – what shall I call her; my sister-brother-wife?  That is awkward; perhaps I should simply call her 'my lady' instead."  He lifted the bottle, holding it to the candle light; he saw bay leaves and rosemary branches moving sluggishly round in it.  "I shall give it unto her before the banquet," he decided; " 'twould look silly to present it publicly; people should think it an odd offering."

He found his good shirt and doublet, and shrugged into them; he located the hose with some difficulty – they had been rolled into a tight ball, and secreted in a little pocket – and, unable to track down his shoes, upended the sack upon the bed and they tumbled out.  He put them on and laced them up, then, because he was a tidy boy, refolded his clothes and put them in the chest, hanging his cloak upon a hook near the door.  He found a small shelf for his books and those few mementoes he had brought along with him and stood for a moment, feeling a little lost.  His tooth collection and shiny rocks looked very out of place upon the rough wood shelf; fortunately his dagger, with its intricately carven horse's head, fit in better.  He thought of Théalof then, and picked up the dagger, affixing it to his belt.  "Just in case Uncle Éomer has had no word of his misdeeds," he said to himself; "this time I shall be prepared."  And taking up the bottle of oil he went out to the hallway.

Meduseld was far smaller than his parents' home in Osgiliath, and made of wood; it was warm for there were few windows to let in the cold winds that whipped across the plains of Rohan; it was also dark, and smoky, for the torches upon the walls were lit with pitch.  He came to the corner of the hall leading to the royal chambers, then paused; he heard muffled shouting, and the buzz of anxious voices ahead; wondering if he were going to intrude upon some private scene of domestic predicament, but afire with curiosity, he trotted round the corner.

There was a small group of people crowded before the doors of the bedchamber, huddled together; they appeared to be servants and soldiers for the most part, though there were several girls in pretty dresses standing round in the shadows, craning their necks to see over the shoulders of the adults.  In front of the door stood Andunië, looking bored, and Gimli, looking disgusted, and Bandobras, looking extremely put out.  Fastred could hear now that the shouting was occurring within the bedchamber, and that it were his uncle who spoke so; as he opened his mouth to call to Bandobras for explanation the door opened, and Lord Lassah came out in naught but breeches and a linen shirt, rolled up at the sleeves; he was drying his hands on a rough brown towel, and looked very grim.  Hirilcúllas came out behind him, her dark eyes flashing and lips pressed into a thin line.  Gimli turned to Legolas and said:  "Well?"

"Well, naught so far," said Legolas with a sigh, handing the towel to a servant who stood anxiously by.  "But the queen will not be at the presentation tonight; in fact if I have my way she shall be abed 'til spring."  He turned to an older woman and two maidservants and said in a voice that brooked no argument:  "Flat upon her back, feet upon the pillows.  Broth and milk and bread and fruit; no mead nor wine nor ale.  She is not to get up; should she desire something it is up to you, O maidservants of the Mark, to so procure it.  Keep a fire lit in her room, but the windows open as well.  And remember for this is of prime importance:  She is not to walk.  Keep her abed; bind her there with ropes if need be.  Should she give unto you some contrary order you may refer the charge to me, and I shall put her in her place."

The servants murmured: "Yes, my lord," and looked round uneasily.  Just then the door opened and Éomer burst out, very red in the face, and looking very angry.  His servants shrank back from him, but Legolas turned to him and fixed the young king with a level gaze; his expression was stiff, and Fastred could see a fire simmering behind his gray eyes.

"And have you finished yet, O King of the Mark, reducing your beleaguered wife to tears?" he asked coolly.  "Does her health mean so little to you, that you should wear her down thus by accusing her of keeping secrets from you?"

"She ought to have told me immediately," growled Éomer, glaring at Legolas.  "She ought not to have kept this from me; I deserved to know.  And now her very life is in danger!  What was she thinking, to keep silent about this?"

Gimli snorted, and Legolas raised his eyebrows.  "Well if your response to her collapse is any indication I reproach her not for her silence," he said.  "Besides which you act as though this were her doing and hers alone; I have lived for many centuries, my friend, and have yet to run across such a situation in which the woman got into this condition without her husband's willing, if not fervent, contribution; in fact more often than not it is the man's impetus, and not the wife's."

Éomer flushed deeper still, but he wavered, and glanced uncomfortably at the servants, some of whom were smiling in spite of themselves.  "Contribution be damned, Legolas," he muttered; "you are not supposed to know anything of that."

"I beg you, Éomer, do not confuse purity with naïveté," said Legolas wryly, unrolling his shirt sleeves and letting Bandobras button them up for him.  He glanced into the shadows then, and saw Fastred standing there staring; Éomer followed his look and started.

"Fastred!" he said, and striding from the door he approached his nephew.  He put one heavy hand upon Fastred's shoulder; Fastred could feel him trembling.  "You have come at a bad time I fear, O sister-son; do you please go unto your room, or at least to the ante-chamber; these doings do not concern you."

"I should have thought they concerned him rather deeply," said Gimli; "Lothíriel is his kinswoman after all."

"Is she ill?" blurted Fastred; he had seen the look of fear upon his uncle's face, and felt a cold sharp blade pierce his own heart.  He did not want to live at Meduseld at all, but to be constrained to dwell therein lacking Lothíriel's tender presence would be harsh indeed.  He looked up at Éomer and swallowed heavily.  "Is – is she going to die?"

"Hush, hush, O Fastred!" said Legolas soothingly, coming up and laying a gentle hand upon the boy's head.  "She is not well, that is true; but I hope I have come in time, and your lord uncle spared this deep sorrow."  He looked at the green glass bottle clutched tight in Fastred's hand and said:  "What is that you have there, Little One?"

"Olive oil," said Fastred, glancing at the attentive servants and blushing.  "From Moth—my Lady Mother.  She did charge me with giving it unto my Lady Lothíriel."

"Ah, yes; she will like that," said Éomer, his shoulders slumping a little; he looked a little foolishly at Legolas.  "Can he – ought he to – that is – I should rather – "  He stammered a little, then fell silent.  Legolas smiled, his eyes warming.

"Aye, good Éomer; he can, and ought, and so ought you."  He turned them both then toward the door and said:  "Go you both unto the queen; she languishes, and you might brighten her face by your offerings of unguents."  Éomer gave him a sharp look, then looked sheepish; tightening his grip upon Fastred's shoulder he led the boy into the royal bedchamber.  As Bandobras shut the door behind them Fastred caught the expression upon the Hobbit's face; he was frowning up at the king, and looked murderous.  The great oak door swung to with a bang, and Fastred and his uncle stepped into the room.

It was very dark, for the lamps upon the tables were turned down; there was a wide low window upon the eastern wall, through which Fastred could glimpse stars peeping out from behind the rushing clouds; the great dark bulk of the Ered Nimrais loomed blackly upon the south.  The room was full of flickering shadow, lying deepest upon the great canopied bed in the center; the tapestried curtains were drawn, and from behind them Fastred heard a woman weakly weeping.  He paused, unsure; but Éomer gave him a gentle push forward, so he came to the bed, and twitched aside the curtain and looked within.

His aunt lay there, with a pallor rivaling the white sheets which dressed the bed; her large brown eyes were sunk in dark blue circles and her cheekbones jutted; her throat as it emerged from the lace collar of her gown was thin and sunken, and the hands upon the coverlet mere bone.  Fastred was hard-put not to gasp, for it had been but three years ere he had seen Lothíriel, and though she had certainly been thin had not looked quite so bad as this.  All of a sudden he realized what a terrible toll heir-making had taken upon her, and in that instant knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had done the right thing to come to Rohan.

She turned her head slowly to him, the tears running in silver tracks down her hollow cheeks; when she recognized him she took a sharp breath, her eyes lighting with hope, and whispered:  "Fastred!"

Fastred felt as though someone had wadded up a great lump of cloth and stuck it in his throat.  He could not swallow it away, because for some reason it was squeezing tears out his own eyes, and her face blurred; he groped for her hand, which was cold and gaunt.  "My Lady," he said, though it came out in a croak.  He took a deep breath, and dashed the tears away upon his sleeve.  "Look," he said, forcing his voice to sound cheerful; "I have brought you a present, O Queen."  He held up the bottle so she could see it.  "It is from my Lady Mother; it is olive oil, your majesty, flavored with rosemary and bay."  He stammered to a halt, wondering if she had heard him, and if she were offended by the titles, but in truth he knew not what to say, nor how to address her; he could scarcely call her "Dear Aunt" anymore.  But she smiled up at him and said:

"Fastred, O Fastred; son of Osgiliath, son of Rohan!  You have come to us in our hour of need; you succor us and hold us up.  O look at him, Éomer; look at him, O mine husband; do you not see Faramir's face as he looks upon you?  See you the grandchild of Denethor, born of the line of Ecthelion of the Tower!"  She closed her eyes then, her hand gripping Fastred's tight; she murmured:  "He shall be of Rohan and of Gondor; strength shall be in his sword-arm and truth in his words; his eyes shall pierce the hearts of men and his dreams show forth mysteries from afar."  Her voice faltered and broke, and her hand loosed its grip; Fastred's heart swelled with fear thinking she had failed, but he looked then and saw her heart beating slowly in the hollow of her collarbone.  Then his uncle took him gently aside, his face full of sorrow.

"Go you now, O Fastred mine heir; I shall meet with you anon."  And turning from the boy he sat by his wife's side, taking her hand in his and watching over her; Fastred trembling crossed the dark room to the door and went out.  He shut the heavy door behind him and stood, filled with grief and hardly knowing what to do next; to his relief the hallway had cleared, though when he looked round he saw in the shadows a slim shape hidden in the darkness; it hesitated, and moved into the light, and Fastred saw it was one of the young girls who had stood by whilst Legolas had spoken to his uncle.  She regarded him warily, and Fastred was reminded of a lost dog looking for a new home; she had that same look about her, of fear and uncertainty mingled with faint hope.

"The queen," she whispered; her voice was so soft Fastred could scarcely hear it.  "She is not – she has not - ?"

"No," said Fastred straightening up; he realized he was still clutching the bottle of oil.  "She is ill but Lord Lass – Legolas will make her well again."

She watched him, hanging back in the shadows; her eyes were dark and it seemed to Fastred her hair was not so fair as her fellow maids', though that might have been the torch light.  He wondered if he ought to introduce himself, even though she was certain to know who he was; and that being the case, how he should inquire of her own name.  Just as he had decided upon a course of action however she bobbed a quick curtsey, and ran down the dark hall.  Fastred took a deep breath.  He was tempted to use a word he'd heard in the armory once, when his father's Rangers had not known he was listening; it would have made him feel better, but then he thought perhaps more girls were lurking in the shadows and he might offend them; so much trammeled in his heart he returned to his rooms.  He did not feel like going to the presentation feast at all.

Fastred stood in the dim antechamber with Legolas, Bandobras, and Himbaláth, awaiting the porter's signal.  From without they could descry the muffled voices of people gathered in the Hall, and now and again heard someone walk by the closed door of the antechamber, speaking excitedly.  Fastred felt sick.  His stomach was roiled and racked with knots, and a sour taste tickled the back of his throat; he felt by turns hot and cold, and the collar of his good doublet was unbearably tight; even his hose felt itchy.  He fidgeted and twitched, straightening his shirt and doublet, buffing the tops of his shoes against the backs of his calves, patting his hair, and looking with ill-disguised impatience at the door.  Bandobras was fussing about his Master, brushing down his splendid silver robes and standing upon a stool to smooth the flaxen fall of hair beneath the bristly circlet; the opals and gems upon the mithril leaves and branches sparkled in the lamplight.  Himbaláth stood quietly by holding Fastred's standard; he was clad in a simple mail tunic covered over with a green cape, and bore upon his golden head a low iron cap.  Now and again he would look at Fastred and smile with sympathy; however neither Elf nor Hobbit spoke, and Fastred did not trust his own voice to break the silence.

At last there was a rap on the door, causing Fastred to jump; and the porter's voice spoke through the lock: "It is time, gentles all!  The King awaits his heir upon the dais."  Then Legolas turned to Fastred, and smiled; it was however a sad smile, as though he did this out of duty and not desire.  "Remember, O Little One," he said, laying one long white hand upon Fastred's shoulder; the boy's heart beat unnaturally fast, and he was quite pale.  "Wait behind me 'til I have greeted the king, then step forward when I beckon."

Fastred swallowed hard.  "I shall, Lord Lassah," he said shakily, and smiling at Fastred Legolas opened the door.

They stepped through the portico and thus up to the great carven doors of Meduseld.  Standing before them were the two royal guards, tall and marvelously arrayed; they opened wide the doors and stood to attention, their bejeweled swords held high above Legolas' head.  Legolas glanced down at Bandobras who bore his standard; the crossed oak leaves glittering with metal threads in the rich velvet ensign, and the crest gleamed with gems.  Bandobras grinned up at his Master and took his place.  Then walking with measured grace and studied step Legolas entered the Hall.

He walked through the throng, which parted to let him by; the people bowed or curtseyed or saluted as he passed, and some of the children in the assembly reached out their small hands to touch the gems upon his robe.  But the Green Knight looked to right nor left, keeping his shining eyes upon the King of the Mark, who sat upon his great throne.  Éomer watched his friend approach, and when Legolas reached the edge of the dais he rose to his feet, his hand upon his breast. 

"Legolas of Dol Galenehtar," he said, inclining his head; the heavy gold crown glinted dully in the lamplight.

"Éomer of Rohan," Legolas answered, returning the gesture, and ascended the steps.  He stood beside Éomer, radiant as the sun newly risen, and Bandobras his esquire stood behind him, holding aloft the standard; Legolas turned and cast his eye upon the crowd.  All watched him, silent and expectant; after waiting a few heartbeats Legolas proclaimed in a clear voice that rang to the rafters:

"From the sun-drenched valley of the Anduin, the verdant hills of Ithilien, and the river-girt city of Osgiliath, I bring to you Fastred son of Faramir, of the line of Éomund of the Mark; he comes in answer to the call of his mother-brother, Éomer King, to fill his house and supply the security of his line upon the most venerable and sovereign throne in this land.  Will you take him as your heir?"

"I so take him!"  Éomer's voice boomed throughout the Hall, and his knights drew their swords with the hiss of steel.  "Let all present know that Fastred sister-son is my chosen heir and the right and proper Prince of the Mark."

"An it please you, O Fastred Faramir's son," said Legolas, his eyes fixed upon the dark entryway at the far end of the Hall, where Fastred waited in the shadows.  "Come forth so that your people may know you, and give you the honor and veneration that is your just due as their lord, protector, and prince."

His heart in his throat, Fastred walked the gloomy length of the Hall.  He kept his eyes fixed upon Lassah, who amongst the men and warriors at the dais looked more like unto a tall white birch tree crowned with snow and gleaming in the sunshine; the lamplight reflected off the gems upon his robe, and on the jewels on his torc and circlet, and cast light all round him.  In fact it seemed to Fastred then that he was surrounded by darkness; the peat fires set up murky smoke, and the shadows brooded and lurked in corners and doorways, and even the people in their bright raiment were cloaked in shade.  But Lord Lassah's fair face gleamed as abalone, and his eyes like the light of the moon; frosty gems sparkled upon his epaulettes and lapels, and the satiny white cloth of his garment shimmered and shone.  Feeling very light-headed, and reassured not only by Lassah's tender face but by Himbaláth's stout presence at his heels, Fastred approached the dais, and taking Lassah's proffered hand ascended.  The Elf kissed him upon each cheek, then set him before Éomer and said:  "Here, O Éomer King, is your promised heir; give unto him the pledge of his inheritance, and take him as your own son, and you his father, for the furtherance of your house, and the well-being of your kingdom."

Fastred turned to his uncle; Éomer looked very dim indeed standing beside Legolas, for he was clad in dark raiment, and though fair was muted by the Elf's splendor.  But when Fastred looked up into Éomer's eyes he saw tears there, and perceived the king was filled with joy to have him, despite his deep griefs; this so turned his heart that when Éomer leant to kiss him in greeting Fastred put his arms about his uncle's neck, and embraced him; surprised by this Éomer stared down at him, his careworn face soft, and he smiled. 

"Fastred sister-son of Éomer," he said, his great voice hushed and husky; "all I have is yours, and you shall possess everything in due time.  Be you a good herdsman to our people; valiant, and wise, and gentle, and just.  Be you first to draw sword, first to battle, first to raise a goblet, and first to dance.  Be impartial and loyal, deliberate and steadfast, generous and careful, strong and courageous.  Take unto yourself the staff of kingship over our people and guide them well."

Fastred felt very small then, and quite beneath the superlatives his uncle had asked of him; however he glanced at Legolas, shining and white and gazing tenderly down upon him, and he said in a clear voice that despite his fears did not crack at all:  "I will, my Lord."  And he drew his sword, turning the hilt to his uncle; Éomer took it and raised it aloft; the fuller gleamed, and the braided wire upon the guard threw back the light upon the tapestries around them.  Then the king touched Fastred's head with the flat of the blade and said:  "Now you are a man of the Mark; now you fulfill your oaths to our people."  He gave Fastred back his sword, and turned the boy so that he faced the assembly.  "Behold Fastred Prince of the Mark!  Westu Fastred hál!"

"Westu Fastred hál!" cried the people as one, and the guards and knights shook their swords and shields; the clatter and ring of it filled Fastred's ears so that he was near deafened.  He looked out at the assembly all bemused, and saw near the foot of the dais the Elves with whom he had traveled, arrayed in their finery; even Andunië had donned her dependable green dress, and regarded him with sober approval.  Gimli and several other Dwarves were also there, richly garbed and shining with gold and gem; there were even Dwarf-women, bearded and no less fearsome than their menfolk.  And filling the Hall were the people of Edoras, all who could fit within the building; the merchants and farmers and members of the minor nobility, knights and esquires and warriors and servants; all strangers to him, yet he was now their prince.  He looked round for someone like unto his own age but saw no one; he felt quite alone despite the crowd, and not for the first time that evening wished he could simply go to his room, shut the curtains round his bed, and hide beneath the coverlets.  But he looked back at Éomer then, standing proudly before the assembly, his hand heavy upon Fastred's shoulder, and thought of Lothíriel languishing sonless in her room; it was a heavier burden than Fastred had expected, but he knew he was strong enough to bear it.

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

The banquet-hall was lit by great swinging chandeliers filled with tallow candles which smoked and dripped, and the trestle-tables were rough-hewn and possessed an irascible tendency to rock.  The floor was of wood and not the stone pavers to which Fastred had become accustomed, not only in his own home but in Dol Galenehtar and Minas Tirith both; and the high table though filled with the visiting dignitaries was every bit as noisy and boisterous as the tables used by the rest of the folk.  But the food was not the elaborate, fanciful stuff he was used to picking his way through at grown-up functions; there were sizzling sausages, and big smoking joints of meat, and great platters of hot brown bread, and huge wheels of yellow cheese; there were even plates of steamed graylings in butter, which seemed to Fastred near as nice as the trout from the Anduin, though that thought felt traitorous to him.  He sat amongst his uncle's own men, advisors the king called them though to the boy's eyes they were more like unto warriors and not the smooth, well-read men who surrounded his father and Elessar.  The men for the most part laughed and sang and spoke amongst themselves, but at one point as Fastred took a second helping of sausages Éothain thumped him on the back and said in a loud cheerful voice:  "So the new Prince of the Mark does not turn up his nose at our fare!  How do you find it, O Fastred Prince, compared to the lavishly appointed tables of the King of Gondor?"

"O this is much better," said Fastred, surprised into honesty; "I do not care for such fancy trifles; I should rather a chop and a potato than all the grand subtleties in Minas Tirith."

This answer seemed to please Éothain and his companions, for they laughed, and pressed upon him a glass of sweet mead; Fastred had never tasted mead before and he was finding it rather richer than he had expected, and certainly far stouter than the ales he had sampled at his Lord Father's table.  He glanced down the table to Lassah, who was turned away from him, carrying on a merry conversation with Gimli's Lady Mother Frera; the halfling however caught his eye, and seeing Fastred held in his hands a cup of mead his eyes widened, and the Hobbit shook his head slightly.  Feeling disappointed but trusting Bandobras' judgment implicitly Fastred set the cup down and drank no more.

He looked longingly over at Lassah again, wishing he could have been sat beside the Elf Lord; the men were talking over his head, of border disputes and grazing rights, and he sighed.  He let his gaze wander over the assembly and it rested upon a gathering of young folk, about like to his own age – clustered together, chattering and laughing and dressed in their finest; they seemed supremely disinterested in the fate of the newest member of their monarchy.  Only one sat apart; it was the dark girl he had spoken to in the hallway outside the royal bedchamber: her gaze was fixed upon her trencher, and she pushed the food round discontentedly with one finger.  Unlike her companions she wore dull black, which made her pale skin to look sallow; she took no part in conversation, but sat a little apart from the boys and girls round her.  It reminded Fastred somewhat of Andunië, though that lady were more rigid and cold; perhaps that was cultivated merely through practice.  He looked down the other end of the high table to where Andunië sat between Himbaláth and Romastáldë.  Her copper hair shone brilliantly in the lamplight, and her eyes glittered green; to Fastred's surprise she was speaking earnestly to Himbaláth, whose face was turned away from Fastred so that he could not see it.  Fastred wondered what topic could have so enflamed her that she would speak at a public function; to his knowledge he had never seen her do so.  His eyes sought the girl in black again, but whilst he had watched Andunië the girl had apparently gotten up; her place was empty, and her trencher gone.  None of her compatriots seemed to have even noticed.  He wished she were still there; she had been the only person in the Hall who had looked as out of place as he felt.

"Fastred!" boomed Éomer's voice; Fastred jumped, startled, and turned to the king.  Éomer had leant forward, his pewter goblet in one hand.  He looked a little red in the face.  "Tell me – Arúlf, Marshall of the Mark – he performed his function well, in bringing you here?  You have no complaints against him?"

Fastred's heart started to beat very fast.  No, Arúlf had been rather insulting – yet – what would happen to the man, should he say that very thing unto his uncle?  Censure, surely; demotion, possibly.  And anyway Arúlf had been doing only what he thought was best in these troubled times; with all the treachery surrounding Rohan it was not to be wondered at, if its men regarded strangers with suspicion.  Firmly fixing his smile in place Fastred said:  "O no, Lord King!  The Marshall executed his duties with perfect comportment, as I should have expected from one who serves the Mark so faithfully.  I have no complaints at all."

Éomer regarded him suspiciously; he had apparently heard otherwise.  Several of the men, Éothain included, had ceased their conversation, and were attending to their words; Fastred determined he should protect Arúlf from disgrace if he could.  "No?" asked the king, cocking his head at Fastred; "for he is a stern man and given to brusqueness; offense is a by-product of that betimes.  You are certain; he gave no cause for affront?"  And he fixed Fastred with a cunning eye.  But Fastred was used to this from his Lady Mother, who frequently would ask her eldest for information on certain upsets in the nursery or the buttery; now as then Fastred was an adamant advocate.

"Certainly not, my Lord!" he said drawing himself up.  "I commend Arúlf to you most highly; he is a fortunate king who possesses so steadfast a Marshall to patrol his lands."

Éomer did obviously disbelieve the boy, and stared hard at him; Fastred however was equal to this, and did gaze ingenuously back; at last Éomer smiled and said:  "Very well!  Then I shall dismiss other reports as mere rumor, gleaned in error, as my prince has taken Arúlf's welfare upon his shoulders."  And he turned back to Lassah who sat upon his right; the Elf met Fastred's eye, and he winked.  Taking a deep breath Fastred returned to his trencher; upon his other side a man leant low and muttered to him:

"Well done – and my thanks.  Arúlf is my cousin."

Fastred turned to the man; his face was far friendlier than it had been before.  Fastred smiled and said simply:

"Thanks are unnecessary – " O what was his name … ah yes, Éodor … "Éodor; Arúlf as Marshall of the Mark is now under mine authority and therefore my protection, and I shall bear no ill spoken of him, for he performed his duties well."

The men round him seemed to be pleased by this, and spoke to him in a pleasant fashion then of horses and tack and fishing (there was apparently a prime spot north of Edoras, where stream met pond and the pike were ferocious) which carried Fastred comfortably through the end of the meal; then when the trenchers were gathered up for the dogs the minstrels came out, and Fastred, with a wholesome dread of having to ask one of those strange girls for a turn about the floor, slipped quietly from his seat, and hugging the shadows escaped unnoticed into the back passageway.

It was cooler there and far more pleasant, and the tumultuous voices did not press at him so; taking a deep breath he determined to visit Karakse, before whom he had no need to hold his tongue, nor to feign equanimity in the face of close scrutiny.  At that moment he felt more sympathy for Andunië than he ever had before; she at least understood the company of beasts to be far less trying than that of her fellow men.  So he pattered down the hallway and out the door, turning the corner past the outer wall of the armory, ducking beneath the opened windows so he would not be seen; then he gained the entrance of the stables, and slipped inside.

He smelled sweet hay and dusty straw, and the indefinable scent of warm contented horses; one raised its head over the nearest stable door and whuffed at him.  He stroked its velvety nose absently, and went in search of his Karakse. 

The stables were long, and very full; he went down the first corridor admiring the sleek pale horses of the Mark, and turned the corner to the next; then he heard Taruku bellow up ahead, and he smiled.  Meivel's horse was not used to being kept in a loose-box, and it sounded to Fastred that he protested his confinement; however Fastred knew that to loose that stallion would be to invite more trouble than he was worth.  He started down the dark corridor, then stopped suddenly; someone was standing in the shadows before him.  The figure gasped and leapt back.

"Who's there?" they both cried at once, and then Fastred with relief realized it was the dark girl from the feast.  "O it is you," he said, stepping into a square of light so she could see him; she shrank back further into the shadows.  "Fear not!  I shall not give you away, if you in turn promise to keep my presence here a secret as well!"

The girl paused, then in the dimness Fastred thought he could see her relax; when she spoke her voice was wary:  "You … you have escaped the feast too?"

"Yes; it is tiresome, is it not, to celebrate when one feels no joy, and knows no companion?" said Fastred, thinking to himself:  "Surely she is a stranger here too; surely she is as lonely as I."  The girl paused, then answered softly:  "Yes."

"I am Fastred," said Fastred, holding out his hand; he realized this were foolish of him, for surely she knew him, and he was glad the darkness hid his blush.  But she only gave a breathless giggle, and placed one thin cold hand in his own.

"I know," she whispered; "I saw you ride in – and I was at the presentation."

"Well I did not know how else to continue our conversation," admitted Fastred with a laugh; "nor did I know the rules of courtly behavior hereabouts, if it were unseemly or no to speak to one to whom one has not been formally introduced."

"I know not," she said; "I am unused to the court."

There was a pause, during which Fastred realized he was still holding her hand; he let it go quickly, and said, "Well I have told you my name, though you knew it already; will you not give to me your name, so that we may be the properly acquainted?"

She hesitated, and Fastred saw her shift uneasily upon the straw floor.  Behind her Alfirin raised her golden-white head over the stable door and snuffled into the girl's hair; she reached up with practiced hands to the mare's head and stroked her gently.

"That is Alfirin; she is Hirilcúllas' palfrey," supplied Fastred; "and beside her is Ronyo – she belongs to Andunië.  There; you know two more of my friends; will you not tell me your name?  For I am a stranger here and know no one; I desire greatly to become acquainted with someone, especially one mine own age; I get so weary of speaking with grown-ups."

"I am Léodwyn," said the girl; she turned away from Fastred and hid her face in Alfirin's neck.  "I am a stranger here too; I have been here but one week and know no one."

"A week!" exclaimed Fastred.  "Why have you not made friends with the other children then?  Seven days would seem to me time aplenty."

She was silent again, and when she spoke her voice was muffled by Alfirin's neck.  "I shall not stay here; I am only here for a short while."

"A visitor then," thought Fastred, a little disappointed.  "And then you return home?" he asked.

In the darkness it was hard to see, but Fastred thought perhaps she was wiping at her face with her hands; his heart turned, wondering what it was he had said that hurt her so, and wishing he had not spoken.  "Please, do not answer if you like it not," he begged; "I am churlish to hammer at you so – there is no need to reply to mine impertinence."

"It is no impertinence, my Lord," she said; her voice was sad.  "I came here from the Westfold.  My mother died when I was very young, and I was raised by my father; he was killed last year by the Dunlendings, and so I went to live with my mother-sister and her family.  But they have many children, and not much money, and so I am being sent into the service of your own Lady Mother, Éowyn of Osgiliath, who is a distant relation of mine, and who had enquired of Éodild my mother-sister of a suitable girl to be companion to her own daughter, and a lady-in-waiting in her court."

Fastred felt disappointed that she would be quitting Edoras so soon, but her disaffection pricked at him, and forcing his voice to sound cheerful he said:  "O but that is good news!  Good news for you I mean; it is not so good for me, because now I see I shall have little time with which to become the better acquainted with you."  She turned to him, and her face fell into a shaft of light; Fastred could see her looking at him, puzzled, though her cheeks were still streaked by tears.  "You are going to Osgiliath, mine own city," he said smiling.  "You are fortunate indeed; it is wonderful there … "  He sighed.  "Wonderful," he repeated sadly.

They were silent a moment; Fastred stood ruminating over his old city, and how much he missed it; and she watched him, stroking Alfirin's nose.  After a moment she said, her voice a little bolder: "Tell me of it."

Fastred asked no better; it was as though a floodgate had been opened, and all the things he loved about Ithilien came pouring out.  He told her about his home and the nursery where he had grown up; he told her about his nurse, and his brother and sister, and the toys they had, and the games they played; he told her about the citadel, the winding passageways and secret doors and hidden courtyards to be explored; he told her about Halgond and their skiff and fishing in the estuaries; he told her about his Lord Father and Lady Mother, of their nobility and wisdom and love; he told her about Minas Tirith and King Elessar and Queen Undómiel and the Tower of Ecthelion; he told her about Dol Galenehtar and the Elves and Lord Legolas and how lovely it was to visit there.  And Léodwyn stood, holding Alfirin's head and listening silently, now and again posing a simple question when it seemed the flow of Fastred's narrative began to go dry.  Soon Fastred realized he had been speaking nearly half an hour, and stammered to a halt, abashed.

"Forgive me, Léodwyn," he said; "I have spoken overmuch, and given you no room to reply!  Again that is ill-bred of me – O how Bandobras should scold me for my manners!"

"I mark it not," smiled the girl; "it is well simply to have someone speak to me.  I have been so lonely here."

"Well you need not be now," said Fastred.  "For you know me passing fair, and I hope that I shall know you too; besides you go to mine own sister Hísimë, and I know she shall love you, so you have that hope at least."

"Think you so, that she shall love me?" asked Léodwyn wistfully, reaching back to play with Ronyo's ears.  The palfrey whickered and nuzzled her neck, and she smiled.  "I should like to be loved; I have not been since my poor sire died."

"O Hísimë will love you," said Fastred confidently; "also Théodred too; and you shall love them I am certain, for they are so lovable.  Why Hísimë is the most tender-hearted creature who lived, and Théodred is so funny and so loyal.  Even Halgond shall love you I think."  He thought then of his friend Halgond, taking Léodwyn out upon their little skiff, of them drifting lazily through the reeds and feeding the ducks, and suddenly he hoped Halgond didn't like Léodwyn quite so much as that.  It was a strange feeling and it puzzled him, for he had never wished ill upon Halgond before.  But Léodwyn was considering his words, and looked more hopeful.  "And of course you shall have my Lord Father and Lady Mother, and shall also become well-known in Dol Galenehtar; why Elves love you even when you are not lovable you know; that is why I enjoy their company so."

"Do they?" she asked; she looked comforted.  Fastred smiled.

"Yes, they do," he said.  "Would you like to see my horse?"

"I have seen him," she said, "but I should like to meet him."

"He is here," said Fastred, and led her to the loose-box where Karakse shifted impatiently upon the hay.  He snorted and tossed his head when Fastred opened the gate, and the boy laughed and threw his arms about his horse's great neck.  "Hello, my friend!" he said, looking up into Karakse's bright brown eyes.  "I have missed you; I am so sorry I cannot bring horses into the Hall, for you should have been a better companion at table than many of the others."

"Aye; I wished for mine own horse too," said Léodwyn, stroking the piebald neck.  "He is so big!  Are all the horses in Osgiliath so big?"

"Nay!  There are few horses in Osgiliath, save those of my Lord Father's household," said Fastred; when he saw her face fall he assured her:  "Do not fear!  You may bring your horse; my Lady Mother will be glad you have it."  He and Léodwyn petted Karakse a few moments more, then Léodwyn stepped out of the stable and said:  "Now I shall show you my horse."

Fastred followed her to the back of the stables.  He had not been there yet; the stalls were smaller, and some held donkeys or even goats; at last Léodwyn came to a little stall in a dark corner and called out.  A grizzled muzzle thrust itself through the bars, and Léodwyn with a glad laugh ran forward, and opened the gate.

"This is Falafód," she said, stepping into the narrow stall.  "He was my father's horse, and he is very old; it is for that reason I am allowed to keep him."  She kissed the whiskery nose.  "Save this dress he is all I have."

Fastred ran his hands over the curved neck and broad withers; he said, "He is old but a fine steed still.  How wide is his poll, and how straight his forelegs!  How is his action?  With such pasterns I am sure it is quite springy."

Léodwyn seemed pleased with his praise, and spoke of Falafód with far more animation than Fastred had seen her yet display; he smiled and nodded, and watched how her dark eyes glowed with eagerness, and how her hair caught the torchlight, spilling round her high white forehead in honey-brown waves.  Her black dress was plain and unadorned, and she wore no jewels nor lace to so ornament her, but he liked the way her slender neck met the stiff collar, and how her long hair shifted upon her shoulders.  He knew he was not marking her conversation, and that he was displaying the worst of manners in this; he could not pinpoint however the cause of his sudden dearth of comportment, and thought perhaps he were simply fatigued.  He had just promised himself he would atone for this by attending her words when he heard voices behind them; he turned, and Léodwyn faltered to a halt.

"Ah!  And there is the miscreant!" cried a merry voice; a light illuminated the dark corridor, and several Elves came toward them; Hirilcúllas was first, smiling, her splendid lilac gown afire with embroidered silver, and purple gems sparkling in her black hair.  Behind her were Malinadulin and Fionim; Malinadulin held a jug, and Fionim two wood cups; both were laughing and singing.  Fastred blushed, but was immeasurably relieved it were Hirilcúllas who had found him; he did not dare think what Andunië might have said.  "My Lord sent us in pursuit of you, Prince Fastred; he told us to seek you in the stables, and so we have found you!"  She came up to them, her great sleeves sweeping the straw and her skirts rustling stiffly.  She kissed Fastred upon the crown of his head, and his cheeks flamed; but Hirilcúllas turned from him then and smiled upon Léodwyn, who shrank back into the shadows, her eyes downcast.  "And I do think me I might put a name to this face," she said, gently taking Léodwyn's chin in her fingers, and tipping the girl's face to the light.  "You are Léodwyn daughter of Fengel, and you go back to Gondor with us.  Why do you skulk about in the stables here, when there is wine to drink and music to dance to?  Come and make merry with us, O children; on the morrow shall we take to horse and gallop through the grasses, but now is the time to celebrate in more homely fashion, for this is the will of the King of Rohan."

"O do not press them Hirilcúllas," said Fionim with a laugh.  "After all dances can be awkward affairs, especially when one knows few to partner.  And certain it is that Prince Fastred here shall be much sought-after, for the girls with whom he dances shall vie to be his favorites."

"Ah, ah!" said Malinadulin wagging his head; "but see you here he has his solution; he has naught but to return to the Hall with Léodwyn upon his arm and he has a partner ready-made."

"But he cannot dance with one girl the whole night," protested Fionim, refilling Malinadulin's goblet.  "That smacks of permanence."

"No need," said Malinadulin.  "He keeps her for the first dance, and the gavotte, and the final reel, and can beg out the other dances if he desires.  And mark this, little maid – " The Elf grinned at Léodwyn, whose cheeks were scarlet.  "Once it is seen that Fastred Prince has chosen you for a partner all the other boys shall contend for your hand in the reels; it is royalty by association."  The two scouts laughed, and Hirilcúllas shook her head at them.  Turning back to the two children she said:

"Ignore them, dear children, I beg of you; they are deep in their cups, and care not for the insults they might fling about.  Let us leave them here in the stables – the horses speak a far more rustic tongue, and I hope shall not be so offended as we."

"Besides which," laughed Fionim, smiling at Léodwyn, "should you take them to the Hall they shall see our Lord dance the Bariz-Sigin; the Dwarves are all excited, and have taken over for the King's minstrels – 'tis a sight worthy to behold, little maid!"

Fastred brightened.  "Lord Lassah will dance the Bariz-Sigin?" he said, growing excited.  "But that is fine news indeed!  O with whom shall he dance?"

"Andunië, of course," said Malinadulin taking a deep draught.  "Who else gives unto him such stiff competition?  For certes it is with a face set as hers none might cause it to crack!  He has not won against her yet, and he has challenged her every Mereth en’Ehtelé since he first made acquaintance of Gimli of Aglarond, bless his beard."

"O let us go Léodwyn," said Fastred excitedly, taking her hand.  "The Bariz-Sigin is a marvelous Dwarvish dance and Lord Lassah dances it so well.  I cannot dance it myself for I am a poor student of mathematics, but I can follow the numbers in my head.  Come, come!"  He tugged at her hand, but she hesitated; she glanced down at her plain gown, and over to Hirilcúllas; she looked wistfully upon the Elf's marvelous vestments, in particular the bejeweled silver belt about the slim waist.  But that lady laughed and brushed the girl's hair back and said:

"It is naught but fine feathers upon a very simple bird!  The crow can fly better than the peacock, and is far more useful beside."  She smiled at Léodwyn and Fastred and said gently:  "Go; go.  Dance what dances you like, and when you are weary of that sport sit you upon a bench and laugh at the men who drink too much.  Go!"  So Fastred took Léodwyn and they ran off to the Hall; Hirilcúllas shut Falafód's door, murmuring softly to the horse; and turning to her two brothers said:

"For shame you two foxes!  I had in mind to let them sit upon the high wall and look at the stars; there is no reason to tease them so."

"No, Hirilcúllas, there is not," laughed Fionim; "save for our own entertainment."

"Well if that is your object I pity all children who cross your path," said Hirilcúllas shaking her shining head.  "Keep you here tonight, villains!  I do not wish to see what havoc you might wreak in the hall."  She turned to go and Malinadulin called after her:

"Where are you going?"

"To look through my baggage for a dress fitting that poor child," Hirilcúllas said.  "It is only feathers perhaps, but the finer the plumage the happier the birdsong."  So saying she quit her brothers and went to her chambers, thinking of a plain blue gown of hers that might be sufficiently altered.

(A/N: My apologies to those of you who were puzzled by my misuse of the word "vilification" in Ch. 14 – I had meant to type "veneration" but apparently my brain was tired.  Oh well, that's what I get for trying to write fanfic after going to a Flogging Molly concert … Many thanks to Rivergirl, Lyn, and Lamiel for pointing it out to me!  Can you tell I haven't had a beta since Ch. 12 of The Green Knight? 

I also apologize for how long it's taken me to complete this chapter.  My muse died, or fell asleep, or something.  I think I need to put an ad in the classifieds for a new one.  "MWF ISO fanfic muse, spelling skills helpful, must like plot twists and char. dev., canon/AU OK, no smokers."

-- Le Rouret)

The Dwarves standing round the Hall cheered as the Lord of Dol Galenehtar swung his huntsmistress about in the complicated steps of the Bariz-Sigin.  It was a Dwarvish dance not an Elvish one, which perhaps contributed to their pleasure at its performance, and by a race historically opposed to them at that; and of course to see it done well, and by two such fair folk, accompanied by Dwarvish minstrels, made the event all that much more enjoyable.  Some clapped along, marking the counter-point, and others muttered into their beards the formulae and equations the two Elves set against each other.  Now and again Legolas or Andunië would put up a new challenge, and the Dwarves would chuckle and exchange knowing looks; yet the dancers faltered not, their eyes fixed upon the other's, testing, trying, calculating, stamping and clapping and stepping lightly amongst the rushes, green and white skirts swirling, golden and copper hair floating.  The tallow candles and oil lamps smoked and flickered, and the torches crackled and popped; the Rohirrim watching though comprehending not the method of the dance caught well the meaning, and watched the dancers' feet to see if one or the other would falter.  They laughed, and shouted loudly to each other, or banged their ale-cups upon the trestles, and stamped their feet in time to the music.

The Elves of Dol Galenehtar were cheering too, and were evenly divided; some shouted encouragement to their lord, saying:  "Again, again!  Try a new one!  Do not let her beat you again!" and some to Andunië:  "Hold firm, hold fast!  You have won against him these many years; do not let him trip you up!"  At Tathársul's merry suggestion the Dwarves increased the tempo, and the crowd roared with delight; Legolas and Andunië were perspiring in the heat of the hall, and from their concentration too; their faces were set and determined.  But after a few moments Gimli shouted, "O ho!" and Bandobras' small voice piped over the tumult:  "Look!  O bother; he almost had her there!"  The adversaries' faces changed; Legolas was grinning openly, but Andunië had scowled, her green eyes flashing with annoyance; then after a particularly convoluted turn she hesitated but a moment, and it was enough to finish her; with a triumphant shout Legolas declaimed:  "Sixteen, four hundred forty-one and thirty-seven over one thousand three!" and the two dancers stopped, letting the minstrels wind up the reel with a crescendo.  Legolas was laughing, but Andunië looked angry, and very abashed.

" 'Twas the formula for the speed of a twenty-pound stone thrown by sixteen-foot mangonel from the top balcony and the time taken for it to strike the front gates," said Legolas to Andunië, who shook her head in disgust.

"I had thought me 'twas the calculation of the outer curve of the laver in the western olintala," she muttered, discontented; "you near trounced me last Mereth en'Ehtelé with it, and was only my remembrance of the angle betwixt the sun at noontide and Alkarinque at midsummer that saved me."  She hesitated, then asked grudgingly, "Best two of three, my Lord?"

"Hardly!" laughed Legolas.  "Nay, Little One, I hold you to your oath, to do my bidding in regards to your dress, even as you should have held me to mine, to enlarge the mews to rival the Lord of Dale's.  Remember you have but three weeks, so get you to the fitters!  And do you please remember Hirilcúllas; she will help you I am sure, if you but ask."  Andunië gave him a brief curtsey, her face dark with anger, and swept from the hall; Legolas stood watching after her, his eyes twinkling mischievously.  While the minstrels changed places, and emptied their instruments into the hearth and set about tuning and adjusting them, people drifted back to the floor, choosing partners to set a reel.  Gimli came out then, leading Fríma, and Frera his mother accompanied them.

"For shame, Prince Legolas!" Frera chided him, shaking her head; "you well know Andunië has no especial love of finery or pageant, yet you tease her so about her poor green gown.  Why it is a pleasing color on her, and if she disdains lace and button 'tis no shame to her."

"Andunië has worn the selfsame green gown for time out of mind," laughed Legolas, bowing over the Dwarf lady's hand.  "And before this gown 'twas yet another green one – all her gowns are green, and all cut along the same unvarying line; even my Lady Mother could fain change her in this.  But I have done so," he said proudly; "I knew in my heart she could not bear to spurn my challenge, especially as my half of the bargain should have been so dear to her."

"And let me pose a conjecture," said Gimli with a grin; "you had already planned to enlarge the mews – had you not, my friend? – so that if she won you should be out no especial price save vanity, which to you is a worthless commodity; yet if you won she should be constrained to do your bidding, yet be consoled by the new mews.  Am I correct, Legolas?"  To this Legolas did not reply, but winked instead, and taking Frera's hand led her into the reel.  Gimli watched them as they linked hands, his friend sketching a lighthearted jig while the minstrels played a practice measure, his lady mother laughing at him, and shook his head.  "The sly scamp!" he grumbled, but Fríma heard the affection in his voice.  "Setting up his poor huntsmistress in such a fashion.  As though we could ever think of Andunië in any color but green!"

"It will be good for her," said Fríma, who was well-known for her love of bright colors; "she is too set in her ways."

"Yes, but to trick her thus; it was not fair.  I like Andunië, and her brother Meivel as well; there is no nonsense to them."

Fríma looked over at the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, who was bandying words with the king and one of the ladies of the court; he was obviously in high spirits, his gray eyes sparkling, his voice light and careless.  Then the reel began, and with a flourish Legolas took Frera down the middle of the line.  His white robes sparkled and the spiky mithril crown flashed; his hair like flax floated out behind him, and he was laughing gaily.  "There is certainly plenty of nonsense in him," she said disapprovingly.

"Well, yes," agreed Gimli, starting the jig and smiling over at Legolas and his Lady Mother, who approached tripping lightly beneath everyone's upstretched arms.  "But it is such delightful nonsense."

After several reels and gavottes, Éomer sent round his seneschal to collect sundry members of the festivities: Legolas and Bandobras, and Meivel and Himbaláth, Gimli and Nórin his cousin and Frera his mother, Éothain and Éodor and diverse others of his own men.  They met in a dark courtyard by a fountain, and Éomer set guards about it so they would not be approached, and the noise and chatter of the water in the fountain obscured their words so none hanging round the periphery might overhear them.  Frera was given a chair, and the other men found stools or stones to sit upon; the Green Knight however sat upon the pavers at Frera's side, and lay his head in her lap; both Meivel and Gimli stood behind them, and looked upon the two with fond indulgence, though the Green Knight's esquire looked askance, and seemed concerned about the condition of his master's robes.  Himbaláth sat on the edge of the fountain with Bandobras, his head in his hands and eyes downcast; he looked weary, and the hobbit betimes glanced up at him, eyebrows puckering worriedly, swinging his small feet above the cobblestones.  Éomer sat upon another chair, and his men stood round him, though Éothain being advanced in years had secured a small wooden stool and stretched his long legs out stiffly, grimacing.

"I am too old to dance," he muttered discontentedly, rubbing his knee.  "O why do I let my wife chivy me into it each time?  You are cruel to me, O King; you know my knee is painful, so why do you tempt my Thólawyn thus, to drag me away from my cups and out upon the rushes?"

"Well the ladies like it," said Frera with a chuckle, stroking Legolas' pale hair which spilled like liquid silver across her lap.  "And the exercise is good for you, Éothain; when you are dancing you cannot drink mead, and the less mead you drink the better your head shall feel when the sun rises tomorrow."

"Yes, and speaking of mead," said Bandobras, his brown eyes flashing indignantly, "what were you thinking, Éothain, giving Fastred a cup like that?  He is only twelve you know, and he oughtn't to be drinking that stuff."

Éomer looked at Éothain in surprise, and Éothain coughed.  "It was only a little sweet mead," he said; "it was not enough to do anyone any harm, and he shall be a man soon, and shall have need to be well-prepared to drink it at all times; besides which as I said it was but a small cup."

"But he is not a man yet," said Éomer, smiling in spite of himself.  "Do you please remember, O Éothain, that setting the heir drunk his first night at Meduseld is no good way to endear yourself to your king."

"It was but a small cup," the man mumbled blushing, and Legolas laughed.

"Even I, who am known for my permissiveness and leniency with Fastred, have yet to give him mead," he said; "wine watered down perhaps, and I know on occasion a sip of ale, but that is all; he is a child still."

"Is it for that reason then, O Green Knight, he rides upon a gelding?" asked Féor who stood beside his king.  "It seems to us passing strange for a prince to ride a gelding, for in the Mark all boys of noble rank are given stallions to ride from a very young age."

"I had seen that," said Legolas; "for what reason are the boys of Rohan given such stiff duty?  For stallions can be difficult, and boys are not always strong enough to control them; in Gondor where Fastred has been raised the custom is to withhold the stallion until the boy achieves majority."

"Stallions are fiercer fighters," said Éomer; "when engaged in battle a stallion shall be more a weapon in the rider's hand than a gelding."

"Karakse did well in his first battle," said Himbaláth from where he sat, raising his head from his hands.  "He was afraid but he did not shy or bolt."

"True," said Bandobras, "but he's not up to Piukka's or Taruku's standards.  He ought to have helped Fastred out a bit, by stomping round, or kicking, or biting, or something like that, but he's too gentle and soft-hearted.  Now, if Tyarmayél hadn't gone and cut off his – "

"Bandy!" interrupted Gimli with a roar; the hobbit jumped, looked round at the assembly, especially at Gimli's lady mother who covered a smile with her fingers, and the king, who looked as though he wanted to laugh but didn't dare.  "You do not say such things in noble company," growled Gimli; "especially when there is a lady present!"

"I was only going to say his bits and pieces," Bandobras said crossly; "and anyway everyone here knows the difference between a stallion and a gelding is that the stallion still has his – "

Gimli gave an inarticulate cry, and the men laughed; even Meivel smiled.  Legolas reached over Frera's lap and touched his esquire's mouth with the tips of his fingers; he said gently:  "Now, O Little One, do you please hold your tongue; acquainted with husbandry we may be, but it is unseemly to speak of the gelding's mortification."

"But I wasn't going to say it then," said Bandobras looking injured.  "What I was going to say is, a stallion still has his confidence, you know, and a load of brass, and plenty of fight, and don't mind biting and kicking and such, but gelding's ain't like that because they don't have any – "

"BANDY!"

"Aggressiveness!  Good heavens!" cried the hobbit much beleaguered; "why do you always think the worst of me, Gimli?  I wasn't going to say testicles at all!"

Legolas burst out laughing then, and the others joined in, even Frera, though Gimli shook his head in disgust; Bandobras blushed scarlet and put his chin in his hands, grumbling to himself that Gimli had got him in trouble again.  As for the King of Rohan Éomer laughed heartily, glad for the chance of mirth in his dark hours; finally he wiped the tears from his eyes, and gathered the attention of his council together.

"Well, let us see what we might do, to lighten the mood of the Mark as our mood has been lightened here," he said, smiling round at them.  "Though I am pained to admit it there are those even within my city walls whom I cannot trust, so I have gathered you together, O my friends, you who have shown yourselves to be so faithful in the past.  Gimli Lord of Aglarond, you and your people have enriched us, and stood by us to help defend the Westfold; that your Lady Mother joins us is testament to our hope and friendship in the Children of Durin.  And you, O Nórin, have proved to be staunch and canny, keeping your ear to the ground, and your words well-guarded; your confidence has served us again and again, and I thank you for it."  Nórin bowed, and Lady Frera nodded and smiled.  "Legolas Prince of Mirkwood, O Green Knight; with our friend Gimli you have fought by my side and proved yourself a true and faithful ally; word of your munificence has run abroad and you are well-known as a defender and protector, from the Lord of Amon Din to the smallest babe taken untimely from her mother's womb."

"Do you present that latter point as a subtle inference, O Éomer King?" asked Legolas smiling and raising his eyebrows; Éomer coughed and continued quickly:  "Bandobras your esquire I trust implicitly, for he is one of the holbytla, and precious in my sight to all my house; he is cousin also to a knight of the Mark, and for that reason trustworthy.  And Meivel, you who guard so well and so resolutely your lord's lands and well-being; your bravery and singleness of thought is as well-known as your obedience to his commands, and 'twould be foolish to ever doubt your word or your honor.  You also, Himbaláth his first lieutenant, who are light-hearted yet a fierce warrior, swift to battle and a terror to your enemies; I am honored by your attendance here.

"And you, Éothain; you have been my faithful friend and brother-in-arms since we were small boys together; I have all confidence in you, that you shall support my kingship and preserve the house of Éomund.  And you men here – Éodor and Féor and Fenwine and Gálef – many years have you fought by my side, contending for peace and prosperity in this kingdom.  You are loyal not only to me, but to my queen, and to my allies; you have sworn to take as your allies mine own, and your friends my friends.   So sit you here with me, to give unto me your wisdom and stanchion, for I am troubled, and do not know what to do.

"You have heard, O Men of the Mark, the remarkable tales that the Lord of Dol Galenehtar has told; firstly, that Théalof mine ambassador has attempted to abduct mine heir from Dol Galenehtar's very halls, and after striving to spread further discord in Amon Din has summarily vanished, so that the miscreant runs abroad working through his machinations, which so far are unknown to us, but give sufficient evidence that he plots high treason against mine own house.  Indeed we have heard tell of him, but search for him in vain; some hope he has fled through the Gap and so north to the Greenway, but I am of differing estimation; I believe him in Rohan still, awaiting such time as he might further his plots, knowing I am displeased with him. And we have heard from Prince Legolas also that men of Rohan, now unknown but soon to be discovered, dressed in dissembling guise as Dunlendings, did set upon them and attack them at the Mering three days hence, seeking to slaughter not only these Elvish innocents but mine own heir Fastred son of Faramir; declining in desperation capture they did slay themselves, so that no speerings should reach our ear of their master.  Fenwine, O captain of the East Emnet, you have seen the trinkets and brooches and weapons of these men; can you say you recognize any of them, so that we might determine who was behind this nefarious attack?"

"Nay, O King," said Fenwine; "I and diverse others have examined the items in question, and they are strange to us; however Féor here thought perchance he might identify them another way."

"It is this, O King," said Féor stepping forward; in one hand he held a belt buckle, much stained and crusted with mud.  With one finger he worried off a dried chunk of it, sparkling and catching the light as he moved it, and held it upon his palm.  "I have spoken with Nórin," he said; "he is in accord with me; the flecks of stone in the mud here are feldspar and fool's gold, which are not found around the Mering, nor in this part of our lands.  However the dirt in the Westfold, particularly round the borders of Fangorn, is full of it; it flows down the streams and chokes the rivers, and it is for that reason some say the Isen and Onodló flow with stars."

"It is the rock in Hithaeglir," said Gimli; "the Misty Mountains are full of it, and those waters flow through Fangorn and into Rohan."

"So the men who attacked us were of the north Westfold," said Legolas, "or at least had been there of late, and spent enough of their time there to get satisfactorily dirty."

"So it would appear," said Féor.  "I know not how else the man who bore this belt could otherwise have had so great an encrustation of feldspar."

"Also I looked upon the devices brought to us by Lord Legolas," said Gálef; "there are designs upon some of the weaponry that suggests the bearers trace their ancestries back to Helm Hammerhand, and not to Edoras."

"Well you all know 'twould not be the first time the Kings of the Mark have had to contend with Hammerhand's heirs," said Éomer with a dour smile.  "It is odd however that those bearing his ensign should hail from so far north; however with our friends the Dwarves in Aglarond perchance they find the Deep too unfriendly."

"There is more," said Frera; her face was troubled.  "We traveled from Aglarond to foregather with you, O Éomer King, and to enjoy the hospitality of your house; also however we have grim news, for the folk about Helm's Deep are harassed and confused, and my son has closed his gates."

"Alas, yes!" said Gimli.  "From the fords of Isen to the north Westfold are men gathering together; some are Dunlendings it is true, forced from their holdings in Dunland below the Greenway, casting about and burning as they go; others though are your own men, O Éomer, who cry for justice and freedom but seem to me to be seeking it on their own terms.  There is a man called Bréawine who has promised it to them they say; he gathers men to himself south of the borders of Fangorn, and Nórin here has heard men speak of a fortress constructed there, and an amassing of numbers behind his walls; some of my folk have been approached concerning its formation, but have declined claiming loyalty to me alone; however we are troubled, O Éomer King, that this Bréawine should set your kingdom so upon its ear, and seek to divide it north-to-south."

"Him again!" exclaimed Bandobras.  "And I thought Théalof was bad."

"Bad enough," sighed Éomer.  "Mine own cousin too!  His mother was kin to Morwen's daughters.  And when you, O my friend, did tell me of his attempt to take Fastred for himself, my heart set to stone within me.  I have been suspicious of him and his sly deeds in Gondor for some time, yet did not wish to recall him, thinking he could cause less damage away from home than in it; however now that I know he has designs against my house I am eager to put him down."

"I shall gladly aid you in this, Éomer King," said Meivel bowing; "I have a score to settle with him."  And he gestured to his arm, bound with straps and set in a sling.

"Well perhaps you ought to let your arm heal first, friend Elf," said Féor kindly, but Himbaláth gave a short laugh and said:  "O have you no fear, man of Rohan!  My friend Meivel is fierce enough to slay a man, as it is said, with one arm tied behind his back."

"You flatter me, Himbaláth," said Meivel, his face bland, and Himbaláth's laugh sounded more genuine then.

"All the same," said Legolas firmly, "I shall risk no harm to my captain; you remain safely here, O Meivel, and lift neither sword nor spear save in defense of yourself or another, ere your wound is sufficiently healed."

"Yes, my Lord," said Meivel, though he looked discontented.

"Well, and what do we now?" asked Éothain.  "We have heard much to disturb and little about which to laugh, barring the holbytla's dissertation on gelding; do we go to Helm's Deep, and secure the lands there; do we go searching for Bréawine by Fangorn, and tear down his castle; do we search for Théalof, who has so strangely gone missing; do we look for the King of Gondor's messengers, who are also truant?  And what shall we do about the Dunlendings?"

Before Éomer could answer there was the sound of hoofbeats approaching from behind the Hall and up to the courtyard, clattering over the cobblestones, and the guards' voices expostulating; then a man's voice rose over the sound of the fountain:  "Bring me to Éomer King!  I have dire news for him!"

"Why it is Híldaf!" cried Legolas springing to his feet; all the others save Frera rose as well.  "Bring him here!  He is an old friend; surely we might trust to his counsel."

The guards brought Híldaf forward.  He was no longer the underfed and fearful esquire he had been when first he made acquaintance of the Green Knight and his strange retainers; he was a knight himself, and counted a brave man, though his wealth was reckoned in children not gold.  He was tall, and very quick and strong, though when he drew near to their torchlight all could see he was very much agitated, and dirty and weary from hard riding.

"Hail, Éomer King!" he cried striding forward, and presenting his sword to his sovereign.  He looked round the assembly and exclaimed with surprise:  "And hail, O Green Knight, and Gimli of Aglarond, and Bandobras of the Shire!  Happy am I to see you here at Edoras; perhaps with your help we might be victorious."

"What is it, O Híldaf?" asked Éomer.  "What news from the Westfold?"

"Fire and smoke, O King!" said Híldaf wearily, sheathing his sword and removing his helm, letting his long yellow braids shake free.  "As you know I and sundry others have remained loyal to you in the arguments against your throne and authority, and now we are harried from our lands; men flock northward to Bréawine, and some are speaking of treaties with other lords, to so divide Rohan and make of one kingdom two.  Indeed they have claimed a capital already, and gather there; they are confident you will cede these lands to them, though I know not for what reason."

"What of Helm's Deep?" asked Éothain.  "What of the peoples who live south in the West Emnet?"

"Most of the men have left," said Híldaf; "the women and children are in the Deep.  Some go to join with Bréawine, but most I know go reluctantly, and hide their families within the deep for protection, knowing the Lord of Aglarond is yet friendly to our king.  And there are some, as you know, O King, that have gone simply to spy out the lay of the land; we are never certain who is loyal and who is a traitor though, so we must sift through the messages as they come, and determine who to trust, and who to reject."

"At least the Deep is secure," said Gimli; "I will send Nórin back with word to my people to hold it for you, O Éomer.  That way the women and children will be safe."

"My thanks," said Híldaf.  "Éodild and my little brood are there.  At least I know Léodwyn my sister-daughter is safe here in Meduseld."

"Yes," said Legolas with a smile; "safe, and making a goodly impression upon Éomer's sister-son; at least in this fashion we might keep it in the family"

Híldaf laughed, but Bandobras exclaimed, "O Master!  Can't anyone here think nothing of this?  So he's made a little friend; that don't mean nothing will come of it."

"There is more, O King," said Híldaf to Éomer.  "There have been reports of villages razed and folk slain by the Dunlendings, north by the borders of Fangorn.  But when I try to send men to gather information none will go."

"Why not?" asked Meivel.  "Are they disloyal too?"

"Nay, good Elf, not at all," said Híldaf.  "They fear Bréawine, and they fear – " he hesitated, then said, his voice low:  "the ghosts."

"Ghosts!" cried Legolas.  "There; first Arúlf tells us there are ghosts, and now you, dear Híldaf.  What is this talk of ghosts?  Do the spirits of the ones slain upon the northern plains of the Westfold walk about beneath the eves of Fangorn?  I should not have thought the Ents would allow it, though to be sure it complements the brooding feel of the forest, which I am sure suits their purposes well."

"It is no jest, Legolas," said Éomer.  "Rumors of the dead walking through the ruins of the villages and towns have run round this entire summer; as early as spring have folk reported the shades lurking about the tall grasses, or slinking about the boles of trees, or ducking in the ruins of houses.  And of late the rumors have increased; people descry these shades in the daytime now, though they report the ghosts appear to be pale and insubstantial, and leery of being seen."

"But surely you do not believe there are ghosts in the West Emnet," scoffed Bandobras.

"I do," said Féor; his face was gray.  "I have seen them – pale and silent, with great staring eyes; they drift soundless through the trees and flicker and vanish."  And he shivered as though with cold.

"Yes," Gálef said, "I have spoken with men – brave men – who have heard and seen things they understand not; laughter, and low eerie voices, and eyes moving in the dark.  And one of mine own brothers did say to me, that when a village near him was attacked by Dunlendings, and the people slain, that in the morning the bodies of the children were gone – they had been taken and eaten by the ghosts that dwell there now."  He shook his head.  "If Bréawine wishes to have the lands so haunted he is welcome to them."

"I cannot believe that," cried Legolas.  "Why the lands belong to Éomer and not to Bréawine; haunted or no we must wrest them from this miscreant's grip!  Éomer, I have with me forty good and strong warriors, and you have within these walls several hundreds more.  Let us go up to the north West Emnet you and I; we shall find Bréawine ourselves and chastise him well, and settle the matter."

"I would gladly go but I should go alone," said Éomer.  "My men will not go up there; other men they will fight, though they be their own brothers, at my command; but I cannot lead them against ghosts."

"Piffle!" said Bandobras.  "There's no such thing as ghosts."

"O yes there is," said Legolas and Gimli said at the same time:  "There are; I have seen them!" Bandobras looked at them in surprise, and the assembly went silent.  "We have traveled through Dunharrow into dead lands and met with the dead," said Legolas to Bandobras; the hobbit's face went white.  "They were there; we were among them, and spoke to them."

"But – but," said Bandobras much alarmed, "if there are ghosts and the ghosts are up in the north of Rohan, what shall we do about Bréawine?"

"Let him have the ghosts, if he wants!" said Fenwine, but Éothain said:  "Nay!  We ought not concede these lands to that varlet; ghosts or no those lands belong to us, and we must needs wrest them back."

"That is all very well," said Éomer with a grim smile.  "Will you go then, and face both ghosts and Bréawine?"

"Well, I am old, my Lord," said Éothain stammering and blushing; "I have not the strength nor stamina I possessed in my youth, or surely I should go."  Gálef smirked at that, and Fenwine gave a humorless laugh.

"So I see!" said Éomer.  "What about you, Féor?  Gálef?  Fenwine?  No, not even you, Híldaf?  You see, my friends; twenty years ago this would not have been a problem; we did not believe in such supernatural things.  But then the King of Gondor returns, and we meet up with such creatures as the holbytla, and Dwarves, and Elves, and Ents, and the Dead come to the aid of the King of Gondor; now my people are chary, knowing the shades and monsters of faery-land are not so far off as we had thought before.  I will fight orcs and goblins and trolls; I will do battle against wildmen and Dunlendings and Haradrim and even fierce beasts in the wild, such as bears and lions and dragons.  Any of my men would gladly come with me, if I gave the call to fight them.  But ghosts?  You cannot kill ghosts; what can a man do against them?  Their weapons are madness and fear and confusion and darkness, and sword nor spear nor shield avail to conquer them.  We are helpless against such things, for we are but Men, and the shades of our mortality press close against us and against our families."

"Even Bréawine fears them, or so I have heard," said Híldaf; "he hangs mistletoe and bells and vials filled with absinthe and rue to ward off the ghosts, and will not go out riding lest he carries talismans of peridot, and knots of cats' hair with him."

"Well, if it works for Bréawine, can your men not use them?" asked Legolas.  "Surely if we tied vials of absinthe to your steeds' saddles – "

"I have no absinthe," said Éomer shortly; Éothain added:  "And I hope, O Green Knight, you do not suggest we bell our horses; we might then go charging into Bréawine's arms with trumpet blast proclaiming our coming, that he might assemble his own men and ride us down."

"Well then," said Legolas, "we consign your people to his predations if your men fear to tread haunted lands.  It is strange to me that you should fear the dead, but as you are mortals and I am not perchance I cannot see them through your eyes."

"Count yourself fortunate," said Gimli with a shudder; "I would go myself, for I have faced the dead, but I would go unwillingly, and I am not at all certain I should be much good, should they appear.  Men I will fight, but how does a Dwarf battle a ghost?"

"Well, why should you go at all?" asked Himbaláth.  "I fear not the shades of men, nor do any other Elves.  My lord, why do we not go in the men's stead?  To be sure we cannot drive off Bréawine, for we are few against his many, but at least we could go to see if there be any survivors and bring them back, and find out if there are truly ghosts, or if it be but a rumor to confound the king's men."

"We could indeed," said Legolas brightening; he turned to Éomer and said:  "Well, my friend?  Will you concede us this?  We will go, bring back the survivors, find out what we can, and return to you with all the news we can gather; also if there be some mystery attending these ghosts we will unravel it if we can, so your men may be assured in their minds that there is naught to fear."

Bandobras leapt to his feet, his small face white.  "Master," he said, his voice trembling, "I know what you're going to say, and so I'll just say this right now and have done with it.  I'll go with you.  I don't care if there's ghosts; I don't want to be left behind while all of you go a-charging off like this."

"My Bandobras," said Legolas kindly, kneeling and taking his esquire into his arms.  "How brave you are!  But there is no need for you to go, nor to make such startling speeches!  Beside poor Bumblebee should never keep up with us; his legs are far too short, and it is a hard three-day ride to Fangorn's edge."

"In addition I have not said whether or not I approve of this plan," said Éomer.  Legolas looked at him in surprise.

"Why, what is there to disapprove?" he asked.  "We go; we help; we come back.  People are saved, information is gathered, your position is strengthened, and we do not fear ghosts."  When Éomer hesitated Legolas pleaded:  "O Éomer!  Let not your pride be your undoing; have pity on your men, and on yourself as well! There are some things it is best to not have to face.  Wights, for example; ghosts do not bother me, but wights give me a terrible chill – woof!  They cannot hurt me but I still do not like to be round them; it is like a crinkly cold finger walking up one's spine."  The men and Dwarves shivered, though Legolas did not notice; he was saying thoughtfully:  "And black flies – I could never bear black flies – disgusting creatures."

"Bats," said Fenwine pulling a face; "I do not like bats."

"O I like bats," said Legolas cheerfully.  "They eat flies.  Well, Éomer?  What say you?  Shall I muster my warriors and head north?  It would be wise, my friend, for then you shall get your information yet keep the confidence of your Marshalls, who I am sure like ghosts no better than you do, and should falter beneath your orders to go."

"I am hesitant," said Éomer heavily; "your offer is generous, O Green Knight, and I recognize the wisdom of this, but it galls me to send you on such an errand, when mine own men fear to follow."

" 'Tis fear alone impedes them, not disloyalty," said Frera; "besides if the Elves fear not the dead, and offer their services willingly, why should you not use them so?  Tell them to go, and when they return we shall know better what to do."

Éomer thought for a moment, then at last he took a deep breath and said:  "Very well.  Nórin, go you to Aglarond and secure it against Bréawine or Théalof there; with your lord's permission stand firm and guard my people so that I shall not lose the entire West Emnet.  And Legolas … "  He sighed and shook his head.  "Take you a goodly number of your canniest warriors and go to the north; bring back what people you can, and see if you can find where Bréawine is hiding.  And if there are indeed ghosts tell me what we can do to drive them off!  The lands up there are fertile and I would fain lose that income, especially if all it would take is some incantation, or cairn, or spell to so free us of their influence."

"Excellent!" said Legolas, rubbing his long hands together. "Himbaláth, gather thirty warriors – "

"My lord – " began Meivel looking pained; Legolas frowned at him.

"Did I not tell you, O Meivel, stay here, ere your wound is healed?  Himbaláth as your lieutenant shall act in your stead; you shall remain at Meduseld and await our return."

"But – " said Meivel, however his lord frowned at him and said:

"My command, O captain."

Meivel dropped his eyes.  "Yes, my lord," he said.  He stood silently as Legolas took his leave of the assembly and of his esquire, but his face was mulish, for he wished also to go.

"Legolas," said Gimli; his face was pained.  "I wish to go with you, for I have faced the dead before; however if you turn Bandobras back because of his pony – "

"My dear Dwarf," said Legolas with a laugh, "are you asking to bounce at my backside like a piece of baggage, like you did many years ago?  I had thought your propriety would rise up in protest to that!  Nay, my friend; I know your heart is steadfast and true, but this is a long ride for you to dangle such; besides, why ought you face those fears unreasonably?  We will not be gone long; set your heart at ease, Gimli, and stay you here, at least to restrain Bandobras and Fastred from running after me."

"O very well," grumbled Gimli though he looked relieved.  "But do you please come back quickly.  And do nothing rash!  You are so reckless, Legolas; please do you remember Bréawine is a dangerous man, and Théalof has yet to raise his snakelike head; there could be anything waiting for you up there.  Promise me this, that you will do nothing foolish while you are gone."

"I promise," smiled Legolas embracing him; and Gimli and Meivel watched as Legolas and Himbaláth hurried off together, speaking of weapons and formations and food, and the captain glowered after them.  Bandobras stood by their side watching his Master depart, and when the last white glow from the two Elves' heads had vanished around a corner he said to Meivel:

"At least you only have a broken arm.  I can't go because I'm too short, and that won't never heal."

Meivel's face softened.  "Disparage not your height, O Bandobras of the Shire," he said.  "There are times when the small warrior has the greater advantage; think you Lord Gimli feels his combat impeded by his size?  Betimes I should rather have a battalion of Dwarves and Hobbits than Men by my side!"

"Really?" said Bandobras in surprise, and Gimli laughed and clapped Meivel on the back.

"Betimes said you, O Meivel?" he asked.  "Let me guess – underground, and on foot?"

"Well I should hardly think riding full-tilt across the plain would be the proper venue for either of you," said Meivel.  "But I can think of many things I should like less, than to have the two of you by my side in battle."

"Well then!" said Bandobras looking very pleased.  "Seeing as we don't know what the future will bring, I'd best be grinding the nicks out of my sword – that last man I killed, the dratted fellow had an iron collar round his neck."  And he trotted off in the direction of the Hall in the wake of his Master.

Before dawn broke over the grassy rumpled plain of the West Emnet the Green Knight had led his warriors far from Meduseld, far from the dark fields of Edoras, far from the Snowbourne, due north toward Fangorn.  They rode silently, with no song nor jingling of harness, and were clad in simple plated leather armor, for they were riding to munificence and not open battle.  Their great horses thundered across the furrowed fields, cresting hill and plunging into the mist-filled hollows, splashing through shallow streams and clattering over the rocks.  When they pulled up to rest their steaming mounts Legolas would send out fresh scouts, who zig-zagged back and forth through the lands about them, yet found no sign of spy nor watcher; indeed there seemed to be no one at all, and when they came across a huddle of farmsteads at dawn the place was deserted.  Lirlindil and Romastáldë made a swift survey of the buildings and returned to report that all had been packed and removed, down to the curtains hanging at the windows, and the bolsters on the bedframes.  There did not seem to be any reason save fear that drove the farmers out, and Romastáldë told them they had seen strange designs carven upon the lintels of the houses:  crudely drawn open eyes surrounded by twisted lines, and surmounted by a diamond-shape.  He and Lirlindil were puzzled by these signs, but Legolas said:

"Some believe ghosts and spirits are driven off by the sign of eyes, or by knots of lines or words; they think the ghosts shall be frightened or confused, and thus flee, leaving the living in peace. Hirilcúllas, did not Éomer say to you that many peasants and such rustic folk had fled to Edoras fearing both Bréawine and the ghosts?"

"He did," said that woman; she had unlaced the sleeves from her traveling gown and sat bare-armed upon her Alfirin; her bow and quiver were slung at her back.  "They did say to him and to his guards that their kinsmen to the north had seen ghosts in the fields and orchards, and as soon as harvest was in they brought their families to hide in the city."

Legolas sat still upon his great black destrier, gazing to and fro, and listening; after a moment he said, "I do not feel the presence of ghosts or wights; perhaps their fears were unfounded."

"Or perhaps their fears were increased by rumor," said Himbaláth at his side; it was the first he had spoken in some hours.  "'Twould be effortless to drive these poor folk into fright and alarm simply through some well-thought-out gossip, especially when dread and trepidation already dwell herein."

"Think you then this a deliberate attempt to empty King Éomer's fields?" asked Malinadulin.  Himbaláth shrugged.

"Perchance yes, perchance no," he said; "horror is contagious, and even a well-meaning warning might incite flight."

"Considering the convoluted plots hereabouts it would surprise me not," said his lord with a laugh.  "Come!  Let us go; these empty homes can tell us nothing further."

They rode through until nightfall, and bivouacked in a shallow dingle, tethering their steeds by a stream.  Some of the Elves rested, others sang softly to the stars which peeked down at them through the curtains of cloud which swept across the night sky; Legolas set up a perimeter guard, but though the scouts ranged to and fro round their camp the only living creatures they found were fox, badgers, and quail.  The following morning they set out again, their horses fresh and rested, pressing ever northward, finding naught but two more deserted farmsteads.  "Even the manure is dry," said Lirlindil after he and Romastáldë had investigated the buildings.  "No food nor clothing nor any other thing; the people have fled."

"It is an odd thing, though, is it not, my Lord, that they appear to flee from naught?" said Himbaláth to Legolas as they stood upon the crest of a hill, and looked north toward the forest of Fangorn, dark and misty in the distance.  Legolas looked at his lieutenant closely; Himbaláth seemed weary, and his countenance drooped; he reminded his lord of a wilting daffodil at the tag-end of spring.  He considered questioning Himbaláth concerning this, but refrained, thinking perhaps Himbaláth would broach the subject himself when he were prepared to speak; and anyway it did not seem to have affected his performance at all.  "I shall ask Meivel when we return to Edoras," he said to himself; "they are close as brothers might be, though they occupy opposite balances upon the scale; perchance it is for that reason they do love each other so, for as Gimli and I are as light and dark, so do Meivel and Himbaláth seem to me to be – Himbaláth as a bright and merry sun, and Meivel shadowed and silent.  If any should divine the reason for my lieutenant's sad countenance it shall be my captain."

"Despite the rocky ground traces yet remain of passing hoofprints," said Legolas aloud.  "Though 'tis difficult to ascertain it seems as though a host of men rode through here.  That could be enough to convince even the most stalwart of farmers to migrate elsewhere."

Himbaláth shook his head.  "I hope, my Lord, when we arrive at our destination we find but a deserted village and not a destroyed one," he said.  "Men can be cruel to other men, and crueler still to women and children."  He looked over his shoulder then; his bright hair was caught up in the wind and danced about his head in shining tendrils.  "I wish you had not brought Hirilcúllas and Andunië," he said in a low voice.

Legolas turned too and looked back at the two women; Hirilcúllas and Andunië sat together upon a low soft tussock, like two slim lilies in a field of dry grass.  Hirilcúllas' dark head was bent over her quiver; she was sharpening the iron points of her arrowheads, but Andunië's copper hair was spread over the tussock as she lay back on it gazing up into the sky, her green eyes abstracted, her hands folded upon her stomach in repose.  "Think you we shall find evidence of abuse amongst the denizens of this northern village?" he asked, softly so the women would not hear.  "It is for that reason I did bring with us these two; a woman mistreated will go for comfort more readily to another woman than to a male warrior, Elf though he might be.  And should we find children bereft of their mothers they shall be easier in mind with a lady than with us."

"Perhaps, my Lord," said Himbaláth turning back to the north.  "Still I wish you had not brought them."  And he spoke no more then, but turned to horse instead, to find the scouts and question them; Legolas stood for some moments upon the hillside pondering the meaning behind his words.  It was strange to him that his merry Himbaláth should have gone so grim, and it made him uneasy.  "That my Lady Mother were here!" he thought to himself, looking up into the cloud-spattered dome of blue, at the larks and kestrels wheeling about.  "None might hide from her their inmost thoughts; she should advise me wisely concerning my poor Himbaláth. I do not like to see him suffer so, when perchance I might aid him in some way."  And he too turned away, to gather up his people and press on.

The third dawn brought them in sight of the low dark line of Fangorn's trees.  They lay in shadow despite the mellow autumn sun, and the rays did not pierce them.  None of the Elves in the company save Legolas had seen Fangorn; some stood upon the crest of a hill and stared at it, striving to pierce the shadows with their bright eyes; others spoke in low excited voices to each other, desiring greatly to explore its eaves and dells.  To their left flowed a deep black stream choked in brambles; the banks were churned with hoofprints and the marks of heavy boots.  And as they looked to the right they saw a low blue pall of smoke, hovering close to the earth in the rich heavy air.  Legolas sniffed, and frowned.

"Wood, not ghosts!" he said.  "I do think me to be close on to the village Híldaf reported to us; that is to my mind far too much smoke to dismiss as mere cook-fires."

"I fear you speak truly, my Lord," said Himbaláth by his side.  He turned again and looked back, his brow furrowed; Legolas followed his gaze, and saw he once again bore his eyes upon Hirilcúllas and Andunië.  "Shall I send out Romastáldë and Lirlindil to investigate?" he asked his lord, though his gaze was elsewhere.

"Himbaláth," said Legolas firmly, taking his lieutenant by the chin with one gentle but adamant hand, and turning him so his face presented itself to his lord's.  Himbaláth looked up into Legolas' eyes, at the tenderness and resolve there, and lowered his gaze; his gray eyes were shadowed, and his cheeks pale; his golden hair fell across his fair face, obscuring him, and Legolas brushed it aside so he could better see his subordinate.  "What troubles you, Little One?" asked Legolas.  "Fear you the ladies' souls, should we discover evidence of some horrible injustice?  Your chivalry behooves you, but know you that neither Hirilcúllas nor Andunië would be flattered for it seems to me that you doubt their capacity for resilience; they are stronger than you think."

"It is not their strength worries me," said Himbaláth, his eyes on the earth at their feet; Legolas could feel the hum of the Elf's voice through his fingertips.  "It is – " he faltered, and closed his eyes; Legolas' heart turned and he cursed his elevation which separated him from Himbaláth's pain.  "That I were but a warrior myself!" he thought darkly; he released Himbaláth's chin from his grasp and took him by the shoulders.

"My child," he said carefully, "I know not the cause of your distress, nor would I wrest it of you for you hide it most assiduously, and it is not in me to force confidences of an unwilling confessor. But I must ask of you, O my Himbaláth, if this secret sorrow has aught to do with those ladies there, and if there be anything in my power to fix this hurt, for I would not have you to suffer thus, if I could cure your ache."

Himbaláth looked at his lord then, his eyes surprised and fearful; he said quickly:  "O no, my Lord!  There is naught to be done for me; I apologize, for I have allowed my inner thoughts to cloud my vision, and am failing you in my capacity as your lieutenant; please do you forgive me, my Lord, and I shall endeavor to hold to myself mine own thoughts, so I shall not endanger our mission."

"Dear Himbaláth!" exclaimed Legolas in surprise.  "I am not censuring you; you know that I love you, and that your life is precious to me, and your well-being also.  I do not mean to press you; I want only for you to be well and happy, and it pains me to see you languish! I beg of you, O my lieutenant, if you cannot disclose your mind to me, and so relieve your discomfort, that you find for yourself some confidant, for a burden shared is half as heavy."

"Well do I know that," said Himbaláth, though his answering smile was wry and crooked.  "I did disclose my mind unto Meivel ere we departed, and he but told me to keep my peace and not be so foolish.  So as I trust his judgment as yours, my Lord, I shall take me to task, and strive to improve my mind, and control my thoughts; I am sorry, for I have delayed us somewhat, and do swear to you I shall not let my mood impede us further."

"There is naught for which to apologize to me, Little One," said Legolas with a laugh, kissing him upon the forehead.  "Let us consider the matter mended."  But to himself he thought:  "Hold his peace and stop being foolish! What was Meivel thinking, to give him advice like that?  Perhaps I shall send Himbaláth to Frera when we return; she is pragmatic too but possesses far more sympathy."

"My thanks, Lord Legolas," said Himbaláth looking relieved; "I promise I shall not let it delay us again."  He took a deep breath, and running his hands through his great mane of gold said:  "I repeat what I had said to you before, then, O my Lord; shall I send scouts to determine the cause of that smoke?"

"Nay!" said Legolas with a smile.  "Send out Romastáldë and Lirlindil again?  Why should they keep for themselves all the amusement?  Let us go ourselves, you and I; you are scout enough to keep me from making too many mistakes."

Himbaláth laughed then, his usual merry peal, which lightened his lord's heart; he said:  "Mistakes, my Lord?  And who taught me to scout as I do?  I do not forget, my prince, that you are swift and silent as a shadow in wood and thicket, and not even the hare should mark your passing!  I shall go with you and with certainty, for I do trust you with my very life."

"Fair words!" laughed Legolas, relieved.  "Let us go then; we shall take us to horse as far as that dingle, and leave them there; then go on with care lest the king's enemies are still afoot."

So Legolas and Himbaláth rode Piukka and Utuë away from the rest of the company, and into a dark shallow valley; there they left their steeds, admonishing them to keep still and quiet, and crept up the steep gorse slope to the top of the hill.  They moved silently, with not so much as a crinkle upon the dry grass, or the rattle of a loosened pebble; and when they gained the crest and looked down into the depression in the plateau they indeed as Himbaláth had said startled a hare, who had not seen them coming; he bolted for cover, his brown eyes wide.  Legolas and Himbaláth peered through the brown grass and saw the ruins of the village below them.  The walls had been broken down, and the buildings burned; there was a dispirited huddle of small trees, burnt and blackened, about which was circled the remains of a fence, and within the ruins of the palisade there was also a good bit of debris, about which some people were milling, collecting what remained in the ruins.  The wind shifted toward them, and they could smell smoke and blood, and hear the thin querulous cry of a baby.

"Women, children, and some men," breathed Himbaláth from where he lay; "so not all have been slain."

"No horses," whispered Legolas.  "And look!  Their ricks are empty.  They have been looted."

Into their line of sight came a small child, foreshortened from above; the blond untidy head was dirty, and he poked about in the remains of a barrel, looking for something; when naught was to be found he sat upon the charred ground and began to cry.  "He is hungered, poor thing," said Himbaláth sadly.

"Yes," said Legolas.  "Come!  Let us draw nearer, and let ourselves be known; I do not think we have anything to fear from these poor folk."

"Shall we return for our steeds?" asked Himbaláth.  "They will not be so startled by us then."

"I think not," said Legolas.  "All evidence indicates 'twas horsemen did this; see you the trammeled ground, the scrapes and marks upon the earth?  The sight of two knights should unman them."

"As you wish, my Lord," said Himbaláth, and they rose slowly to their feet, and headed down the slope to the village.

Their feet made no sound as they walked through the tall grasses that swept at their shoulders, and the larks and towhees nesting therein found naught about the Elves to startle them, so Legolas and his lieutenant entered the burnt compound unmarked and unheralded.  The buildings had been of wood, and burned near to the ground; even the wooden palisade which circled the village had been torn down and set afire.  All that remained were the smoking hulks of homes and stables, some with naught but one wall standing, and that broken as well; they saw to their left a stone cairn, set about with spears and poles, where no doubt their dead had been laid.  Some of the ruins smoked still, though most had burnt out, black and gray and misshapen, and to their eyes it seemed some time ere the flames had been set.  They could see in the shadows figures moving about, shifting the wreckage, but no one came forward; they were yet unmarked.  Then from round a corner walked two young women sifting through the debris; both were clad in soot-stained and tattered clothes, and one was barefoot and limping; Legolas could see where the rocky soil had cut at her feet.  Their heads were down, their eyes upon the earth as they searched for something, and they did not see the two Elves standing there; and Legolas desiring not to alarm them overmuch scuffed his foot upon the earth to make a noise, and cleared his throat.  The two young women looked up, startled; when they perceived Legolas and Himbaláth they cried out in terror, taking up their skirts and fleeing toward the jumble of ruins within the burnt circle of earth.  Their screams and cries of, "Ghosts!  Ghosts!  Ai, the Dead are upon us!" rose up, and Legolas and Himbaláth could hear exclamations of dismay from the wreckage ahead.  Legolas turned to his subordinate with a wry smile upon his lips.

"What a welcome!  Am I so frightening, Himbaláth?"

Himbaláth regarded him gravely, but his eyes twinkled nonetheless.  "No more so than usual, my Lord," he said.  Legolas raised his eyebrows at him.

"'Twas an observation worthy of Galás, that one," he said, and they started in the direction of the ruined buildings, cautious for they knew not whether someone might take it upon themselves to try force against an ethereal enemy.  Within moments before them burst a group of men, armed with stained and notched swords, and pitchforks, and one with a rake; they too were cinder-smeared and dirty, and several bore injuries poorly tended.  They with their free hands made a symbol at the two Elves, pinching their thumbs betwixt their first and second fingers, and all stared wide-eyed and frightened.  "Back, back!" bellowed their leader, a thin grizzled man in a battered leather breastplate.  "Back, you foul ghosts!  Go to the grave where you belong!"  He shook his scored sword at them, and also made the sign against them.  "Back!  Begone!  Leave our poor people at peace!"

The men behind him shouted and shook their weaponry, and Himbaláth's hand groped round his side for his halberd, but Legolas said:  "No, my child," and stepped forward, palms spread out toward them.

"We are no ghosts," he said, smiling in a friendly fashion.  "We have been sent by Éomer King of the Mark.  We come to your aid not your ruin."

He moved toward the men, and Himbaláth watched anxiously his lord approach them empty-handed; the men drew back in alarm as he drew nearer, but for some the light of terror had left their eyes, and they looked bewildered.  The man with the breastplate stood his ground, sword held steady in his knotted old hands, regarding Legolas with deepest suspicion; when the Elf was but two paces away he turned his sword so that it pointed at the center of Legolas' chest.

"If you are no ghost," he said, "then you shall stay your march lest I slay you."

Legolas stopped, smiling.  "As I have said to you before, good father, I am no ghost."

The man stared at Legolas, his brows lowered, then he looked past him to Himbaláth.  "And your friend there?  He is no ghost either?"

"Himbaláth?"  Legolas turned and smiled at his lieutenant; Himbaláth carefully watched the men, before whom his lord so fearlessly exposed himself.  "Nay, he lives and breathes as surely as do you, good father, and the heart that beats within his chest is full of tenderness and good-will.  Do you please allow us to come forward, for we bring to you help, and have with the rest of our people food and drink, and unguents for the wounded."

The men began to lower their weapons, and looked with hope at Legolas, but the older man with the sword stood firm.  "And what is your name then?" he demanded.  "I am no fool, and know full well you are neither of you men of the Mark – indeed neither of you to me appear to be Men, at least how we would reckon it.  Tell me, if you are no ghost nor foe, your name, so that I might know what to do with you."

Himbaláth stepped forward so that he stood beside his lord, his eyes flashing, and said, "He who stands before you is my lord, Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen, the son of King Thranduil; he is also called Of the Nine Walkers, Of the Three Hunters, the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, and the Green Knight, and he is deep in the counsels of both King Elessar of Gondor and Éomer King of Rohan." 

The men looked at them in amazement, and their leader, frowning, lowered his sword so that its point was to the earth.  "Well, then, O you of many titles," he said slowly, "I am Fram son of Feldwine, and mine only claim is that of village elder, but as such I do what I can to protect them – "  His sword arm dropped, and his face fell; his voice was thick with disappointment.  "Naught, as you can see."

"Nay!" said Legolas gently, and he went forward and took the old man by the shoulder.  "You lead your people well.  Can you not see how they rally behind you?  Your bravery is affected not one whit by defeat at the hands of an enemy better-armed and better-prepared."

"It is so," said a man behind Fram.  "Were it not for him we should have all been slain, for he engaged their leader, and bartered for parley."

"Yet still they took all," said Fram bitterly.  "And we are left with naught – our harvest taken, our buildings and orchard burnt, our stock driven off."

"Yet you live," said Legolas.  "You, and your people, and I see by the size of your cairn that few were slain.  So take heart, Fram Feldwine's son!  Gather up your folk, and I shall send Himbaláth here to fetch mine own company; we shall feed you and your people, and tend to your wounds, and afterwards we shall take you to Edoras, where you may lay your plaint at the feet of your sovereign, who shall in mercy and munificence succor you.  You are not forgotten, though you live far to the north of your king, and some men might think you vulnerable.  The arm of your king is long, and wields a sword mighty for justice."

So Himbaláth went back to bring the Elves and their horses and supplies, and Legolas went with Fram into the ruins of the village.  There some of the men spread their cloaks upon the ground, and bid the Elf lord sit, and Fram sat before him.  The people gathered round, still afraid but with stirrings of hope, for they saw that the Elf was fair of face and of word, and gentle in tongue and deed, and some of the smaller children, forswearing their mothers' skirts, crept forward to gaze in wonder at him.  And Fram told Legolas all he could of the men who had come upon them.

"We were not taken unawares, my lord, when the horsemen came; a rider came to us, the evening ere they arrived, giving warning and saying: 'Flee!  Flee the wrath of Bréawine, who seeks to take these lands for his own!'  But we did not believe him, for he was crazed, and we had heard tell of that man before, how he had lost his holdings through ill-use, and had shamed himself by effrontery toward the queen, and bethought to ourselves he had at last lost his mind, for he raved at us, and seemed to us to have eaten nor slept in weeks.  'Go away!' we said to him; 'we will hear no more of your outlandish threats.  Next you will tell us the ghosts are upon us!'  And some of us laughed.  But he was adamant, and would not leave the gates, saying to us, 'Flee, ere your doom o'ertakes you!'  Some of the women brought to him food and drink, hoping that would sate him, but he would not leave, still begging us to take our families and go.

"Ten days shall it be on the morrow," Fram said, shaking his gray head.  "Ten days ere we saw the horsemen upon that hill, the very one, my lord, that you and your friend came down.  Bearing swords and spears they were, and lit torches, and the man at our gates said:  'Quickly, quickly!  Take your people and go, ere they slay you!'  But we had just brought in our grain, our wheat and our barley and our oats, and harvested the apples off our trees, and I was unwilling to abandon this bounty before I knew what the men wanted.  So I went forth from the palisade and enquired of them what they sought.  And the man who had come to us followed me, entreating me, saying I went to my death; when the horsemen saw him they knew him, and mocked him, and told him his fate was sealed, for he had betrayed them, and they would take him back to their lord, and torment him 'til he died.  And they took hold of him, and beat him, though he cursed them; the last I saw of him they had him bound, and two of the horsemen lead him away.  Then I saw that the men were evil, and I rebuked them, and demanded they let us be.  But they were greater in number than we, and they laughed at me, and their leader said to me: 'Out of the way, old graybeard!  We come to slay and burn, lest you swear your allegiance unto our lord!'  'And who is this lord,' asked I, 'who draws our duty from Éomer King?' 'Bréawine Lord of the West Emnet,' said they, 'and if you bow not before him we shall slay you all, man, woman and child, and take for ourselves what we like.'

"Now, my lord, I am an old man, and our village small; yet I saw no reason to swear fealty unto a man who had no hold on us save fear.  I am a king's man, and fought under Théoden ere he was enchanted by the wizard, and when I heard his sister-son Éomer had assumed the throne my heart swelled within me.  I knew naught of this Bréawine save he was but a petty lord with a head over-large for his heritage, and crowned with disloyalty and treason, and had so stirred up Errakh-Hem of the Dunlendings against us that it was all we could do to keep our holdings from being overrun.  And every man under me when examined said the same:  Éomer is our king, and we bow to no other; we have said our oaths and would fain discard them, even with fire and death at our gates.

"Well I knew we were outnumbered, and my people doomed, so I said to the horsemen: 'Take what you want and go, but let not our blood be upon your heads, for we are all of the Mark, and my people are your brothers.  Leave us instead to our empty winter and let the elements dispose of us, so that you shall be blameless at least of our deaths.'  For I thought, 'If they but take our goods and let us live, we might make it as far as Edoras and plead the king's justice.'  But not content to hold to our parley they threw their torches upon the roofs of our homes, and tore down our palisade and set fire to it, and some of their men did attempt to take upon their saddles our young girls to carry them off.  Then did my men take up arms to protect them, and some were slain, and many wounded, and the horsemen went at will then through the village, taking and burning and killing, until all was afire and we were constrained to flee to the riverbank.  There we stood and watched the men take our horses, and our herds, and all our goods, our waggons loaded with barrel and sheaf, while our village burned to the ground.  And ere the men departed their leader came to me and said: 'All loyal to King Éomer get what they deserve: Poverty, ruin, and death!'  And striking me upon the cheek he knocked me to the earth, and turned and mounted his horse, and they rode away, laughing at us and crying:  'Now consign us your fate not to the elements but to the ghosts!'

'I had hoped to begin our march to the south, to beg Éomer's benevolence, but with so many wounded and hurt I decided to wait; however there is no food, and no medicines either, so the wounded mortify, and we grow ever weaker, especially our children.  I had feared all should perish upon the journey, which as you know on foot is well nigh eight days, and so this morn had we counseled together, to send five men to Edoras, and we should await the king's troops.  But you, my lord, have forestalled us, and blessings be upon your fair head for it!  I am but a simple man and know not the lands whence you came, nor have I heard tell your father's name; but though Man you may not be I consign my fate and my people's wellbeing unto you, and not ghosts nor elements as the horsemen did say to me, for all can see you are as good as your face, and I should trust you though I know not your race nor realm."

Legolas during his tale had looked grieved, and angered as well, for the news of such pitiless devastation tore at his heart.  He said:  "O Fram son of Feldwine, how your forefathers would have praised you, had they seen with such wisdom and faithfulness you held to oath and undertaking!  I do swear this unto you, good father, that I shall rest not ere these men be found and chastised.  Yet I am puzzled most as to this man who came to you, who was not unknown to you, to warn you of the coming fire; who was he, and whence came he?"

"His name is, or was for I am certain he is by now dead, Brytta of the Westfold," said Fram, and taking note of Legolas' face he said:  "Ah!  I see you have heard tell of him too!"

"Indeed I have," said Legolas.  "Moreover I have tried myself against him, and it came to a draw, though it was but in tourney.  A hard man from all accounts, yet to his credit Éomer told me he was faithful to the throne, though he disdained all lands save Rohan."

"Yes," said Fram.  "We know little of him, for his holdings were far from ours; yet what we heard did not increase our confidence in him, for by all accounts he had let slip his reason."

"Well," said Legolas looking pained, "I have this from the king, that Brytta has driven three esquires from him, and was so intractable no man would let him have a daughter to wife; he publicly reproached Éomer for taking a foreign bride, and so lost his knighthood, for your king is not a man to be opposed so.  Since then he has been constrained to sell his lands, and wanders about, complaining that the borders are shrinking, and the Mark losing its might.  He disappeared several years ago and naught was heard of him, and Éomer did tell me he feared Brytta was dead.  'Twas a great pity, he said, for if one took not into account his disagreeable nature, Brytta was a devoted knight, and a fearsome one, and one well-worth having by one's side in a fight."  Legolas sighed then, and rested his chin in his hands.  "Poor Brytta!" he said, and looked sad.  "How he hated me, and how I desired to make peace with him!  Yet he has for himself this legacy at least, that his last act was an endeavor to save the lives of many people, and clear defiance against those who would take his king's rule."

"Yes," said Fram; "when I think of his death I am saddened, for had I but heeded him none of my people should have been slain."

"You do not know that," said Legolas comforting him.  "Bréawine's men acted in treachery and cruelty, and it is possible they should have pursued you, and done the more damage.  But hark!  Hear you the sound of hoof-beats upon the earth?  My people are come to you; I perceive their merry voices in the wind."

Sure enough the villagers when they ran to the ruined palisade saw descending the hill Himbaláth, bearing his lord's standard, and behind him the great destriers of Dale, upon whose backs rode Legolas' people singing a song of consolation.  Himbaláth had put by his side Andunië and Hirilcúllas, so that the women and children would feel no terror, and Legolas smiled to see the three of them at the head of the vanguard, for Himbaláth was golden and shining, and Andunië like polished copper, and Hirilcúllas dark and sleek as a raven's wing.  Fram welcomed them gratefully, and the Elves all dismounted and moved about the villagers, speaking kindly, and passing round food – smoked meats, and flat bread, and dried fruit and nuts.  Soon all the children were clustered round Hirilcúllas, who had secreted within her pockets many sweets, and these she gave unto them to distract them, while Andunië treated their hurts.  After the children did Andunië and Kainendulin tend to the others who had been injured, anointing their wounds with unguents, and binding them up with clean cloths.

During this time Legolas directed the pitching of tents, for it was coming toward evening, and he wanted the people well-rested ere they set out for Edoras in the morning.  And he also sent out Lirlindil and Romastáldë, to determine where the horsemen had gone, and if there was aught about to cause concern.  He stood with Himbaláth looking over the village as the sun set, watching his people go to and fro, succoring and helping, singing and laughing, and the villagers soon were singing as well.  Legolas turned to his lieutenant and said:  "Well!  Here is some good done, and some news garnered as well, though I am disappointed it is so little, and uneasy on Éomer's account.  This Bréawine is grown bold to so flout the royal law hereabouts."

"Yes," said Himbaláth.  "It becomes ever clearer that King Éomer must needs ride forth, and take this traitor to task."

"Even so, where shall he ride?" asked Legolas, turning his face to the north.  "We know Bréawine is up there, but where stays he; where is his keep, where are his troops?  Rather would I return to Éomer to say, Go you here and slay the turncoat, and not, Here are some refugees, and we think your enemy is somewhere to the north!  To date we have naught but suggestions as to where Bréawine's stronghold might be."

"Should Éomer march now, he might cast about in many directions, and spread his riders over-thin, ere he found the man," agreed Himbaláth.  "And then it should be made the more difficult to conquer, for his men shall be distributed over a great area, and not concentrated against the enemy."

"Well perhaps the scouts might tell us something," said Legolas.  "Look!  They are coming now."

Lirlindil and Romastáldë rode up then, their mounts blowing and foaming; they had run hard.  "My Lord!" said Romastáldë dismounting.  "We did track the miscreants as far as the stream to the west; they forded it not eight days hence and pushed so northward.  There is a track, my Lord, leading towards Fangorn and further west, but you did tell us to go but five leagues and return, and so here we are."

"And you saw naught else on the way?" asked Legolas.  "No men, no beasts?"

"No, nor ghosts," laughed Romastáldë.  "For myself I do not believe there are any out here; I think it is naught but rumor."

"A persistent one though," said Legolas.  He turned to Himbaláth.  "Now, Little One, shall I charge you with orders that shall be little to your liking!  I shall take me Lirlindil here upon a fresh horse, and me upon my Piukka, and go see what we might find to the north-west, and you shall take upon yourself the duty of squiring these folk to Edoras.  Should Lirlindil and I discover Bréawine's keep, or garner knowledge equally valuable, we shall come back; but your way shall be slower than ours, for many of you must walk, and we might meet you upon the plains ere you gain the door of Meduseld."

"My Lord," protested Himbaláth, "would it not be more prudent to send me?  Lirlindil and I might do the selfsame work that you place upon yourself; why should you risk your royal person, when I should do as well?"

"Dear Himbaláth!" said Legolas kindly.  "I doubt not your abilities or your courage, and know full well that you should accomplish this task as well as can I.  But I should like to do this for my friend Éomer, to find this man who so harries him and aid in bringing the traitor to justice; and also my heart burns on account of Brytta, who though he hated me deserves at least to have his fate discovered, and if he be not yet dead, perhaps I might save him.  I owe him that at least, to pay him back for his ignominy upon the lists, which I visited upon his poor head.  So do you not quarrel with me, Little One, but take up for yourself the staff of headship over these people, and bring them safely to their sovereign's steps."

"Very well, my Lord," said Himbaláth, though he looked unhappy.  "And what shall I do, should we arrive at Edoras, and you follow not?  For if you are delayed three days past that time, Meivel shall insist to send out a search-party for you."

"That decision I shall leave to Éomer," said Legolas, "for these are his lands and not ours, and should more of us be found wandering in the Wold it shall certainly signal to Bréawine that we are on his trail.  Nay, good lieutenant; wait you upon the will of the king of Rohan, for I would fain have it said we came to help and ended hindering."

"As you wish it!" said Himbaláth, and with a smile Legolas went to fetch his destrier.  And before the sun set fully the two Elves set off, pressing into the violet shadows of the west, disappearing at last even from Himbaláth's bright seeking eyes.

Fastred sat upon the walls of Meduseld, looking down past the city to the plains below. His chin was in his hand, and his fist upon his hip, for he was discontented, and still at an age that he was ignorant to hide it. Beside him sat several other children, who had in the past days become his friends; they were boys and girls both, and Léodwyn was among them. Despite her plain black dress and the brown eyes which set her so apart from the other girls she was in perpetual attendance upon the prince, for he insisted upon it, realizing the other children in the court looked down upon her in her lowly state, and wishing to give unto her some of the comfort he had received, by incurring his own status upon her. When she was not reminded to be melancholy she was quite a good playmate indeed, riding her horse with the rest, or sitting with the other girls upon the banks of the pond behind the city to watch the boys fish. She did not chatter, which was a relief, but let the other girls talk, and for that reason she was becoming quite popular. Fastred thought to himself that Hísimë and Théodred were very lucky, for she was to go to live in Osgiliath, and then they would be friends with her too.

At times Bandobras joined them; he was young enough still to enjoy the company of children, yet old enough to make sure they did not incur too much damage as they played, and sometimes he would regale them with tales of his own lands and people. The children grew to watch for the phrases which began, "You know, there was this neighbor of mine when I was little – " for then the stories would begin, and they be brought to laughter by the telling of them. And when Fastred begged him he would also tell tales of the Elves of Dol Galenehtar, in particular his Lord Lassah, whom Fastred missed greatly; and it was on this account he sat upon the wall that gray forenoon, hoping with all his might that the Elf lord would return.

He stared out into the fields, watching the winding river wend its way through the soft curves and creases of the earth, the empty brown fields dotted with crows and blackbirds, the riders who now and again came round the bend in the road to and from the city, stopping at the gates and moving on, tiny like toys in the distance. He wished he had Elven eyes, for though he stared and strained he could not see well past the fourth hill; it was misty and gray to him, and he could not distinguish much past a darkness here, or a movement there. And he well knew Meivel watched also, pacing to and fro upon the high walls, his dark hair tossed and tousled in the wind, glaring out at the emptiness; the past seven days had the Elf captain watched but in vain, for no word came from the north. In vain also had Meivel begged Fastred's uncle to let him go forth in foray; Éomer had but replied, "Wait you a few days longer, good Meivel, and have faith your lord will return to you anon." And then he would say to Gimli or to Bandobras, "Such impatience I have never seen from one of the fair folk! You are certain Meivel is indeed an Elf?" And Meivel would glower and return to his beat, watching with anxious eyes for his lord's return.

"A hard three-days' ride," muttered Fastred under his breath. Hímalf, one of his new friends, a big tow-haired boy that put him in mind of Halgond, turned to look at him and said: "What?"

"Three days' ride," said Fastred staring out at the fields. "That is what Híldaf did say, that it should take at least that long to reach the village. Three days out, and three to return; they should be back by now!"

"Not so, Fastred Prince," said another boy sitting beside him. "Why, if they are to bring tidings back, they must look around a bit, and that will take some time."

"And who knows what they have found!" added Hímalf. "Why they might have come across Dunlendings, or ghosts. That might delay them."

"I do not believe in ghosts," declared one girl bravely, and that sparked a debate amongst the children, whether ghosts indeed lurked about, or were naught but the fancies of over-fearful peasants. Fastred did not join in the conversation, for he trusted his Lord Lassah more than anyone – save perhaps his noble parents – and Lassah had insisted that ghosts did indeed walk the earth. Not always, he had said with a smile, and not everywhere. But Lassah had seen them with his own eyes, so Fastred was constrained to believe him.

He shivered. He did not want to see a ghost. He was possessed of a vivid imagination, and as a very small child had been terrified of what lurked in his wardrobe, or underneath the bed; and one nurse, with more fancy than sense, had told Fastred that the ghost of his grandsire, Denethor of the Tower, hovered about his pyre in the City of the Dead. Everafter Fastred went to Minas Tirith in dread of meeting Denethor's spirit, oftimes staying with the grown-ups in preference to playing in the streets, for fear of running across that shade. He did not disclose this secret terror, sure it would be laughed at; yet the thought of ghosts about sent a cold tremor up his back, and he told himself over and over that the ghosts of Fangorn were but rumor.

After a time the afternoon turned chilly, and the children dispersed to their several homes for dinner; Léodwyn and Fastred climbed down off the wall, and went to the back of the Hall to the buttery. "Do you believe in ghosts, Fastred?" Léodwyn asked, as they ducked beneath the low lintel, and waited by the table for the cooks to notice them.

Fastred hesitated before answering, for he did not want her to be frightened. "Yes," he said slowly, "but I am not convinced it is ghosts the folk of the West Emnet see."

Léodwyn considered this, tipping her pale, thin face to one side. Fastred was dissatisfied with how little she had got fat in the past week, and often chivvied her to eat more; he did not like to see a girl so thin, for he was certain it was very unhealthy, and that Mistress Pearl would disapprove. "I think there are ghosts to the north," she said at last, smiling at the cook, who had handed them fresh rolls and cold ham. "My mother-brother – rather, mine uncle – he says they are there, and I think I might trust him in that." As they took their repast to the Hall she asked curiously: "So it is true Elves do not fear the Dead? I would think that an Elf would fear death more than we mortals do, for it should be such an unnatural interruption of their state."

"I know not," confessed Fastred. He looked around the dark hall, about which milled folk drinking or talking, and espied his uncle sitting by the fire with Gimli, Frera, Fríma, and Belegtilion. "Let us sit at the hearth," he said; "then we might ask Belegtilion, and he should tell us if he wishes."

Léodwyn paused, biting at her rosy lip, and Fastred asked, "What is it? Surely you do not fear to sit with the king; after all I am a prince and you like me well enough."

"O it is not the king," said Léodwyn hurriedly. "It is the Elf – I am still uncomfortable round them. But," she said, lifting her little pointed chin, "if I am to live in Osgiliath with your noble parents, I must become accustomed to them, for they shall be my neighbors; so yes, let us sit by the hearth."

"Very well," said Fastred with a smile, and the two children went to the fireplace. The grown-ups did not seem to mind their presence; in fact Éomer welcomed them warmly, and bade Léodwyn take a more comfortable seat. Fastred noted she kept looking through her honey-colored hair at Belegtilion, who from his injuries sustained upon the Mering had remained in Meduseld. The Elf sat cross-legged upon the hearth, with a hunting-dog's glossy head in his lap. The strappings had been removed from his wound, and Fastred could see it was healing well, though he would have the crooked scar across his cheek and eye for some time. Unlike Meivel he did not seem discommoded by his inability to join his lord; he was laughing at something Fríma had said, and appeared very comfortable.

"Well, and how go the watchers today?" asked Frera with a smile at them. "Do you believe Legolas will return the faster, if you keep your eyes fixed upon the north?"

"If I believed that I should never come down, Lady Frera," said Fastred. "Do you not think this is taking an unconscionable time? I had hoped he should be back by now!"

"You are as impatient as Meivel, O mine heir!" laughed Éomer. "Tell me, Fastred sister-son, why is it you are so anxious for Legolas' return? He is a hale and canny warrior, and as shades vex him not I do not believe he should find himself in immediate danger. Do you miss your grown playmate so much?"

"Well, yes," admitted Fastred; "I am not used to sharing him you know, except with Hísimë and Théodred. In times past he would go away, and I would miss him, but know that he should return when he said he would; however he went to the north without saying good-bye, or telling me when he would return. So I am a little anxious, Uncle, and wish we at least had news of him."

"Well here is something at least," said Gimli from where he sat at his mother's feet. He threw a letter, seal broken, onto Fastred's lap. "Read this; it is from Nórin, and as you are prince here I believe the doings to the west concern you too. Though I beg you to indulge his careless manner; Nórin was never one to waste words on formality!"

Fastred unfolded the letter and read:

Gimli Lord of Aglarond, Son of Glóin

From Nórin son of Órin, his servant:

Greetings.

The new vein progresses nicely. Tell the King he shall receive approximately one hundred seventy three per cent more revenue from taxes incurred on gold production, and three hundred forty one per cent in silver. Also Fróga claims he has found rubies, which is gratifying. When you return we shall begin mining the twelfth chamber.

We were approached the day after my return here by a man claiming he speaks for Bréawine, who calls himself Lord of the West Emnet. According to his messenger, Bréawine says he shall leave the Dwarves of Aglarond be if they pay him danegeld of fifteen per cent of all annual takings in gold, silver, and gems. When we enquired why we should be constrained to pay danegeld to an upstart as well as the legitimate king of Rohan, he threatened us with war. But Bréawine's messenger experienced a surprising change of heart after Fróga, Bálor, and I spoke to him at length. Well, perhaps it is not so surprising, as our arguments involved heavy sticks. Now he sits in our dungeons complaining Rohan is on the brink of disaster. It is the only thing he has said so far to which I am in agreement.

We have secured oaths from the remaining men in the Deep to remain true to Éomer. As Híldaf told us, there are many wandering round out there, unsure where their loyalties lie. Híldaf, Hárma, and some others are rounding them up and convincing them their safest choice is the current king, and to give Bréawine a wide berth. The rumors about ghosts have helped. As Éomer is friends with Elves, and as Elves do not fear ghosts, some of the men who otherwise would remain indecisive have determined to take their chances with the man most likely to be able to protect them from the Dead. Mad, the lot of them.

Give my deepest and humblest respects to Lady Frera and Fríma her maidservant. I will let you know about the emerald cache, though it seems to me it has run out. But hope springs eternal, as they say.

Durin's blessings,

Nórin

"Uncle," said Fastred worriedly, "why is it so hard to keep men on our side? Why do they keep revolting against you? I do not recall discord like this from my history studies."

"I do not know," sighed Éomer. "When questioned, the men only say they are uneasy about mine ability to maintain the throne. Legolas has suggested, and I think I concur, that the disappearance of the King's post has to do with it; if we know not the letters passing to and from Gondor, and if Bréawine or Théalof have managed to replace those letters with spurious ones of their own, who knows what mischief might be accomplished! But if this Bréawine claims he is Lord of the West Emnet, my seat is at least secure here; I know not of any other claimant to my position."

"Besides Fastred," said Gimli.

"Well, yes. Besides Fastred, but I do not think he is planning mine assassination yet," said the king with a small smile. Fastred blushed; he could not imagine plotting to slay someone, least of all a relation, for a throne; he found it disheartening enough to realize the throne would be his eventually, for he was uncomfortable at the thought. "But I am encouraged; if the Dwarves report men renew their oaths to me, at least I have troops at the Deep loyal to my command. Though they will not bear to march against the ghosts, they recognize I have friends who will; that is enough so far."

"Léodwyn and I are curious about that," said Fastred, turning to the Elf, who was stroking the dog's head. "Belegtilion, why do Elves not fear the Dead? Why is it that ghosts fill mortals' hearts with dread and alarm, but hold no terror for the Firstborn? Is it that you do not fear death either?"

Belegtilion laughed. "Well, I would not say that," he said, smiling at the children. "We are brave, it is true, and perchance do not fear the afterlife as do some mortals, though to be sure certain modes of death may give us qualms."

"Drowning," said Fríma gruffly from her seat. "I have always feared drowning; I know not why."

"Yes," said Belegtilion. "And I have known Elves, brave fellows and fine warriors, who were unaccountably afraid of other ways to die – being shot by arrows, or crushed beneath stone, or other such like. But as to fearing the dead; well, I am not certain I can answer your query suitably, for I know not the reason one would feel fear when confronted with a ghost. I am as curious as you, for I might ask, Why do you fear the dead? What might a ghost do to harm you?"

"For myself," began Gimli, but suddenly Belegtilion sat up straight, eyes uplifted, his whole form filled with tension. "Listen, listen!" he said urgently, raising his hands. "It is Meivel – he is calling!" And quicker than eye could mark him he was on his feet, and running to the back of the Hall. Éomer stood, and Gimli also, and Frera said: "There, Fastred! Perhaps Legolas is back after all."

"O I hope he is!" cried Fastred, casting his bread and ham aside, to the delight of the hunting dog, who had looked affronted when his pillow so precipitately vanished. "Quick, Léodwyn! Maybe we will see him!" And he rushed out of the Hall on Belegtilion's heels, with the rest of them after him.

Meivel was calling from the top of the wall, and when Fastred looked out he could see a lone horseman coming at them, tiny in the distance, but kicking up dust in the heavy air. He looked down at the gates, which were open, and behind him could hear his uncle calling out to the grooms to saddle his steed so he might lead out a sortie to intercept the horseman. Fastred was wondering if it would be possible to join the sortie without getting into trouble when he felt a hand on his arm; he looked round, and saw Bandobras at his side, also peering over the wall.

"Quick, Fastred!" he said, grinning. "Let's go get Karakse, and ride out to see what all the fuss is about."

"Do you think mine uncle will disapprove?" asked Fastred, following the Hobbit to the stables, and ducking round the grooms as they hurried about.

"Maybe," said Bandobras shrugging. "But he didn't say not to go, and as he's a tad busy right now I don't think we need to bother him to ask, now, do we?"

Fastred laughed, and went to Karakse's loose-box. His piebald steed was restless, tossing his head about, for he could hear the excitement at the front of the stables and was anxious to join in. Taruku, Fastred noted, was already gone; Meivel had no doubt taken him ahead of the sortie. Fastred wondered if he'd bothered to ask Éomer's permission, then decided he had probably not. Hurriedly he and Bandobras tacked up Karakse, and just as Bandobras was scrambling hand-over-hand up the stirrups to the saddle there was the rustle and thud of hooves behind them. Fastred turned to see Léodwyn upon her father's horse; she had foresworn a saddle and it was for that reason she preceded them. "Hurry!" she said, her thin face flushed with excitement. "I do not want to miss anything."

Fastred mounted in front of Bandobras, and they clattered out of the stable through one of the side doors, so as to avoid any inconvenient questions; they turned the steeds to the alley and thus the main street, and trotted down the cobblestones, Karakse's fullered shoes rattling and banging, Falafód's lighter form clacking beside; Fastred's steed was two hands taller than Léodwyn's, though they had discovered Falafód despite his age could outrun him yet. They exited the gate, waving at the guards who grinned at them knowingly, and spying the cloud of dust in the distance urged their horses into a canter.

Sure enough both Belegtilion and Meivel had got there first; to Fastred's surprise Gimli sat upon Belegtilion's steed, clinging to the Elf's waist. The rider was but a lone Elf – Romastáldë, very grubby indeed, but in perfectly good humor, though Meivel looked furious, and Gimli was expostulating angrily.

" – the most inconsiderate, reckless behavior yet," he was saying as Fastred, Léodwyn, and Bandobras rode up. "I cannot believe you let him go – "

"Lord Gimli," said Romastáldë with a smile. "You might indeed be able to chide my lord in that fashion, but as for myself when Prince Legolas says he will go, we let him go."

"Did not Himbaláth give him any argument?" demanded Meivel, glowering at the scout. "There was no true reason for him to go, when another scout would have done as well."

Romastáldë shrugged. "Himbaláth is not Meivel, who presses and challenges his lord," he said. "I know he is not sanguine about these events, but when our lord has made up his mind who can sway him? He is not called Thranduilion for naught."

"Now, don't you tell me you've gone and lost my Master again," said Bandobras indignantly from Fastred's back. "Why, it's bad enough you fellows all ran off last week, helter-skelter into the north with neither Gimli nor me to keep him out of trouble, but here you're saying he's wandered off?"

"He went in search of a captive taken by Bréawine's men," said Gimli. "You know well your Master, Bandy; one has naught to say but there is trouble, and Legolas runs right toward it. At least he took Lirlindil with him."

Bandobras made an impatient noise. "Lirlindil! Why he is as bad as my Master! Between those two I shouldn't be surprised to hear they stormed Bréawine's keep, burned it down, set the flag of Dol Galenehtar on the ashes, and wrapped it all up by going to the pub and making a song about it!" He turned to Romastáldë and said: "Well, and now what? Is it just you coming back? Seems to me a lot more left than one. Did you lose them, too?"

"They are following," smiled Romastáldë. "Himbaláth leads them slowly, for there are many injured, and though we gave unto the women and children our steeds we cannot press them overmuch. Also we are running out of food; they are a day behind me, and Himbaláth sent me to ask the king to meet them with leeches and bread; we can only do so much for them."

"And look!" said Belegtilion. "Here comes the king now." He looked thoughtfully at Fastred and Léodwyn. "Do you know, I do think me 'twould be far more prudent to begin collecting foodstuffs ere Éomer gives the order – it would save time so that we might leave the faster; and also I do not think your uncle will be overjoyed to see that you have preceded him without permission, Lord Fastred."

"Not a bad idea, really," said Bandobras. "Well, come on, you two; let's get to the butteries and warn the cooks! And while we're at it I'll teach you a thing or two about housing refugees – I've had lots of practice doing that, you know."

So Fastred and Léodwyn rode back to the city; as they passed Éomer and his men the king but gave Fastred an amused look, which eased the knot in the boy's belly considerably. As they rode back up to Meduseld Bandobras called out to all he passed:

"Get your blankets, your bread and dried meat! The king's enemies have burned a village down, and your brothers need your help!" And the people came out of doors to hear him, some staring, others rushing round to go to the aid of the needy. By the time they reached the Hall it was busy as an ant-hill; fortunately Bandobras was possessed not only of great experience in organization but a very strident voice, and within hours there were collected tents and food enough to feed and house the villagers. The Halfling kept Fastred and Léodwyn, and their friends who joined them hoping for some fun, running to and fro for many hours, and by the time the sun sank behind the western Ered Nimrais they were all tired, but proud of what they had accomplished, for they saw that by the Hobbit's skills and knowledge not one of the poor villagers would lack bed or meat. At last, seeing his helpers wilted with weariness, Bandobras let them go home, and as Fastred and Léodwyn trudged tiredly to their rooms Fastred said:

"I am so glad for Bandobras! I had heard he was very good at this sort of thing, and I am grateful I have had a chance to see it, for now I shall know better what to do, should this tragedy happen and I am without him."

"I am glad too, but O I am so tired!" said Léodwyn, hiding a yawn behind one hand. "Well we shall see all the people tomorrow when the Elves come back, and then I am sure your Lord Lassah will return as well."

Fastred paused; he had forgotten Lassah in all the excitement, and once again he felt unhappy, and afraid for his friend. "I hope he and Lirlindil are well," he said.

"I am sure they are," said Léodwyn turning down the hallway from him. "I have heard so much concerning the Green Knight upon his midnight destrier that I am certain no foe would stand before him – " She covered another yawn, then said, "I am going to see my lady, and tell her of what has come to pass. Sleep you well, Fastred; and forget not that you and I ride to see the Elves at sunrise!"

"I will not! Good-night!" called Fastred, and went to his rooms. He was so weary he did not even bother to undress as he cast himself upon his bed, thinking ere he slipped into slumber: "This way I might get up straightway, and waste no time in the morning. I do not know why I fuss about with night-shirts anyway." And he went to sleep, dreaming of dried beef and bread, and of Bandobras standing next to his Lord Lassah.

The next day brought the refugees to Meduseld. Himbaláth rode at the head of the file, beneath the standard of Dol Galenehtar, and behind him came the great bellowing horses of Dale, bearing the weak and wounded. With them rode Éomer and his men, who had stayed with them the night on the plain, and Éomer had comforted his people, assuring them he would restore their lands and possessions, and praising them for their constancy. The whole city had come out to greet them, and Bandobras had insisted Fastred ride at the head. "For you are their prince you know," he said, "and they might as well get to know you now. Besides which, if they see what a good job you've done arranging all their tents and victuals they'll be more likely to swear allegiance to you when you become king." Fastred was unhappy at that thought, for he had promised Léodwyn he would ride out with her; but he recognized the Halfling knew a bit more about these matters than did he; so he mounted his Karakse and rode ahead of the people in the city, meeting Himbaláth and his uncle upon the road. Éomer smiled at Fastred then, and said: "So, O mine heir, do you seek to greet and succor our people! But I see your little shadow is not with you; where is Léodwyn?"

"She is at Meduseld, O Mother-Brother," said Fastred politely, though he blushed. "She and the others are awaiting the children." He looked at Himbaláth then; the Elf did not seem to be his usual self, but was sad; thinking he too missed his lord Fastred said to him: "O do not be so sad, Himbaláth! Lord Lassah will come back soon I am certain – tomorrow or the next day. And you have done a splendid thing, bringing all these folk back safely; and I thank you for this, that you have taken such good care of my people."

Himbaláth gave a crooked smile. "Bless you, O Fastred Prince!" he said. "You lighten my heart immeasurably." But Fastred thought perhaps that must be exaggerated, for Himbaláth looked as though his heart were heavy as lead. But then his uncle introduced Fastred to the village elder, and he was obliged to hear the tale of the destruction of the village, and the subject was dropped.

It took less time than Fastred had thought it would to get the villagers settled in the city. Some of the citizens opened their homes and barns to them, and others let their empty gardens be used for tents, so that soon the sounds of children's laughter and singing rang through the streets and alleys and courtyards of Edoras. Bandobras kept the boy quite busy, ordering him about with all the authority of a mighty general, and Fastred found himself not distributing food as he had expected, but meeting the people instead, and speaking to them to comfort them. Mostly he listened to them talk, hearing what he could of the great Elf-Lord who had risen out of the grass to speak to them, and of the kindness of the Elves who gave up their horses so the weary wounded would not have to walk. He had not realized how long a way it was for them, and how much Himbaláth had needed to slow his pace; it must have rankled in the Elf's bosom to tread so slowly and deliberately away from the dangers he knew his lord must face.

He saw Andunië and Hirilcúllas from a distance but was unable to speak with them; after a while he realized they had gone, and had taken Léodwyn and the young women with them. He wondered where they had got to, and what they were doing, and thought that had Andunië not been with them they would probably be sewing, or some other feminine thing; however he could not imagine Andunië sewing. "I wager she has been awfully bored," thought Fastred pityingly; "I am certain she would rather be out here with the menfolk, or at least with the horses." He wished he could run to the stables, and hide; he was so tired of talking to people, and wanted to be alone, even if he had to be with Andunië to do it. But he did not manage to rest until he had sought his bed; again, he was so weary he did not bother with his night-shirt, but slept again in his clothes, thinking as he drifted off: "Mother would never let me get away with this. Perhaps I shall like it here after all." But his dreams were disturbed, and he did not sleep well; he heard groans of pain, and the screams of tortured men, and pale staring faces drifting through a nighttime forest; and then he seemed to see Galás sitting at Lassah's desk, his head in his hands. He woke several times, sitting up in his dark room, wondering what the dreams meant, but he was weary enough to go back to sleep after a few moments, and when morning came he had forgotten all about them.

He could not find Léodwyn, and when he enquired after her was told she had spent the night with Hirilcúllas and Andunië; surprised but pleased he took bread and cheese from the buttery, and scrambled up on the wall to continue watching for his Lord Lassah. He was alone, which suited him fine after the madness of the past days; the morning was gray and cool, and a light moist breeze blew at him from the north. He felt rather happy, swinging his feet over the edge of the wall and munching on sweet brown bread and hard cheese, listening to the high whistling calls of eagles to his right, and seeing the slow brown river to his left, in which swam, as he now well knew, trout just as sweet-fleshed as those in the Anduin's estuaries. He could smell cook-fires, and hear the sound of children's voices from the fountain-square, and sighed contentedly. It had been a terrible thing, but between Elves and Men they had rescued and comforted the oppressed, and now he could rest for a while, and wait for Legolas to return. "Surely it shall be today or tomorrow," he said to himself, looking out over the misty blue plain. "He knows we await him, and he will not keep us long. He is rather thoughtful that way." So he finished his breakfast and waited, hoping no one would come seeking him for a while.

After about an hour he blinked, and looked closely at the undulating fields; had he just seen movement? Then above him he heard Meivel's voice cry out: "Rider from the north!" He jumped; he had not realized the Elf watched too, and remembered then the terrible argument Meivel and Himbaláth had got into – Meivel saying he was going to ride north and find his lord; Himbaláth angrily insisting he follow orders, and wait. It had taken Frera to diffuse the row, rebuking them both for raising their voices, and calling on Éomer's authority as king to settle the debate. Éomer, having heard from Himbaláth what Legolas had told his people, sided with Himbaláth, saying if their lord bid them wait they should wait, and if it were up to him no one would leave Edoras until Legolas returned with news of what transpired up by Fangorn. Meivel had taken this with his customary bad grace, and retired grumbling under his breath; Fastred wondered if he had spent the whole night upon the high wall watching for his lord, and decided it was just something Meivel would do.

He hopped off the wall and trotted toward the stables, hoping he would once again be able to slip out and meet the rider; however Éothain and Éodor impeded him, smiling and saying: "O no, Fastred Prince; you shall not elude us this time! The king has instructed us saying no one shall leave the city unless under guard, for we do not yet know what awaits us." Feeling keen sympathy for Meivel Fastred acceded, and with a sigh went out to the front courtyard before Meduseld, hoping the rider would come up to the Hall to speak with his uncle, and that he might be able to listen in. He sat upon the steps beneath the eyes of the guard and waited, and after a few moments Bandobras joined him, also sitting with a sigh, and putting his chin in his hands.

"If you don't mind me saying so, your uncle's got right bossy," he grumbled. "So what if there's trouble up north? That shouldn't mean we can't go out to hear a bit of news, does it?"

"He is the king," Fastred reminded him with a smile. The Hobbit snorted.

"Well, he ain't my king," he said. "And I'm getting worried about my Master."

Then the doors of the Hall opened, and Éomer came out, with Gimli and several others. He looked very grim, and was wearing his sword; Fastred leaped to his feet, and Bandobras rose too. But when Éomer espied them there he smiled and said: "Come up here, O Fastred mine heir, and O Bandobras esquire of the Green Knight! Be you not wroth with me, as Meivel and his sister Andunië are wroth, for I have but your well-being in mind to keep you behind the gates."

"I know, Mother-Brother," said Fastred politely, and mounted the steps to his uncle. "Who is the rider? Do you know?"

"Meivel said it was a man riding a black horse," said Gimli, "and no," he added, seeing Bandobras' face light up, "it is not Legolas."

They waited a moment more, then they heard some sort of disturbance from down the hill, and Éomer gestured to several men to see to it. They ran back a minute later, accompanied by shouts and cries of alarm, and one of them said: "He will not stop, O King! He has ridden down the guards, and burst through the gates without pausing; he shouts he cannot stop his steed!"

"The horse is exhausted," said the other man; "you can hear him gasping and blowing from the alleys. But he climbs and climbs, his eyes wide with fear, and the man on his back cannot forestall him."

"Strange!" said Éomer with a frown; he put his hand on the hilt of his sword, and loosened it; Fastred could see the guards at the door draw their own swords, and wondered whether his small knife would be sufficient, or if he should risk missing the excitement, and go to his rooms to fetch his own weapon. Soon he could hear the commotion too, hear the clack and clatter of hooves on the cobblestones, and the cries of people, and overall the voice of a man who had shouted himself hoarse: "Stop, stop! You damned beast, stop, I tell you!" Then round the corner to the courtyard burst a huge black destrier, slick with sweat and foam, eyes rolling, and upon his bare back rode a man in tattered clothes, bloodied and covered in soot and dirt. He was pulling on the horse's mane, for he rode with no tack, and could not control the animal. Then Bandobras cried: "Piukka!" and Fastred recognized Legolas' war-horse.

Piukka's gallop faltered, and his great feathered hooves slipped on the pavers of the courtyard with a horrible scraping clatter; he swung his huge head round to look at the crowd round the king, eyes rolling, blood and foam spraying from his mouth. The man on his back shouted again, and with a terrible bellow Piukka crashed forward upon his chest, neck outstretched, and his rider leapt clear. The horse lay heaving and groaning, kicking with his great black hooves, and Fastred could see fresh blood flowing freely from his nostrils. Ignoring his uncle's cry of warning he rushed forward with Bandobras to the horse's head, where it lay upon the stone pavers; he dodged the huge hooves where they churned, the horse trying to rise, and then realized Andunië was beside him, her slim brown hands competent, composed, wiping the blood away. "You stupid horse!" the rider was shouting; he stumbled to his feet, and staggered over to where Piukka lay, taking the horse's muzzle from Andunië and pushing her aside, sobbing for breath. Piukka wheezed and groaned, his great ribcage heaving, his brown eyes glazed and staring; then the hooves went still, and he looked up at his rider; Fastred could have sworn he saw in the destrier's eyes a look of weary satisfaction. But the man was not happy; he was weeping, and holding Piukka's head, and fighting off the hands of Éomer's guards; he was saying again and again: "I could not stop him – he would not stop – he would only run and run – O you damned horse – I told you to stop – why would you not stop!"

Piukka was struggling for breath; Fastred could hear the great lungs heaving and laboring, and saw the foam and sweat and blood on the horse's face. Andunië sat back, her green eyes hooded, and watched the rider as he knelt, pulling the destrier's head upon his lap, and stroking the wet black mane, weeping and calling out – "A leech; bring to us a leech! The horse – he would not stop – I could not stop him!"

Someone put his hand on Fastred's shoulder, and the boy turned; Éomer was there, his sword sheathed, and he was looking at Piukka, his gray eyes sober. "Fastred," he said, his voice very low. "Go to the stables."

"But – " Fastred started to protest; he looked past his uncle and saw Léodwyn standing beside Belegtilion; the Elf's face was stricken, and Léodwyn looked frightened.

"The stables, Fastred. Now." And Éomer pulled him to his feet. But at that moment Piukka gave a terrible gurgling groan, and the rider began to wail, and when Fastred turned he saw the man cradling the big head in his arms, limp upon the thick black neck; he saw the destrier's empty eyes, and the tongue loll from between the teeth, and then he knew that Piukka was dead.

(A/N: After several questions regarding my use of "mine" instead of "my" preceding nouns beginning with vowels, I refer you to http://home.earthlink.net/~jmarbysprint02/STT/Much%20Ado/primer.html. I am, in my flawed and amateurish way, attempting to make this story sound at least a tad old-fashioned, and I apologize for any confusion! Again, can you tell I haven't got a beta?)

Fastred sat in the darkest corner of Piukka's empty loose-box, curled up into a tight ball, his knees pulled up to his chin, and his face buried in his arms. He had given up all pretense of being a prince, and therefore too proud to cry; he had wept for hours, and now being weary of weeping – and, he was certain, completely out of tears anyway – he sat in the gloom, comfortable enough in his decision to spend the rest of his life in the stall and never, ever leave again. He would not be king of Rohan. He would not go back to Osgiliath. He would not even run away to lead a life elsewhere. He could not – ever. And now he could not even run to Dol Galenehtar, as he had done at the beginning of the summer – O how long ago that seemed! And O how little he had then to trouble him, if he had only known! – Dol Galenehtar would be a cold and empty place to him ever after, for his Lassah was gone . . . gone forever.

Fastred had stood with Léodwyn in the crowded Hall, hugging the shadows fearfully while Éomer interrogated the rider, Brytta. The man was horribly dirty, covered with the worst sort of filth, and so terribly bruised and bloodied one could hardly descry the proper color of his skin. His hair, which in his youth must have been yellow, was liberally streaked with gray, and very long and tangled, and several of his teeth had been kicked out, making him look even older. All the grown-ups appeared to know who he was, including Gimli and Bandobras, and none of them seemed particularly fond of him, or inclined to believe his tale; Fram of the village however took his part saying: "O no, Éomer King; this is the one who told us of Bréawine's men coming to burn our village! Have mercy on him, for he had mercy on us!" Éomer did not look as if he were inclined to trust the man though; he spoke sharply to him, and demanded explanations for his movements the past year. Brytta for his part did not display hubris, or offensiveness at all; he seemed bone-weary and very discouraged, though betimes his answers were couched in anger, when he saw he was disbelieved.

Fastred had tried to follow the interrogation as it went; it appeared Brytta had after insulting his aunt fled to the north to nurse his wounded vanity, for Éomer had dispossessed him; it was there he had met Bréawine, and learned the man aspired to split Rohan north-to-south, and take the northern half for his own. Brytta claimed he had joined Bréawine to spy on him, and had never meant to support him, but the information he had sent to Éomer had been intercepted, and the messenger killed, and Brytta had run to try to warn all round Bréawine to go to Edoras; however when the village was attacked he had been captured and imprisoned, and unable to send news to the King. To Fastred's view it did not appear the king believed this explanation, but instead pressed Brytta saying: "So you did not mean to swear allegiance to a traitor, did you? You still felt you could hold to your oaths to me as your sovereign then? You did never intend to uphold Bréawine's cause at all?" And Brytta would answer tiredly, his head in his battered hands: "Yes, O Éomer King. I am your servant. I told you; I joined him as a spy, to try to protect your lands. I do not serve Bréawine." Éothain and several others questioned him as well, and got no other answer of him, so that even Éomer appeared to consider his words; then however Meivel asked leave of the court to question him too, and that was when the hammer had fallen.

Brytta made no secret of the fact that Lassah and Lirlindil had gone into Bréawine's keep to rescue him; he spoke of it resentfully though, for he was a proud man still and hated the Green Knight with all the passion he had brought back with him from that first Tournament. And he told the assembly how the Elves had placed him upon Legolas' great black horse – "Naught but a farm-horse, big and stupid," Brytta had muttered, though he wiped tears from his eyes as he spoke – and how they had been pursued, and then ambushed, and Lirlindil's horse shot from underneath the two Elves, casting them to the earth, and breaking Lirlindil's neck. At this there were cries of grief from the Elves there, but Meivel pressed Brytta further, his face of stone, his eyes hard. "And what happened then? What became of Prince Legolas?" he had demanded, standing over Brytta's seated form, tall and dark and dangerous; Brytta had dropped his head wearily then, and spoke the words that rang still in Fastred's head:

"Then the Green Knight did gain his feet, and seeing his companion had fallen, and that Bréawine was almost upon us, he did draw his bow, and fired back into the fray, and called out to the horse upon which I sat to run 'til he brought me safely to Meduseld. Then did the damned horse start to run, though I endeavored to stop it; 'twould fain listen or pause, but galloped as though a host of demons were behind it. And as I turned, for I wished to go back to the Green Knight's aid, I saw Bréawine's men swarm over him, and many arrows pierce him, and many swordsmen strike at him, and he gave a terrible cry, and then I saw him fall."

Fastred's memories of what had happened next were very blurry. He saw Meivel go dreadfully white, and heard Bandobras give a strangled shriek. Éomer too swayed on his feet, and there were wails of grief from the assembled Elves, and from Gimli and Frera too. But most shocking of all was Himbaláth, of habit so merry and gentle, springing upon the unfortunate Brytta with his hands round the man's neck, shaking and throttling him and crying out in a broken voice: "Murderer! Coward! Liar!" Brytta could not fight the Elf off in his fury, and it had taken Meivel, Malinadulin, and Fenwine to subdue Himbaláth, dragging him off Brytta's body, struggling and cursing. It had been at that point Fastred realized what had happened – Lassah was dead – and the burning grief that pierced him had visited upon him such agony he had fled retching from the Hall, unmarked in the chaos.

He had gone immediately to the stables, heading straight to Piukka's stall, half in hopes the horse would still be there, large, dark, placid, thoughtfully chewing hay and regarding the boy with his liquid brown eyes. Fastred's thoughts had been in such a whirl – it was not true – could not be true – O please tell me it is not true – it cannot be – But sure enough the loose-box was empty, clean and filled with fresh straw awaiting the destrier that would never return to it; instead the big black body would be interred outside the city, and placed beneath a mound, and all that people would know was that a black horse had been buried there, for he had been run to death. Fastred had thought about that mound, thought perhaps he would build a stone cairn upon it; then with the suddenness of a piercing arrow he realized that no cairn would ever be raised for Legolas – he was gone, and they would never find him.

He had wept and wept and wept, sunk in deepest misery, wishing desperately for his mother to comfort him, and dreading having to inform her of her champion's demise. His thoughts went round and round in his grief, thinking of Galás ruling sadly over Dol Galenehtar, and of Hísimë breaking her little heart with sorrow, and of brave King Thranduil and lovely Queen Edlothiel grieved and childless, and of Lord Gimli and Bandobras bowed with misery, and of Lassah's beautiful green tourney armor displayed in a dark corner someplace, unused and dusty and full of cobwebs. He sobbed until his chest hurt, but the heartache was greater than his pain, and he could not seem to stop for some time. But after a while the first flood of sorrow abated, and he curled up, exhausted and drained, wishing he would simply die.

He did not hear anyone come into the stables, heard no step nor swish nor tap; he did not hear anyone come into Piukka's stall either. But he smelled something that reminded him of sunshine on fresh grass, and felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and realized Andunië had found him. For some reason that hard, cold woman's presence broke something anew in Fastred, and with a low cry he threw himself upon her bosom and began to sob afresh. She held him close, her arms tight round him, and let him weep some more, stroking his hair and rocking him as one would a babe. And Fastred even in the midst of his woe was comforted knowing she had come to seek him out, and care for him, even though the lord who had ordered her to watch over him was now gone from them both.

They sat in the hay for some time, not speaking; Fastred had naught to say, and so he said naught, and as for Andunië she was not given to careless speech anyway. Fastred's sobs gave way to hiccoughs and sniffles, and to his dismay he discovered he had mislaid his handkerchief; however Andunië stilled his groping round in his pockets by pressing a large square of linen into his hands, and saying simply, "Here."

Fastred wiped his face and nose, and sat in the circle of her arms taking shuddering gulps of air, his head resting upon her shoulder. In the hopes that perhaps the Elves knew something he did not, he asked in a small and quavering voice:

"Lassah is dead, isn't he?"

"So it would appear," Andunië replied; her voice was as flat and cold as it had ever been.

"And Piukka is dead too."

"Obviously."

"And Lirlindil."

"Do you think, Fastred, that by asking I shall say 'No' and they be brought to life again?" asked Andunië; she sounded irritated. Fastred sighed; she was so unsympathetic. But then again, she had come to him.

"I hate Brytta," he said, suddenly filled with venom. To his mind Brytta was the reason Lassah had died; had the tiresome man not got himself captured then Lord Legolas should not have been constrained to go find him.

"It is not his fault," said Andunië. "My lord would have followed anyone to save him. And Brytta says he did try to go back to help him."

Fastred did not want to hear this; he needed to be angry at someone, and Brytta was as good as anyone. "He could not have tried very hard," he complained.

"Piukka would not turn," said Andunië.

"And he ran Piukka to death. He ought not to have done that. He is a man of Rohan. He should know better how to care for a horse." He remembered Piukka's horrid racking gasps, and the death-gurgle from the destrier's throat, and shivered.

"He could not stop Piukka," said Andunië. "My lord had ordered him to run, so Piukka ran. Nothing would stop him, not even a man of Rohan." Fastred did not reply, and Andunië went on: "Tyarmayél and I see to it that every beast brought into Dol Galenehtar learns to obey our lord over any other. Had anyone save Prince Legolas sat upon Piukka's back the beast should have halted not, but run and run, in spite of his rider. Once the order was given, no one could have stopped Piukka, not even I."

"I want to build a cairn for Piukka," he said. He hoped she would approve; after all she seemed to care for beasts more than people.

"And I wish to build a tomb for my lord and for his faithful servant," said Andunië, very evenly. Fastred sat up a bit, and turned to stare at her. She looked to him as she ever did; composed, disinterested, a little bored. "What is it?" she asked. "Do you think I will do it alone? I tell you every Elf in Dol Galenehtar shall take a hand; it shall not be simply Hwindiö and Gimli to do it."

"But," stammered Fastred, "but we have nothing to put in a tomb."

"No," agreed Andunië. "Not yet."

Fastred stared at her; she looked blandly back. He sat back again against her shoulder, looking at the far wall of the loose-box, thinking hard. After a moment he began to tremble. But he spoke not, nor moved, and Andunië was still as death.

When the sun's yellow rays had finally moved round to the west, and pierced the window above the loose-box filling it with dust-motes and buzzing flies, Andunië rose to her feet, leaving Fastred seated upon the hay. She regarded the boy with her cold green eyes, her lips thinned.

"You look awful," she said.

Fastred gave a shaky smile. "I feel awful," he said with a sigh. He tipped his head to one side, looking gravely at her. "But you look all right. You always do, really." Andunië did not deign to reply to this, so Fastred said slowly, "You are going after his body."

She raised her eyebrows, but did not answer. "Are you not?" Fastred said. "You seem to me to be thinking of it."

"The king and my brother have forbidden anyone leaving Edoras," said Andunië carelessly. "They are mustering troops, and wish to ride to Bréawine's destruction with no forewarning; they do not want to take the risk of a scout or party being captured and questioned, and giving the attack away. Lord Gimli and Bandobras both begged leave to go fetch my lord's body, but they have been told to stay. Aglarond is a fiefdom of Rohan so Gimli is compelled to obey; and Bandobras as my lord's esquire also must do as Meivel says in Galás' absence."

"But you will not obey," said Fastred confidently. "You are going."

Her green eyes glittered a little, and she seemed to be clenching her jaw; with a gulp of fear Fastred blurted: "I did not mean to insult you."

"Nor did you," said Andunië. "You will have to work harder at it than that, if someday it becomes your intention."

"Why would I wish to insult you?" asked Fastred, bewildered.

"I should have thought I had given you ample reason by now," Andunië said.

"But," said the boy, thinking so hard his eyebrows creased, "you did naught but what Lassah told you to do. It is not that you hate me; what you did was for my benefit, and I have no cause to think ill of you." Andunië said nothing, but only watched him with her glittering agate eyes. Fastred realized then that trying to coax gentle words from her was a useless endeavor; he had never even seen her smile before, and it was silly of him to hope she would speak kindly to him; she had come to him, seeking him out to comfort him, and that was about as much as he could hope for of her. He looked up at her, tall and slim and strong, her face composed and expressionless, her bright hair streaming down her shoulders, and wondered if she had loved Lassah, too. "She must have," he thought; "she is willing to disobey mine uncle and her brother both to bring him back." Yet Fastred had never heard her speak in a friendly fashion to Lassah, or even to smile at him or laugh at his gentle teasing; perhaps she was simply incapable of expressing anything save boredom, or disapproval. And he had certainly had his share of sharp words of her; it had not slain him yet, so he felt confident he could speak his mind at least, and get an honest answer. "You are going to find Lassah's body and bring it back," he said.

"Yes," said Andunië, and Fastred was warmed by her confidence he would not give her away.

"Then I am going with you," he blurted, and held his breath, awaiting her biting reply, or icy retort. But she studied him in silence, eyes cool and calculating; she was considering his offer. Fastred watched her, heart hammering in his chest, and wondered how much trouble she would get into, and if he would be punished as severely as she when they were caught.

"You are passing fair at running away," she said at length, "and are not bad company when you hold your tongue. Go to your room, and gather together what you think you might need for our journey. Lie down and rest, and I shall fetch you after the moon sets." Then turning upon her heel she left the stall, her riding-skirt brushing the fresh dry hay, her coppery hair fanning out behind her.

Fastred sat for a moment, bewildered and unhappy; but he was less unhappy than he had been ere she had come to him, for though Lassah was gone he at least was going to be able to do something besides sit in Piukka's stall, mewling like a baby. Biting his lip he began to go over the list of things he had brought with him, when first he had run away from Osgiliath: knife, extra food, money. But then he heard the sound of heavy boots upon the stable floor, and a man's voice calling: "Fastred? Sister-son?" and he realized the king was searching for him, disdaining his servants and taking the menial chore upon himself. Heart swelling within him, but still filled with deep sorrow and secret shame for their plans, he crawled to the stall door, and peeking out saw his uncle coming down the aisle, peering into each stable. He looked a bit disheveled himself; he had removed his crown and robe, and his face was pale and tear-streaked. "Here I am," said Fastred, his voice breaking; but he did not care; he was too sad to care. He struggled to his feet, his knees stiff; he realized he was still holding Andunië's handkerchief, so he stuffed it in his pocket, and ran a quivering hand through his disarranged hair, thinking resignedly to himself he did not look much like a prince. But Éomer did not seem to care; he came up to him, and put his great arms round him and pulled him close, so that Fastred's face was pressed up against Éomer's chest, the embroidery of his doublet digging into the boy's cheek. Fastred was struck anew by his uncle's great height and girth, and returned the embrace, reassured by the feel of that strong heart thudding in his ear, and reflecting how much bigger his uncle was than his Lord Father, for when Faramir embraced his son Fastred's head reached his father's collarbone, and the boy could join his hands behind his father's back; embracing Éomer however was akin to hugging a huge oak tree. Then he remembered how it had felt to be embraced by his Lord Lassah, the tall slim form and long limbs, wrapped about with hard muscle, the tickle of the silky pale hair and the subtle scent of pine. His breath caught in his throat, and he struggled to keep from weeping again; he felt his uncle's hand on his head, ruffling his hair roughly.

"I know, sister-son," said Éomer, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. "I have wept too, for Legolas also was my friend, and I loved him."

"Why did he have to die?" Fastred snuffled into his uncle's doublet. "Why did this have to happen? What did he do, that this horrible Bréawine would slay him thus?"

"He had discovered Bréawine's keep; he had freed the man who knew where Bréawine's troops and treasures were; he had slain five guards round the oubliette where Brytta lay awaiting his execution; he had discovered Bréawine impeded the King's post and replaced rider and message with spurious documents of his own hand; and he was coming back to tell me all these things, so that I could stop Bréawine," said Éomer softly. "He had done all of that, and for me, O sister-son; he was far from his lands and his people, yet he was willing, as he has ever been willing, to put life and limb to risk, simply for love of his friends, and the good of his neighbors. I know you must be angry at Brytta, and blame him for Legolas' death; but if you are to blame someone, blame me, Fastred; for I sent him to his fate, as my men and I were unwilling to go where he so fearlessly trod."

Fastred stilled then, listening to the low broken voice, and realized with a pang that his uncle held himself to account for his friend's death, and carried within him a terrible load of guilt because of it. He tightened his arms round Éomer's waist and said into the fine cloth: "I blame you not, O mother-brother; my Lord Lassah was reckless and brave, and oftimes went where folk told him not to go; my Lady Mother said he was even more stubborn than she, and many's the time I did hear Lord Gimli say how rash Lassah was, and that he leapt first and thought second. So I think, uncle, that he should have gone and got himself killed anyhow, whether you sent him or no."

Éomer gave a breathy chuckle then, and his big hands tightened round Fastred's shoulders. "Well, O mine heir, I thank you for your words of comfort, pale though they be in our time of sorrow! And give to you this, O Fastred sister-son; I have sent Arúlf and his éored to the Deep, to gather together those faithful who dwell therein; and they shall meet us upon the road to the Westfold, and we shall march against Bréawine, for now I know where his secret keep is, and how many men he has; we are evenly matched, and from what I have gleaned these past hours of Brytta we might well be able to quell this rebellion and regain those lands I have lost. I have no especial love for Brytta, you know, O Fastred; he is mulish and intractable, and has caused me some small trouble in the past; but he is willing to give Bréawine away, for he says he is loyal to me, and does not wish for the Green Knight to have died in vain. He well knows Legolas gave his life so that these tidings should come to me, and though he hated your Lord Lassah with a bitterness born of public mortification, he is eager to see Bréawine fall, for he longs to have Rohan restored to its former glory."

Fastred pondered these things, tucked in the king's mighty embrace; he wondered what his Lord Father would think, had he known Fastred planned to run away from his uncle yet again. "But I am going to return," he said to himself; "I shall go and then come back, so it is not as bad as it was before, when I ran away so I would not be king." However he still felt the stirrings of shame, knowing he and Andunië would disobey the king's orders; his consolation was that with Andunië by his side to help him they would certainly not be captured, and perhaps in a week's time they would return to Edoras with Legolas' and Lirlindil's bodies. "I hope he will not be too angry with me," Fastred thought with a sigh, letting his uncle turn and lead him from the stables; Éomer's hand was very heavy on his shoulder. "I will make it up to him though. I will ride with him to the keep, and fight by his side; and I swear that even should we run into ghosts I will falter not but hold firm, for I am a prince after all, and I suppose it is about time I began to act as one." The thought that perhaps disobeying his uncle and running off with an Elf lady was not very princely crossed his mind; he pressed it back though, saying to himself: "Later. I shall be a prince later. For now, until Andunië and I return, I am not the Heir of Meduseld; I am just Fastred."

**********

He gathered together his knife, bow and quiver, a wool blanket, and a skein of rope, and tucked them in a small satchel; this he secreted beneath his bed, and once more lay upon the counterpane full-clothed, saying to himself: "Why did I not think of this earlier? I see no reason to even own a night-shirt!" Despite his sorrow and excitement he fell at once into a deep slumber, for he was weary; his dreams though disturbed him, for he seemed to be walking round in the dark, and all beneath his feet were deep pits into which he would stumble; the yawning blackness breathed forth sickening vapors and cold smoking fumes, and he would see therein the pale staring eyes of the Dead, their white fingers beckoning him down. He would wake, heart thumping, then his eyes feeling sandy would close once more, and he return to the same tortured dreamscape he had just left.

At last he woke to hear a light scratching at his door; leaping to his feet he rushed through the dark chamber and opened it. He had no candle, and Andunië no light; he could however descry the pale light of her skin in the dim passageway, and saw her jerk her head, gesturing him forward. He dragged out his satchel from beneath the bed and followed her.

She made no sound upon the stone and dirt floors, and Fastred attempted to mimic her, though he knew that to Elven ears he must sound very loud; she paused at each corner, listening for any movement, then lead him down the hallways, flitting past guards, until they exited the Hall. Then they passed beneath a low hedge, and thus to the back door of the stables, and in. Fastred paused to give Falafód a caress upon his whiskery nose, and followed Andunië to the end of the passageway, where she paused, one hand raised to arrest him. She turned to him, frowning, her thin brows puckered, and gestured him to stay; then she slipped quietly round the corner, and as Fastred strained to listen he heard movement – shuffling, and a low mutter. Holding his breath, Fastred waited; then he jumped when he heard Andunië's voice sharply say:

"Well, and what is this?"

There was a startled cry, then Fastred heard Bandobras say indignantly: "Goodness gracious, Andunië, don't creep up on us so! You gave me quite a turn."

"Hush!" That was Gimli's voice; he sounded angry. "Well, what are you doing skulking about in here, Andunië? Did not your brother tell you to stay with Hirilcúllas?"

"I grew weary of being fitted for a new gown," said Andunië dryly. "And for what reason do a Hobbit and a Dwarf saddle two ponies in the middle of the night? Are you going to look for moon-flowers? Surely you would not defy the king's interdiction upon travel."

Gimli made a sheepish noise, but Bandobras retorted: "O I like that! And what about yourself, young lady? Don't you go trying to make us feel bad for sneaking round, when you and Fastred are planning to run off yourselves."

"Fastred?" exclaimed Gimli.

"Yes, Fastred," snapped the Hobbit. "Can't you smell him? He's worn the same tunic three days running and he smells right awful."

Fastred gulped, but recognizing he had no more need of stealth stepped round the corner. Andunië stood, hands on her hips, glaring down at the Dwarf and the Hobbit, and the two glared right back. Bandobras espied Fastred coming and said: "There! You see, Gimli? We're not the only ones thinking of going after my Master."

"You will not make it far on such small ponies however," said Andunië; she reached down and began unbuckling Bumblebee's bridle. "They would not cover as much ground as a larger steed."

"We'll do fine, thank you just the same," said Bandobras angrily, jerking the bridle from her hands. "You and Fastred do as you please, and let us do for ourselves; we'll see who gets to Fangorn first!"

"Please," said Fastred, "there is no reason to quarrel! O Bandobras, and O Lord Gimli, please do not speak so loud; I am sure someone shall hear you! Andunië," he begged, "do you not think we four could go together? For Bandobras and Lord Gimli loved Lassah too, and if we leave them behind the king might find out – or worse, Meivel."

"What do you suggest then?" growled the Dwarf. "You and Andunië ride ahead, and let us jog along on our ponies behind you? Nay; Andunië is right; our ponies will not cover the kind of ground your steeds shall; they are too small."

"Ride with us then," said Andunië to Fastred's surprise. "Four are better than two, and our horses of sufficient girth to bear us all. Bandobras shall ride with Fastred, and you, O Gimli of Aglarond, shall once again dangle at an Elf's back."

Gimli grumbled a bit at this, but Bandobras seemed pleased; he hastily removed Bumblebee's saddle, and handed Fastred two sacks. "Dried beans and smoked bacon," he said with a shaky smile; "and a pot and a spoon and some bowls. Only two, but we can share; beggars can't be choosers." Fastred felt relieved; he was glad Gimli and Bandobras would go with them, for though he trusted Andunië implicitly she was short-tempered, and her words were inclined to cut rather than heal; besides which he knew Gimli and Bandobras to have loved his Lord Lassah more than even their own kind, and his heart ached on their account. He and Andunië helped Gimli and Bandobras gather up all the supplies, and then they went down the passageway again to where the horses of Dale had been stabled; suddenly Andunië stopped, and put her parcels down; she turned to them and whispered: "Hush!" and went forward, silent, slipping along the shadows. Fastred, Gimli, and Bandobras waited; then they could hear a man's voice, grumbling, and the nervous whicker of a horse; then there was the jingling sound of tack being dropped, and a muttered curse. Then as before Andunië demanded: "What is this?" and the man cried out in surprise. Gimli rushed forward, Fastred and Bandobras at his heels, and when they came round the corner they halted, amazed. There stood Brytta, tattered and filthy still, but holding a saddle; he had opened Alfirin's stable door, and the mare had backed away from the stranger, unwilling to let him put a saddle upon her back. Brytta when he descried Elf, Dwarf, Hobbit and boy sneered, and rounding on them said:

"Impede me not, O you foreign folk! I am on the Mark's business and shall not be gainsaid." He turned back to Alfirin, who snorted and lifted her head, and he cursed at her.

"The Mark's business is it?" asked Gimli. "In the middle of the night, and stealing Hirilcúllas' horse? I hardly believe Éomer instructed you to do this."

"Let me go," said Brytta angrily. "Lest I shall call in the guards and they take us all. I have a blood-debt to pay and I shall fain turn aside."

"Go if you like, but do you please leave my friend's horse!" said Andunië, stepping forward, and placing herself betwixt Brytta and Alfirin. "Hirilcúllas is bowed with grief, and considering how you treat our steeds she should be most distressed to know Brytta of Rohan rode off upon her beloved palfrey. Have you not taken enough of us?" Fastred stared at her; for she had told him Brytta was not at fault for Piukka's death. But then he saw she had played upon his feelings, for he dropped his head, and looked very grieved. "If you are to steal a horse, steal Taruku here; he is of sufficient girth to bear you, and of a fierce temperament, so that should you find yourself in difficulties he will be a staunch ally."

"You're telling him to steal your brother's horse?" asked Bandobras in amazement. Andunië turned her cold eyes upon the Hobbit, and so missed the look of startled gratification upon the man's face.

"Taruku is a fine horse," she said. She looked back at Brytta who was regarding her with suspicion and admiration mingled. "That one, over there. I think this saddle will fit." As she and Brytta exited the stall she said: "Have you brought food? A sword?"

"As much as I could take," he replied, and showed her a rather battered scabbard, and a bag with some cheese.

"Wait a moment," Gimli said. "You do not mean to take him with us?"

"Why not?" asked Andunië. "He knows better than we Bréawine's whereabouts, and can lead us to my lord's body the quicker. Then we might make it back to Edoras before the troops head out, and then we shall not miss anything."

Brytta gave a hoarse laugh. "Not miss anything! What, O pretty maid; would you march to battle with the men?"

"Again, why not?" asked Andunië. "Did not the Heir's mother do the selfsame thing?"

Fastred, who had lurked in the shadows hoping to be ignored, blushed; Brytta turned to him, his pale eyes hard as stone, and said: "Yes – the half-blood heir of Rohan. Well we are a sad crew; a decrepit warrior, a boy, a Dwarf, a Halfling and a woman! What hope have we of retrieving the Green Knight's body?"

Gimli and Bandobras looked angry, and Andunië turned away; Fastred however felt his chest tighten with resentment. He did not want Brytta to come with them; he was rude, and loud, and had caused Lassah's death; besides which he seemed the type that would try to take charge, and order them about, and disdain Fastred and his companions. Fastred had heard quite enough, and straightening his shoulders he stepped up to the man, lifted his chin, and said, his voice steady:

"Brytta of the Mark, do you know who I am?"

Brytta started, and looked down at the boy; he faltered and said: "You are Fastred, son of Faramir."

"Then you do not know who I am," Fastred retorted, thinking of his previous resolution to be "just Fastred" and rejecting it whole. "I am Fastred son of Éowyn, heir of Éomer King of the Mark. You have sworn your allegiance to my mother-brother, and thus you owe me your duty as well. By your own admission you have caused the deaths of the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, his warrior Lirlindil, and his destrier Piukka, and are under a blood-debt to Dol Galenehtar and the Elves that live therein, also to the Green Knight's family, King Thranduil and Queen Edlothiel of Eryn Lasgalen, and to his friends, the King of Gondor, the Prince of Ithilien my father, and the sundry lords and vassals between the mouth of the Anduin and the Ered Nimrais, all the way up to the sunny Shire, where dwell the holbytla. Also you owe blood-debt to those who love him, Elf, Dwarf, Hobbit, and Man, who are represented here before you. If you are to clear your name of this debt then you must come with us in poverty of spirit, speaking no ill of your companions nor of the lives you cost; you shall give unto my friends no impertinence, and hold your tongue when I so bid you. Do you understand, Brytta of the Mark, or shall I ask Lord Gimli to hit you on the head, so we might bind you and leave you behind, and your blood-debt go unpaid?"

"O, well-said!" murmured Bandobras under his breath; Brytta had gone first very red, then quite white, and Fastred wondered what this stubborn and rather stupid man would do, faced with such an ultimatum. Andunië and Gimli both fixed the man with steely gazes, and Brytta looked from one to the other of them, as though seeing them for the first time. Then, to Fastred's immense surprise, he dropped to his knees; he was so tall though that his head was still over Fastred's, but upon his face was a look of reluctant acquiescence.

"I shall do as you say, Fastred Prince," he mumbled, his eyes downcast. Fastred took a deep breath, not sure whether to be glad the man had decided to show deference to him, or disappointed Gimli would not be allowed to hit him over the head. He forced his voice to sound as imperious as possible, drawing upon memories of his mother declaiming judgments from her seat in Osgiliath: "Rise then, O knight of the Mark; should you accomplish your tasks to my satisfaction I shall take your plaint unto the King, to restore to you the lands removed. If however you fail us, or show yourself traitorous or otherwise obnoxious to us, the throne of the Mark shall ever be against you, and you shall wander landless the rest of your days."

"Again, well-said," grinned Bandobras, giving Fastred a wink. He watched the man struggle to his feet, rubbed his hands, and said to Andunië: "So! Taruku, then?"

"Yes," said Andunië, and led Brytta to Taruku's loose-box. The enormous beast bared his teeth at Brytta, though he ceased at Andunië's sharp command; he let the huntsmistress tack him up, and she gave the reins to Brytta, who took them with a gruff, "Thank you." He did not seem to know what to think of Andunië; he kept looking at her from the corners of his eyes and scowling, and Fastred wondered if he would be as rude to her as had been Théalof. "He had better not be," Fastred thought, clenching his fists. "I might have to stand on a chair to reach him, but I shall hit him if he say anything like that to her!"

Fastred and Andunië got their horses; Fastred was glad to see Karakse, and his steed seemed quite happy to see him too; he put his arms round the piebald horse's big neck and stroked him, turning his eyes away from the empty stall where Piukka had stayed. He tacked up Karakse, very aware of Brytta's eyes upon him, and wondering if he disapproved of the prince riding a half-bred horse of Dale; Fastred determined to not let it bother him if he did, for he was proud of his gelding and would not trade him for three horses of Rohan. At last they were ready, and Andunië led them out the back of the stables; Karakse whickered at Falafód as they passed, and Falafód snorted, thrusting his nose out at his friend and nipping him playfully on the shoulder. Andunië left them there, to make sure the road was secure; they stood huddled together with the three big horses. Ronyo swished her tail and pulled at the grass by her feet; Taruku snapped at Karakse and made the gelding shy. Brytta shook the horse's head by the bit and said: "Peace! That is no way to act."

"I still can't believe Andunië's letting you steal her brother's horse," said Bandobras in a low voice. "Honestly; what's Meivel going to say when he finds out?"

"Nothing." Andunië had returned, and overhearing Bandobras' comment had answered him. She gestured them forward, and Bandobras trotted beside her, looking puzzled.

" 'Nothing'?" he said. "How on earth can you believe Meivel won't say anything when he finds out?"

"Because he cannot speak when he is angry," said Andunië simply.

Fastred smiled; this surprised him, because he had not thought he would ever be able to smile again. Then the realization of their task struck him, and his heart hurt again; he blinked back tears, and taking up Karakse's reins followed Andunië down the hill away from the Hall. He looked back; the Hall was dark, and Fastred could see the corner where he knew his aunt and uncle stayed. "I am sorry," he thought, looking back and thinking of them. "I will be back. I promise." Then they mounted, and Bandobras scrambled up behind him, and they rode down the hill and round past the gates to the breach in the hedge, and so out to the fields of Rohan on their sad errand.

Andunië led them due north across the fields of Rohan, disdaining the road which would have made their passage easier. When Brytta complained she answered: "Éomer's messengers and the men responding to the muster will use the road. We must not risk discovery." He had grumbled a bit but consented, and rode the rest of the night and the following morning behind her, his eyes fixed angrily upon her slim back. She ignored him, occasionally lifting her face to the sky, sampling the wind, her eyes roving about 'til they caught sight of some high-flying raptor above them, pressing ever northward.

Fastred sat upon Karakse, exhausted by grief and broken sleep. His head felt like wool and his eyes burned; he was glad Karakse was used to following Ronyo, for he did not feel as though he were capable of ordering his horse to do anything else and was content to simply ride, feeling the creak and squeak of the saddle beneath him, the cut of the reins in his hands, and Bandobras' small arms round his waist. None of them spoke; Brytta was cowed and angered by Fastred's authority and Andunië's indifference; Gimli, Bandobras, and Fastred were too sad, and Andunië never spoke if she had no need to.

She let them rest in a shadowed glen by a small winding stream surrounded by willows. The sun was just setting, and Bandobras had rather derisively asked her if she planned to run them to death too; she had turned, looking back at the Hobbit over her shoulder, and swept her eyes across the group. "Gimli," she had said, "should we stop?"

"Well," he'd gruffly replied, "if you do not want me falling off Ronyo's back, and dragging you with me, it would likely be a good idea." So they had tethered the horses by the stream, eaten a little, and rolled up in their blankets to sleep. At first Brytta had sat apart from them, breaking off pieces of his cheese and watching them from beneath his heavy brows; then Bandobras had offered him a bowl of beans, and Brytta in surprise had taken it and said: "Do you mean – to feed me too?"

"Of course," snapped the Halfling. "Don't be daft. You look like you've been on short rations for about a year, and you're about ready to drop. And pass round that cheese, will you? If we don't eat it up it'll get all hard." Brytta had complied, looking bewildered, but ate with them, and lay down to rest, muttering to them he would take second watch. However when they woke at midnight with Andunië still standing grim and silent over them, Brytta was offended, and said:

"And do you think so little of me, O Pretty Maid, that you take the load of watching upon yourself? Do you not think me capable of standing guard?"

Andunië fixed him then with her cold green stare and answered, "Weariness renders capability unsound. Prove to me you are strong enough to take this journey, and I shall wake you with the rest. Until that time, I shall take the watch, for I do not have need of much sleep as you mortals do." She turned away from them glaring, and Brytta bit his lip and growled; Fastred, caught between pity and anger, said to him,

"Be not so affronted; she woke none of us; to her mind we are all equally weak."

Brytta glowered down at him, and walked off muttering under his breath. Fastred sighed, and turned to Bandobras and said: "I suppose it is a good thing he is so aggravating; it takes our minds off our business anyway."

"That's one way to look at it," agreed Bandobras sadly. "Here; put out the fire, will you? And I'll pack up the doings. Andunië's got the look of her that she'll leave us behind if we don't hoof it."

They saddled up and continued, riding through the night and on into the next day. Their steeds were as fresh as they had been from the stables, and cantered along good-naturedly, seemingly unaffected by the weight of their riders, and willing to please, and Fastred saw that on occasion Brytta, when he thought no one was looking, would stroke Taruku's neck and murmur approvingly to him. He had to smile at this, for he knew Brytta disdained all things foreign; however the big cast-eyed beast seemed also to have taken a liking to the man of Rohan and bore him happily, even nuzzling into the man's beard when they stopped to rest, and Brytta would caress his muzzle, and smile.

Fastred's thoughts were disordered, and ran round in circles, touching upon his sorrow at Legolas' demise, and anger to Bréawine, and fear over what they would find at Fangorn. Yet being an observant boy he kept his eye upon his companions, and after two days of hard riding discovered several things about them. Gimli, he saw, was grimmer than ever, scowling and snapping so that none wished to speak with him; Bandobras, of habit so talkative, became quiet, and coaxing of him speech was wearisome. Andunië had changed not one whit, maintaining her aloofness and cold insensibility; and Brytta, whom he had decided to dislike, showed himself to be cautious, bad-tempered, unmanned, and bewildered. The man listened to them speak but rarely answered; he ate with them and thanked them but did not join with them; he rode with them but held himself apart. Yet Fastred could see that they were being observed and closely, himself and Andunië most of all, and he wondered at that; he was so used to himself, and to Elves, that he did not see that they were any more strange than Hobbits or Dwarves, and had expected Gimli and Bandobras to be the bigger mystery to the man. And though Brytta continually called Fastred Prince, and Andunië Pretty Maid, those titles seemed to be spoken as insults, and managed to grate upon the boy more than any rude appellation might; Andunië, of course, did not seem to care what Brytta called her, so long as he did as she bid, though unwillingly.

Fastred watched Brytta closely the second afternoon as he sat upon a hillside looking north to the dark stretch of the horizon; his face as usual scowled, but his eyes were confused, and bore within a hurt that Fastred could not understand, as though some secret part of him had broken. But as he sat and observed the man, he heard a high shrill whistle above them, and looked up. A speckled falcon hovered there, looking down at them, and then Andunië rose from where she had been sitting upon a rock, and wrapping her arm in a blanket held up her hand to it. The tiercel stooped and landed upon her arm, and she gave unto it a small piece of bacon, and stroked its back. She seemed to be speaking to it, or singing to it, though the breeze carried her words away; then she cast the falcon, and it spiraled upward, giving again its piercing cry, and Andunië stood and watched it ascend. Brytta shook his head, and turned to Fastred, his eyes baffled.

"How does she do it?" he asked; he sounded almost angry. "I have falconed before, and am passing good at it, but no wild bird has ever come simply because I called!"

"She is an Elf," said Fastred. Inured as he was to Elvish habit he could not explain himself; to him it should have seemed stranger had Andunië not been able to do it. He too watched Andunië; she had unwrapped her arm, and stood quietly in the little dell with the blanket trailing from her fingers; two swallowtails danced airily about her skirts, and she gazed after them, her eyes calm and sober. "She can make any beast to do anything she desires. It is why she is – was – Lord Legolas' huntsmistress." The pang seized his heart again, as it ever did when he was reminded Lassah was dead, and he sighed, and dashed his tears away with his knuckles. With Lassah gone from Dol Galenehtar, he did not think Andunië would stay in Ithilien; she had seemed so indifferent to it, and Fastred thought perhaps that had Meivel not come to be Lassah's Chief of Militia, Andunië would have been perfectly content beneath the eaves of the forest that had borne her. "I suppose she shall go back to Eryn Lasgalen now, and run King Thranduil's kennels, as she used."

Brytta did not reply, and the two of them watched as the butterflies in their errant dance wound their way to her face; one of the swallowtails lighted upon her hair, pulsing its wings, and the other hovered over her lips. She opened her mouth, and breathed out slowly; the swallowtails flickered, then went aloft as had the falcon, circling crazily overhead until they too flew out of sight. After a few moments Bandobras came over from where he had been tending the fire, wiping his hands on his breeches.

"Beans're ready," he said shortly, and giving Andunië a cursory glance went back to the camp. Fastred got up, brushing himself off, and noting his tunic was rather dirty. As Andunië approached he remembered what the Hobbit had said in the stables of him, and how he had descried his presence. "Andunië," he said worriedly, "do I really smell that bad?"

Andunië graced him with a cold flicker from her eyes as she passed. "All you mortals smell the same to me," she said, and went to join Gimli at the fire.

They sat together, and ate up the rest of Brytta's cheese, and more beans; Fastred wondered wearily what they would eat when the beans had run out, and reflected that anything would be an improvement. After they had finished Andunië turned to Brytta, who as always sat a little apart from them, and said, "Come here."

Brytta looked at her through lowered brows, eyes flashing with indignation; but still he rose, and approaching them sat by her side, though he did not look at her.

"How close are we to Bréawine's outer patrols?" she asked him, turning her face to the north.

Brytta followed her gaze, his face softening; Fastred wondered if her asking his aid had eased the ignominy of her orders. The man considered her question a moment, then said: "Ere my rescue I should have said half a day. But he shall be wary now, and perchance send the scouts out the farther, so it would behoove us to go carefully from here."

"Will we lose time if we cut west, and hug the forest's shadows?" Andunië asked. "For I have heard it said he fears the ghosts that dwell therein."

"We will lose time," admitted Brytta, "but the safety the boughs of Fangorn provide will give ample compensation." He looked at Fastred, Gimli, and Bandobras then, and said harshly: "That is, if none of you fears the ghosts of Fangorn."

Bandobras flushed, and Gimli said, teeth gritted and eyes flashing: "For myself, Man of Rohan, I have been through Dunharrow where I knew ghosts walked, and through love of my friends will do so again."

"Besides which," Bandobras added angrily, "I'd go through the gates of Mordor to get to my Master, and don't you forget it!"

Fastred said nothing. He was still terribly afraid of ghosts, and the thought of willingly traveling beneath the eaves of Fangorn gave him an awful chill. But then he thought about Lassah's body lying broken upon the ground, picked at by crows, and steeled himself. The Lord of Dol Galenehtar deserved a funeral better than that.

"And what of the boy?" Brytta asked, his sneering voice intruding upon his thoughts. "What of Fastred Prince? Has he within himself the tenacity to face the Dead?" And he looked at Fastred, his eyes challenging; however it was Andunië who answered, cool and disinterested as ever.

"Fastred is brave. He has killed two men already, and has but achieved thirteen summers."

Fastred threw her a grateful look, but Brytta looked suspicious. "Killed two men, and on his own?" he asked disbelievingly. "What; did no Elf help him to slay his enemies?"

"No, he did it himself, and I saw it with my own two eyes," retorted Bandobras sullenly. "So give over, and quit pestering him."

Fastred realized Brytta was testing him, and disdained the Elves and their works; but because he was honest he said: "But I would not have done so well, had Himbaláth not taught me as he did."

"Yes; Himbaláth told me you were one of his best pupils," said Andunië, setting her plate aside. Fastred felt his heart swell; it was as close as he would ever get to having a compliment of Andunië, getting one by proxy.

"Did he really?" he asked, pleased. "When did he tell you that?"

"After we left the stables, as I was scouting ahead to see if the way through Edoras was clear," she answered, wiping her hands upon a rag. The others gazed at her in amazement, and she added as though they did not stare: "He did inquire of me which companions I chose, and when I told him Fastred came with me he approved, saying the boy would be brave and steady."

Bandobras was gaping at Andunië. "You mean, Himbaláth saw you leave, and he didn’t stop you?" he demanded, astonished. "Why on earth would he let you go, when Meivel had ordered everyone to stay in Edoras?"

Andunië gave him a cold look, and rose to her feet. "Himbaláth denies me nothing," she said shortly, and swept away from them, her riding-skirt swishing in the grass. Bandobras stared after her a moment, then looked at Gimli, his eyes wide.

"Himbaláth's sweet on Andunië?" he muttered. "Didn't see that one coming … the poor mutt."

"Wait," said Brytta, his eyes clouding over. "Which one is Himbaláth?" But Gimli only gave him an odd look and did not reply.

Fastred, for himself, did not know what to think; he was surprised at Himbaláth, and felt sorry for him, for he was certain Andunië would never return his affections; however it had explained quite a good bit, and he was wondering why he had not seen it before. "And why Andunië?" he thought, wrapping himself up in his blanket to sleep. "Why her? Why not someone who is easier to get along with, like Dúrfinwen?" And with his heart torn by death and affectionate disappointment, he fell asleep.

The next day they bore west, and Andunië left them so she could scout ahead. Brytta had of course argued with her, saying that as he knew the lay of the land better he ought to go in her stead; Andunië's temper had snapped, and she with white face and flashing eye had delivered unto him blistering vituperation, touching upon all points on which the man offended her, and covering all his provoking aspects, from his broken teeth to his filthy clothes. Brytta had gone scarlet, big hands fisted by his side, but did not reply; and when Andunië had exhausted her inventory of invective she whirled away from him, her red hair swirling round her shoulders, her green eyes flashing. Fastred, Gimli, and Bandobras had said nothing during her diatribe; the Hobbit and the Dwarf, no doubt, believed Brytta deserved every insult that could be thrown at him, and Fastred, having been the receptacle of Andunië's nature in the past, had no desire to focus her attention upon himself. And as she rode off, leaving them in a small stream-girt dingle surrounded by cypress and willow, Brytta stood and watched her, breathing hard, his eyes burning.

They stood together to await her but spoke not; it was awkward, after Andunië's outburst, and Bandobras and Gimli were wrapped in their own dark thoughts. Fastred felt a little sorry for Brytta, for he knew the heavy and sullen resentment engendered by such a harangue, and stood by his side, though he knew not what, if anything, he ought to say. Then he heard the call of a raptor, and looked up; he was not certain, but he thought it was a goshawk, hovering whitely on its trembling wings. Then it stooped, and vanished into the grasses ahead of him; he watched wondering if it would reappear bearing a hare or mouse, but when it returned to its flight its talons were empty. "Missed," he thought, disappointed, and thinking longingly of his goshawk in Dol Galenehtar. "Do you miss our goshawk, Karakse?" he asked his gelding absently, speaking to the horse aloud out of habit. "I do. And do you know, I never named him, which is a pity, for he was a good bird."

"You falcon?" asked Brytta, and Fastred blushed; he had forgotten the others were nearby. He turned to the man expecting censure but upon Brytta's face was a look of tentative approbation.

"I do," said Fastred. "Andunië taught me." At this Brytta's face changed; it became scornful, and he said:

"The Elves taught you this, and the Elves taught you that! And I am sure your Lord Father taught you to read and do sums, and your tutors the history of Gondor." His voice was heavy with loathing, and Fastred flinched beneath his angry stare. "I know not why Éomer chose you as heir; you are half-breed it is true, but it is of Elf and Gondor, not Rohan at all. How does this Elvish learning fit you to be king of the Mark? You, O Fastred Prince, have learned naught of your mother's folk!"

"I did," retorted Fastred, stung. "I learned to ride, and to live in a foreign land amongst foreign peoples, and most of all I learned to hold my tongue when I knew not what to say – something you have yet to learn, I deem," he added scathingly, remembering that Brytta had lost his demesne through reckless language.

Brytta flushed, and from behind them Bandobras gave a grim chuckle. "You've also picked up your mum's sharp tongue," the Hobbit said. "That's not something either your dad or my Master would've taught you."

Fastred turned to the Halfling, biting his lip. "You think I am a little like unto my Lady Mother?" he asked in surprise; most of the time folk compared him to his Lord Father. Bandobras laughed then, though Fastred noticed his brown eyes were still sad.

"You are indeed," said Bandobras. "Why, can you imagine Lord Faramir running away from home, or defying his sovereign's orders, or telling off a rude person? No; you're your mum's son, despite your tutors and my Master's influence, and I tell you, my Master loved you the more for that, for your mum is – was – one of his favoritest people – thought quite highly of her, he did – used to tell me she was like a sister to him, and your dad a brother. And though you favor your dad, you do seem a bit like your mum – especially round the mouth; sometimes I see her looking back at me, when you laugh or smile. Most folks say you look like your dad, but I dunno … I see a goodly bit of Éowyn of Rohan in you, Fastred; more than you think. So you, Brytta," said Bandobras to the man, rounding upon him with hands on his fists, "you lay off of him, hear me? This here's the Shieldmaiden's boy, and though you might've missed it, being dispossessed and all, and your own stupid fault too from what I hear, he was sworn as your future king in a big fancy ceremony, and if you don't lay off you'll find yourself in a mort o' hot water. So you take your big, ugly mug out of the business of your betters, and keep that nasty mouth of yours shut."

Brytta said nothing; upon his face was a look of anger and mortification. Then he let drop Taruku's reins, and stalked away from them, past Gimli where he sat bowed in grief beneath a willow, and down the bank to the stream below them. Fastred and Bandobras watched his pale untidy head descend until the fold of the earth obscured it; Bandobras stood with his arms folded across his chest, his eyes glittering with tears but his mouth set in a thin grim line. "Thank you, Bandobras," said Fastred. He had known Lassah had loved his parents, but had not known the extent to which the Elf's love had gone, nor the depth of the affection therein; he was at once warmed and pierced to the heart to know his Lassah would never again foregather with those he had counted kin. Bandobras took a deep shuddery breath, and looked up at the boy, blinking back his tears.

"Don't go letting him get your knickers in a twist," he said shakily. "He's not worth it." Then he too marched off, clearing his throat and dabbing quickly at his eyes, and Fastred was left standing with the horses, feeling as though his heart had gone through a laundry-wringer.

He stood for a while looking out at the shadowy line of Fangorn's edge, shuddering and wondering if the ghosts were there watching them; it made his back crinkle uncomfortably, and he shivered. He could not see Andunië, and he wondered where she had got to; he hoped she had not run across any of Bréawine's patrols, for Elf though she might be she was alone, and unarmed save for her bow and knife. He let his thoughts linger upon Lassah for a moment, as a poor man lovingly fondles his one gold piece; his memories were bittersweet, and though he mourned there were no regrets, for he and Lassah had loved each other to the end. He cried for a few minutes, feeling secure in the presence of the horses, and then when he was done wiped at his face. His fingers cringed back from the bits of dirt he could feel, and when he looked down at his hands saw they were very soiled. He brushed his hands over his tunic, dislodging clots of dirt and mud and sticking on twigs and brambles, and with a sigh dug out a scrap of blanket and cake of lye soap from Karakse's saddle bag, and headed down to the stream.

Brytta was there, kneeling at a small pool that had formed in the roots of a willow. The man's back was to Fastred, and his great shoulders slumped, and Fastred could see how loosely his clothes fit him, and how torn and dirty they were. He wondered how long Brytta had been wandering about in the north of Rohan, and how he had kept himself, who had once been a landowner with a comfortable tithe. He resented the man's presence, for he was going to wash in the pool, but decided that to allow someone's proximity to prevent him from doing what he wanted was foolish – it was not, after all, like Brytta could truly harm him. So Fastred walked down the slope to the pool. Brytta did not turn as he approached, but sat still, staring into the water; Fastred when he saw the man's face felt his heart turn over, for Brytta no longer looked to him like the brash and unkind man he had known, but the eyes were haunted and empty. Wondering what Brytta watched in the brown water Fastred came up and said with forced lightness:

"What are you looking at, Brytta? Trout? Graylings?" He leant over, and saw the clear surface of the water reflecting back the tops of the trees, and the sky. Brytta did not respond for a moment, and when he did, his voice was low and rough.

"I was counted a handsome man once," he said. "You would not believe it, Fastred Prince, but as a youth I had three high-born maids vying for my attentions." Fastred said nothing, wondering why Brytta had said such a thing, and to him especially; it was the first time Brytta had used the name Fastred Prince in such a way that it did not sound like an insult. "And now look at me," Brytta continued with a snarl, dashing his hand across the surface of the water. "I have naught – I am broken and withered, and landless, and have lost everything – my position and title, my honor and pride. I do not even own a horse."

Fastred hesitated, biting his lip. He reflected that for a man as proud as Brytta that admission was humbling, and to his surprise he did not feel smug, as he thought perhaps he ought, but pity instead, for the dejected and dispirited knight at his feet. "It would be awful, to have everything taken away from you," he thought, kneeling in the mud beside the man, and watching the water clear and still. "To know you once had beauty and possessions and honor, and have squandered them; to be left homeless and friendless." His heart turned over, and he put the cloth in the water to wet it.

"Éomer King did tell me he believed your words," said Fastred, wetting the soap and working the cloth into a lather. "By your deeds you have proved yourself faithful to the throne, and when Bréawine is defeated you shall be rewarded."

He began to wash his hands and head, very aware of the man's silent presence by his side. He splashed water on himself to wash off the soap, and looked blinking back up at Brytta, who was regarding him cautiously. "You are not completely without," added Fastred, shaking the water out of his dark hair. "When we return to Meduseld, I will see to it you are ceded something."

Brytta was silent a moment more, and Fastred could see the pain in his eyes. "What I want I shall never have," he said at last, and looked back down into the water. His hand went to his hair, the stained and knobby fingers touching the tangled mess, and then he cautiously touched his nose, which had in the past been broken, and was pushed against his face, like a bull-dog's. "I was handsome once," he whispered, almost to himself.

Fastred did not know what to say, so he did not say anything. He realized that between Andunië's cruel words and the Hobbit's flat avowals of Brytta's appearance the man's spirit had sagged; he thought also of what Bandobras had said, that Fastred resembled both his noble parents, and knowing their physical beauty was well-known apprehended with a little shock that perhaps he also was handsome. He sat, the soapy rag in his hands, and stared up at the man who knelt so dejectedly beside him. Brytta seemed to have forgotten his presence, staring down into the clouded water, as though he could see in his reflection an echo of that young, proud knight who had followed Théoden in battle. Fastred shook himself, trying desperately to find something to say, to break Brytta of this dark mood. He thought of his old nurse, and how at the end of a day upon the river she would take Fastred over the wash-basin and scrub at his ears, saying: "What, such a pretty boy, and we cannot see him through this filth!" He rinsed out the rag, and put the cloth and soap into Brytta's hands.

"Any face, handsome or plain, looks better when it is clean," he said. "At least that is what my nurse would ever say to me, and to my brother and sister. In truth I cannot tell what you look like, Brytta, for you are so dirty your features are obscured. Wash therefore, and I shall get me a comb to get the sticks and brambles from your hair. Perhaps if you straighten yourself up a bit you shall feel better, for truly you are quite soiled."

Brytta stared at him a moment, then the corner of his mouth quirked. "Very well," he said shortly. "I shall do this to please you then, O Fastred Prince; though bear in mind the Pretty Maid thinks we all smell equally foul to her."

"Well I can do naught about that," said Fastred rising and brushing off his knees, and grateful that when Brytta had said Pretty Maid he no longer sounded angry. "I would bathe myself whole, but I do not know when Andunië is coming back, and I would not be caught naked by her for the world."

Brytta laughed then, though it sounded creaky like an unused door being suddenly and unexpectedly opened. "Yes, that is so," he said, his face thoughtful, running the soap in his dirty, twisted hands. "Reticence is perhaps prudent, where the Pretty Maid is concerned – though as I have said before, O Fastred Prince, once I was counted a handsome man – think on that, and upon chances wasted, as you go to fetch a comb for me!" He smiled then, looking up at the boy through his bushy brows, and Fastred, wondering what he had meant, smiled back. "Bream," said Brytta then, and began to wash his hands.

Fastred paused, puzzled. "I beg your pardon?" he said, confused.

"Bream, not trout," said Brytta, rubbing the lather over his face. "I saw bream in the pool here." He splashed water up onto his face, and Fastred could see the man's skin was tanned and leathery beneath the dirt. "There were trout in the pond near my demesne when I was younger – speckled, and fat and sweet."

Fastred smiled to think of Brytta with a fishing-pole, and wished he had brought his own – bream would have been a welcome change from beans and bacon. "You will have to show me, someday," he said, deciding being friendly to Brytta was easier than hating him; and went back up the slope to his saddlebags to get a comb.

When Andunië returned she did not comment on Brytta's and Fastred's clean faces and hands, nor on Brytta's neat braids of silver and gold down his back, but only raised her eyebrows at them, and then ignored their efforts at toiletry. "The patrols have retreated," she said to them all, as they gathered round her and Ronyo. "I believe they have gone for the night, as they fear to linger beneath the eaves of Fangorn after the sun sets, in deference to the Dead. That is good for us, for we may cut through the stand of trees there – " she pointed north-west " – and so gain the last known resting-place of my lord." She looked at Brytta. "Do you think you can lead us to the place where you left him?"

Brytta stepped up to the edge of the dingle, and looked out over the fields. "Yes," he said thoughtfully, narrowing his gray eyes and frowning. "The forest edge runs crookedly down and north, and there behind it lies the clearing that opened to the canyon, upon the crest of which Bréawine's keep is perched. The Green Knight took me up out of the oubliette and down the canyon past the deep crevasse, and we rode through to one of the clearings to the east of the crevasse. So if we follow the line of forest up that steep slope, where the rocks are, and skirt the northern face of the crevasse, we will find him."

"Won't that get us awful close to Bréawine though?" asked Bandobras worriedly. Brytta shrugged.

"Bréawine, or the ghosts," he said carelessly. "What matters that? As for ghosts perchance your Master dwells amongst them now, and that being the case we might find the Dead in fine fettle, for a merrier man I never met." They stared at him in amazement, for ever he had expressed naught but disdain for Legolas; however Brytta did not mark their looks but continued: "If they left him where he fell he shall be in the clearing by the north-east face of the crevasse, by the field of dene-holes. But between beast and air I do not think me we shall find much of him or his servant to bring back. I only hope Bréawine did not despoil his body overmuch, for I should like to bring aught back as heirlooms for his house."

"It has been six days since he fell," said Andunië with a pensive frown. "Chances are what is left will be quite odious. If Gimli and Bandobras do not object, I think we ought to burn the remains, and bring them back that way; it shall be lighter, with the mortified flesh consumed, and there shall be less chance to spread pestilence, and shall not smell so bad."

Fastred gulped; he had not thought of that, and had entertained visions in his mind of finding Lassah's body, laid out serenely upon the forest floor, hands crossed upon his breast, and covered with flower-petals. But obviously Andunië was right; Fastred knew well enough that a dead fish or squirrel after a day or so began to bloat and then to rot, though it seemed monstrous to him that such ignominy should be visited upon his beloved Lassah. Bandobras and Gimli looked at her, Bandobras' brown eyes wide, Gimli's shadowed and dull. "Whatever you say," mumbled Gimli, and Bandobras gave a cut nod.

"Very well," said Andunië calmly. "Let us go then. It shall be nightfall in a few hours." She helped Gimli up onto Ronyo's back, and ere she mounted turned to Fastred and Brytta. "You still smell," she said calmly. "But you look better. You especially, Brytta." Then she leapt lightly upon her palfrey's back and led them from the dingle. Fastred, as he aided Bandobras upon the saddle sheets, looked at Brytta then; upon the man's face was a look of gratified astonishment.

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

They followed Brytta across the last fields, rising in elevation and clustered with rocks and boulders, their steeds scrambling up slopes and struggling through dried stream beds, until they gained the edges of the forest. The trees were great and dark, looming over them like monstrous old trolls, hanging with dead branches and leaves and lichens, twisted and grotesque. Fastred was very frightened, but swallowed heavily and repeated over and over to himself: "It is only a forest. These are only trees. There is naught to fear. I am the Prince of Rohan, the Prince of Ithilien. I do not fear trees." But he could not help but to look this way and that, the corners of his eyes teasing him with movement in the darkness; he was sure he could descry here and there a face peering out at him, or the soft sounds of ghostly voices. And though he knew the trees could not harm him still they brooded down upon him, hating him and his kind; he could feel their resentment and wrath, even as he felt the tickling creeping feel of the Dead's fingers upon his spine. Gimli did not seem to mark how the forest menaced them, sitting upon Ronyo with his face grim and sad, and Brytta also did not seem to mind the wood, or the possible presence of ghosts. But Fastred could feel Bandobras' small arms tremble as they passed beneath the eaves of the forest, and that made him feel a little better, to know he did not fear alone.

Brytta led them down into a rocky dell, shadowed over with trees upon either side, and then up into a thicker part of the wood. The trees were close about them and pressing upon them, but to Fastred it seemed that there was ever a pathway open for them; though brakes and thorny hedges were all about them, and roots and knees and trunks tumbled all around them, Brytta pressed confidently forward, and the wood did not impede them. Fastred admired the man's courage, but resented him too, wishing he as Brytta could cast a disdainful eye upon the terrors about them.

At last they came to a deep depression, choked with undergrowth and fallen limbs, and Brytta paused. "It was near here," he said, looking round the shadowy wood with a frown. "To the north I believe. It is hard to say as it is so dark; I wish I could see more, for I do not want to lose my way."

"We will stop here then," said Andunië, dismounting. "The horses are tired, and we ought to rest."

Fastred's heart froze. "You – you want us to rest in the forest?" he said, cursing his voice for wobbling; both Brytta and Andunië turned to him then, and Brytta gave him a crooked smile.

"Fear not, Fastred Prince!" he said, his voice almost friendly. "I have spent nights beneath Fangorn's arms, and have seen naught to fear – nor Ent nor ghost nor other deadly thing. I do not believe the tales they tell of ghosts; I have never seen them here."

"And the woods hate us not," said Andunië. "They know me, and suffer our presence – not willingly perhaps, but I do not believe any harm shall come to us here, so long as we do not build a fire, or do any other thing to threaten them."

"Shouldn't we press on though?" asked Bandobras from behind Fastred; the boy was relieved to hear the Hobbit sounded as frightened as he. "I don't see why we have to stay here – can't we find a clearing or something? And I don't want to lose any more time; it's been almost a week already."

"We are almost there, holbytla," said Brytta evenly; their fear it seemed had encouraged him, and he regarded them now with equanimity and not umbrage. "In the morning I shall better see my way, and I believe we are quite close."

Gimli was silent, and without a word to anyone he wrapped himself up in his blanket and settled down against the bole of a tree. Brytta too spread out his pallet and lay down, arms behind his head, staring up at the branches above him, and Fastred and Bandobras reluctantly dismounted, and huddled together beneath a large hoary elm. "I am not liking this," the Hobbit muttered under his breath, looking round him. "I am not liking this at all."

"Peace," said Andunië carelessly, as she saw to the horses. "Rest all of you; we have nearly achieved our goal, and to sleep beneath the ancient limbs of this wood is but a small price to pay to gain our ends."

"Easy for you to say," grumbled Bandobras. "You're a Wood-Elf." And he rolled over, his back to Fastred, and lay still.

Fastred sat up and watched Andunië for a while; she had about her the milky white glow he had grown accustomed to, and her face, so severe in the harsh light of day, here in the dark was serene and lovely. Her hair fell in shimmering curtains round her cheeks and shoulders, and her eyes reflected back the dim starlight; she stood slender and graceful by the horses' sides, bearing her humble leather tunic and riding-skirt like royal robes, and her pale smooth skin was as alabaster, her throat slim and white, her mouth sweet-lipped. She was humming a little under her breath, working out bits of twig and leaf from the horses' manes, and they nuzzled at her, or lipped at her hair, loose and silky about her shoulders. Fastred thought then that perhaps Himbaláth was not so foolish as he had first thought, and with a sigh looked at his other companions. Gimli was sitting with his head sunk between his knees; Fastred could not tell if he slept, or mourned; either way his heart ached for the Dwarf, for he knew Lassah had been very dear to him, dearer even than his own kin, and that Lassah had loved him deeply. Bandobras despite his fear had dropped into slumber almost immediately, and Fastred could hear him snoring lightly under his breath, his side rising and falling evenly. And Brytta –

Fastred started. Brytta had risen to his feet and approached Andunië; upon his lined and weather-worn face was a look of cautious approbation, and in his eyes Fastred could see reluctant awe. The Elf watched him calmly as he drew near, her eyes unreadable, never ceasing her work upon Taruku's mane; despite his height and great girth she seemed to Fastred to be the stronger – born of the earth and sky, like a slim hard tree in autumn, crowned with bright leaves and twinkling stars; Brytta was the suppliant, wounded and faltering and unsure. As Fastred watched Brytta lay his great gnarled hands upon Taruku's back, and Andunië across from him spoke to him in a soft voice so that Fastred could not perceive her words, but what she said must not have been the cutting comment Fastred was accustomed to, for Brytta's face softened, and he replied, his voice naught but a faint whisper.

Suddenly Fastred felt very uneasy, and a little embarrassed, as though he had caught a manservant and maidservant in the midst of a hectic embrace in a dark corner somewhere; face burning he rolled quietly to his feet, and slipped into the wood away from them, unwilling to watch any longer. He felt angry, and sad too, and very uncomfortable, and the trees despite their promise of terror held for him less disquiet than the tableau he had just witnessed. He walked a little away, trying to be silent, and when he had found a little clearing he sat down upon the mossy ground, his head in his hands. He was very confused; he thought he ought to hate and resent Brytta, but could not; he thought he ought to be bowed with grief as was Gimli, but still stirring within his breast were fears and hopes quite present, pushing aside his sadness; he thought he should see Andunië as any mortal views an Elf, but pressed upon the backs of his eyelids was the vision of her in the Hall of Meduseld, clad in pale green, clasped about the waist by his Lord Lassah as he swung her in the Bariz-Sigin, their hair flying and twining together, red and gold like the leaves of the pear tree in autumn. He did not love Andunië, for to his mind she was quite unlovable; but still he felt a hot resentment in him as he thought of Brytta's calling her Pretty Maid, and he felt very sorry for Himbaláth. He sighed, and rubbed his eyes, wondering when it would be safe to return to their camp.

When he opened his eyes he saw a flicker of white out of the corner, and he started, his heart pounding, and all his worry receded in the surge of fear. Yes – there it was – the briefest flash of light, muted and glinting like moonlight on water – Fastred leapt to his feet, fumbling for his sword, and withdrew it with a steely hiss, turning round in a circle, his eyes wide. His breath started to come in short puffs, and his chest was tight; there was a high-pitched humming in his head. Then he very clearly saw, peering from round the bole of a tree some twenty feet ahead of him, two glinting pale eyes, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Then the eyes were gone, but he could see – something – white, gray, pearly, pale, glowing – shimmering to his right – but no sound – no sound at all.

"I am a prince," Fastred repeated to himself. "I am not afraid." But it was a lie and he well knew it; he was horribly afraid. His hands went clammy, and he began to tremble. He wanted to call out to Andunië, even to Brytta, to come to his aid, but it was as though a hand had wrapped round his throat, and no sound could come out. It was a waking nightmare – all darkness and shifting shadows, and fear – fear flowing through him and around him, a cold damp breeze of sluggish horror. His feet were frozen to the earth, and his sword quivered. He stared and stared at the place where he had seen the light, and after a moment his eyes descried another movement – a figure, filmy, insubstantial, moving through the trees toward him. Heart in his throat, hand gripping the hilt of his sword, Fastred watched and waited.

The figure ducked round a branch, and he saw the shimmery flicker of colorless hair, floating round the white disc of a face, and eyes – eyes that reflected light that was not there – skin that glowed like starlight. Then the ghost stepped into the clearing, and Fastred's mouth dropped open.

If it were a ghost, it was a young one – it stood no higher than Fastred himself, and upon its face was a look of terrified amazement. In its hands it held a bow, with arrow held to the string; the shaft was pointed directly at Fastred's chest. Fastred stared at the bow. A ghost, in need of a weapon? Then he looked down at the ghost's feet, and saw that though it stood lightly in its shoes upon the ground, its feet depressed the mosses there; and then Fastred heard the faintest whisper of breath from the ghost-boy's mouth. He looked at the face, so close to his own, and saw in the pale eyes a muted hope, a desire to cast down arms and speak.

Then Fastred looked at the boy's ears and hands, and realized this was no ghost – this was an Elf – younger than any Elf he had yet seen, and very strange to him. But the clothes bleached by darkness were stout and gray, and the skin pale but creamy; his hair also was pale, though in sunlight perchance it were golden and not white. He could also see the muscles and tendons in the hands, trained to the bow and arrow, and his heart gave a great thump.

"So these are the ghosts of Fangorn," he thought, his head swimming, and his heart beating quickly again, but he could feel the warmth of hope pushing the low dread aside. He looked into the Elf-boy's eyes then, his fear fleeing, and with a smile carefully turned his sword, hilt-first, to the stranger.

"Mae govannen," he whispered, and slowly, hesitantly, the boy smiled back.

Slowly, as though he feared Fastred would vanish should he move too quickly, the Elf lowered his bow, and loosened the string so that the arrow dangled from his fingertips. Fastred stood still and quiet, hardly breathing, but his heart beat with excitement, though his mind whirled with questions. When he saw the pale eyes blink and the shoulders relax he carefully turned his sword and resheathed it, standing with his hands limp by his side. The boy watched him, biting his lip; after a moment he let drop his bow, and put the arrow back in his quiver.

Fastred took a deep breath; his chest felt very tight. Calling upon all his Elvish training he reached out both hands, palm up, to the strange boy, and spoke in the language he loved best, the one his Lord Lassah had taught him from the cradle.

"My heart sings to see you," he said, his tongue savoring the sibilant words. "Your presence is welcome to me."

The boy blinked; he looked puzzled, and Fastred wondered if perchance the ritual greeting were strange to him. He wished he knew the boy's origin, for he was acquainted with but the customs of Dol Galenehtar and Rivendell, and had no desire to offend. But the boy smiled then, and Fastred was dazzled; for the boy's face lit up, and it was as though the sun had broken through black clouds, for his whole countenance was suffused with delight, and the effulgence of his joy flooded over Fastred like a warm breeze. The boy reached forward also, placing his hands in Fastred's, and pulled him into the formal embrace, kissing him upon the forehead; Fastred returned the gesture, feeling dazed by the stranger's response. The boy's skin was warm and smelt of fir, and when he spoke his voice was light and clear, like celebratory bells chiming in high towers.

"To foregather with you brings joy to my heart," he replied, and giving Fastred's hands a squeeze he laughed; it was infectious, with the sweet quality of a baby's chortle, and Fastred laughed as well, feeling all the creeping fear dissipate with the sound. Even the trees seemed to recede, the branches protecting and not threatening, and the stars twinkling through the thick leaves sent blessings down upon them both. They stood and smiled shyly at each other for a moment, then Fastred said:

"I am Fastred Faramirion of Ithilien."

"Ah!" The boy's face, if possible, lit up further; Fastred was almost positive he would be blinded by the radiance of his smile. "Ithilien! Aiya, how we have longed to see it! I am Tamin Rúmilion of Lothlórien and I am grown so weary of travel."

"Lothlórien!" exclaimed Fastred, his mind racing. "What are you doing in Rohan?"

The boy's face clouded. "Well that is a tale my sire did warn me against the telling thereof," he said, looking sad. "How I long to disclose my heart to you, Fastred of Ithilien! For you seem to me to be one who may become a good friend in time. But Adar would not approve for he trusts not the mortals hereabouts."

"And well should he not, O Tamin Rúmilion," said Fastred earnestly. "Here in Rohan are plots and treason and evil men, and you and your father are wise to hide in Fangorn."

"Know you then the events round here?" asked Tamin curiously. "For we are quite confused, watching men run to and fro, killing and burning and arguing; my Adar says it is safer for us to wait until it is over ere we risk the crossing through the Druadan. But we are all getting hungry, for the battles and fire drive off the game, and it is so long since I have had fresh bread I am quite sickening for it."

"Yes; for myself I am very tired of beans," said Fastred with a smile; the boy's words had put him in mind of the smell of the kitchens, fresh-baked breads and pies and cakes; his stomach growled. "But if you come to Meduseld with me I can get you as much bread as you like, and pastries too, for I know the cook, and he likes me rather well."

"Do you?" Tamin's face brightened again, and Fastred's heart turned over; whether these strange Elves of Lórien turned out to be allies or no, he could not help loving this child. "It has been many months since I have had pastries – my Naneth used to make such good ones, when she had her own home and her own kitchen; she would bake them all flaky and hot, with cherries in them, and covered all over with honey so that it dripped down my fingers."

"Stop it, I beg you!" laughed Fastred. "You are making me even hungrier than I already am."

Tamin laughed again, a joyful sound. "Well what are we waiting for then!" he cried merrily, clapping his hands. "Let us go therefore to this Meduseld, that we might wait upon the cooks, and eat all the pastries we like."

Fastred was two steps away from leaping upon Karakse's back and galloping south to his uncle's keep when the memory of Lassah's death struck him again, and so cold was that thought that washed over him he was driven near to his knees. His sorrow showed through upon his face, and Tamin cried out in dismay, taking Fastred by the shoulder, his eyes filled with pity. "O Fastred of Ithilien!" he said. "What is it, this shadow of death and sorrow that so overcomes you? What sad errand suffuses you, that you travel in these benighted lands so far from your home?"

Fastred took a deep breath that sounded almost like a sob, and felt his eyes burning with tears; his stomach hurt, and he bent over to hold it. "We seek the bodies of our friends, slain by the men here," he said; his voice broke, and he sank to his knees. Tamin knelt beside him, his arms round Fastred's shoulders, and upon his fair face was a look of woe. Fastred covered his face with his hands, hoping the pain and tears would fade quickly, for he did not like to weep before his peers; however Tamin did not seem to disdain his grief, but embraced him warmly. Fastred leant into his embrace, and wondered to himself why he should have been so adamant against the shedding of tears, for Tamin clearly found nothing weak in them.

"You quite wring my heart with pity!" Tamin said, kissing Fastred's temple. "O how horrible a thing, to know your friends have been slain, and to be constrained to seek their bodies! But know this, O Fastred Faramirion, your search for your friends may prove fruitless, for we have taken many bodies and buried them – especially those of children – for we could not bear to see them mortify upon the earth, left for carrion by these awful men."

Fastred thought then of the rumors that the ghosts of Fangorn ate the dead young, and had to smile at that. "That surprises me not, for I know Elves are compassionate to the dead and to the living," he said, lifting his face out of his hands and looking upon Tamin; the boy brushed the tears from Fastred's cheeks, his eyes gentle. "But do you know that you have set all in Rohan upon their ears by your presence? Many men think that ghosts dwell beneath the eaves of Fangorn."

Tamin smiled. "We are not quite dead; not yet anyway," he said, slipping his hand into Fastred's. "But we are wandering and alone, and wish to go east; yet the discord in these parts has confounded us." He shook his head. "It is bad enough to have lost our Lady, and then our Lord in sorrow did forsake us; but now we are landless and homeless as well as lordless, and if we do not find refuge soon we shall be foodless as well."

"There is food aplenty in mine uncle's Hall at Meduseld," said Fastred, wiping away his tears. "Why he has taken in many villagers and people that Bréawine's men have plundered; I am sure he will take you and your family too."

"Dear Fastred!" laughed Tamin. "Your uncle's Hall must be grand indeed, to accommodate all of my people. Think you I came with none but my Naneth and Adar? We are many; full six-score strong, and near again that many women and children, though I am the only child old enough to walk with the warriors."

Fastred gaped at him. "Six-score!" he exclaimed in amazement. "And again that many; why, that is over two hundred souls! How have you kept yourselves from discovery, and what are you eating? Where do you all secrete yourselves? For though the Rohirrim tell tales of ghosts I do not think they have any idea how many ghosts might be found beneath the eaves of Fangorn."

Tamin laughed again. "My Naneth and the other women are far to the west of us," he said, waving his arm behind them; "my Adar though, and the rest of the warriors, are encamped quite close. How surprised they shall be to see you! Why I had no idea men spoke our tongue, much less in this bleak place! I count blessed the order my Adar gave unto me at sunset, for it sent me east and to your side." He rose to his feet, pulling Fastred with him. "Come!" said Tamin smiling. "Come and see for yourself! My father will want to meet you." And taking Fastred by the hand he led him into the darkness.

Fastred followed blindly, stumbling now and again over roots and rocks, but ever Tamin tugged him forward, looking back over his shoulder to Fastred with an encouraging smile. His cloak as it swirled about his legs seemed to obscure the boy further, and had Tamin not held so tight to his hand Fastred would have thought he were indeed following a ghost. Bemused with grief and weariness he followed, watching the light flicker upon Tamin's pale hair, and reflect greenly back from his gray eyes. Then he saw mellow firelight ahead of them, and heard a voice crying out sharply; Tamin halted, lifting his eyes to the branches above them, and called:

"It is only me, Eleardil! And please do not shoot my friend here; it would be very inhospitable of me to let you slay my guest."

A tall Elf clad in gray dropped from the branches, landing upon his feet with bow drawn and armed; his eyes were hard as flint and he stared at Fastred with deepest suspicion. Fastred gulped, feeling eyes all round him, and knew he and Tamin were surrounded by other such warriors; he hoped Tamin's words would be enough to buy him sufficient time to explain himself. "What do you think you are doing, Tamin Rúmilion?" demanded the Elf glaring down at them. "You well know the mortals in these lands are violent and cruel. Why do you bring such a one to our camp here, though he is admittedly but a small specimen?"

"He speaks our tongue, Eleardil," said Tamin earnestly, pulling Fastred to his side and putting his arm round his shoulders. "And he knew the formal greeting of Elf betwixt Elf. He is Fastred Faramirion of Ithilien and he seeks the bodies of friends slain by men."

There were more voices then, all round them and above them; more Elves dropped from the tree branches, all gray-clad and armed with bow and arrow. Some looked hard at Fastred, as though they waited but for him to run so they could shoot him; others however regarded him with curiosity or pity. At last an Elf strode forward through the trees, holding a drawn sword; Tamin released Fastred and ran toward him. "Adar!" he said, grasping the Elf's free hand. "Look; see what I have found! I have brought to us an ally in this strange land. His name is Fastred. He speaks Elvish. And do you please be good to him, O Adar, for he is very sad; the bad men here have killed his friends, though I think we might have buried them by mistake. And he says if we go with him to his uncle's house, the cooks there will give us bread and pastries."

Tamin's father looked down at Fastred, his eyes appraising, and Fastred held himself as firm and tall as he could beneath that cautious regard. "I am Prince of Ithilien," he told himself, lifting his chin and meeting the tall Elf's gaze. "I am the Heir of Meduseld. I am not afraid." And this time, to his surprise, his heart believed his mind, and he discovered he was not afraid. He was, however, a little nervous, for Tamin's father was so very tall, and so very stern-looking, and he was surrounded by many strange Elves, all pointing weapons at him. But Tamin was smiling, and tugging on his father's cloak, and saying: "Put your sword away, Adar! And tell Eleardil and everyone else to put up their bows. Fastred Faramirion of Ithilien speaks our tongue and is on a sad mission of mercy. We ought to help him not threaten him. Besides if we are cruel to him, his uncle might not give us any pastries."

"Peace, Tamin!" said his father, looking down with a wry smile at his son. "You are wed to your stomach; a warrior should mark not the food he has to eat."

"But pastries would taste good, would they not, Adar?" begged Tamin. "And Fastred Faramirion is in trouble and we ought to help him. Naneth would want us to help; I know that she would say so if she were here!"

Tamin's father stepped forward, and sheathed his sword, looking down thoughtfully at Fastred, who lifted his gaze back and gave a tentative smile. "You are brave, Little One," said the Elf with reluctant admiration. "Here you are, surrounded by many strange and fierce warriors, yet you hold yourself straight and tall, and look me in the eye as one man to another. Tell me, Fastred Faramirion, how is it you speak our tongue?"

"Shall I answer to one who has not made himself known to me?" asked Fastred carefully, dredging up all his many memories of the courtly behavior of Dol Galenehtar, and the visits paid his Lord Lassah by dignitaries from Rivendell and Mithlond. "I would have your name of you first, O father of Tamin, ere I disclose my mind to you."

Several of the Elves chuckled, and Tamin's father smiled. "Well spoken, Little One!" he said. "For though you might guess my name from my son's words, it is right and proper for us to speak gently one to another." He held out his hands to Fastred, and said: "I am Rúmil of Lothlórien, and my heart sings to see you. Your presence is welcome to me."

Fastred put his hands in Rúmil's, and kissed him. "To foregather with you, Rúmil of Lothlórien, brings joy to my heart," he said, hoping Andunië would not be too cross with him. He could see from the corner of his eye the other Elves lowering their weapons, and some came forward, tall and cloaked in gray. Fastred felt very small, and was glad Tamin was there, for the boy beamed at him from his father's side.

"You see, Adar? I told you he knew the custom," said Tamin gloatingly. To Fastred he said: "I have never met a mortal before – I am so happy to know you are not at all like the men who run round here!"

"I regret to say they are my people though," said Fastred, making a face. "I am indeed Fastred Faramirion of Ithilien, but due to the queen's illness I am also the heir of the throne in this land, and the machinations of these wicked men concern me rather deeply." He looked to Rúmil and said: "Why do you seek the Druadan, O Rúmil? What is there in that narrow wood to attract the Elves of Lothlórien? For I have heard that Lothlórien is a fair and wondrous place, and it is strange to me that you should quit that land, and seek out those where men dwell."

"It is not Druadan that is our goal," smiled Rúmil. "As you are of Ithilien, and speak our tongue, you must well know that Prince Legolas Thranduilion of Dol Galenehtar has welcomed all strangers and wanderers to his gates; with the dissolution of our Lady's house many of us seek homes elsewhere. My brother Orophin leads a great host of people north to King Thranduil Oropherion in Taur e-Ndaedelos, to beg him to take them beneath his protection; I however took the other part, who wish to live not in a great cavern, but in the towers of the woods of Ithilien, beneath the care of a blithe and merry lord." He laughed then and looked round him to his people, who also smiled; upon his face was a look of tender remembrance. "And well do I remember Legolas, when he passed beneath the eaves of our wood!" he said. "Well do I remember his fair voice as he sang of Nimrodel by the streams! I would swear fealty to one such as he, whose line is of Doriath, and who performed such great deeds in the War, yet hid his royal trappings from all, disdaining the accolades for the good of his friends. How surprised we were to find he was the son of Thranduil! And though it is strange to us an Elf lord chooses to make mortals his neighbors we are willing to live under him, and to obey him." Rúmil stopped then, for he saw the look of pain upon Fastred's face, and he exclaimed: "But what is it? What did I say to so wound you?" And Tamin rushed forward with a cry, his arms outstretched.

Fastred felt the hot tears course down his cheeks, and his face grimaced with grief; but he stood still and let Tamin embrace him, and fought back the racking sobs; he swallowed hard several times until the lump worked its way down his throat, and then said, in a voice hoarse with suffering: "Rúmil of Lothlórien, I grieve to disappoint you. But though you go to Dol Galenehtar Legolas Thranduilion shall not be there. He is fallen, and it is his body, and that of his servant Lirlindil, that my friends and I seek."

There were many cries of surprise and grief at this, and Rúmil blanched and swayed; then he knelt by Fastred's side, and placing his hand upon the boy's shoulder said, "How I am wrung within, Fastred Faramirion, not solely for my sake and that of my people's, but for the royalty of Taur e-Ndaedelos, and the people of Dol Galenehtar, and for you who counted him a friend! For now I see by your name you are the son of the Prince of Ithilien; no wonder it is to me then that Legolas of Taur e-Ndaedelos should have been dear to you."

Fastred wept then, cast upon Tamin's shoulder in abandon with the boy's arms flung round his neck, and heard the buzz of voices about him, though he cared not, for he felt his heart would surely break. For all these folk to go seeking his Lord Lassah, to beg his protection and care, and be turned back! But then he remembered something Hirilcúllas had said once about Galás being Legolas' closest kin, and was comforted somewhat knowing Galás of Doriath would be as generous as Lassah had been. "And even if he is not," he thought, "I shall prevail upon mine uncle, and he shall take them in; if I must live in Rohan I should at least like to have some Elves nearby." While the Elves spoke and argued about him he let Tamin sit him upon the mossy forest floor, and he leant upon the boy's breast; as his sobs quieted he realized Tamin was singing to him softly, a lullaby he did not recognize but which eased his heart and quieted his trammeled spirit. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander wherever it would take him – down the fields through the dark Druadan, out into the pastures of Amon Din hemmed round with high rocky peaks, across the shining Anduin to the high white crown of his home, Osgiliath; and thence to the gilt-tipped towers of Dol Galenehtar, the rooms blue-gray in the moonlight, white curtains stirring at the window, and the voice of his Lassah singing him to sleep.

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

He was dreaming of holes in the earth again, filled with cold damp darkness and the whispery voices of ghosts, when he woke with a start. He was lying upon a soft pallet and was covered with a thick wool blanket; the moon was high, and flickered whitely through the clustering shifting leaves. Tamin was sitting beside him, his arms wrapped round his knees and his eyes anxiously fixed upon Fastred. When he saw Fastred was awake he smiled, and Fastred once again felt the rush of warmth through him at the sight of that bright face. He had met none save Léodwyn to whom he had given his heart so immediately; now as then he felt very lonely and sad, and yearned toward the ready comfort of a youthful companion. He thought about what it would be like when he brought Tamin to Meduseld, and whether Léodwyn would love him too; then round his heart he felt a hot surge of discomfort, which puzzled him. "Why should I not wish to have my friends foregather?" he wondered, smiling up at Tamin; "Would it not be agreeable for them to be acquainted, as they are both to live as strangers in Ithilien?" But despite his best efforts his heart stubbornly refused to acquiesce; he was however too tired for self-reflection and wearily decided he would work out his reticence at a future date. He rubbed his eyes and wondered how long he had been asleep. He was about to ask Tamin, but then he heard familiar voices speaking some ways away, and he sat up, looking round.

Tamin pressed his finger upon Fastred's lips, motioning him to be silent; then he stood up and jerked his head toward a thick stand of trees nearby. Fastred scrambled out of the blanket and followed Tamin as he slipped in between the tree trunks, trying to be as quiet as possible. There was firelight ahead, and the boys stole through the shadows toward it, until they came across a small clearing. In the center burned a small fire, and many folk were seated round it, black against the golden light, and at first Fastred recognized no one save Tamin's father Rúmil and the Elf Eleardil. Then he looked closer and saw a slim woman with her hair burnished bright copper in the firelight, and she was speaking. Fastred's heart lurched – Andunië! Whatever would she do to him, since he had left the camp and run off with a stranger? But she did not seem angry, which was a relief; however she did not seem to be very happy either, and Fastred decided it would be prudent to listen unseen for a while, in case the sight of him stirred her to wrath. He and Tamin crept up to the shadows around the trees, and pressing themselves into the darkness began to listen.

Andunië spoke in Elvish; Fastred was surprised, for he had only ever heard her speak Westron to him or to anyone else. He peered round a branch and watched her, seated between Rúmil and Eleardil; she looked as disinterested as ever. Several of the other warriors were watching her avidly, and Fastred wondered if there were as many women of Lothlórien as men, and if Himbaláth were going to have even more competition. Clustered together behind her were Gimli, Bandobras, and Brytta; Bandobras was scowling with concentration, for his Elvish was none too good; Gimli was watching Andunië dully, slumped and dispassionate, and Brytta was sitting stiffly upright, his eyes darting this way and that, looking quite confused. "But of course," thought Fastred; "he does not know Elvish, and he does not even like Elves – except for Andunië of course – so he does not know of what they speak." Then fixing his eyes upon the huntsmistress he attended to the conversation.

"Nay, Fainilyas; you are many but Brytta here tells me Bréawine has many more; besides which if we show our hand ere the king arrives he might flee, and his predations go unpunished. 'Twere best to let us go, and to take your women and children to Éomer; he will have more need of you when the battle is begun."

"But if this Bréawine should come upon you, what will you do then?" argued Eleardil. "You are few, and have surrounded yourselves with mortals; what good shall man and Dwarf do you? Leave them with us, and take for yourself three good scouts; your friends will be the safer, and you shall be better able to withdraw your lord's bones without their interference."

Andunië opened her mouth to speak but another Elf interrupted her. "O no, Eleardil!" he cried. "You would not deny the Lockbearer his right to seek after his friends, so he might complete his mourning! You do not know, for you were elsewhere at the time; but I well remember the deep friendship betwixt Legolas and Gimli Gloinion, which bloomed in Lórien and has flowered ever since! Let the Dwarf go with the huntsmistress, and we shall keep the two young ones, and the man, here with us for safe-keeping."

Gimli raised his head; his eyes, red-rimmed and dull, sought out the Elf who had spoken. "My thanks to you, Tathardil of Caras Galadon! But if I go I bring with me my friend's esquire Bandobras, who grieves also; I would not be so churlish as to deny him this thing."

"The same grief applies to Fastred Faramirion as well," said Andunië firmly. "He comes too. And we must needs keep Brytta, for he knows where my lord fell, and where is his body."

Brytta, hearing his name, frowned down at Andunië; she looked up at him calmly, and spoke in Westron. "This is very dull for you I fear," she said. "You speak not the tongue of Dwimordene, and cannot mark our council. But translation is tedious and I am short-tempered." She looked across the fire into the darkness where Fastred and Tamin stood. "Fastred," she said. "Come here."

All the Elves turned, and swallowing heavily Fastred stepped into the light, with Tamin by his side. The warriors were smiling, and Rúmil held out his hand. "Come, my son," he said to Tamin. "You have watched over your friend well; sit you beside me and attend to our words. For by hearing the Prince of Meduseld translate our tongue to Westron we shall learn it too, and as we leave our bower behind 'twould behoove us to sing the songs of the birds in other nests."

Tamin took Fastred by the hand and led him round the circle to where Rúmil and Andunië sat. The two boys nestled in between their guardians, and Fastred was comforted to feel not only Tamin's arm round his shoulder, but Andunië's leg pressed against his own. She gestured to Brytta and he sat upon her other side. He looked very grubby and disheveled next to the Elves; his face was lined and unsightly, and he sat half a head taller than any of his companions. He seemed very uncomfortable, but sat proudly beside the huntsmistress, and turned his eyes upon Fastred. "Well, Fastred Prince," he said gruffly; "you have certainly inherited your Lady Mother's predilection to run off on your own! Next time you take your leave of us will you at least warn us first?"

"Well at least he ran in the right direction," said Bandobras huffily. "And if he had to get found by someone, a bunch of Elvish warriors is better than anything else I can think of."

"Quiet," grunted Gimli. "An army of a thousand would not help us much now."

"A thousand warriors such as these would help Éomer though," said Brytta looking round the circle. "Can you not ask them to go to Meduseld? They might meet with our own people then, and swell their ranks."

"What did the man say?" asked Tamin tugging on Fastred's sleeve.

"He says he wants your father and his warriors to help mine uncle fight the bad men," said Fastred; round the circle the Elves looked surprised, and some exchanged dark looks. Eleardil frowned.

"And what would it profit us to so risk our lives in such a venture?" he asked. "We are beset enough; was it not sufficient our Lady threw down Dol Guldur, and that we wander homeless? Might we not press east, to find rest beneath the eaves of Ithilien?"

Andunië's eyes narrowed at his words; Fastred hurriedly turned to Brytta and said: "They have fought for years against the darkness, and have nowhere to live; they are tired and hungry, and wish to go to Ithilien."

Brytta looked angry. "And so they will turn their backs upon those who might become their allies one day, letting an evil man slay the innocent and depose the king who is friendly with the land they seek? Will they let the death of a great Elf-lord go unavenged? Do they think they can live amongst men as they have lived in Dwimordene – thinking of none but themselves, and of naught but their own well-being? Do they not see countries and peoples beyond their own borders?" He stopped and lifted his chin, glaring round the circle; the Elves, puzzled, turned to Fastred, waiting for him to translate. Fastred blushed, and turned to Andunië, asking in a low voice in Westron: "Must I translate that, Andunië?"

Andunië's eyes glittered dangerously. "If you do not I shall, and without softening the blow," she said.

Fastred sighed, and as best he could told the Elves what Brytta had said. They looked affronted at this, and some spoke angrily back; Rúmil however raised his hand for silence, and when he had gained their attention said: "My friends, the man speaks true. For many ages has Lothlórien hid itself, and the Elves of Lothlórien disdained those races about them. But with the coming of the Ringbearer, and the departure of Arwen Undómiel, our groves and woods are empty; there is no longer any great Darkness to resist – only the evils of such men as this Bréawine, who seeks destruction and turmoil. And think you well, all of you – the lord to whom we were to have sworn our allegiance was a friend not only to Elessar, but to Faramir of Ithilien, and to Éomer of Rohan. Would he not have armed himself, and led many warriors upon the road to Meduseld to go to his friend's aid? And would we not have heeded his call upon our fealty, and marched at his side? The days of concealment and secrecy are past. If we are to live amongst the Elves of Dol Galenehtar, then we must needs learn to befriend the mortals their neighbors for they shall be our neighbors too." He frowned round the circle; the Elves were exchanging glances, and some looked shamefaced. "Or you could return to Lothlórien, to those our brothers who refused to leave," said Rúmil. "You too could wander beneath the towering mellyrn, walk along silent streams, climb empty telain and worship alone in overgrown olintalari; you could watch the leaves turn and fall, watch the everlasting wheel of the sky circle above you, hiding ever from those mortals whose lives press upon us, shrinking and dwindling into obscurity." Some of the Elves shook their heads; several were watching Rúmil with shining eyes. "But you know well, my brethren," said Rúmil, "the great deeds done by men and Dwarves and Hobbits these past years, and the great Evil that was cast down by those whom other Eldar might disdain. Shall we not join with them? Is there now no great deed left for the Galadrim to accomplish? Are there no great warriors we might succor? Shall the Elves of Lórien retire them to their pallets, laying down sword and bow, and turning blind eyes to the cruelties of evil men? Do we now disdain the call of the oppressed, and spurn the ghostly call of our erstwhile lord to go to the aid of his allies? Nay! For myself, should this Brytta ask it of me, I would go to his king, and to Fastred Faramirion's uncle, and offer up my sword and my bow to his favor; in that way we shall endear ourselves to those who otherwise might look upon us askance, as humble beggars who cannot, or will not, fend for themselves."

Some of the Elves grumbled, but the most part whispered excitedly to each other instead; Fastred however ignored this as he was trying to quickly tell Brytta what Rúmil had said. It was difficult to remember it all, but he did his best, and Brytta at least appeared appeased. At last he had finished and then Eleardil did say: "That is all very well, but what of our others, whom we hid deep in the wood? What shall we do with them? Let the women and children fight as well? Even if we had arms enough I would not let my daughter into battle!"

"Perhaps Andunië could lead them to safety," said Tathardil politely, smiling at her. "After all they will not mind following a woman to Meduseld, and open battle is hardly the place for you, O huntsmistress."

Fastred scrambled to translate this to Brytta, watching with trepidation as Andunië turned her cold eyes upon Tathardil; then she said a single word in reply to the Elf, who blanched and drew back.

"What? What did she say?" demanded Brytta then, looking round the circle of Elves, upon whose faces were expressions ranging from offense to amusement.

Fastred blushed. "I – I am not allowed to say that word," he stammered, and glanced apologetically over at Tamin, who was scarlet, and stared at Andunië as though she would bite him. Brytta turned to Bandobras irritably.

"Well? What did she say?" he asked of the Hobbit.

Bandobras snorted. "What; do you want me to risk my mum washing my mouth out with soap?" Brytta stared, and Gimli gave a weak chuckle.

"Suffice to say, she refused," he said shortly.

"Ah!" Brytta smiled at Andunië; she was glaring at Rúmil, who had dared to laugh; she did not seem to frighten him at all. "You will have to teach me that word, Pretty Maid," Brytta said. "If it will not offend Fastred Prince's sensibilities, that is."

"Fastred!" whispered Tamin. "How is it you knew that word? Is it a word Andunië uses with frequency? Do all the women in Dol Galenehtar speak thus?"

"O no!" exclaimed Fastred, shocked at the thought of Dúrfinwen or Hirilcúllas saying such a thing. "I heard it from Lord Legolas, when he had broken his lance upon the quintain, and he apologized to me after he realized I had been listening, and begged that I would not tell my mother what he had said."

Tamin laughed then, though he looked sad also. "Ah, how I regret that he shall not be my lord!" he said with a sigh. "All I have heard of him convinces me the more that he should have been great fun."

"He was," agreed Fastred, and once again felt the heaviness in his breast at the thought of Lassah's death; then he had need to attend to the council again, for Rúmil had spoken.

"I do not think me Andunië will find it agreeable to abandon her quest ere it is come to fruition," he said dryly, giving the scowling Andunië a smile. "Therefore I suggest to you all that we let them go, for they have just enough horses to bear them, and know where they go and where to return. And we shall take our own people, and lead them south to Meduseld to safety, joining with Éomer of Rohan to aid him in resisting this Bréawine who so makes himself a pestilence in these lands, and has impeded our journey by his predations."

Fastred told Brytta what Rúmil had said, while the Elves spoke quietly amongst themselves; at last they appeared to have come to agreement, for Eleardil said: "Yes, we concur; though had we steeds I should dearly have loved to go with them, to see them safely back."

"Aye!" said Tathardil, his face filled with pity. "How I am wrung within me, to think of them alone in this inhospitable place, with evil men all round them! How can we protect them in their sad deed when we are on foot?"

Fastred translated this, and Brytta rose to his feet, and bowed to Tathardil. "I am a poor man," he said; "but had I a horse of my own I should have loaned it to you, for you seem to me to be a man – an Elf, rather – of mercy."

Tathardil laughed after Fastred had told him what Brytta had said, and also rose and bowed low. "Please, O Fastred Faramirion, do you tell this good man that should his fortunes change and he be possessor of horses once again I shall hold him to that promise, for the steeds of Rohan I have heard are wondrous quick, and very intelligent; I should love dearly to ride upon one of his beasts."

Smiling to himself Fastred passed this on to Brytta, who looked very pleased by this; then Rúmil bid them be seated, and he said: "Very well; we shall take our peoples south, and after we have seen to the safety of our families shall we join with Éomer King to fight against Bréawine. And you, O Andunië, shall take your companions to seek the bodies of your lord and his servant, and perhaps as you are on horseback shall overtake us at your return, and we reunite upon the fields of Rohan."

"Thank you," said Andunië dryly. "That is what I was planning to do all along, but it is comforting to know you will not cause me any more undue trouble."

The Elves smiled at this, but Rúmil turned to Brytta and said: "Tell me, O Brytta of Rohan, to the best of your knowledge, where did Lord Legolas fall?"

Through Fastred Brytta told him: "The clearings by the north-east face of the great crevasse."

"Ah!" said Rúmil, and shook his head; then he withdrew from his tunic two scarred and twisted pieces of metal-girt leather. "We came upon these artifacts there during one of our forays for food," said Rúmil to Andunië, handing them to her. "Though we could not explore the clearing well, for there were men about, we did see many burned bodies, and the half-eaten carcass of a horse, picked at by carrion-fowl, and in the wreckage of a smoldering fire we found these. They seem to me to be part of light body-armor, engraved and strengthened with steel; there are traces of Elvish design upon them, which puzzled us quite; however your pathetic tale perhaps clears up the conundrum."

"Let me see," said Gimli eagerly holding out his hand, and he and Andunië studied the shards. "This is Legolas' greave," said Gimli, his voice breaking; with his thick hairy fingers he tremblingly caressed the twisted piece. "He has had these greaves for years; his father gave them to him. He would wear them when riding … " He let his head drop to his chest and began to weep, and Brytta put his hand upon Gimli's shoulder. Bandobras took the greave from Gimli; it was heavy in his small hands. He too studied it, his face full of regret; then he looked up and said, his brown eyes full of tears: "Yes … This is my Master's – I recognize the oak-leaf pattern." He traced it with his fingers, shaking his head sadly. "I wonder how many times I polished this," he said, then his voice wobbled and broke, and he buried his face in his hands.

Andunië was turning the smaller piece of leather over in her hands. "And this vambrace belonged to Lirlindil," she said thoughtfully, running her fingers round the pattern at the edges. "I well remember Hwindiö making them for him – do you see the love-poem inscribed along the wrist-strap? Lirlindil was beloved of Hildwen, and these were a gift from her commissioned through her brother to her husband."

Fastred was glad that Gimli and Bandobras had spoken in Westron; to see the notched and blackened greave in the Hobbit's hands was too much for him, and he was certain he would not have been able to translate. Tamin's arm tightened round his shoulder, and feeling the lump rising in his throat again he covered his face. He had seen his Lord Lassah wear those greaves many times; in fact he could remember the feel of them beneath his fingers, standing by Piukka's side, waiting for Lassah to lift him up onto his destrier's back so they might go riding together. "Pick me up; pick me up!" he would cry, tugging on Lassah's leg; Lassah would laugh, and reach down to him, swinging him upon Piukka's back before him, and they would ride off together into Lassah's demesne, to see the vineyards and olive groves, to dawdle alongside waterfalls and groves, to sing together beneath the oaks and lindens and pines, their voices echoing off rock faces, their laughter stirring up flocks of starlings from their roosts. He felt Tamin embrace him, and let drop his hands; Brytta was looking at him then, and upon his face a look of pained regret.

"I should have died with him," said Brytta; to Fastred's surprise he saw tears shining in the man's eyes. "I should have stood by his side and been cut down too. I do not deserve to live; I do not deserve the burden of life given me through his death."

"Spare us your bitter and self-pitying accolades," said Andunië, her eyes flickering dangerously. "My lord had every right to give his life for you, and if he thought you worth saving then you are worth much indeed." Brytta stared at her in surprise, but she turned from him, and taking the greave from Bandobras gave the two scraps of leather to Rúmil. He took them with a sigh and put them back in his tunic.

"I will bring these to Meivel then, so he will know we have foregathered with you," he said. "And when we have safely ensconced our families behind the walls of Meduseld we will join him in his muster, so that the traitor shall be overthrown. I regret however that you shall be caught in the midst of it, for even if you find aught to bury you shall be running with Bréawine at your heels."

"We will risk it," said Andunië rising, and the other Elves rose as well; Brytta too jumped to his feet and stood by her side, though he towered over her like an ancient and hoary oak by a slim linden. "Now let my mortals rest; you go unto your families and remove them from their hiding-place, that they may be the safer at Meduseld, and I shall watch over these Little Ones, and continue on our quest on the morrow."

"Andunië Daughter of Aldeon, you bear your yoke well," said Rúmil approvingly. "Go with our blessings and best wishes, and may we meet again in happier times!" He turned to Fastred and kissed the boy upon the crown of his head. "Farewell, Fastred Faramirion of Ithilien and Rohan!" he said. "You are brave beyond your years, and wise for one so young. Follow in the steps of your noble parents, and let Andunië guide you; I do not fear for you, Little One." And smiling at Fastred he strode off, calling to his warriors to break camp and follow. The Elves began to drift into the trees after him, and Tamin took Fastred firmly by the hand.

"I would go with you, Fastred, if I only could!" he said regretfully. "How I hate to leave you like this! But my Naneth and the rest of the women and children are two days from here, and we have so far to go!"

"Dear Tamin!" said Fastred embracing his friend. "How I wish you could come with us! But it will be better for you to bring your Lady Mother to safety, and to see after those little ones; they are your care now, even as my friend's remains are mine. But perhaps we shall meet ere you gain Meduseld; we are on horseback after all, and you on foot."

"Perhaps!" said Tamin with a smile. "If I gain Meduseld before you, I shall tell the cooks to make me some pastries, that I might bring them to you. But my father and I are quite quick you know; and – " Tamin lowered his voice, and leant forward so only Fastred might hear him. "I know my sire's face; he does not wish to leave you unprotected for long. Watch for us then as you return; it would not surprise me if he left some stray warrior in wait for you!"

"That would be more comforting than pastries!" smiled Fastred. Then Tamin dried Fastred's tears with the hem of his cloak, and kissing him upon the forehead bid him good-bye. The last Fastred saw of his new friend was the flicker of his eyes as he glanced back through the trees; then the woods swallowed the Elves of Lórien, and they were alone once more.

The ground climbed and grew rocky, and sparse trees and scrub dotted the landscape. They had need to go with care, for fissures and cracks appeared in the earth, hidden by branches and leaves and dried grass, and one of their steeds could easily break a leg with a misstep. But as they climbed the air grew a little clearer, rising as they did out of the wet dimness of the wood, and betimes they could descry above them the hovering form of some raptor, an eagle or hawk, calling down to Andunië and veering off on fingered wings. There was a stiff wind, which whipped intermittently at them through the high shoulders of stone and low firs, and carried upon it the scent of sun-warmed stone, and of pine and larch.

The closer they got to Lassah's resting-place the deeper in gloom sank the Lord of Aglarond. He had pulled up his hood, and lowered his head; all that could be seen of the Dwarf were his slumped shoulders, and the thick arms clinging to Andunië's waist. Bandobras behind Fastred kept up a high-pitched and brittle stream of chatter, though now and again all could hear the voice crack and wobble; however he broke not nor ceased, determining to hide from them his growing apprehension. Fastred for his part was filled both with hope and dismay; for though he went to find his beloved Lassah's bones he knew he should rest better knowing the Elf-lord would be avenged, not only by his uncle's hand but with the aid of Rúmil's people too. And also when he thought of Tamin Rúmilion did his heart lighten, for so bright was the boy's spirit that tears and laughter commingled did rest upon the memory of him, and Fastred found that very comforting.

Andunië let Brytta ride ahead of them. He was careful where Taruku stepped, and called back warnings if he found any hidden holes or cracks, and ever he pressed them up and to the north-west, to the canyon edge where he had lost his rescuer. Fastred realized that now, when the man spoke to them, his words were no longer couched in bitterness and subtle insult; instead his errand had convened upon him its immediacy, and he did not seem discommoded by their strangeness at all. And they in turn, recognizing the softening in his manner, did respond in kind, treating him as though he had always been a part of their strange fellowship.

At midday they reached the crevasse. It was deep, and went off to their right into a great cliff overlooking the plains of Rohan; its sides were steep and rocky, though twisted and stunted evergreens could be seen clinging to the canyon walls. They looked over the edge and saw, some hundred feet below them, a rushing stream, white-green and sparkling in the sun. Bandobras frowned and asked Brytta: "Will we need to get down there? And how will we manage it if we do?"

"Nay, good holbytla; there is no need to climb down into the crevasse," smiled Brytta. "Save to catch the little graylings there, which are quite good. And anyway the land rises the further north and up we climb, until we see its cataract piercing the earth; it is there the canyon starts, splitting the land here in two. We go to the north from here, past these fir-woods; there is a clearing there, just as the ground rises steeply: There we shall find your Master." He sighed then, his eyes to the north; he looked troubled. "I had hoped to find absolution in this journey, Pretty Maid!" he said, turning to Andunië. "Yet my heart is heavy when I think of your merry and selfless lord, giving of his life for such a one as I, who did naught but spread bitter words after his good deeds."

"He marked that not, but desired instead friendship of you," said Andunië with a careless shrug. "Had he one fault it was in craving everyone's amity; he could not bear to be at odds with anyone."

Brytta did not reply at once, and Fastred thought back upon his long hot summer toiling in Dol Galenehtar's mews; Lassah had needed to separate himself from Fastred at that time, and Fastred had, once he managed to sublimate his own selfish feelings, realized that severance hurt the Elf as much as it had him. He sighed as the melancholy swept over him again, and wondered when Lassah's memory would stop hurting him. "Never, I guess," he thought, musing upon happy days when he and Lassah would play and shoot and explore and laugh together. "I shall always miss him; my father did say to me that the greater one's love, the deeper the loss; and I loved Lassah more than anyone save mine own family." His mind shied away from thoughts of what Lassah's body should look like; he hoped he could bear to see it long enough at least to make it back to Meduseld, where he might give himself over to sorrow once more. "And how unhappy poor Brytta must be!" he thought. "For to grieve one so dear as Lassah, when one's heart is clean of wrongdoing and misdeed, is painful enough; but for one who had wronged him – O how miserable that memory should make one!" Then Brytta's voice intruded upon his thoughts, and he heard the man say, his voice wistful:

"Well do I remember what he said to me, when I told him that his munificence changed not my hatred of him! How he did smile sadly at his companion then, and turn to me with eyes keen and shining; I had not marked before the fairness of his face and form, being overwhelmed with mine own anger, and I did pause in the disgorging of my resentment. And looking me straight in the face with those starry eyes he said to me: 'Bitterness is the poison you drink, hoping I shall die.' He said naught after that but what was necessary for our survival; it pains me to know that was the last we were able to say to each other, and that it has taken me so long to digest his words, for they are wise I deem, though I am a stubborn man and convincing me of mine errors requires great patience."

"Yes," said Bandobras sadly from behind Fastred. "My Master had a way with words, now, didn't he? Though I don't doubt he learnt that one off his mother – wonderful wise woman she is." He sighed. "Don't look forward to telling her of what's happened here – be right upset she will, and his dad'll no doubt come crashing down here bent on revenge. Not on you, mind," he added, when Brytta turned to him looking worried. "He'll not go a-blaming of you for this! But if Éomer don't grind Bréawine to dust first, I won't go placing bets on that bad man surviving the winter, for King Thranduil's likely to come down all hot-tempered and raging, and see to the doings himself."

"Almost do I wish to bid him good journey," said Brytta with a smile; "though that might seem treasonous to so do!"

He led them northward into the resinous forest. Clouds of tiny gnats rose from the still hot grasses in the clearings and all round them was the pervasive buzzing of some large insect, lurking in the cool green branches. "Cigales," said Brytta, seeing they looked round in confusion. "They are said to be good luck."

"They don't bite, do they?" asked Bandobras worriedly, looking up into the trees. Brytta laughed.

"Nay! They cause enough damage to crop and leaf," he said; "but they have no sting, so you are quite safe. Birds feed on them, and lizards too."

At last they came to a place where the underbrush seemed quite trampled, though any footprints had been obscured by wind and rain; Brytta dismounted, and turned to them with sober face.

"See you this?" he said, gesturing to a broken bush. "Here it was the great black destrier burst through the brake, though I cursed in vain for it to stop, for I had just seen Lord Legolas fall, and I wished mightily to return to him, to die by his side if I could."

Andunië dismounted as well, and Gimli followed her to the ground, his eyes downcast. "I smell smoke and decay," said Andunië, lifting her lovely face to the air; "however I do not descry the presence of the living, save for crows." Fastred shivered then, thinking of what the crows might be doing; then Andunië and Brytta took their steeds in hand, and broke through the underbrush. With a sigh Fastred slid off Karakse's back, and after aiding Bandobras to the earth took his horse's reins, and he and Gimli and the Hobbit followed.

The clearing was burned black, and there were several ungainly-looking lumps scattered round about, and the dull glint of metal. Fastred could smell the sickly scent of rotting flesh, and of burning rubbish, and there was a bloated carcass of a horse upon which sharp-eyed crows were settled. Andunië walked up to them and waved her hand dismissively; they flapped off, cawing, leaving the half-eaten body alone. She knelt by it, frowning, and Brytta followed; she looked up at them. "Yes, this is Yulmë, Lirlindil's destrier," she said; "I recognize the mark upon his neck here." She pointed to the torn flesh through which the horse's bones protruded. "And see how his hooves churned the dirt? He did not die cleanly, this one." She rose to her feet and looked round the clearing. "Where did Lirlindil fall?"

"Here," said Brytta, pointing to a burned patch of earth several yards from the dead horse's head. "But it looks as though there is little to bring back."

"Hm," said Andunië. Fastred stared at the blackened patch, upon which were twisted and burnt bones, scored by the teeth of beasts; here and there were metal brads and buttons, and stretched out before the greater mass, which no doubt had been Lirlindil's skull, were the arm-bones, ending in a hand extended as though in entreaty. "I hope he was dead ere they set him afire."

Fastred's soul recoiled from such a thought. How horrible that would have been! He did not want to look at Lirlindil's bones any longer; the twisted form mocked what had once been a bright-faced, good-natured Elf, who had loved his lord and his wife with equal vigor. He recalled the bright streaming hair, and ready laugh, and his constant banter with Hwindiö in the smithy. To think of Lirlindil being burnt to death made him feel sick, and very angry too. "I hope we find the men who did this," he thought, his heart roiling in his breast; "I hope we find them and kill them all!" At the moment he did not care that these men were his own subjects; treason and cruelty had lessened them in his mind, and he wanted only vengeance. But then Brytta's voice again interrupted his morose thoughts.

"O he was dead – never fear! He may not even marked that he died, so swift was his fall. I chanced to see his face after, and the eyes were fixed and vacant – there was naught to be done for him at that point." Brytta shook his head sadly. "I called to the Green Knight to abandon his servant, and come to his own steed; however it would have been too far for him to run, and Bréawine's men were upon us. He did what was best to bring news to Éomer – but – how I wish it had been I who had fallen, and not he!"

While they stood round Lirlindil's bones Gimli had been wandering about the clearing. "There are many bodies here," he said gruffly; they could all hear the tears in his voice, though he fought to contain them. "And all of them burned, save the horse. Let us get Lirlindil, and find Legolas; then I beg of you that we quit this place, for it holds naught but death and bitterness for me, and I want to go home."

Bandobras turned away and covered his face with his hands, and Fastred, feeling his throat tighten, swallowed heavily and did not reply; however as Andunië took a sack down from Ronyo's back Brytta walked carefully up to the Dwarf, and upon his face was a look of deep regret.

"There is no need to so trample your heart, already wounded, O Lord of Aglarond," he said gently. "Do you set yourself here by the Pretty Maid's horse, and I shall search the clearing for your friend."

Gimli glanced up at the man, and Fastred saw the tears shining in his eyes. "No, thank you," he growled. "I'd show Legolas little love if I lacked the strength to at least look for his bones."

"As you wish, good Dwarf," said Brytta with a bow, and he set off for the northern edge of the clearing. Fastred cast about helplessly a moment, then trotted up to Andunië, trying not to look at how she collected her friend's remains in the sack. "Andunië," he said, looking round the clearing, "where do you think his body is? Brytta said he fell by Lirlindil, but there is no one save Yulmë here."

"It is possible they dragged his body off a ways," said Andunië calmly, scraping together Lirlindil's ribs into the ruins of his leather armor, charred and brittle. "See, there are Brytta and the others going that way; start over here by that linden, and when I am finished I will join you."

Fastred turned and went to where she had pointed with her blackened hands, his stomach turning. He did not want to find Lassah's body – yet he knew he would not rest ere they did. So he went to the first burnt body and forced himself to examine it; however he saw that the casing round the torso had been plate mail, scorched and discolored; also the helm was decorated with a horse-head motif. "Not this one," he said aloud, and abandoning it searched the tall grass for more.

All round the clearing they could hear each other speak – "No, not this one – " " – Definitely not! – " " – Ugh – not much left of him – " "O! Another horse!" But after an hour's search they had come up with nothing save the bones of men and horses. They convened in the northern end of the clearing, for it was cooler there, and as the breeze came down from the north they could not smell poor Yulmë. "I don't understand it," Bandobras said; he stood with his arms crossed, and upon his small face was an affronted look. "He ought to be here – why isn't he here?" And he glared at Brytta as though it were the man's fault; however Brytta looked as puzzled as the rest of them.

"I confess I do not understand either, O holbytla," he said. "It ought to be clear enough – here are Lirlindil and his horse where they fell; there is the man who pursued me to the southern end of the clearing – see where he lies, with an arrow in his back! – here are many others, also killed by arrows – no doubt the Green Knight's own; I have never seen any man shoot as swiftly as did he. And there is also one beheaded; I watched the Green Knight kill that man with his sword – yet – where he fell, there is naught but old blood and trampled earth. Where would they have taken his body, and why?"

"Those two," said Andunië, gesturing to two bodies nearby. "Did you mark that they were neither shot nor stabbed, but died of broken necks? Would brother turn against brother in such a battle, and is this a method by which the Rohirrim slay one another?"

"Certainly not!" said Brytta; he sounded offended. "I admit these men display not the nobility nor loyalty of the greater part of my folk; but for what reason should they turn against each other? And anyway when kin slay kin it is by sword not hand, or at least that is how it is done in the Mark."

"Then someone else must've killed them," said Bandobras. "Come! Let's poke round there a minute; maybe we'll find something."

They followed him to the two bodies in question, Gimli lagging behind, his head drooping. Brytta turned the remains over in his hands seeking some clue as to the men's identity, and Andunië and Fastred searched round them. Suddenly a flash of gold caught Fastred's eye, and running toward it he saw twisted upon a holly branch what appeared to be a fine rope of floss; however when he touched it he realized it was hair – pale, shining, golden hair, straight and long; a great hank of it had been twisted in the sharp leaves and pulled out. With a glad cry he grasped it, pulling it off the branch and holding it aloft. "Look!" he called out. "It is Lassah's hair – his hair!"

They ran to him, and Gimli reached greedy hands for it, his eyes haunted and eager; he turned the flossy stuff over in his fingers as though fingering the finest mithril. Bandobras, gulping and sniffling, also reached out tiny fingers to caress it. "Yes," the Hobbit moaned, his eyes overflowing again; "it is his hair – it is my Master's hair."

"Where did you find it?" asked Andunië. Fastred showed her the branch; she frowned at it, then began to search round the area. Fastred joined her, his heart racing – he felt he ought to be saddened that he had only found a small part of his beloved Lassah, but he was strangely exalted by the thought that so lovely a part of the Elf had survived the fire. “Hísimë will be pleased,” he thought; “she always loved to brush his hair.” He saw scrapes and furrows beneath the holly tree, and scrambled beneath it; there he found a large sledge, which he pulled out. "Look!" he said again. "What sort of weapon is this?"

"It is a war-hammer," said Brytta taking it. He looked at the head. "It has been well-used too," he added grimly. "See the blood dried upon it?"

"As far as I can tell the men went north-west," said Andunië, bent close to the earth. "It is hard to tell though, for much time has passed, and the elements have not been kind to us hunters. No doubt they bore his body away, though for what reason I cannot tell. What lies to the north-west, O Brytta? Aught of interest?"

"O only Bréawine's keep, Pretty Maid!" said Brytta dryly. "In truth it should not surprise me to learn that your lord's body was taken, for they would wish to prove unto Bréawine he had truly fallen; his servant would not be of such importance, which I am sure is why he was left here. But we ought not to try to wrest those bones from Bréawine! If you truly want to realize Éomer's fears about the traitor getting wind of his muster you may go to pursue them; I however shall protect my monarch at least this much, and run in the other direction. For it is plain to me the Green Knight's body lies not in this clearing, and as the hair Fastred Prince found is rather low to the ground it seems to me as though it caught there whilst they carried him off."

Fastred did not mark their speech but was looking round, hoping still to find Lassah's body; when he saw a lumpy bag discarded upon the earth he ran to it. He could descry the shape of what rested therein, all jutting angles like unto the jumbled bones Andunië had collected. His heart turned to lead, and he thought to himself: "I have done it – I have found Lassah's body." But he could not seem to approach it; he could hear the others discussing their next move, could hear the cigales buzzing and humming all round him, could feel the resinous gusts of air shifting his hair and cloak; but he could not bring himself to open the bag, and see what was inside.

"What are you looking at?" asked a voice at his elbow; Fastred jumped, for he had not heard anyone approach. But Bandobras stood there, and following Fastred's gaze he too saw the sack. His breath caught in his throat and he ran forward, and Fastred, feeling as though a spell had been broken, ran after him. The Hobbit wrenched open the bag and looked inside; he reached in, and pulled out a familiar-looking vambrace – heavy, and decorated with twists of gold in an oak-leaf pattern – Lassah's vambrace. Fastred's heart went cold. But then Bandobras turned to him; he wept still, but his eyes were amused.

"False alarm," he said, pulling out a long, curved piece of wood. "It's not his bones; it's his bow – chopped to pieces."

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

They pressed north-east, for Brytta told them Bréawine did send out his patrols in the evenings, and they should be trapped against the canyon wall unable to escape should they remain; however if they cut through to the head of the canyon they could then strike south upon its other side, and so be protected by the crevasse. Fastred was confused and disappointed, and he could tell Bandobras was too. Gimli had very generously allowed Fastred and Bandobras to carry the hair and the remains of Lassah's bow and armor; Ronyo bore not only her mistress and the Dwarf but Lirlindil's remains as well, which rattled and clattered at every step the steed made. It was a chilling and melancholy sound, and Fastred wished someone would speak, to drown it out.

As the sun set Brytta took point. "I know these lands," he said to them; "it is here my lord father and I used to hunt, and here he died, and I therefore became his heir."

"O how sad," said Fastred sympathetically. "How did he die, Brytta?"

"He fell into a dene-hole, O Fastred Prince, and having broken his leg could not climb out," said Brytta; he sounded quite calm, and not sad at all; in fact Fastred could just see in the twilight that his face looked rather satisfied. "I believe he starved to death; at least that is how he looked when I finally found him." Fastred stared at the man, aghast; however Brytta only looked thoughtful. "'Tis a shame indeed my mother did not live to hear of his demise."

"Your mum and your dad both died!" exclaimed Bandobras from behind Fastred. "How awful! And how did your mum die, Brytta?"

"My lord father said she fell down the steps," said Brytta, and his face changed; it was dark with anger. Fastred blanched, realizing what the man had meant, and like a nighttime lightning-bolt illuminates a grotesque and malformed landscape, he saw into Brytta's heart then, and far from condemning him for his anger was filled with a deep and horrified pity. He felt Bandobras stiffen, and he stared at Andunië; however she only glanced back at him, her face unreadable, and then turned indifferently back around.

They rode in silence until the moon rose over the rocky hills, milky and ghostly behind the swift tattered clouds that adorned him; then did Brytta advise caution, for they were approaching the place where his sire had fallen to his death. "The earth hereabouts is pocked full of holes as a quintain," he said. "Some think they have been made by Dwimmerlaik, for the folk in these hills are very superstitious; I however believe them instead to be the ancient scrapes of the old Dunlendings, who dwelt here ere Eorl the Young rode down from the North."

"What were they for?" asked Fastred, looking round; in the dim white light of the moon the land looked eerie and mist-laden, and the tussocks and twisted trees were gnarled and misshapen. There were shadows everywhere, and he wondered what a dene-hole looked like.

"None can say," said Brytta. "They could have been caches, or perhaps they are simply parts of the earth where the chalky dirt has fallen in. Look! There is one."

Fastred looked to where Brytta pointed. It was a ragged hole in the earth, covered over with bowed and dried grass; when he rode past it he could feel a cold breath, like a ghost exhaling, coming up from it; it smelled very foul. "Ugh!" said Bandobras. "What is that horrible stench?"

"A dead beast no doubt," said Brytta. "They fall in betimes, and the sand prevents their crawling out, and so they die as did my sire."

"Awful," muttered the Hobbit, and Fastred agreed. The thought of any poor beast doomed to such a death made his heart constrict; then he remembered how Brytta's father had died, and he shivered.

They passed several other denes, in varying stages of decay, and in all of them seemed to breathe the cold air of death. Fastred remembered his dream then, of searching through a landscape filled with ghostly holes; he felt unaccountably afraid, and though he knew that it had been Rúmil's people who had haunted the land hereabouts he disliked this place very much. "Do Bréawine's people come up here?" he asked looking round nervously; it would be a bad place for an ambush, for they would not be able to run for fear of the dene-holes.

"They come here only to cast their rubbish in the holes," said Brytta. "That is why they smell so foul."

Something behind them screeched, a terrifying sound, and Fastred's heart froze; however at the second cry he realized it was naught but an owl. Then he saw it, floating toward them, spike-crowned and yellow-eyed; it coasted over Andunië's head, and she watched it calmly. It vanished into the trees ahead of them, and Fastred heard it screech again. Andunië turned to Brytta.

"Follow me," she said simply, and led Ronyo into the trees.

Brytta stared after her, amazed; then he turned to Fastred. "What is she doing?" he demanded. "I thought we were going to circle round the head of the cataract and head south to avoid Bréawine's patrols. We cannot ride in the woods; we will not see the holes then!"

"Andunië will see them," said Fastred confidently, and passing Brytta followed Andunië into the darkness.

The light was blue and mottled over the tumbling ruins of the forest floor, and Fastred could hear tree frogs chirping all round him. It was cool, and the piney smell would have been quite pleasant had it not been overlaid by the pervasive stench of decay. He heard Brytta behind him, grumbling to Taruku as they crashed through the brakes; he could hear Ronyo ahead of him, though he could not see the steed, nor the Elf and Dwarf upon him. Then before him he heard the owl screech again, and he turned Karakse to follow. He could feel Bandobras' arms tremble, and knew the Hobbit was as weary as was he; he hoped Andunië followed the owl to find safe haven so they could rest. "I am sure it is not long now," he said to Bandobras, and urged his steed forward.

Karakse crashed through the underbrush, his great feathered hooves catching on brambles and vines; more than ever Fastred was glad his horse was so sturdy and strong, and also of such agreeable disposition; for behind him he could hear Brytta growling to Taruku, who apparently did not care for such treatment. They pressed forward, and now and again Fastred could see Ronyo's great hindquarters, and Gimli perched upon them; and over him the shining head of the Elf who led them. And also could Fastred hear the owl, screeching and crying, and leading them ever forward into the darkness. Betimes they passed dene-holes, respiring cold fumes, and Fastred's heart would grow the heavier, and his limbs more weary. His eyes and head hurt from peering after Andunië in the dark and he began to grow restless. He was just about to call ahead to her, to ask when they might pause, when Karakse burst through a thick tangled bush and nearly ran into Ronyo, who had stopped in a large greensward ringed about with larch and pine, gray in the moonlight. There were several dene-holes pocking the rocky ground, and as ever the insidious smell of decay. Andunië had dismounted, and was watching the owl, whose round yellow eyes stared blankly back; then the owl hooted once, and drifted off on its broad pinions.

Brytta also broke through into the clearing, and looked round him in confusion. "What is it?" he asked. "Why are we here?"

"I want to go down into these dene-holes," said Andunië. She walked to Karakse and began digging through Fastred's effects. "We need rope."

Fastred dismounted and helped Bandobras down. The Hobbit walked forward cautiously, sniffing the air. "What do you smell?" asked Fastred worriedly.

"Rotting carcasses," said Bandobras. "Kind of overpowers everything else, even us, though I can still smell us under it all – Hobbit and Dwarf, Elf and Big Folk." He grinned up at Fastred then. "Especially you Big Folk – getting pretty ripe, you are."

"I am not certain bathing will take precedence when we return to Meduseld, O holbytla, so I fear you must endure our stench a while longer," said Brytta good-naturedly. He swung down off Taruku and walked into the greensward, wrinkling his nose. "Faugh!" he said. "Something has died here."

"Several somethings, from the smell of it," agreed Bandobras. Then understanding dawned on his face and he turned to Gimli, his brown eyes wide. "Gimli!" he whispered. "Do you think -- ?"

The Dwarf did not reply, but followed Andunië to where she knelt by the nearest hole. He peered in as she did, squinting into the murky darkness, and the others followed them. They could see nothing; the hole was deep and dark, and moonlight did not penetrate the misty gloom therein. Up from its depths breathed cold stinking death, and Brytta covered his nose and mouth with a scarf. Andunië rose and calmly tied the rope round her waist, and handed the other end to Gimli and Brytta. "Here," she said. "Lower me slowly, and I will tug on the rope twice to let you know I have reached the bottom. When I tug four times, pull me out."

"Pretty Maid," said Brytta worriedly, "the air in the bottom of these holes is not always wholesome, and breathing can become laborious; are you certain you wish to descend therein?"

"I am," she said, and exchanging looks Brytta and Gimli began to lower her into the hole. Fastred watched uneasily as she walked backward down the side of the dene-hole, her eyes serenely looking behind her into the gloom. Fastred and Bandobras huddled together at the edge and watched her as she descended, until her form vanished into the darkness; but still they stared, as though their eyes would penetrate the shadows for her, and bring her safely back. They could hear movement, a soft scraping, and odd echoes, and ever the breathing of the hole like a giant's breath, stinking and vaporous. Gimli and Brytta braced back upon the rope, feeding it through their strong hands until it slackened; then there were two sharp tugs, and they stood and peered into the darkness.

There was nothing save silence for some moments, and Fastred began to wonder if he ought to volunteer to descend himself to see what had happened to her; but then the rope gave four quick jerks, and Gimli and Brytta leant back, and began to pull upon the rope hand-over-hand. At last Fastred and Bandobras could see her, walking as though of her own accord up the wall of the hole; she did not seem in the slightest discommoded, but perfectly at ease as though she did this sort of thing every day. Brytta gave her his hand to pull her over the edge, and she landed lightly upon her feet; in her hand was a small coil, which she handed to him.

"Dead colt," she said simply.

"Ah," said Brytta sadly, and took the twist of hair from her, twining it round his big gnarled fingers. "The poor thing."

Andunië, still with the rope tied round her waist, walked to the next hole, and they followed her. She knelt and gazed down into the blackness; if anything it smelt fouler than the first one. She glanced back over her shoulder at Gimli and Brytta and said coolly, "Ready?"

"Yes," said Brytta, and Gimli only nodded, his face grim and set. Leaning back against the rope Andunië once again paced backward down the edge of the dene-hole, and again Fastred and Bandobras watched her vanish. The rope had nearly fed out, and Brytta and Gimli had begun to exchange worried looks, when it slackened and tugged twice; then there was silence.

They waited. The moon crawled across the little oval of sky until it was obscured by the tree branches, and it became very dark. There was no sound save the sighing of air from the holes and the rustle of leaves on the breeze; now and again they heard the horses shift or nicker. Bandobras fidgeted, and Fastred wanted to. But Gimli and Brytta stood and stared down into the darkness, holding the rope with their hands, and still they waited.

Then – one, two, three, four! – and Gimli and Brytta leant back and began to pull. Over and over they hauled up the length of the rope until it coiled behind them like a long thin snake, and they began to grunt with the effort; wordlessly both Bandobras and Fastred ran behind them to lend their own muscle, and together the four of them pulled and pulled. "This – is – ridiculous!" panted Fastred to himself; "Here – we have – three horses – and they ought to be pulling – not we!" But it was too late to stop Andunië's climb now; and as the rope behind them grew he knew surely she must soon ascend.

Then up into the misty light came Andunië's head, her eyes glittering, but the effort needed to draw up but one slim Elf was explained, for in her arms, cradled against her breast, she bore the shining and broken body of her lord.

(A/N: Many thanks to those of you who have reviewed! [Especially Lyn, who seems to have read all my fics in one day ... ] I got a new computer, and have been trying to transfer files from one to the other, which delayed me somewhat, and as it's summertime, and the Munchkin is out of school, I don't seem to have as much free time as I used to ... but I'm chugging away at this, never fear! -- Le Rouret)

Brytta gave a shout, and taking the rope lashed it about a nearby stump; he and Gimli ran forward and hauled Andunië and her sad cargo over the edge of the hole. Fastred too rushed toward them, heart in his throat, but Bandobras stood rooted, his eyes staring in amazement, still clutching the rope; upon his face was an expression of astonished agony. Andunië when she had gained the edge fell to her knees, her arms still about the body she bore, her hair like a curtain obscuring her face. She trembled Fastred could see, but through weariness or some other motive he could not tell, and though Brytta and Gimli both strove to wrest from her arms Legolas' body she resisted and would release him not – her arms were wound round him tight, as though she herself could not believe she had found him, and perchance feared he would vanish should she relinquish her hold upon him. So they lowered both Elves prone upon the grass, with Andunië's arms clutched about her lord, and Gimli leant forward over them, his eyes anxious and full of sorrow.

Lassah lay limp and naked, his golden hair tangled and filthy; and it was hard to say whether more bruises or dirt obscured the shining whiteness of his skin. His legs were twisted round beneath him and his long white hands wilted and still, like old wasted lilies upon the grass. Bandobras gave a choked sob and ran to them then, throwing himself as best he could in the crush upon his Master's person. Andunië raised her head, and Fastred saw that though she made pretend she were as indifferent as before, her lips quivered over a smile, and her green eyes were glassed with tears.

"He breathes," she whispered, her voice so calm by wont suddenly and shockingly rough.

Fastred's mind seemed to shoot like a fountain out the top of his head, and all he could see were sparks. He heard Bandobras give a great shout of joy, and to his amazement he heard Gimli sobbing uncontrollably. He felt very dizzy and wondered if it were the effect of all those noxious fumes. "He cannot live," Fastred thought, his mind awhirl. "It is not possible – she must be, be overcome by the air at the bottom of the hole – it cannot be – " He shook his head and took hold of himself, and blinking hard stared at the tableau before him.

Brytta knelt over them, like a great carven image of Tulkas, thunderstruck; Andunië and Legolas lay twined together, though his beloved Lassah's face was still and cold beneath the silky fall of Andunië's hair. Gimli had thrown himself upon the body of his friend and wept and wept, all his reticence burned away by joy, and Bandobras was dancing about them all, face alight and arms aloft, his eyes to the heavens, hurrah-ing and shouting like a madman. Fastred dropped to his knees beside Lassah then, and laid a trembling hand upon the cold arm stretched out on the grass. Smooth hard skin over muscle, like soiled alabaster; yet in the cusp of upper and lower arm fluttered a heartbeat.

"Look at his legs; they have been broken," whispered Brytta then beneath the Hobbit's joyous cries. "O, they have broken his legs … " Then he too put his face in those wrinkled twisted hands, and began to weep.

"Silence!" said Andunië then, and when Fastred beheld her he saw she had regained her poise; she lay over Lassah's form, frowning down at his face. "Let me see if I can wake him. Bandobras! Fetch water."

"Water! Yes!" squeaked the Hobbit, and fled on dancing feet to where they had left the horses to fetch a water-skin. Gimli still wept, his face bowed over Lassah's stomach, which was sunken and stretched; his bones seemed to jut out, and his skin was horribly discolored by blood and bruise and weal. Fastred began to tremble himself; all his limbs felt weak, and beneath the words of his friends he could hear inside his head a low whine. Still he did not believe it – his fingers touched the pulse-point upon Lassah’s arm, and he could feel the flickering heartbeat beneath the cold skin – but the Elf’s face was still, his eyes closed and his jaw slack. Fastred had never seen his beloved Lassah so weak and helpless before, and he did not like it – Lassah should be tall and shining and strong, laughing and brave and indomitable. This lifeless husk could not possibly contain the great spirit Fastred had known since birth. Yet behind all his confusion his heart began to lift, for the crushing dread of finding Lassah slain had been replaced by burgeoning hope, like sunlight breaking through dark clouds.

He looked at Andunië then, wondering if he had only imagined her tearful smile, for once again she seemed to him to be devoid of all feeling, and was as cold as ever. She took Legolas' face in her slim hands; her brows creased as though with annoyance, and she frowned down at him, her green eyes glittering. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and she took a slow, deep breath; then, so low Fastred could barely understand her, she murmured a single word over her lord’s face. Fastred was not certain, but it sounded to him as though she whispered a'maelamin. “But that cannot be right; I have misheard her,” he thought; “for Andunië would never call anyone by that name, least of all Lassah.”

Nothing happened for the space of several heartbeats, and all simply crouched over Legolas’ still form, watching him expectantly; Andunië did not move, but lay prone, her hands cradling her lord’s face. But then with sudden violence Lassah's hands thrust upward; with one he grasped Andunië by the hair and jerked her head back, and with the other he seized her throat, throttling her, his fingers pressed deep into her skin. Brytta and Gimli clutched at his hands with cries of dismay, for Legolas was strong in his blind fury, and Andunië was choking, her eyes wide, unable to draw in breath; however she batted their hands away, and far from fighting her lord went limp above him, so that he would not feel her struggle and so enflame his rage. Legolas' eyes flickered then and blinked, and though they were yet clouded he seemed to perceive it was no enemy above him, for he slackened, and Andunië took a shallow rasping breath. Then his long dirty fingers released her hair, trailing it out so that it shimmered copper in the low light; he turned his hand and let the sleek locks slide across his palm. His brows came together, and his mouth opened and shut a moment; then in a dry, hoarse voice he croaked:

"Andunië?"

"Heruamin," she replied softly, her eyes wary. But before anyone could respond Bandobras rushed past them all and elbowed them aside; in his small hands he held a great skin of water. "Here," he panted, pulling the cork so that water sloshed over Lassah's chest, and the Elf flinched when he felt the cold water upon his bare skin.

"Give it me," said Andunië shortly, snatching the skin from the Hobbit; she cradled Legolas' head in her arm and tipped it forward, so that his lips touched the mouth of the skin. He strained up toward it and drank eagerly, his eyes closing again, the fingers of one hand still tangled in her hair; at last he broke away, and lay back panting, letting his arms drop limply by his side. Andunië thrust the skin back into Bandobras' hands and watched Lassah's face with a fixed yet unreadable expression; his eyes were still closed, and he looked, Fastred thought, quite shocking; however Lassah looked up after a moment, and cast weakly about him, and seeing Gimli crouched by his side his split and swollen lips curled into a smile.

"Gimli," he rasped, raising one limp hand; with an incoherent cry Gimli flung himself at his friend, who winced, though still put his hand round Gimli's shoulders.

"O my friend – ware my ribs," he whispered; and Gimli drew back, still sobbing, one big hand gently probing Legolas' side. "Aye," said the Dwarf with a shaking smile; "yes, I can see where they have broken, my friend. O – " Careful this time, Gimli embraced Legolas, taking him from Andunië's arms. The woman sat up, her face aloof, and brushed the dirt from her hands carelessly. "O you maddening Elf – I thought you were dead!"

"As did I," said Legolas with a weak chuckle; languidly his eyes roved round the circle. “Ah,” he whispered, his eyes lighting upon his little esquire. “My dear Bandobras!”

“Master,” whispered the Hobbit, taking one of Legolas’ limp hands and kissing it; tears were running freely down his cheeks. “O, Master!”

“Little One,” sighed Legolas, and looking up past Gimli’s head saw the rider kneeling there. "Brytta,” he said softly. “So you did return for me? I bethought to myself you might."

"And how could I not, O Green Knight?" asked Brytta, dashing his tears away and managing to smile a little. "You had left me with so great a debt; no man could stand beneath such a load!"

“Not even with shoulders so broad as yours?” smiled Legolas, and closed his eyes, resting in Gimli’s strong arms. Fastred watched his chest rise and fall, watched the pulse of his heartbeat in the hollow of his neck, and suddenly his throat felt very tight. It was true then – Lassah was not dead; he was alive – alive! He tried to take in a deep breath, but it choked on a sob; then hearing this did Legolas open his eyes once more, and focused them upon Fastred; he seemed confused, for he lowered his brows as though in deep contemplation, and he frowned.

“Fastred?” he whispered, and then the boy’s tears came in earnest; Fastred wept as though his heart would break, covering his face with his hands. He felt someone’s arm slip round his shoulders, and realized it was Andunië come to comfort him again; he could smell the rich summery scent of her hair. And beneath his sobs he heard Legolas sigh: “Ah … his mother will surely slay me when she hears of this.” And then Gimli began to laugh, loud and deep and long; he laughed over their words, over the Hobbit’s happy speech, and Brytta’s booming voice, and Andunië’s cool scolding, and Fastred’s sobs; he laughed and laughed and laughed despite Legolas’ weak protests, and it seemed to Fastred as though Durin himself must have laughed thus when first awoken to the splendors of the deeps.

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

They were too close to Bréawine's holdings to stay overlong, and Brytta feared the patrols that had flung Legolas’ body down the dene-hole might return, so they wrapped the Elf in a blanket and set him upon Taruku with the man of Rohan. Both his legs had been broken below the knees with a war-hammer, and were grotesquely twisted; Gimli and Brytta spoke in what Fastred felt was a very cold-hearted and callous manner about re-breaking and setting them, and upon hearing it Bandobras’ face went quite white. But Gimli had convinced them to wait ‘til they had gained safe camp, and so Brytta took Legolas upon Meivel’s destrier himself, and they pressed north to the cataract which split the land.

Legolas was very weak, and slipped betimes into swoon, for his legs were painful and he had not eaten nor drunk in ten days. He tried at first to sit behind Brytta and cling to him, but it became apparent he was not strong enough; also Gimli pointed out, rather acerbically, that in addition to having had his legs broken one of his shoulders was dislocated, and Legolas was simply incapable of holding himself upon the horse. So he sat before Brytta instead, and with one hand the man guided Taruku through the rest of the dene-holes and into the thick wood-girt hills, and with the other he held the Elf to him so that he would not fall. Fastred watched Lassah carefully, for sometimes he would awaken, and speak to Brytta, though his voice was so faint Fastred could not descry his words; mostly though he lay his head upon Brytta’s chest and stared into nothingness, his pale eyes bemused and unfocused.

They rode thus ‘til the stars faded and the sky lightened, and ever they wound up and up into the jutting hills, crossing rushing streams and fighting their way through the thick underbrush. When the sun began to shine her rays through the tangled tree branches Andunië raised her head, listening, and even Lassah seemed to become more alert; after some time Bandobras said: “What is that roaring I hear?”

Brytta laughed and said: “It must be the cataract – we are nearly there, and then we may rest.” This news was welcome, for they were all quite tired; their steeds were weary, and even stout Karakse’s legs were trembling. Fastred drooped, and knew he was not the only one, for he felt Bandobras nod off several times, then come to with a jerk. At last they pressed up one last steep hill, and then Fastred and Brytta could hear the thundering falls too, and smell the mist in the air. The ground was thick with ferns and shrub, and the trees hung with moss; the rocks were slick and glistening, and everything was very lush in that moist corridor. Then they gained the top, and Brytta led them to a rocky outcropping where the trees cleared, and Fastred could at last see how high they had climbed.

All Rohan was spread at his feet. It lay like a green-gold carpet in the late morning sun, gleaming with silver threads of streams and rivers, rumpled and wrinkled with blue shadows in the valleys and blushing verdigris round the edges. Far to the south he could see the steep slopes of the Ered Nimrais, and the sharp peak of Starkhorn pointing heavenward. The sky was filled with soft white clouds like fresh-washed sheep, dancing across a dome of blue, and the air was filled with the roaring, rushing, clattering sound of the waterfall beside him. It cascaded green-white over the sharp shelf of rocks and tumbled fully three hundred feet, crashing upon ledges and swirling round huge boulders, cutting a deep crevasse in the earth that wound south for many leagues ere the ground evened, and Fastred could see the river far below, spreading its fingers out over a fertile plain. All round them rose white mist like a bride’s veil, and water droplets clung to the leaves of the trees, glittering in the sun. Brytta rode up beside him, and Lassah, curled in his arms like a child, raised his head and looked out also; upon his lips was a small smile.

“Behold your kingdom, Little One!” he murmured, then with a sigh closed his eyes again. Brytta also smiled and said:

“Yes, Fastred Prince – this is your realm; do you not find it lovely?” The man’s eyes were soft as he gazed upon the land, and his face was proud. “And from these steppes to that tall peak it is delightful and good; it has rich fields, and good grass, and clean water, and strong wind. How terrible that one should desire to split it in two, and take these highlands for himself, dividing brother and brother, and father and son! O Fastred Prince, do you take it for yourself then, and let not Bréawine break the Mark in twain! Raise your sword and scepter in rightful government and save your people, for you are Théoden’s heir indeed!”

Fastred was filled then with pleasure at Brytta’s words, and also with determination that so beautiful a realm should be kept whole, and not squabbled over and burned and pillaged by some brutal upstart. He turned to the man, who so carefully held poor Lassah in his arms, and gazed out upon the hills and fields of his country. Brytta looked proud and gallant, and in his face was an echo of the handsome warrior he had once been, with his gray eyes, and the long silver and gold braids streaming out behind him. Fastred determined that he would for Brytta’s sake, as well as his own uncle’s, protect Rohan from such turmoil, and preserve it as it ought to have been, so that these proud men would not find their labor turned to naught. “As I am Éowyn's son and Prince of the Mark, I do surely swear to you that I will, Brytta,” he said firmly, and the man turned to him, and smiled at him; and beneath the man’s chin Legolas also opened his eyes and gazed upon Fastred, a look of satisfaction on his face.

They pressed north-east up the edge of the river to the ford, and found a small clearing by a deep black water-hole, swirling white with foam, and choked with stick and bramble; but the ground round it was dry and flat, and scattered with sufficient driftwood for a good fire. While Bandobras and Fastred set camp and built a blaze, Andunië directed Brytta and Gimli to lay Legolas out, so they might see to his wounds. She shook her head over her lord where he lay, his head upon Gimli’s lap, weak and weary still; though his gray eyes were calm, and watched her with trusting disinterest, smiling a little. “In truth, my lord, have I seldom seen you in such a state,” she said, her voice reproachful as she stood over him, her hands on her hips and a look of disapproval on her face. “Split lips, cracked cheek-bone, dislocated shoulder, broken ribs, two broken legs, and too many cuts, scrapes, bruises, gashes, and punctures to count.”

“Where should we begin then?” asked Gimli, stroking Legolas’ hair. He did not seem as unhappy about Legolas’ wounds as did Andunië; Fastred was certain he was pleased simply to have his friend returned to him with heartbeat and breath intact, and all other considerations were insignificant by comparison. Legolas looked up at Gimli’s inverted face above him and grinned.

“Red wine and roast beef first, by your leave,” he said weakly, and Brytta chuckled.

“Ah, so do all good warriors desire to fill their bellies! But I fear wine and beef are beyond our wherewithal at the moment, O Green Knight, though I admit it should taste very good to me also.”

“And don’t you forget we need to clothe him too,” added Bandobras from the fire; he was digging round his pack, trying to determine how much food they had left. “I won’t let my Master go running round in his altogether – not fitting at all, not by any stretch! But we didn’t bright naught but what’s on our backs, so I think we’d best tie the blankets round him ‘til we get back to Meduseld – that’ll satisfy modesty at least, though it’s not what I’d call very fashionable.”

“Mortifying but efficacious,” murmured Legolas, and with a sigh closed his eyes once more. Fastred turned to Bandobras worriedly.

“Bandobras,” he said, his voice low. “What shall we feed him? For you cooked the last of the beans two nights ago, and we have long been out of bacon!”

“I’m thinking about it,” grumbled Bandobras, staring at his pots and pans. “Meat! He needs fresh meat with blood in it to make him strong again, but barring the horses, and a few packets of salt and thyme, there’s naught to be had, and I’m not about to suggest we go eating our means of transportation.”

“I shouldn’t let you anyway,” laughed Fastred. “Perhaps Andunië and I can shoot something – we have bow and arrow after all. I am sure there are rabbits here, and squirrels, and I have seen several water-fowl – ducks and grebes and swans. My Lady Mother told me we should not shoot swan, but in truth I am so hungered I could eat near anything at this point, and poor Lassah is so starving we cannot give in to squeamishness.”

“Swan’s better than naught,” mused Bandobras. “And it can be mighty toothsome, if you roast it right, and if it’s not too old and tough. And it’s greasy – won’t dry out, not even over a hot fire. Never fear though – should we get swan I’ll not betray you to your mum!” He looked over at the wide rushing river beside them; the water was very swift. “Don’t think we’ll have much luck in the water – too fast for trout or bass up here, though Brytta says it ain’t bad after the ford – not that we have hook or line, so the point’s moot, more’s the pity. Though trout’d be right tasty, wouldn’t it? Wrapped in moist leaves and set on the coals for a bit – “

“Stop it,” said Fastred, laughing. “You are making me hungrier than I already am. How I wish I were in the bakeries of Meduseld!” And he sighed, and thought of Tamin, wondering how far Rúmil and his people had gone, and whether they had started their march to Edoras.

“You and me both, Fastred,” said Bandobras. “Why I’m so hungry I bet I’d eat a week-old muffin, without butter too – and that’s saying something, especially for a Hobbit!” He rose and walked over to Legolas, and like Andunië put his hands on his hips and looked down at his Master with a critical eye. “You look right awful, Master,” he said, shaking his head. “What a mess you’ve managed to make of yourself! Why you even look worse nor you did after that match against Hallas in Langstrand, when his lance snapped and caught you but good on the chin! All black and blue you were, with a great big gash on your cheek; do you remember, Gimli? And the way Lady Dirhael and all the ladies fussed over you! But you looked better then nor you do now. Good thing your mum’s not here or she’d tan your hide for being so careless, and that’s the truth.”

Legolas opened his eyes and smiled lazily back at his esquire. “Dear Bandobras!” he sighed. “What knight has need of a mother, when his esquire shall scold as well? Though I do not believe my hide has need of further tanning; it is bludgeoned sufficiently for any purpose.”

“Are you still thirsty, Lassah?” asked Fastred anxiously, coming forward and standing by Andunië. “And are you hungry? I am afraid we do not have much for you to eat – “

“Truth be told, we’ve got naught for you to eat,” admitted Bandobras unhappily, glancing at Andunië. “But Fastred here’s had the idea he and Andunië might be able to shoot summat with their bow and arrow, and as I’ve already got a fire going, and a pan of water on to boil, if they just went out and got down to business we might get a bite to eat afore noontime, which I’m not denying would be gratifying.”

Andunië glanced coolly down at Fastred, who gulped, wondering if he had been presumptuous. “Well, you are a very good shot you know, Andunië,” he stammered, seeking to appease her, “and I am not so bad myself, as Lassah and my Lord Father both did teach me to hunt; the land hereabouts is lush and green, and I feel certain we might indeed find aught with which to fill our stomachs, if we could but put a little effort toward it.”

Brytta and Gimli looked hopefully at Andunië, as though they expected her to pull a brace of conies out of her pocket at once; but Andunië’s eyes softened when she looked upon Fastred’s eager face, and she said as gently as he had heard her speak: “Fastred, do you not so provoke yourself unneeded; I know well enough the land round us teems with life, and much of it edible! But there is no reason for you to separate yourself from the friend you love so well and so deeply, whom you have mourned as one dead for many days. Stay you here with my lord, and comfort him while the Lord of Aglarond and Brytta of Rohan minister to his many wounds, for I know he will have need of such a one as you, who is strong of heart and flinches not at injury nor privation. You and the Halfling both are needed here, but as I am huntsmistress my talents are required in other quarters.”

Fastred blinked, trying to determine whether he had truly been complimented or not; but before he could adequately respond Andunië had leapt upon Ronyo with her bow and quiver slung across her back, her eyes to the sky. “I will return in an hour or so,” she said casually to the others, and with a soft word to her mare the two went into the wood.

Brytta watched her go, his eyes alight with admiration, and when she had gone he fetched a great sigh. “Ah!” he said softly, placing his hand upon his breast. “There passes a maid the likes of which I have never met! Upon her fair form lie courage and honor and wisdom, and she is like unto a great copper beech, slim and white and crowned with the light of the setting sun! I fear not to tell you, my friends, that in mine eyes this maid has become the premier light of life, so imbuing my heart with joy that I am overwhelmed with it, and fear that I but dream her. Yet well I know that to her I am but dust, for I am mere mortal man, and of grotesque form, and possess nothing by which to draw her from her eternal forests and immortal kin. Still that thought quenches not my esteem for her, for though she dwell centuries yet ignorant of my regard, still shall I be ennobled by the thought of her ever, and upon my death-bed shall I murmur her name and thus pass into the halls of mine ancestors with joy and peace commingled as I think upon the perfections of her fair and flawless face. Ah, how her eyes like emeralds shine, and her hair like flame streams down her back! When I gaze upon her skin like honey and her lips red as rose-petals my heart does betray me, with beats to rival the galloping of many horses. O that my arms were transfigured and could become the bones of her stays, that I should ever embrace her slender waist, and be not parted from her ever!” Then he stammered to a halt, and blushed deeply, looking round at his companions shame-faced.

Fastred was stunned by this, and turned to his friends in confusion. Legolas opened his eyes and gazed at the man in mild astonishment, and Gimli stared at him disapproving; Bandobras however merely snorted, and went back to tend the fire. “Her, wear a corset!” he clucked, shaking his head. “Don’t think she even knows what one is.”

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

Legolas entreated Gimli and Brytta to tend to the worst of his hurts ere Andunië returned. “For I would rather have it over and done, that I might eat and be truly comforted,” he begged them when they hesitated; “otherwise you shall feed me, and then when you wrench me back into the shape to which I am the more accustomed, I might in my pain disgorge, and so waste the meal.” So reluctantly did Gimli and Brytta turn him over, and bind his legs with thick cloths, and while Bandobras held one hand and Fastred the other, Brytta put all his weight upon Legolas’ back, and Gimli took his hatchet, and wrapped it well, and with the blunt end re-broke the Elf’s legs. The first blow gave a horrible crunch, and had Brytta’s great strength not held Legolas firmly upon the earth Fastred was certain the Elf would have risen straight up in the air; however he made no noise save a low groan, and before he could catch his breath, Gimli with his face white and set lifted his hatchet like a hammer, and after aiming carefully at the afflicted area struck his friend upon the other leg. Legolas cried out, though his voice was muffled by the earth; and when Brytta turned him back over the Elf’s face was contorted with pain, and tears streaked silvery tracks through the blood and dirt upon his cheeks.

Bandobras washed Legolas’ face with a cold wet cloth, and Fastred, his heart wrung with pity, cradled his friend’s head in his arms, watching him take deep tearing breaths, ragged and uneven, his skin gray and mottled. “There,” said Brytta, trying to sound comforting, though his voice trembled. “You have done well; now good Gimli shall set them, and then we shall see about putting your shoulder back in place.”

Legolas did not reply, but allowed Brytta to hold him down firmly, and while Bandobras and Fastred held tight to the Elf’s hands Gimli re-set his legs. It took some time, for the legs had not broken cleanly; and it seemed to Fastred that the Dwarf took far too long; he grew impatient, for he could tell it hurt Lassah terribly as Gimli’s hands twisted and pressed, striving to get the shin-bones all pointed in the same direction. But Gimli was competent, with his big strong hands, and careful to make sure the bone once set would stay that way, though he seemed to feel the pain he inflicted upon his friend, cringing each time he felt Legolas flinch. And as for Lassah he bit his lip and closed his eyes, and at times he did not even breathe; but Gimli at last declared himself done, and he and Brytta tied each leg up with straight sticks and tight rags. Lassah looked very strange, lying there with his legs outstretched and thickly bound; he looked more like Hísimë’s rag-doll after Théodred had got hold of it for one of his funny games. He was terribly white, and panted a little to catch his breath, his hands twitching on the grass, and Fastred stroked his matted hair, and kissed his damp brow, distressed by the sight of his brave Lassah brought so low. But then did Brytta come up behind them, and as he aided Lassah to sit up Fastred realized the discomfort was not yet over, for they still had need to fix his shoulder, which was bulbous and deformed; he and Bandobras as before held tight to Legolas’ hands while Brytta wrapped his great arms round the Elf’s chest, pinning the arms in tight, and with a sudden surge of his muscles there was a little snap! and Legolas groaned, then his face, which had been tight with apprehension, relaxed, and he took a deep breath, and smiled up at the man.

“My thanks, Brytta of Rohan!” he said; “that is much better – I fear you have cracked another rib in the process; it was worth it though, for my shoulder was quite uncomfortable.” He sat up straight, and moved his arms, stretching them and rotating them, and at last he lifted his face to the late morning sky, espying two swallows wheeling about; and he gave a breathy laugh, and raised his hands over his head.

“Look at me!” he cried, stretching his fingers to the sky. “I was as one dead, yet through the efforts of my friends have I been brought back to life! O the sight of the sun; the feel of the breeze upon my face! Nine days I counted in that pit, struggling and scrabbling and calling for help; it was dark, and the air so close and reeking, and I so near to despair! Indeed when I opened my eyes and saw Andunië’s face I did not believe it; I thought it surely a dream brought on by my hunger and thirst and pain. But I dream not,” he said, smiling at them. “And when my huntsmistress returns she shall certainly have something good to eat with her, and we shall have for ourselves a little feast, and then we shall share our tales with each other – though in truth I have much to tell, and none of it good, which takes a bit of the edge off of me.”

“I don’t care, so long’s I have you back!” said Bandobras, throwing his arms round his Master’s neck. “Bless my soul, but I’ve missed you! Why I even promised Elbereth I’d give up pipeweed if only I could see you again! I hope she don’t hold me to it though, for if I don’t smoke what shall Gimli do?”

Legolas laughed. “I suppose that all depends, Little One, upon whether or not Gimli swore a similar oath,” he said, and looked at the Dwarf hopefully; but Gimli chuckled, and ruffled Bandobras’ brown curls.

“Do not think so highly of yourself!” he said, throwing Fastred and Brytta a wink; “I have yet to hear of a Dwarf willing to give up smoking for the sake of an Elf’s bright face.”

They set about making Legolas as comfortable as possible, and let him drink all the water he liked – “Better than Dorwinion, when you have been without as long as have I!” sighed Lassah, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand – and Bandobras and Gimli tended the fire, while Brytta and Fastred saw to the steeds. Taruku and Karakse were much choked with briar and bramble, and content to pull up great hanks of green grass while their masters rubbed them down with rags. Boy and man worked in companionable silence for a time, then Brytta tugged his fingers through Taruku’s mane and said:

“I believe I shall fetch me the comb, that we might untangle this mess here; for our horses are fine beasts and deserve to greet the world as well-groomed as possible.” He looked back at the packs by the fire, and then laughed. “Look!” he said in a low voice. “The holbytla is seeing to his master’s grooming as well! Though I perceive that the Green Knight is not so sanguine about it as good Taruku here.” And when Fastred looked too he saw that Bandobras had bathed Lassah as well as possible, and was combing out his golden hair, chattering happily; Legolas being effectively imprisoned by his broken legs merely sat exchanging tolerant looks with Gimli, who was chuckling whilst sharpening his axe. Fastred smiled.

“I will have to tell my sister Hísimë,” he said. “She is always brushing Lassah’s hair, even when it needs it not! But she is a girl, and girls are always fussing with their hair and clothing.” He thought of Léodwyn then, of her honey-brown locks and plain black dress, and her old war-horse and work-hardened hands, and wondered what Hísimë would make of her. Frankly he thought he might prefer a girl such as Léodwyn, who did not seem to mark what she wore or how she fixed her hair; but then again perhaps when dresses and ribbons had been given to her she would become like Hísimë. “I have always wondered why they act so,” he said thoughtfully. “I suppose other girls are quite disparaging and so they do all they can to quell any censure, for it is certain we boys do not care.”

“In truth I have never contemplated it,” admitted Brytta with a smile; “certes it is all the fine ladies in the court have mattered to me not one whit, and ‘twas a rough huntsmistress first turned my heart.”

Fastred looked up at the man curiously. Brytta was stroking Taruku’s neck with his gnarled hands, and upon his weather-beaten face was a look of soft contemplation. To think of Andunië falling in love with Brytta was absurd, yet Fastred did not feel like laughing about it; Brytta had suffered quite enough he was sure, and he had no intentions of letting the man labor under such bright illusions. “Brytta,” said Fastred soberly; “you well know Andunië already has an admirer, and an Elvish one at that. I would not wish you ill, nor see your great heart broken; for if such a one as Himbaláth who is fair and jolly and brave may not make her his lady, what chance have mortals as we?”

Brytta looked down at him in surprise. “O Fastred Prince!” he said, and laughed. “I delude not myself in thinking she shall ever be my lady; I am too old to wed in any case, and even if I contemplated such an act I do not think me the Pretty Maid would make any man, or Elf even, a fitting wife! But she is very beautiful,” he said with a sigh; “lovely and strong and valiant; I wish this Himbaláth the best in his endeavors, but I do fear me his pleas shall ever fall upon deaf ears.” And he turned back to Taruku then, and spoke no more about it.

When the sun reached its zenith Legolas called to them that he heard hoof-beats, and sure enough moments later Andunië came out of the wood upon Ronyo, and behind her was a smaller horse, tacked and saddled and looking very footsore. They ran up to her as she dismounted, and Brytta took the other steed’s reins from her. “Where did you find him?” he asked in surprise, as Andunië opened her saddle-bag and began removing a quantity of small game.

“Hovering over his fallen master,” said Andunië calmly. “The man had been shot. I despoiled the body and replenished my quiver, though these arrows are not what I would wish to use save in dire need.”

“Let me see, Little One,” called Legolas from the fire, and Andunië went up to him with her plunder. He examined the arrows while Bandobras started plucking a brace of quail; the Hobbit hummed contentedly beneath his breath, oblivious to all save dinner. “These are rough missiles indeed,” said Legolas frowning; “fletched with crow’s feathers and thick gut, and see the heavy shafts!”

“Crow’s feathers!” Brytta took one of the arrows and said: “But these are Dunlendings’ arrows; no man of the Mark would shoot such crude darts.”

“I am not surprised,” smiled Legolas; “what I know of Errakh-Hem of the Dunlendings tells me he is not overly pleased with Bréawine now.”

“Why; have you met him?” asked Brytta in surprise.

“I have indeed,” said Legolas; “but have pity on a poor Elf, who has eaten naught for well over a week! Allow me to eat but one small quail first, and I shall tell you everything you wish to know.”

“Very well!” said Brytta. “Then I shall see to this unhappy beast, and Gimli and I will give to you his spoils as just recompense for your pains. But O holbytla I do most earnestly beseech you to cook and cook quickly, for I am anxious for the Green Knight’s tale!”

“You’ll eat when I’m ready,” said Bandobras firmly. “Man waits for the food, not the food for the man, you know.”

Brytta opened his mouth to protest but Gimli stayed him with a smile. “It is no use, Brytta of Rohan!” he said. “When it comes to food none can match a Hobbit for enthusiasm. Come! Let us see what Andunië has brought us.”

The horse had a deep cut on its cheek that had become inflamed, and Brytta tended to that while Fastred rubbed it down and Gimli picked through the spoils. Andunië sat upon the grass by Ronyo’s feet looking bored. “Clothes,” said Gimli with satisfaction; “short and too wide, but better than nothing.”

“Hardtack too,” said Brytta making a face. “And look! Vambraces and greaves; boots and belts – “

“And a sword, and a bow, and a quiver half-full of arrows,” finished Gimli. “Well Andunië, you have done quite nicely; the huntsmistress brought her lord not food alone but other items to comfort and adorn!” He carried everything over to Legolas and said: “Now if your huntsmistress will turn her head but a moment, we shall see about making you fit to be seen.” With Fastred’s help they clothed Legolas in the castoffs, and though it seemed strange to have him clad as a man of Rohan the clothing did not fit that badly. “There!” said Gimli. “And my friend, here are weapons by which you may protect yourself, and if we are fortunate, revenge yourself upon the men who have hurt you so.”

“By your leave, after I have supped!” said Legolas. “I am so faint with hunger through smelling the quail and rabbit, I am near to swoon.” But he admired the sword and bow, running his battered fingers along them appreciatively. “My thanks to you, Andunië!” he said to his huntsmistress, who was seeing to Ronyo’s mane. “I am far in your debt; I do fear me mine exchequer shall be greatly depleted after the new mews are finished.”

Andunië lifted her head, her green eyes flashing, and turned back to her lord, who regarded her with a mischievous smile. Upon her face was a look of hesitant approbation. “And the eyasses and haggards, offered me by Targond of Minas Tirith?” she asked cautiously. Legolas laughed.

“Yours!” he said. “Purchase as many as you like – or rather, as many as will fit comfortably in the mews; I trust you to not over-crowd them. And Fastred will perhaps lend you his skill in training them – he is passing good at it I have heard.” Fastred blushed and looked over at Andunië, who appeared to be struggling against seeming overly pleased; she gave her lord a curt nod, and went back to grooming Ronyo; however Fastred could tell she was happy, for under her breath she like the Hobbit hummed to herself. Legolas smiled at Fastred, and held out his arms to him; and Fastred, disdaining all things grown-up, including what Brytta might think, cast himself by Lassah’s side, and nestled happily into the Elf’s arms like he used when he was very small; he sat there ‘til the quail were done, listening to Lassah and Gimli and Brytta talk, and only sat up to let Lassah eat. And when all were done, and the sun sank west into the treetops, Legolas proclaimed himself refreshed, and taking upon one side Fastred and the other his little esquire he leant back upon the packs and told them his tale.

(A/N: I am so, so sorry it's taken me so long! But I've been hijacked by the World Cup -- Allez Zizou! -- and find myself rather more occupied than before, considering it's summer, and all the munchkins are out of school tormenting me. Please accept my most humble apologies, and for those Yanks reading, Happy Independence Day! -- Le Rouret)

Well, O Little Ones, my dear friends; I have rested, and supped, and drunk, and am though rather bruised about my parts in better state than I have been in many days, so I think I might gird myself and tell to you the events that have occurred to me in your absence. I shall begin, dear ones, with the moment Brytta left me; for I guess he has told you already what occurred before, how Lirlindil – the stars bless his memory; my poor dear friend! – and I did breach Bréawine’s keep, and after hunting round and overhearing conversations not meant for our ears, released good Brytta here, and flying with Bréawine’s men upon our heels were overcome. And yes, O Bandobras my dear, has Brytta informed me of my Piukka’s demise, the poor stubborn beast! When I told my good destrier to bear Brytta to Meduseld I did not think me he should run himself to death, but I was rather distracted at the time I’ll admit, so it is not so surprising that it should not have occurred to me. ‘Twas only news to Éomer passed through my head – that, and surviving long enough so that Brytta might make an escape. And now what shall Aldamir’s people say that I ride? For twelve years have I been The Green Knight upon his Midnight Destrier – I had best find a steed of like color, so they will not be constrained to re-write their lays. After all it would sound ill to sing The Green Knight upon his Flea-Bitten Gray Destrier would it not?

Very well, Gimli – I shall attempt to stick to the story. But I have been silent for ten days and I am sickening for talk!

Anyway Piukka bore you off, O Brytta, and I turned at bay, firing volley after volley at my pursuers; and when they bore upon me I did draw my sword to strike them down, though I was pierced by two arrows my self; and then one of the men I had shot fell upon me, knocking me to the earth, and my grandsire’s sword fell beneath me. They swarmed over me, though their captain did shout to keep me alive, much to my chagrin; for in place of sword and spear they did strike me with fist and foot and club (no doubt that is how my ribs were broken) so preventing me from raising my sword, which their captain did claim for his own, though he held it as though it burned him, and I hope it did – my grandsire should have been quite angered to know how it ended up, and I am rather glad he is deceased, so that he may not scold me. But I am not trained in the warrior’s arts for naught, and as they sought to bear me away I killed two of them with my legs, breaking their necks – ah, was that a mystery to you, dear friends? Well it is solved now; easy enough to accomplish when one has attained the proper instruction – and ‘twas then a great brute did raise his hammer high, and holding me down they cracked my legs below the knees, so that I should not slay any more of them in that fashion.

Yes, my Bandobras, it hurt very much. Ah, there; do not look so sad; it is over now, and the telling of it does not hurt at all! Good Gimli here has done his work well, and I have no doubt that I shall dance upon the rushes soon enough. That is a pertinent question though, O Brytta; perchance you might lash me upon the horse? I recall Hallas of Lossarnach rode to Amon Din in that fashion, after I had hamstrung him, and he kept his seat during battle well enough. We have rope, O my Bandobras? Good! Let us do that then.

The men were all quite annoyed with me – well, no, Gimli; perhaps “annoyed” is the wrong word, but let us leave it for now – and though they had realized mine immobility were not content to let me suffer in peace but continued to abuse me, jeering me and telling me to beg for mercy – which of course I did not – yes, O Brytta, I suppose I am as well-imbued with pride as the next man! – and finally the captain tired of this sport, and instructed his men to bear me away, which they did with as much violence as such unimaginative people could muster on short notice.

The burned bodies? Ah, that must have occurred after they took me; it explains however the size of poor Lirlindil’s remains. How I dread telling his dear wife! She shall be heartbroken you know; and I know not how I shall keep her from fading; their love was deep and vibrant, and I do fear me she shall find Arda a dry husk with her beloved gone from her.

Where was I? O yes – thank you, Fastred.

They took me back to the keep, which as you know Brytta is a large but quite ugly structure – O it would hurt your Dwarfly sensibilities, Gimli, to see this repulsive pile of rock! – set upon a low stony hill, with all the trees round it burnt to stumps and sticking out of the charred earth like the stubble of a man’s beard. And the gate, Gimli! Why it is nothing more than burnt logs bound together with rope – a child could breach it; it is really shameful; had that been my keep I should have been deeply embarrassed. The bailey is nothing more than a big untidy square with things cast headlong into corners – hay-bales, armor, piles of food plundered from nearby villages – and their poor steeds are set in the dampest corner, so that I am certain their frogs are compromised; I felt very sorry for them, the poor brutes. There is only one drum-tower, and it is not finished yet; it looks like a broken finger making an obscure and obscene gesture at one.

They dragged me to what Bréawine calls his “hall” – why it is nothing more than a dark, smoky, windowless room in a corner by the buttery – Buttery; as though I should dignify it by that name; an open fire and a barrel of sour ale! It is no wonder, my dear Gimli, that Bréawine begged the Dwarves of Aglarond to aid him in the building of his castle; it is disgraceful, truly – and there, seated upon a rough stone seat, which is carven round with signs and runes to discourage ghosts – Yes, dear Fastred; Brytta did disclose to me the nature of these “ghosts;” is that not delicious? – was Bréawine himself, and O how he glared at me! I do think me he was even more annoyed with me than were his soldiers, for naturally he understood the better how much damage I had caused him. But I was feeling quite happy by then, for I had resigned myself to my fate; there was no chance he would let me out of his donjon alive after the acts I had perpetrated against him, and though I regretted greatly not being able to bid my friends good-bye, and thought wistfully of Valinor, I was prepared to meet Námo and receive my just reward, for I have lived a full and virtuous life and have naught to fear in death. So I gave to him a cheerful smile, and bid him good day when his men dumped me rather unceremoniously upon the floor – earth still, and very damp, O Gimli! – and prepared myself for a painful time of it, fixing my mind upon the blessings of the world to come, so that my current discomforts should impel me not to grief.

Curse him? What good would that have done, Andunië? It should have made him smug, thinking me completely vanquished. Well, yes; I concede it would have felt good to call him names, but I shall leave that ‘til our next meeting. I have some choice ones I can use, provided you and Fastred promise to stop up your ears so you do not hear them.

His captain gave unto Bréawine my grandsire’s sword, which he regarded with distaste, and cast aside, the fool; then did he fix me with eye red and furious, and rising to his feet stood so that his boots were inches from my face.

He let loose some rather unfortunate vituperation then upon me, cursing me for the trouble I had caused, and demanding to know where my loyalties lay. I merely smiled, and told him I was an Elf and not subject to the fleeting political whims of mortal men. That disconcerted him, and giving me a sneer he said:

“What is your name then, O Elf?”

“Lirlindil,” lied I, glibly enough, for I did not want to reveal mine identity to him. Well, Fastred, because had he known me for the Lord of Dol Galenehtar he should have realized my knowledge of the doings in your uncle’s court and my proximity to the throne in Gondor; better, I thought, to die with my mouth shut than to induce him to try to pry secrets of me, or worse, hold me hostage! You understand then, my Little One? Ah, good.

He stared at me and said, “You give your name freely enough, Elf.”

“Why should I not?” I asked, shrugging as best I could in my position upon the floor. “My name shall give unto you but little benefit.” And though my arms had been bound behind my back – nay, Brytta, this was before they had dislocated my shoulder – I managed to get my knees up underneath me, so that though I stood not I faced him with chin high and eyes proud. He stared down at me with eyebrows knotted; I do not think he knew ‘til that moment how hardy and flexible the Eldar might be.

He fixed upon his face an evil grin, and spoke to me with silken tones, as one friend to another. “Well since you give to me your name so freely, you perchance may find it profitable to recount to me diverse other tit-bits of information,” he said.

“Perchance not,” I replied dryly. “After all my name is to you quite useless. And besides I would not like to deprive your men of sport.”

“We shall see,” he said. “Have you been at Éomer’s court?”

“I am but a humble scout,” said I. He scowled.

“Who was your companion?”

“A scout, as I.”

“Why did you rescue our betrayer?”

“He looked so uncomfortable, hanging from those irons like that; I am sure it was very hard on his shoulders. I felt sorry for him.” How he glared at me for that! He stepped closer to me and asked:

“Where have you come from? Who is your lord?”

I smiled sweetly. “May I have a glass of wine? I am thirsty.”

He struck me then with the back of his hand, the blackguard. I could feel my mouth fill with blood, and I swayed but did not fall. He was becoming angry.

“Do you not know who I am?” he demanded, striking himself in the chest with his fist. I smiled, and nodded, and spat blood upon his boots, and said: “Bréawine of Rohan, who calls himself ‘lord’ – though you are I deem no better than I.” This angered him, and he struck me again, and this time I fell back to the floor, where I lay as he railed me, demanding to know whence I had come, and under whose orders I had rescued Brytta. Then he called to him his men and told them: “Torment him ‘til he is ready to speak!” And he leant over me with a horrible smile. “I shall let my men soften you up; that will take the edge off your tongue, Dwimmerlaik!”

“Come! We are both gentlemen here; there is no need to resort to name-calling,” I chided him. But just as his men were preparing to lift me, there came into the room another man, beautifully groomed and dressed, and my heart sank, for he knew me, and O how we detested each other at our last meeting! Yes, Fastred – your cousin, Théalof. That answers, does it not, the question as to whether the two of them are allied? But there is more; wait upon it! Théalof stared down at me, his eyes astonished, and then there came over his face a dawning look of smug satisfaction.

“Why look at the gift you have given to me, Lord Bréawine!” he exclaimed, smiling at his companion. “And brought so low too!” He bent over to gloat over me, supercilious and self-satisfied. “The last I saw of you, O Lord of Dol Galenehtar, you were seated upon your glorious throne, gorgeously arrayed and crowned with jewels, and proud and haughty and condescending! O how delightful to see you thus; I am avenged for the ill-treatment you gave to me.”

“Lord of Dol Galenehtar!” exclaimed Bréawine then, and for the first time he looked afraid. “This – this is Legolas of Ithilien? But he did tell me his name was Lirlindil.”

“I lied,” I admitted. “But do not be so dismayed! It is not a habit of mine; I am really rather truthful by nature.” More men were coming in to the room then to see what the pother was, some Rohirrim, but some Dunlendings as well. The Wildmen looked at me as one who sees a ghost, and shrank back against the walls; I suppose they heard tell of me from their brothers who harass Aldamir and had no desire to stir me to wrath, despite my admittedly helpless position upon the floor. It is nice, is it not, to attain to such a reputation? And one man there was, who was not afraid but certainly concerned; taller than his companions, and better-dressed, though still poor and thin. Théalof smiling with disdain at him did draw him forward to gaze upon me, and in this poor man’s eyes was the look of one who does not know which way to turn; he did not seem to me to be brutish and cruel, like Bréawine, nor superior and avaricious as Théalof; though a Dunlending I bethought me he and I would have got on quite well, had we met in less awkward circumstances.

“Errakh-hem, my friend,” said Théalof with a smug smile. “Look at this! Dwimmerlaik to be sure, and of quite noble blood; yet see you how he is brought low by your allies? Truly you now see that you have naught to fear, for if Lord Bréawine can capture and hold such a prize he certainly can fulfill his promises to you!”

“Ah!” I thought; “the Wildmen are not sanguine about these northern upstarts; that shall bode well for Éomer, for they will fight only until they see their allies crumble, and then flee, or surrender.” And I looked upon Errakh-hem with interest, for I had heard much of him and desired to make his acquaintance; he also studied me, torn within I could see, and reluctant to speak.

“If this be truly Legolas of Ithilien we are in grave danger,” said Bréawine growing pale. “For he is friend to kings, who will surely seek revenge upon us if they perceive we have harmed him.”

“O I think not,” said Théalof, waving one hand in dismissal – yes, Andunië, he is quite stupid, is he not? “After all he is but an Elf; it is not as though he were a man as are we! It is the Age of Men, and the loss of one puling Elf-lord shall affect our plans not one whit.”

“Quite true!” said I, nodding. “My seneschal shall do my will even in my death, so removing me from the draughts-board will affect your defeat not one whit.”

Bréawine looked worried, but Théalof sneered at me. “That buffoon!” he said with scorn “O yes, well do I remember his seneschal Galás, my lord, Errakh-hem; he is an idiot, with no more between his ears than a sack of duck-feathers” – Hm? O yes, my Bandobras, certainly you may tell Galás what he said; I am sure he would find it amusing – “We have naught to fear from Elves,” Théalof went on to his conspirators. “The only reason I sought this one’s foreign mind was to keep him from sticking his nose in our business – and now that we have him here, there is naught he can do to impede us any longer!”

“Indeed!” I said. “And did you not come to Dol Galenehtar to find Lord Fastred, and capture him? And were you not definitively discouraged in the perpetration of this nefarious act, though surrounded by your men-at-arms, through the appearance of a lowly maid of my household? It seems to me, O Théalof, that is what my huntsmistress did tell me.” Théalof turned very red then, and Bréawine and Errakh-hem stared at him in amazement; it was as I had suspected part of the tale he had neglected to share with his friends. “And Errakh-hem,” I said; “do you realize Théalof could feed one hundred of your people fresh bread and meat for what he paid to have that torc made, that he wears so proudly upon his neck? It gives one pause, does it not?” Errakh-hem looked troubled, but Théalof had taken enough of me, and struck me in the face with his fist – that is what broke my nose – and taking me by the collar dragged me up so that our faces were inches apart; he was quite angry.

“I came to you to test you, but you are naught but an impediment to me now,” he said, shaking me. “The beautiful Lord Legolas; Lord Legolas the merry! You do not look so beautiful now. To remove you from our world will be a benefit – an honor! Beg for your life, O proud and arrogant lord of Elves!”

“Ah!” said I with satisfaction. “I have been waiting for the opportunity to do this.” And while he stared at me in confusion I braced my shoulders, and then struck him with my forehead upon his own face; it was quite satisfying to hear the crunch that told me I had broken his nose too. He yelped and dropped me, bright blood flowing down his face; and though Bréawine ordered his men to subdue me I saw Errakh-hem chuckling behind his hand ere the boots and fists began their terrible tattoo upon me. “Take him away!” Bréawine was shouting. “Beat him, torment him!” And just then a boot met my head, right behind my ear I believe, and all went black for a while.

When I awoke I was in the selfsame cell in the oubliettes below the keep, O Brytta, in which Lirlindil and I found you; I was quite alone, and hanging from my wrists in cold chains, and my legs being quite useless could not bear my weight, so I was constrained to dangle helplessly there like a freshly-butchered pheasant. But I did not see this was any call for despair, for I was certain they would question me, and when I proved obdurate would slay me, so that I was several steps closer to paradise at any rate. So I began to sing, being made cheerful for having broken Théalof’s nose; and after some time a guard came to see what the noise was; and after staring at me in bewilderment went to fetch his masters. Then did the three men come to me, standing staring at me as I swayed upon the chains behind my bars, and listened to me sing; Bréawine and Théalof regarded me with hatred, but Errakh-hem I could tell was intrigued, for he looked at me as a man who dreams of beautiful things. As they did not speak I saw no reason to interrupt my song, and smiling at them went on – O ‘twas the Lay of Fornost, my Bandobras; I had got only to the twenty-fourth verse, and was well on my way to sing all night, but the men being mortal became impatient, and Théalof came to the bars, and glaring at me bit me hold my tongue.

“But I am not finished,” I protested. “I have forty-six verses yet.”

“Silence, fool!” said Bréawine. “We do not need to hear your bleatings.”

“Pity,” I sighed. “I had not got to the good part yet, when Glorfindel after his death is given new life by the Valar for his bravery.” I winked at Théalof, who was rather bruised about the eyes. “I like the color you are using on your face now,” I said mischievously; “black-and-blue suits you well.”

He snarled, and Bréawine looked with grudging admiration at me. “You do not seem to be much discommoded by being locked in a dungeon,” he said.

“Well,” said I looking round, “it is not much of a dungeon is it? No rats, and no skeletons, and no other prisoners; but then you have not been in the business long, and I perceive this is quite a new oubliette, and you have not perhaps had time to add all those special little touches that make a dungeon truly menacing. Newts, perhaps, or some nice fat spiders – will you need to import them, or do they live round here naturally? Do you know, O emissary of Rohan, you escaped an intimate tour of mine own dungeon by the skin of your teeth, Théalof; it is bigger than Bréawine’s, but rather cleaner, for my guards are tidy and do not like the smell of decay overmuch – it interferes with their enjoyment of the barrels of wine I keep in the cellars for their benefit. My guards are good fellows and watching prisoners such a tedious task; I like for them to be comfortable.”

“You would talk the hind leg off a donkey!” said Bréawine with a smile. “But I guess your loquaciousness ends where useful information begins.”

“Théalof may say I’m a fool,” said I, “and perhaps he is right; but I am not unintelligent.”

“You do not seem to have wits enough to perceive you shall be tormented ere you speak,” said Théalof angrily.

“O no, I figured that out already,” I said cheerfully. “There is no sense in keeping good torturers round if you do not give them ample opportunity to exercise their talents, and I would not want to cause them tedium.”

“Very solicitous of you!” said Bréawine. “Almost do I regret having had my men bring you here; I like you, O Legolas of Ithilien, and lament your torment and demise, for you are a droll fellow; it should be amusing to have you in my courts.”

“I should make you a dangerous jester however,” I said. “Amusing I might be, but remember I am a warrior, and loyal to my friends.”

“We shall see how far your bravery takes you!” said Bréawine carelessly, turning to go. “Come, Théalof – Errakh-hem – the men have brought in venison, and I have ordered a barrel of wine to be breached, to celebrate having brought low so great an opponent! Good-bye, Prince Legolas; I shall send my guards down after they have refreshed themselves, and then we shall get to business.” And he went up the stairs, and Errakh-hem followed, though looking back at me with remorse upon his face; Théalof however could not resist one last jab, and he grinned at me through the bars.

“I shall look forward to hearing you scream for mercy, Wood-Elf,” he said, gloating over me.

I cocked my head at him. “Do you know, you rather resemble Eorl the Young,” I said thoughtfully. “You have the same look about you. Ah, how well I remember him and his people, when they rode down from the fields to the south! Brigands and barbarians the lot of them; we and our mortal neighbors were very glad to see their backs and be rid of them once for all.”

Théalof stared at me, and in his pale eyes I saw the first flicker of fear, which when combined with anger and chagrin is a toxic receipt. Why? Well I assume, my Fastred, that he had not realized until then my great age, and the insignificance in an Elf’s eyes of the doings of Men; he is rather stupid you know, and very narrow-minded. Nay, O Brytta; I remember not the departure of Eorl – I was in north Greenwood at the time, fighting trolls; I did not hear tell of it ‘til many years had passed, and by then his people were but a memory to us. But Théalof believed me, and with a rather wild look upon his face he took leave of me, though he said nothing after, which was a relief, but rude too.

I decided then as I waited for the torment to start to finish my lay, and so I began to sing again; however after only two verses I heard movement upon the stairs, and thought perhaps it were the guards eager to begin; but then I saw peering round the stair-well the face of the Dunlending’s leader, his dark eyes full of fear and confusion. So I ceased my song, and bid him draw near. “For I perceive you are quite trammeled in spirit and seek wise counsel,” said I; “and certes it is you shall receive neither comfort nor wisdom from Bréawine and Théalof, for they are twisty fellows.”

He came forward, with backward glance, his hand ever upon his sword-hilt; he crept up to the bars and with low voice said: “O Green Knight! Many times have you defeated my people, and I have cursed you again and again for coming to Aldamir’s aid; but now I see you and hear you I am confounded, and begin to doubt mine own loyalties, and in truth I know not where to turn!”

“Do you mistrust your friends then?” I asked. Errakh-hem made a face.

“’Friends’!” he said, his voice heavy with contempt. “You wert correct, O Green Knight, to say Théalof could feed my people with naught but his jewelry – he is vain as a peacock, and Bréawine is a fool to trust him I deem.”

I smiled. “But you are in league with them,” I said; “that seems to me to be foolish as well, for I may know things you do not.”

“Tell me then,” begged Errakh-hem. “In truth I care not who is king of Rohan, or whether the Mark be torn in twain – all I want is land for my people, and peace!”

“And think you Bréawine and Théalof can provide you with this?” I asked. “Do you not know they have separately ceded your very lands, given you by my friend King Éomer, to both me and Aldamir? Yes – well may you stare in disbelief! When last I conferred with the Red Knight we were astounded to learn that they viewed those fens as their own property, to be given to us in right, that we might mind our own business.”

Errakh-hem looked very angry, and very frightened too; he leapt to his feet, and began pacing round the oubliette, striking at the air with his fist and cursing. “False – all of them false!” he said, still keeping his voice low for he did not wish to be overheard. “First Éomer – now these two!”

“And how is Éomer playing you false?” I asked.

“Why, he is going to take our lands away as well,” said Errakh-hem fuming. “I saw the letter myself – “

“Really!” said I. “Do you know, my friend, I doubt the legitimacy of that letter as much as I do Théalof’s spurious claims to the throne!” Errakh-hem stared at me and I said: “No – I assure you, good Dunlending; Éomer is a man of his word, and very honorable, and his sister-son Fastred a worthy successor. He has no intentions of taking your lands from you and your people, for he sees the wisdom in letting you be, and preventing further bloodshed.” Errakh-hem did not reply, but seemed to be ruminating; to give him further food for thought I added: “And did you know, O Errakh-hem, that when I rode with my people across the Mering, we were attacked by a group of men dressed as Dunlendings? O yes!” I said in answer to his startled look. “You are ill-informed; I do not believe your friends keep you up to date on the news hereabouts. Rohirrim dressed as Dunlendings came upon us in ambush – you may draw the conclusion as you wish, though I see you are no fool despite your choice of allies, and can see something when it is right before your eyes!”

“I – I do not believe you,” he said flatly. I shrugged as best I could, considering my rather awkward position.

“That is for you to decide,” I said. “But truth be told I do not see what you are getting out of this alliance.”

“Bréawine did promise me part of his lands when the kingdom is split,” said Errakh-hem. “And Théalof said to me that when he ascends the throne at Meduseld he shall open the treasury to us, that we might purchase for ourselves livestock and tools.”

“And tell me, O Errakh-hem,” said I, “how do you think these two men will accomplish their ends? Do you really think Éomer so weak, and so ill-allied?”

“Théalof has got for us allies to the south of Gondor,” said Errakh-hem confidently. “I do not mind telling you this, for I know you will die soon, more’s the pity - you seem a nice fellow, and it is a shame you shall be slain in such a fashion. I would slit your throat myself to spare you this grief, if I did not think I should be cursed to kill one of the Dwimmerlaik.”

“Your solicitude overwhelms me,” I said. “But Errakh-hem, about these allies; if they are in south Gondor how is it they shall come to your aid? Do you not know how far away that is? And have you seen no maps, to tell you what lands lie between?” He stared at me, and I saw he was ignorant; so I said: “The lords Théalof has tricked into alliance, even if they answer his call for aid, must first pass through Minas Tirith, where rules the might of Elessar even in absentia; and then should they press through they shall come upon Faramir Prince of Ithilien, a great captain and a brave and loyal man, and Éomer’s brother-in-law; and then shall they run across my seneschal Galás, who is no fool at all but a wise and dangerous warrior; and even should they pass all these obstacles unhindered must they go through Amon Din – and well you know the might of Aldamir son of Castamir! Think you they shall stand against all these obstacles? And think you my friends who are numbered amongst them – Hallas of Lossarnach, Mardil of Ethring, Araval of Tarlang, Cirien of Langstrand – shall allow them to continue on in their folly, opposing Elessar’s rule? Think you that, O Errakh-hem? You ought know better; you are no fool, but only ill-informed, and over-trusting; Théalof in his arrogance thinks himself safe, but I tell you the truth, Errakh-hem, that the wrath of Elessar shall be great, and he will come down the Greenway anon to find vengeance; and woe betide those who stand in his way!”

Errakh-hem was greatly troubled at my words, and stood for a while staring off into the darkness; I could see he was deep in thought. At last he turned to me, and falling to his knees grasped the bars of my cell; upon his face was a look of terror.

“Help me, O Green Knight!” he begged. “Tell me what I can do! For I am an ignorant and unschooled man; I do not read, and cannot do sums, and know nothing save privation and envy. My people have suffered so already; we are hungry, and homeless, and hated! Have I truly allied myself with liars and cheats? O we are miserable, we Dunlendings; we are harried from land after land, and all hate us where we go! What shall I do? Where shall we go?”

“Go to Éomer!” I said. “Bring your people to him; beg him for clemency. He is not the cruel and heartless man you have been told he is. Go unto him with white flag aloft and offer him your fealty in exchange for his protection. You have been deceived, O my friend; both Bréawine and Théalof are using you to accomplish their own ends, though of the two I think Théalof is the bigger liar.” He looked at me doubtfully, so I repeated: “Go to Éomer! Flee the coming wrath! For even if Théalof and Bréawine succeed in taking Éomer down, and should Elessar delay his return and you find yourselves taking your ease in his absence, shall my Lord Father come down in rage and fury and fire, and join with my people in Dol Galenehtar, and you be destroyed utterly. Would you not rather bring your people to safety in Meduseld, or barring that Aglarond at Helm’s Deep, than to let run the fierce Dwimmerlaik over the fertile fields of this land? For my sire is a warrior of ancient and noble lineage, and he will come to kill not capture. Would you not rather let Bréawine and Théalof face his fury?”

I heard a noise then at the top of the stairs, and said: “Go, and quickly! The guards are returning.”

“But – “ he said; he seemed unwilling to leave me to my fate, as I was unwilling to leave him to his. But I said urgently: “Go! And heed my words, Errakh-hem! Save your people!” And giving me a last frightened look he took to his heels.

Well, the guards returned then, and brought with them clubs and whips; I was relieved to see that they had not yet progressed to the point where they had acquired more sophisticated tools of torment. But truth be told I do not think their hearts were in it; they were uneasy I could tell, and when their captain after a few moments during which I was stripped and flogged went upstairs to report I was still mute, the men exchanged looks, and discussed amongst themselves what might occur should they slay one of the Dwimmerlaik – yes, O Brytta; your northern kin are very superstitious, are they not? – and did decide the risks to their souls outweighed their lord’s displeasure. So they gagged me and bound my arms, and put me in a sack, and stole away with me in the darkness; they dragged me behind their horses for some ways so that I was even more battered than before, and at last threw me, binding, gag, sack, and all, into a dark hole, where my shoulder was dislocated in the fall. I heard them ride off after that; they did say amongst themselves that the shadow of my curse should not fall upon them, for ‘twould be the elements to slay me and not themselves. Yes, my Bandobras – foolish sophistry. After a while I was able to loose my arms and mouth, and get out of the sack; but it availed me naught, for even had the sides of the hole been less steep and sandy my legs could not support me, nor could I pull myself forward with my shoulder so wounded; and so I lay at the bottom of the pit in rubbish, thinking fondly of the nice clean oubliette in Bréawine’s keep – no, I am fooling, dear Fastred! – and calling now and again for help. But it was quiet, and rainless too more’s the pity, for I grew very thirsty as the days passed, and when I had counted my eighth sunrise began to feel faint and dizzy, and could not seem to order my thoughts. Indeed the sight of my huntsmistress’ face above me is the next thing I saw, and I was very confused, thinking I had dreamed it whole; but the waking is superior to any dream I might have had, for I am with you, O my dear friends, and I am though gravely hurt quite keen to seek vengeance, and see Rohan saved, and Éomer given the victory.

Do not hurrah so, dear Bandobras! It will take a bit of doing yet. And is there any more of that most excellent broth? I am still quite hungry. O for a glass of wine! I swear unto you all, dear friends, that should we survive to gain Dol Galenehtar again I shall serve you all the best barrel of red from our vineyards, and we shall sing and dance upon the lawns in the starlight.

Well – no, Fastred. I suppose it shall be some time ere I dance again. But you may dance if you like, and I shall wager two gold pieces I know who your partner shall be!

Ah – he blushes; see you that? Very well, Bandobras; I will stop teasing him. Now may I have more broth?

A/N: This was quite possibly the most difficult chapter I have ever had to deal with. Ever. It simply would not behave. In the end I had to scrap the whole thing and start over. Needless to say, between the breast-beating, beer-drinking and re-writing it took much longer than I had anticipated.

My Muse hates me.

Anyway, here it is; and I thank all of you for your willingness to read! I'm getting it set to finish, I swear ... now, if the plot-bunnies regarding Mardil's unmarried state would only leave me alone!!!

Fastred dreamt he stood upon the ramparts of Minas Tirith, looking down on an army. It stood in ranks upon the fields of Pelennor, gleaming with steel-tipped lance and shining shield, and he could see the captains moving about the squares of men, like ants from that distance. Upon the glimmering Anduin below him were war-ships, white-sailed and brilliant; he knew not how, but felt in his heart it was time to depart, to board a ship and sail south. He held something beneath his arm, large and bulky; he looked down on it, and saw that he bore a high-crowned, winged helm, such as they wore in the Tower. He raised his face to the Ephel Dúath, sampling the clean warm wind; rooks and crows wheeled about them, and the day was fine.

“Are you ready, O Fastred my friend?” asked a voice by his side; he turned, and beheld Tamin, though he was no longer a lad but full-grown, and clad in black armor. His golden hair shone bright in the sunlight, and his smile as always dazzled him. Upon Tamin’s other side was Legolas, arrayed in his splendid green cuirass, and he held his own frogmouth helm, winged and glaring, beneath his stout verdigrised manifers. Upon his fair face was a look of deep longing surmounted by sorrow, and his gray eyes were glazed with tears as he looked down at the ships. He sighed, and said sadly to Tamin and Fastred: “O my dear Little Ones, how my soul is torn within me! For we go to the Ethir Anduin again, to smell the salt in the air, and hear the hiss of the waves upon the sand. Alas for me, for the oaks and pines of my home comfort me not! How I feel the pull of the Sea, surely as the tide drags at one’s feet! I pity you, Tamin of Dol Galenehtar; for in two days’ time will your heart surely break, as does mine whenever I hear the gulls cry.” Then Fastred moved his legs, and he woke up.

He was lying in the crook of Lassah’s arm, and could see over the curve of his friend’s chest the form of the Hobbit also slumbering, wrapped in a blanket with his hands twined in his master’s golden hair. It was still dark, but when Fastred looked up he could see the stars fading; he smelled the fire burning out, and heard from the other side of the clearing one of the horses shift and nicker.

There was the sound of movement near him, and Fastred raised his head to see what it was. He beheld Andunië squatting by the fire, poking it with a blackened stick; she was feeding it with kindling, and there was a pile of wood by her feet. She glanced over at him, her emerald eyes cool, and nodded once; Fastred sat up carefully so as not to disturb Lassah and whispered: “Do you ever sleep?”

“On occasion,” she replied carelessly. Holding aside her coppery hair she blew steadily on the wood till it kindled, then sat back on her heels, brushing the dirt from her slim brown hands. “Since you are up, do you wish to hunt with me?”

“Of course!” whispered Fastred, delighted; it was so rare she willingly suffered his company, and he felt it a high compliment she had asked. He carefully unwound himself from the cocoon of Lassah’s arms and hair and blankets, and got to his feet. He looked down at his sleeping friend; Lassah did not look so bad as he had the night before, though he was still very dirty, and his smooth cheeks were sunken. “When we get back to Edoras I shall do nothing but feed him and Léodwyn pastries and meats with gravy and strong red wine,” he thought; “they need fattening. What a shame it is they do not have olive oil here – it is so efficacious!” He rummaged around in his pack for his bow and arrow, and hearing a faint noise beside him turned; Lassah’s eyes had opened, and the Elf was watching him, smiling.

“Good morning!” said Fastred softly, and dropped a kiss on Lassah’s forehead. “Andunië and I are going out to get breakfast.”

“Excellent!” said Legolas, stretching his arms up indolently, like a cat in the sunshine. His eyes twinkled at the boy, and he grinned. “Be you sure to bring back eggs and rashers and quickbread then.”

“Think you’re cute, don’t you, Master?” came Bandobras’ sleepy voice from his tangle of blankets. “Why not ask for porridge and tea and toast with butter, while you’re at it?”

“Grilled steak and cheese and hot mead,” said Brytta from the other side of the fire, rubbing his eyes and sitting up; Gimli beside him grumbled something about too much chatter and not enough sleep, but finished it off by muttering, “Fried ham and raspberry preserve.”

“You must be content with what we bring you, I fear,” said Fastred, slinging his quiver over his shoulder and following Andunië to the pickets. “Though I wouldn’t turn up my nose at seed-cake and strawberries and cream!”

“You are as bad as they,” chided Andunië, mounting; and laughing Fastred agreed.

Fastred suspected Andunië would have had more luck without him along, and wondered why she had invited him; it was certainly not for talk, because she said nothing, and Fastred could not fool himself he was good company for such a dour lady. But when they had bagged up a brace of coneys and headed back to their camp he was delighted to hear her sing as they rode along; the sun was rising over the tree-tops and the birds were chattering and bickering in the branches, and he could catch the chuckle and cluck of the water over the stones. Andunië sang of Thorondor and his brothers hunting evil beasts in dark fells, and though her lay was grim her voice was clear and pure and lovely, and Fastred’s heart rose in spite of her bleak words. “Even if we are delayed somewhat by injuries we might make it back to Edoras ere mine uncle departs,” he thought cheerfully. “And then I shall ride into battle with him as his prince; and I shall know that Lassah will be safe for he will stay behind to heal.” Then with a qualm he remembered the tale Halgond and Baldor had proudly recounted concerning their father Hallas of Lossarnach, how he had ridden into the Battle of Amon Din lashed to his horse’s back, even scaling the heights of the mountain in that fashion, and Fastred wondered if Lassah would be easily persuaded to remain at Edoras. He rather thought not.

Bandobras skinned and roasted the rabbits and they ate until they were satisfied (“Though I’d still rather have eggs,” Legolas had said innocently, winking at Gimli, who chucked when Bandobras glared), then broke camp. Between Brytta and Fastred they managed to strap Lassah to the back of the poor horse Andunië had rescued; Lassah had fussed a bit about the saddle, for he did not like to use tack; but Brytta pointed out quite correctly that it made it easier to affix him to the horse’s back if the saddle were still there. The steed for his part seemed better already; the cut on his cheek had begun to heal thanks to Brytta’s skill, and he would oftimes flick his ears back, or glance over his shoulder at his strange rider, and become so delighted with his change in fortune he would interrupt his gait to skip a little. Fastred thought perhaps he were simply glad to dispense with bit and bridle; Lassah might have been resigned to the saddle but had stubbornly refused to use anything else. Andunië chided the horse for his high spirits, but Legolas forestalled her with a laugh, saying, “We are both poor broken beasts; let him have his jest if he will; I do not grudge him this.” He called the horse Voronda, because he had been faithful to his last master.

They gained the ford at noontide, and their horses splashed through the icy water and sent up bright sprays like fountains. Brytta led them down through a stand of fir and pine and spruce, fragrant in the sun, and the land descended; soon they passed through oaks and lindens and maples. They crossed into a deep vale, where they could hear the cataract but not see it; it thundered and boomed, and the air was fresh and moist. The sun westered behind the rising cliffs to their right, and cool blue shadows were cast all round them; they were in the canyon now, and on the other side of the rushing river rose high rock walls; to their left the walls fell away into a deep decline, covered in loose stone.

Legolas and Andunië shot three geese out of the air, which they roasted once more over their evening fire; Fastred was pleased to note that Lassah looked stronger, and his lips and cheeks no longer blanched; though he did grunt with pain when forced to dismount upon his broken legs. He tumbled into Gimli’s and Brytta’s arms with a laugh though, and made jest of his weakness, which was heartening. He was as merry as Andunië was stern, and ere they banked the fire he convinced Bandobras to sing for them a droll little song, all about a Hobbit named Mad Baggins who could disappear with a wink and a finger laid aside his nose, which made Fastred and Brytta laugh; for the vanishing Hobbit committed such comical depredations, and got out of his scrapes at the last possible moment. And when they sought their blankets Fastred once again slept by his Lassah’s side, curled up with his cheek pressed to the Elf’s breast, delighting more in the steady thump of his heartbeat than in many lullabies.

The next morning dawned warm and overcast, and by the time they had eaten the rest of the cold goose it had begun to rain. Their horses’ hooves slipped on the loose rock and gravel by the river, and every time Karakse shook his head Fastred was spattered with water. He was very tired of travel, and thought longingly of his thick down tick in Meduseld, and of his clean linen night-shirt, which he had so recently disdained. “And perhaps when we get back Tamin will be there,” he thought, bemused in his weariness; “and I will introduce him to the bakers and we will eat hot pastries.” He did not like riding through the canyon; the constant murmur of the river fretted at him, and the walls and cliffs round them made him feel cornered. He could see eastern Rohan to his left, rutted and rumpled like a cast-off cloak; he was glad Brytta had chosen to follow the river, for it would be far too easy to lose oneself in the creases and folds of the earth down there. Because of the rain there were no birds or raptors about, which Fastred also did not like much; he had grown accustomed to eagles and hawks and falcons circling above them, calling down to Andunië; their absence was disconcerting.

The canyon narrowed after noon, and they were constrained to ride in file. Fastred rode behind Lassah and Bandobras; the Hobbit was chattering comfortably to his master, though Fastred could not mark what he said; Lassah at least seemed amused, and sat straight and tall upon his horse’s back, and now and again he laughed. Before Lassah rode Brytta, and Fastred knew that if he turned round he would see Andunië behind him, with Gimli perched at her back. And still the rain drizzled down, gray and cool; it dimpled the shallows, and spattered on the rocks, and ran down the canyon walls, and soaked their hoods so that the water dripped on the tips of their noses. Fastred was just thinking gloomily to himself of the wet wood they would encounter that eve, and wishing for a fishing-pole, when as one Andunië and Legolas drew up their steeds; Andunië said sharply: “Did you hear that?” and Legolas replied: “Hush!”

Everyone stopped, and even Bandobras ceased his chatter; Legolas and Andunië peered forward into the misty gloom, eyes bright and piercing. The others were silent, watching the Elves, and Fastred’s heart began to race. “O I hope it is only beasts, or at least people friendly to the crown!” he thought anxiously. But then Legolas turned round to Andunië; his face was grim.

“Men’s voices,” he said, his eyes glittering. “Many of them too, from what I can hear! Curses upon the man who broke my legs – Andunië, Little One, do you dismount and go quickly forward; be you silent, and return to tell us if this is aught to fear.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Andunië, sliding off her horse; she fitted arrow to string, and flitted silently round the canyon wall and out of their sight.

Deep silence fell around them, broken only by the mutter of water, and the clatter of rain on shingle. Soon Fastred could hear hoof-beats, though to be sure they seemed a good ways off, for there were many echoes in the canyon, and it was difficult to determine distance. Then Andunië came running round the corner, her eyes flashing and her mouth set in a grim line.

“Fifty horsemen, beneath Bréawine’s standard,” she barked, leaping upon Ronyo’s back.

Bandobras went white, and Gimli said something in Dwarvish which sounded like a very bad word. Brytta turned Taruku and said grimly, “Well, then, back up the river we go!”

“And quickly!” said Legolas, turning Voronda; “I have had quite enough of Bréawine’s hospitality; I am not anxious to be invited back again!”

They urged their tired steeds into a noisy canter, and Fastred wiped the rain out of his face. “We’re trapped!” he thought, his heart thumping. “We cannot cross the river – we cannot descend the cliffs – we cannot run fast enough – “ For he knew the horses of Rohan could out-run their own steeds; even Voronda, wounded and weary, pressed impatiently at Karakse’s hindquarters, eager to outstrip his larger companions, and Legolas in his quiet voice was exhorting him to slack his pace. And over the rattle and clank of hooves and rocks and jingling tack he heard the voices of men; they were gaining, and there was nowhere to go.

He could see Andunië and Gimli ahead of him, the Dwarf hanging on to the Elf’s waist for dear life; the misty rain obscured his vision, and he was glad she with her keen eyes was in front. But then when they rounded a corner she gave a cry of “Stop, stop!” and they reined in, their horses puffing and blowing, though Voronda snorted and pawed, eager to go on.

Fastred peered forward, and saw what impeded them; the rain had loosened the rocks round the river, and they had broken free, rushing in a small torrent across the path and cutting a rut down the side of the cliff; the water was swift and brown, and there was no way to tell how deep it was. Rocks and boulders had tumbled down from the canyon walls, and there was a barrier of rock upon the other side of the water, mud-slicked and uneven. Andunië leapt from Ronyo’s back and stepped forward carefully; however even under her light step the earth rushed away beneath her feet, and she jumped back ere she was swept away. She turned to them, her eyes hard.

“Trapped,” she said.

“Indeed,” said Legolas; he did not look pleased. “And we cannot wait for the rain to slacken to ford this little river – “

There was then a great cry behind them, and they turned; the men had caught up with them and espied them, and they were shouting and pointing, and one of them blew a blast on his horn; it echoed amongst the rocks, sounding like many horns. Brytta drew his sword, and shook it at them.

“They will be upon us in a moment,” said Andunië. She climbed back onto Ronyo before Gimli, took her bow and fitted an arrow to the string. Fastred, wishing he were as indifferent as she, followed suit; he was afraid, but pleased to note his hands were steady. “I must be getting used to this,” he thought. Legolas also took the bow of Rohan and aimed it through the mist into the crowd of men which pressed upon them, and as one they formed a line, facing their enemies. Fastred looked round at them as they waited for the men to reach them. Lassah sat proudly, his bruised face composed and his grey eyes sharp; Andunië looked almost bored, the fletching pressed to her cheek. Bandobras had drawn his own small sword, and Gimli his halberd, and they both looked very grim and dangerous; and of course Brytta was tall and hale yet, and his sword was long and sharp and bright. As though he felt the boy’s eyes upon him Brytta looked over at Fastred and his companions; in his eyes were pride and grief and fierce joy mingled upon his battered face.

“I weep not for myself, for I have lived long enough,” he said; “and I weep not for you my friends, for you are brave and honorable, and shall die well. I regret however that you shall be constrained to die in my land, for you are far from your own homes.”

Gimli nodded, and Bandobras smiled; neither Legolas nor Andunië replied, but Fastred said firmly: “I do beg your pardon, Brytta of Rohan … this is my home as much as it is yours, and I have every right to die here as have you.”

“Ah, my Fastred!” sighed Legolas with a smile. “What a good king you would have made!”

They all fell silent. They could see the vanguard now, fierce men on horseback brandishing their weapons, shouting at them, and approaching swiftly despite the loose wet shingle. Fastred drew his bow taut, and heard the creak of the string as Legolas also pulled his own bow. They waited, for the men were not quite close enough, and Fastred’s mouth went dry. Two hundred yards … the men were almost upon them. He determined to shoot as many arrows into the fray as he could, and then draw his sword; he refused to die without taking as many men with him as possible. “How I wish I could have seen Tamin again!” he thought, “and my family, and Léodwyn, and Halgond! And O how vexing it is to die, when one is cold and hungry and wet!”

The first line of men was a hundred yards off; Fastred could see their bright eyes beneath their helms, and the yellow hair on their shoulders. “Wait for it, Little Ones,” murmured Legolas softly; his eyes gleamed, and there was a smile on his lips. Fastred took a deep breath. The bow string cut into his fingers, and the fletching tickled. A drop of water trickled down his forehead, and he blinked it away.

At fifty yards Legolas shouted, “Now!” and three arrows flew into the air. Fastred did not even wait to see what he had hit; he reached back for another arrow as quickly as he could, for the line was advancing, and the shouts of the men were deafening. “Again!” he heard Legolas say, and there were two more twangs; even as Fastred fit his second arrow he saw two men fall.

Then – zip, zip! Four arrows – five – ten! Andunië cried out, and Brytta grabbed Fastred roughly by the shoulder and pulled him down, so that he was crouched over Karakse’s neck. Their horses were snorting and shying, and Fastred could hear Legolas crying out joyfully: “Lórien, Lórien!” He realized to his astonishment the arrows were coming from behind them, and not from their enemies; there were arrows flying all round, and the forefront of Bréawine’s men melted beneath the onslaught. He turned as best he could, and saw, rising over the mound of dislodged earth and rock behind them, four lines of gray-clad elves, nearly obscured against the stone, firing arrows past them each in turn, and at their head he saw Tamin’s father, calling his orders in a loud voice.

“Fastred!” someone cried, and then Fastred saw Tamin, beaming happily by Tathardil, his own bow and arrows put to good use; with a glad shout Fastred turned back to the fray. The men of Rohan were in disarray; they were dismayed by the rain of darts, and many of them had been slain; Fastred drew his bow and fired as well, and another man fell.

Despite the arrows the line of men advanced, and Fastred drew his sword; he could see Lassah draw his as well. Brytta turned to Lassah then, his eyes bright and happy. “Together, then!” said the man, and with a glad laugh Legolas crossed swords with him; then as one they surged into the fray, and Fastred could hear Legolas singing. He was only mildly surprised to realize that the song was neither Elvish nor Westron, but of Rohan.

“Bandobras!” he exclaimed, even as a man approached, sword swinging. “Where is Bandobras?” But he did not have the time to contemplate it overmuch; the man was upon him, his horse snorting and rearing; Karakse flinched at first, but then as though taking stock of himself, with an angry bellow rose up on his hind legs and lashed out with his huge feathered hooves. Fastred gripped the saddle-horn in astonishment; Karakse had never reared before; he was of habit such a good-tempered beast. But his attack made good measure, for he struck the smaller horse hard in the head several times and it fearfully retreated; the rider cursed his mount and tried to turn him, only to find the big piebald gelding’s teeth at his shoulder. He gave a yelp of surprise, and Fastred wrenched Karakse’s head round so as to get a good angle; he and the man bashed at each other a few moments, but the rider was distracted by his mount, who was now desperately afraid of Fastred’s destrier; with a wrench and a slash Fastred dispatched the man, hot with anger. “So die all who oppose Éomer King!” he shouted, and turning Karakse into the fray he cried out, swinging his sword: “Eorlingas! Westu Éomer hal!”

The men were confounded at his words, and turned to him amazed; they were greatly diminished in number, and had grown to fear the hot wrath of the Elf and Man who had charged them; they could not see the Elves hidden in their cloaks behind the rocks raining darts upon their heads. But their captain shook his sword at Fastred and cried: “To me, to me, Eorlingas! Westu Bréawine hal!” He charged at Fastred, his great gray horse snorting dreadfully; upon his face was a look of hatred, and his sword swung. Fastred met his charge, and they came together with a terrible clash; it was very noisy, and Fastred banged and slashed as best he could, and tried desperately to remember everything his father and Himbaláth had ever taught him, for this man was a large man, and a tried warrior, and he but a boy. The captain grinned evilly, knowing Fastred was hard-pressed, but soon his smile disappeared, for Fastred became angry, and was filled with hot fire, wishing to dispatch this man and have done with it; he did not care for being laughed at, and was indignant for his uncle’s sake. But then the captain turned and saw behind him a new group of men running up the path to the fray, and he smiled at Fastred, a dreadful smile: “Now you are truly outnumbered, Fastred Prince!” he spat, swinging his sword; Fastred blocked it, his eyes wide with alarm. “Here come our brothers to give unto us aid!”

Fastred looked and beheld a great crowd of Dunlendings on foot, shouting and bearing short swords and spears; they were ragged and dark, and their faces were fierce. He saw that Lassah and Brytta were in the midst of the battle, and surrounded by Rohirrim, who with the Dunlendings’ arrival had found new strength in hope, and many of the men had broken through and fought against Andunië and Gimli, and not fearing the rushing torrent attacked Rúmil’s people as well, though some were swept away in the churning water, and tumbled screaming down the side of the cliff. But Legolas looked over the heads of his enemies to the Dunlendings and gave a great shout:

“Errakh-Hem!”

Then Fastred beheld the Dunlendings’ chief; he was taller than the others, though still rough and dark, and his clothes were dirty and tattered. But his black eyes flashed when he saw Legolas, and he laughed; and raising his notched sword cried out in a glad voice: “To the Dwimmerlaik; to the Ghost-Lord! Disdain these mortal men, for Elves defy death! The Green Knight! Dunland for Dol Galenehtar!” And he sent his men into the battle against their erstwhile allies the Rohirrim, though they were on foot and the men of the Mark mounted; the Wildmen were fierce though, and so confounded the Rohirrim, who cursed them as traitors.

“Traitor yourself!” snarled Fastred to the captain, and with a mighty blow struck the man down even as he sat amazed upon his mount. “Westu Bréawine hal, indeed!”

The Men were pressed between the Dunlendings and the Elves of Lórien, and were quickly slain; those that were told to surrender fell upon their swords cursing the Heir of Meduseld. Fastred in the noise and confusion of battle had lost sight of everyone, and as he sat upon Karakse staring round anxiously, his heart hammering, he saw that some Elves had fallen as well, and some were wounded; even Andunië had not escaped injury, and was holding her cloak to her cheek; it was soaked in blood. But her eyes were bright and angry, and she snapped at Bandobras, who scurried up to her with his sword in his hand to politely inquire after her health. Bandobras shook his head at her as she stalked away; he caught Fastred’s eye then, and with a wry smile said:

“Well! She’s bad nor her brother, ain’t she? Them two! Seem to take it a personal affront if they’re hurt.” He wiped his sword upon a fallen man’s cloak and said briskly, “Well, hop to it, you; my Master’s in the thick of things as usual, and I think as you’re to be king of Rohan you’d best make acquaintance with our allies, though they did come upon us unexpected-like!”

Fastred slid off Karakse’s back. He felt very shaky, and his head was spinning; he wondered if he were going to vomit again, as he had done his first battle. He hoped not; he was hungered enough, and had no desire to empty his stomach when there was little chance of soon refilling it. His destrier was breathing hard, and showed the whites of his eyes; however he held his head proudly, and bellowed with convincing menace at the horses of Rohan, who shied and whickered nervously. The Elves of Lórien were wandering round them, seeing to their hurts and removing their tack, and the horses trod upon the bodies of their slain masters. Karakse shook his head and snorted, then pawed at the wet shingle with one great hoof. Fastred patted the thick piebald neck.

“Why you were splendid, Karakse!” he said to his horse, who nibbled his ear. “I have never seen you so fierce before; you were like unto a real war-horse. How pleased Tyarmayél shall be!” And taking Karakse by the bridle he started to follow Bandobras and Gimli from the rock-slide into the middle of the battlefield, littered with corpses and debris.

But then something struck him suddenly and with terrible force between his shoulder-blades, knocking out his breath, and he staggered, gasping for breath. He felt strong arms about him, and golden silky hair round his face, and he heard Tamin’s excited voice at his ear as the boy embraced him: “Fastred, Fastred! O you are here, and you are well! I am so glad you are well, because it was such a noisy battle, and I lost sight of you, and could not see you to make sure you were well, and I was so afraid to shoot the men for fear I should shoot you by mistake, but then I saw your great beautiful horse all black-and-white, and I saw you slay that captain, and O you were so brave to so do, and I was so proud of you I almost cheered, but then Eleardil and Tathardil rolled boulders into the water and Adar told us to climb over them and help you so I drew my sword and started to fight as well – I have never fought in a battle before, it is so noisy, is it not? – and a man nearly had my head but I blocked him just in time and then I slew him and he fell on top of me and bled on me, and a horse trod on my foot and it hurt but not too terribly and then I saw the Halfling fighting so I went to his aid, and I saw Andunië get slashed by a big ugly brute and Tathardil became angry and he and Handas rushed over and the horses tried to knock them down but Andunië began to sing and they threw their riders, and then Tathardil and Handas and Andunië killed them and I looked over and I saw the dark men coming and O Fastred, is that truly Prince Legolas, for I thought he was dead; how splendid that he is alive – “

“Peace, peace!” someone laughed, and Fastred looked up through the web of Tamin’s arms and hair and quiver and bow to see Rúmil standing tall above them, smiling down at them. “Tamin my son, I beg of you that you do not injure Fastred Faramirion in your joy; that he has survived this battle is gratifying and I would not care to tell his father his son was slain by my son’s enthusiasm.”

“I won’t Adar!” said Tamin, and pulling Fastred into a rough embrace kissed the boy on the forehead. “O but it is so good to see you!”

“What are you doing here?” gasped Fastred, struggling to catch his breath. “I am glad to see you too my friend, but I thought you would have been on the other side of the river, upon the ridge of the canyon to the west heading to Edoras.”

“We ought to have been,” said Tamin, putting his arm round Fastred’s waist and walking with him behind his father to where Legolas, Brytta, and Errakh-Hem were in the midst of the field of battle speaking together. “But when we got Naneth and the others all rounded up and started down to the plains there were many men there, a whole army Adar said, and ‘twas not Éomer’s men but the other one’s, and they were in the way; so Adar sent out scouts, Handas and Veryadil and Selendor, and we picked up your trail north of us, and began to follow you down the other side of the canyon, but you being on horseback and we on foot you were too swift for us, and it began to rain, and then Veryadil who was scouting ahead came back and said that he had heard many many horses and that you might be in danger, so we crept along very quietly and saw your horses and then we saw their horses and Adar set up four lines of archers and – O, I am so glad to see you!” And Tamin embraced him again. Fastred’s heart swelled within him; he had not known how much he had yearned after a boy his own age ‘til he had left Tamin and his father, and simply to be with him made the horrors of the battle to fade, for Tamin was so ebullient he could likely have made the most tightly twisted morning glory to open as he passed. So he looped his arm round Tamin’s waist and they walked together, with Karakse behind them thrusting his great muzzle between their heads and lipping at their hair; Tamin laughed and reached back to caress the steed’s muzzle, and Karakse snorted into his ear, so that he laughed again. “O I like your horse Fastred!” exclaimed Tamin happily. “He is so big, and his whiskers tickle so!”

Legolas sat lashed to Voronda’s back, and the others stood round him speaking of the battle; Brytta and Errakh-Hem were regarding each other with suspicion and approbation mingled, and Errakh-Hem was stroking Taruku’s neck. Gimli and Bandobras stood by Legolas’ stirrups, and all round them were the Elves of Lórien, and the men of Dunland, mingled yet unable to speak, for their tongues were separate; the Elves held themselves aloof, and the Dunlendings looked askance at them from beneath lowered brows. As Fastred and Tamin approached Fastred espied Andunië; she too stood by her lord’s stirrups, though she hung back a bit, holding her cloak to her face; her eyes were flashing with annoyance, but she seemed very white to Fastred, and he wondered if she were very badly hurt. “Even if she is she will own it not,” he thought resignedly; “she is so stubborn!”

Legolas turned to them as they approached, and smiled; he looked so different from the Elf they had rescued mere days before, and Fastred was happy, for his Lassah was hale and strong and beautiful, and all the men and Elves were looking up at him with deference and admiration, though the Dunlendings seemed not a little afraid of him. His hair though slicked by rain ran glimmering down his back, and his eyes shone like gems. “O my dear Fastred Prince!” he cried, and Fastred was struck by the thought he had nearly said my dear Little One; if so he was very glad Legolas had changed his mind. “Come and make acquaintance with Errakh-Hem, called Chief of Dunlendings of Onodló; he is anxious to convene with you, for you are kin to one he feels has wronged him.”

Tamin released Fastred then, and when Fastred looked at him wondering saw that Rúmil had held his son back, for it was not Tamin’s place to stand by the prince at this time. Feeling very uneasy Fastred stepped into the circle of men; Errakh-Hem and his Dunlendings regarded him with deep mistrust, and Fastred reminded himself that to the eyes of the Rohirrim these Wildmen were naught but brigands and beggars and treated as such. They certainly did not inspire him to confidence, being ragged and looking quite uncouth; however Errakh-Hem did approach him in deference, his hand upon his breast, and said politely:

“Fastred, son of Faramir, heir of Meduseld.”

“Errakh-Hem, Chief of the Dunlendings of Onodló,” said Fastred, hoping he had got the title right; apparently he had, for the Wildmen glanced round at each other nodding, and Errakh-Hem smiled.

“Rarely do the Rohirrim speak with such fittingness to us!” he said. “I deem you are well-raised, though that may have something to do with your homeland, which is not Rohan but Ithilien.”

“As my Lady Mother is a princess of the Mark I do not see that it would make a difference,” said Fastred. He paused, then said tentatively: “I thank you, O Errakh-Hem, Chief of the Dunlendings, for your timely and beneficial aid in our hour of need. For certes it is we should have been hard-pressed, even with our friends the Elves to help us.”

“I am a dice-thrower,” said Errakh-Hem, his black eyes twinkling. “I feel which way the numbers turn. To ally oneself with the friends of the Dwimmerlaik seemed to me to be the more prudent course.” He looked up at Legolas with a smile. “And to see this one, brought back from the halls of his ancestors! No; ‘twould be a fool to deny the Green Knight makes a fitter friend than Bréawine, or that oily fellow Théalof.”

“Thank you!” said Legolas dryly. “It is gratifying to know I am so exalted in your eyes.” Errakh-Hem laughed at this, and turned back to Fastred, his eyes thoughtful.

“You fight as do a full-grown warrior, though you are but a boy!” he said. “I wonder if you treat as one.”

“I have been known to so do,” said Fastred carefully. “What is your plaint, O Chief?”

“Well,” said Errakh-Hem, glancing at Legolas again who was smiling; “I have been told by sundry folk, who have assured me of their felicity, that your royal uncle, Éomer King of the Mark, has reversed his cession of lands unto us, giving of them to foreign lords.”

“Then I do assure you these men speak falsely,” said Fastred angrily. “Whether by trick or half-truth or lie, mine uncle has promised no such thing, either to Aldamir of Amon Din, or to Legolas of Dol Galenehtar.”

“Truly then?” asked Errakh-Hem, looking keenly at the boy. “Your uncle has no intentions of displacing my people once more?”

“None!” said Fastred. “And why, O Chief, would he cede those lands unto Lord Aldamir or Lass – Lord Legolas? They are far from both demesnes, and in truth I have been told the land is boggy and damp, and unsuitable for crop or kine.”

“Even so,” said Errakh-Hem doubtfully, “my people are accustomed to being run off, and to hear we should be harried from our lands yet again, when we have only just begun to settle, is easier perchance to believe, than to be told the king regards us with clemency and would have us live at peace.”

“Even if my royal uncle should make move to displace you would I oppose him, for you have shown yourselves canny warriors,” said Fastred earnestly. “You did hear and consider my friend’s wise words, and cast your lot with the right side; such actions deserve praise not condemnation. So I swear unto you, O Chief of Dunlendings, that as heir of Meduseld shall I uphold your cause to mine uncle, and as king shall you forever have the lands ceded you, so long as you hold to oaths championing the house of Éomer.”

Errakh-Hem was silent for a moment considering Fastred’s words; at last he looked upon the boy and said: “It is too soon, O Prince, for me to make such oaths; we have been so ill-used in the past, and are more accustomed to lies than oaths. But if you take me to your uncle, and he assures me of his mercy toward my people, then I shall make oaths to you, O Heir, to assure our women and children of peace.”

Fastred thought about this a moment. He was not offended by Errakh-Hem’s reluctance, for he could well believe the man to be chary of such offers; however the chief appeared to at least hold Lassah in honor, and for Fastred that would be enough for a start. “I think that is fair,” he said to Errakh-Hem, and to the Dunlending’s surprise held out his hand. “Peace between us both for now, then, O Chief.”

Errakh-Hem stared down at Fastred’s hand; then slowly placed his own round it, and they shook on it. “I am confounded,” the man admitted with a crooked smile. “In truth, O Heir, I came to Lord Legolas’ aid and not yours; I did not expect to be treated with such courtesy.”

“The good deed done pays double the interest,” said Fastred, smiling up at the man. “ ‘Tis a noble thing you and your men have accomplished today, O Errakh-Hem Chief of the Dunlendings, and wise were they who chose you to lead them.”

“Wise was your uncle, who chose you to succeed him,” said Errakh-Hem, releasing Fastred’s hand. Then Fastred saw the man glance behind him, and upon Errakh-Hem’s face was fear and doubt and mistrust; Fastred turned, wondering what had apprehended the Dunlending’s attention, and who could have sparked such a chary response. Tamin stood there, smiling hesitantly, looking up at Errakh-Hem through the untidy curtain of golden hair which streamed down his shoulders. Behind him was his father Rúmil, cautious, but letting his son approach, though Fastred could tell that should the man make one false move Rúmil would have no compulsion to protect either his progeny, or his future lord’s allies. Fastred knew neither the Elves of Lórien, nor the Wildmen of Dunland, suffered strangers, and that accords and truces were rare; however he knew as well that to be friends with Elves should elevate the Dunlendings’ status in his uncle’s eyes, and Tamin’s willingness to step forward ought to be rather auspicious than suspicious. Determined to foster friendship betwixt the Dunlendings and Rúmil’s folk, Fastred took Tamin by the hand and drew him forward, putting his own arm round the Elf-boy’s shoulders. Errakh-Hem blinked, uncertain, his black eyes doubtful, but Tamin Rúmilion’s eyes sparkled, and upon his lips was a hopeful smile.

“You have cast your lot with me, and with my friend the Green Knight,” said Fastred as Tamin held out his hand to Errakh-Hem. “You must become acquainted with the Dwimmerlaik now.”

Errakh-Hem did not reply, but studied Tamin; in his face was a look akin to fear, but mingled with it was hope, overlaid with the desire to know beauty, when before he had known but privation. Slowly, as though he feared to startle the boy, Errakh-Hem also came forward, and very tentatively took Tamin’s hand in his own.

(A/N: Thank you, guys, for indulging me as I took a brief hiatus from TGK! And thanks to all of you who reviewed my little ficlet; your comments were generous. But for now ... back to Rohan! ---Le Rouret)

They gained the valley at nightfall. The wind picked up, cold and fresh and blowing wet leaves round their feet; it cleared the rain away, and swept aside the tattered clouds from the brilliant spangled dome. Fastred looked up at the stars twinkling down, and smelled the peat and damp loam, and wished first that he were home with his mother and father and brother and sister; then realizing this wish was perhaps overambitious wished instead he were at Meduseld with his uncle and Léodwyn; then thinking this wish premature wished instead that Tamin could have come with him. Lassah had sent the bulk of the Elves back up the canyon to fetch the wives and children left behind, telling Rúmil it would be safer for them if they were with the van; for they pressed toward Edoras, and the safety of Éomer’s halls. So Tamin was sent by his father and Legolas to go with the scouts in order to bring back the Elven families, and though that dear boy had earnestly expressed himself desolated to be separate from Fastred he did eagerly comply, for as he said to Fastred: “This is the first commission laid upon me by my future lord, though to be certain ‘twas laid by proxy, for it was Handas told me of it – I had best do it and do it acceptably, so that he might see though a youth yet I am impatient to please him; and anyway I wish for you to meet my dear Naneth, for she is so congenial, and I should love for you to know her, that you might find her congenial also, and she a mother to you.” And kissing Fastred he took his leave, walking with Veryadil and Selendor and waving as he went; and when a fold of the earth obscured him it seemed to Fastred as though the sun had set, leaving him in shadow.

So Fastred rode with Lassah, who carried yet his little esquire; upon Lassah’s right rode Rúmil on a plundered steed, and beside him walked Errakh-Hem, surrounded by his Wildmen. Those hardy fellows eschewed the steeds offered them by the Elves as just recompense for their place in the battle; they were unused to horses they said, and did not know how to ride them; they were more comfortable upon their own feet. This impeded their progress somewhat, but Fastred did not mind; it was enough to ride by his beloved Lassah, and hear upon his other side Brytta singing a war-chant, and teaching it to the Dunlendings and sundry Elves in Rúmil’s attendance. Gimli and Andunië rode by Brytta, but if they spoke to each other Fastred could not descry their words.

They descended out of the pine forest to a low boggy place, and Errakh-Hem led them carefully round to firmer ground; at last the trees failed and they found themselves upon a low plateau, streaked and striped with streams and rivulets. Fastred could see the Onodló, shallow, ponderous, and rocky before them, gleaming in the starlight. Beyond it were huddled lumpy forms, the scent of smoke and the twinkle of fires.

“Behold our village!” said Errakh-Hem pointing. “I have little, my friends, but in hope that our fortunes be raised I offer our scant bounty to you.” He turned to Rúmil thoughtfully, then said to Fastred: “O Fastred Prince, as you speak the tongues of Men and Dwimmerlaik alike, will you render my speech unto the captain of these poor wandering folk? For our tongues are disparate and we know not each others’ words.”

“I will,” said Fastred.

“Excellent!” said Errakh-Hem. And turning to Rúmil he said: “You are wanderers and homeless as my people have been; ‘twould be churlish to not offer you succor when we ourselves have known such privation. It is rare we have the opportunity to practice hospitality – indeed we are none too good at it, being in constant state of want – but will you come with us to the river, and stay with us in our village? We have not much, but it is yours; you have come a great way and seek haven far from your homes, and have fought bravely as have we for one who is not your lord. You are weary and hungry, and your women and children no doubt are ready to rest. It is coming toward evening, and our womenfolk have stoked their fires and are looking anxiously for our return; it would be a great honor for me to play host to the Dwimmerlaik, and I be seen a great chief indeed to have accomplished such a thing.”

When Fastred had translated this Rúmil bowed and said: “Your generosity behooves you, O Errakh-Hem Chief of Dunlendings! Gladly will our women foregather with yours, and gladly shall we raise cups together to toast the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, who gathers all beneath his wings as a mother hen her chicks to succor.”

“Give me time!” Legolas laughed from where he sat lashed to Voronda’s back. “I must return to mine own lands first. But now we are all friends, and mightier in concert than in solo; your hospitality, O Errakh-Hem, shall be repaid fourfold when I am next able, and should I find Théalof’s neck in close vicinity to my sword-arm I will cede you his torc for your own.”

“Again then shall my generosity be repaid!” smiled Errakh-Hem. “Come then, my friends; for food and drink await us, and I see from the foothills lights approaching; these are no doubt the kin of the Dwimmerlaik here, who come to meet us.”

Sure enough the scouts ran up, and reported to Rúmil and Legolas that the scouts had returned, bringing with them the wives and children of the Elves of Lórien. Fastred turned to Legolas and begged: “Lassah! May I ride out to greet them? O please let me, for then I shall see Tamin the faster!”

Lassah laughed. “Well it begs propriety but we are well out of court I deem,” he said, smiling down at the boy. “Yes, Little One; go you to meet them, and make acquaintance with the other children. They shall be far more at ease with you than me.”

Fastred turned Karakse, his heart swelling; as he trotted off he heard Gimli to Andunië say: “There is great friendship growing betwixt those two is there not? A shame it is Tamin will go to Dol Galenehtar, Andunië, for Fastred will miss him.”

Fastred rode away from them with his heart growing heavy. It was true; he would stay behind to be king in Rohan, while Tamin went to Ithilien to swear fealty to Lassah. In Fastred’s mind he saw the boy wandering round the halls and corridors of Dol Galenehtar; he saw him aiding Andunië in the mews and kennels, or visiting Tyarmayél in the stables; he saw him begging pastries and sweetmeats from the cooks in the buttery, or standing quietly by in the Hall while Legolas dealt judgment and amercement. He wondered if Tamin and Halgond would be friends; he wondered if Léodwyn also would join their number, and he began to feel very sad. “It is all very well to console myself with thoughts of being King of the Mark,” he said to Karakse as his steed jogged along, the great hooves making squelching noises in the wet earth. “But when I come to the end of it but this remains: I, and I alone.” And with these dim thoughts he approached the coming throng.

It was difficult however to maintain these sad contemplations, for Tamin giving a glad shout ran to him crying: “Look, look! It is my friend Fastred! O come all you little ones to meet him, and be friends with him too!” And behind the boy came a stream of little children, running on small but sturdy legs, shouting and waving, eyes sparkling and hair flying, and Fastred could not help but laugh for sheer joy of it. He slid from Karakse’s back, and ere the children gained him he stroked the horse’s cheek, and murmured into the twitching ear: “Well I have you at least Karakse, and that is warm comfort; also to know these little ones will be well and safe in Lassah’s care brightens my mood somewhat.” Then the mob swarmed round him, little hands reaching to tug at his tunic and belt and hands, tiny voices like bells chiming, fluting his name: “Fastred, Fastred!” He was put in mind of Aldamir’s boys, and of his own brother Théodred, and laughed; their hair was like fine floss in his fingers, and their little hands were warm. Then Tamin, beaming, strode through their midst, and embracing Fastred said: “You see? I have told them all about you my friend; they are so happy to see you! Now come and meet my Naneth – she is anxious to make acquaintance of one so well-loved by our future lord.”

He pulled Fastred through the mass of children to where several women stood; one of them smiled at Tamin, and Fastred saw then whence her son had got such beauty and warmth. “Why she is near as lovely as Queen Undómiel,” he thought, his heart thumping. “Indeed I own she is lovely as mine own mother!” Tall she was and slender, and her golden hair ran down her shoulders like a gleaming cataract; her eyes were grey, and filled with wisdom and kindness. He swallowed hard, surprised to feel an untoward lump in his throat, and a trickle of perspiration snaked its way down his back. Feeling light-headed and breathless as though he’d run the whole way, he reached out his hands to the lady and stammered: “My heart sings to see you … your presence is welcome to me.”

She smiled down upon him then; her clear eyes sparkled with mirth, and her cheek dimpled charmingly. She laid her hands in Fastred’s; the fingers were strong and warm, and he trembled at her touch.

“To foregather with you, O Fastred Prince of Rohan, brings joy to my heart,” she said, kissing him upon the forehead; her lips burnt his skin, and his cheeks flamed. “My Tamin has said much of you in our march here, and already I feel you are as a son of mine.”

Cursing his youth and trembling tongue Fastred replied: “And … he did speak of you, but … he mentioned neither your name nor the loveliness of your visage.” He blushed deeply, and one of the ladies near her laughed; she but smiled at him, and said,

“I am Maelaëri of Caras Galadon,” she said, “and I thank you for your sweet words! I have known few mortals, but if all speak as solicitously as you I doubt not my new home shall be comforting as Lórien.”

“O it shall be, Maelaëri of Caras Galadon!” cried Fastred, suddenly and unaccountably filled with tender affection for the lady. “Dol Galenehtar is so beautiful, and Ithilien also; I know that you shall love to live there! I have loved it my whole life, and although my duty lies here in the Mark my heart shall ever live in Ithilien.”

“You see, Naneth?” said Tamin, dazzling Fastred anew with his smile. “Did I not tell you he was gentle? And he is brave too, brave and wise and very good with his sword. You should have seen him Naneth as he fought the captain of the brigands – “

“Yes, my Tamin, you have told me thrice already,” said Maelaëri with a smile. “Now I perceive that Handas and Tathardil are anxious to proceed; please do you lead us too, O Fastred Faramirion, that we might find a place to rest.”

“As you wish, my lady!” said Fastred feeling quite breathless; to Tamin’s amusement he kissed Maelaëri’s hand; the lady smiling did retire, and the children round them took up their chant again, clustering round Fastred’s legs, and tugging at his clothes. “Fastred, Fastred!” they cried in their little piping voices. “Shall we truly have pastries when we gain your home? And will there be pastries for all? May I touch your horse? What is his name? Will we have horses too? Will you teach us to ride? Is that your bow? May I touch it? Did you really fight in a battle? Is your sword dirty?” And the chattering crowd danced round him and Tamin at the head of the van, showering him with questions so quickly Fastred could hardly reply ere they asked another; beside them walked the scouts Handas and Tathardil with broad smiles upon their faces, and the ladies walked along behind, singing.

Arms round each others’ waists, Tamin and Fastred drew near the Dunlending’s village. The huts were mere hovels, constructed of mud and wattle, and there were no windows or doors, or even proper chimneys, but big smoking fires out front, surmounted with cauldron and spit. Before the largest hovel was a huge bonfire. There was a great crowd of people awaiting them there milling round anxiously; Fastred saw Legolas seated upon the ground upon some cushions, his bound legs thrust out like sticks before him; and beside him were Errakh-Hem and Rúmil and Brytta; Gimli and Bandobras stood at his back, and Andunië, her cheek freshly stitched closed, glowered at all. “Why look!” exclaimed Tamin pointing at her. “Someone has seen to her hurt; it must have been worse than she owned.”

“It was indeed,” said Fastred; “in fact Lassah had need to speak quite sharply to her ere Bandobras could close the wound, and said if she would not be still he would have Brytta sit on her stomach to hold her down.”

Rúmil and his men crossed the river then to collect their families; great was the joy between husband and wife in greeting, and the children after being kissed by their fathers returned to Fastred, fluttering and chattering like a flock of magpies. They forded the shallow Onodló and its small streams, and then Errakh-Hem gave a great cry, and the Dunlendings came forward bearing laurel-branches to meet them.

Once again Fastred was constrained to convert tongue to tongue as Errakh-Hem welcomed Rúmil’s people to his village. “All we have is yours,” boomed the Dunlending; “our food, our drink, our beds and houses. Come and eat and be comforted, for our people have prepared a feast for you!”

Then like two tributaries meet and join did the Dunlendings and Elves come together. The Elves put their own slim provender with that the villagers had provided, and all round the great bonfire the folk were seated; though their tongues differed the people were in fine fettle, for Errakh-Hem had pressed upon his folk the importance of their guests, and the Elves regarded the Dunlendings as gentle hosts. The children remained with Fastred, who found himself sitting with Tamin and several other dark-haired Dunland youths far from the great bonfire; the children of the Wildmen were shy and uncouth but anxious to please, and Fastred and Tamin did all they could to put them at ease.

It was a merry affair despite the poverty of the villagers. Fastred was hard-pressed to not look with pity upon the thin Dunland children and the squalid huts, the smoking peat fires and the tattered clothing; however thoughts of their want vanished when he tasted their meats, their smoked duck and grebe and goose, their baked trout and fried grayling and boiled pike, the baskets of roasted nuts, the plates of coin-sized spicy scallops in gravy, and prawns wrapped in peppery cabbage leaves. The Elves had brought hardtack and dried venison, and with all there was mead and watery wine, teasingly sweet and very refreshing. Fastred ate as though he would never taste food again, and the children swarmed all round him, tasting everything, chattering and calling and laughing, and making friends with the small villagers. Soon the Dunland children were treating Fastred as did the Elvish ones, touching his hair, and holding his hands, and demanding answers to such questions as: “What is it like to ride a horse? Can you eat them? Is this bread? What does sugar taste like?” And ever Fastred looked across the clearing at Lassah where he sat in state, speaking with Rúmil and Maelaëri, and Brytta and Gimli and Andunië, and Errakh-Hem and his lady, a dark thin woman with a shabby brown dress. Despite his borrowed clothes and the cloths wrapped round his broken legs Lassah outshone them all: His hair crowned him in brilliant gold, his eyes like stars flashed, and he laughed loudest and merriest, bringing even Brytta and the dour Errakh-Hem to smile and speak at ease. And the children watched Lassah too Fastred saw: The Dunlending little ones peered round their fingers at him, biting lips and staring with dark frightened eyes, though compelled like a bird watched by a snake; the Elvish children stared longingly at him, eyes alight with hope and burgeoning joy, and their questions began to center round the Green Knight and his people: “Do they live in trees or houses? How many guards are there? Are the kitchens big? Do they have lots of horses too? How close are they to the mortal cities?” But most of all from the Elven children’s lips was the query: “When will we meet him?” For Fastred could see even the littlest child’s heart yearned toward the Elven prince; and once hunger for food was properly assuaged a new hunger took hold of them, for they had been long without a lord.

At last the meal wound up, and after securing Andunië’s ability to translate tongue to tongue Rúmil rose and addressed the company. He announced to all assembled that the hour had come for him and his people to make their obeisance to Prince Legolas, though oaths would be made to the Lord of Dol Galenehtar in his Great Hall when they had gained Ithilien. Legolas laughed then, and embraced him, and speaking in a loud voice so all could hear he told Rúmil: “So long as the towers of Dol Galenehtar stand; so long as the Elves dwell in the telain of our trees; so long as Legolas Thranduilion sings to the stars beneath the circling void shall that demesne be your home and I your lord; you are my people, and I shall care for you.”

The Elves all rose and cried praise to him, which Fastred thought rather gratifying, though he noted the envious looks the Dunlendings gave the Elves, and wondered if the Wildmen would be more at home in Ithilien than Rohan. “Would not that be a good caper!” he thought smothering a smile; “Wild men living in Ithilien! Well stranger things have occurred I suppose.”

He felt someone pluck his sleeve then; he turned and beheld Bandobras, who was beaming up at him, and rubbing his small brown hands together. “You and Tamin gather the young folk and bring them along, will you?” he said briskly. “For the grown-ups are going to all bow to my Master, as well they ought; but he’s been right worried on account of these little ones here, all het-up over their traveling so far and having naught to eat, and wants to meet them proper-like, and make sure they’re well. So tell them to get theirselves in order – quite a bunch of ruly little chicks, ain’t they? – and come along quiet and respectable, so my Master can see what sort of children will be running round his halls and knocking over the statuary and breaking the crockery and wreaking havoc no doubt – Goodness gracious me; I wouldn’t be Dúrfinwen for naught; that I wouldn’t!” And shaking his head and grinning, the Hobbit sauntered back to his Master, his thumbs in his braces, whistling.

Tamin and the children were very excited when Fastred related Bandobras’ words, and rushed in all directions to prepare themselves; it was like unto stepping into the shallows of the Anduin Fastred thought bemusedly, when it was full of fry; for the little fish scattered hither and yon and one could scarce mark where they went. He kept casting looks at the bonfire where Lassah had been seated; there was a crowd of people round him and he was obscured. Fastred wondered how things would change for his Lassah when all these children had been added to the citizenry of Dol Galenehtar: would he seek out his mortal friends’ mortal heirs still, cuddling and singing and lavishing gifts upon them; or would these sparkling Elven children displace their lowly compatriots, sating Lassah’s love of little ones so that he had no more need of such fleeting pleasures? That thought disturbed Fastred, for he could not see Lassah disdaining Théodred, or Aldamir’s boys, or even the poor peasant children upon the eastern bank of the River. But then Tamin came to him with a spray of flag-lilies in his hands; his fair face was troubled and downcast, and biting his lip said he to Fastred:

“O my friend, but I am anxious within me; for as eldest child I am constrained to lead this throng, yet so eagerly have I awaited congress with Prince Legolas I fear I shall be tongue-tied, and make fool of myself and Adar both!”

He looked so unhappy that Fastred’s heart melted; taking the boy in his arms he said: “O do not be so vexed! For though Prince Legolas is a great and mighty warrior and a rich and powerful lord he is yet my Lassah; I shall be beside you you know, and I shall speak first, presenting you to him; anyway he knows you are my dear friend and will be mild with you – not like some of the terrible young men other lords bring to Dol Galenehtar; how condescending, how arrogant they can be! I tell you Tamin, naught raises Lassah’s ire like unto haughtiness, and he can be quite rude when he wishes. But you are not haughty, nor these little ones either, so you have nothing to fear of him!” He looked round; as fry acclimating to a man’s presence the Elven children had returned clustering round them; they held flowers and ivies and branches to present to the Prince, and hovering on the outskirts of the group were the children of the Wildmen, shuffling their feet. “Are we ready then?” Fastred asked, and seeing their bright eyes and eager smiles he took Tamin’s hand, and led the throng to the bonfire.

The crowd parted before them, Elf and Man alike, and then Fastred could see Lassah where he sat. Gimli had caused him to be set upon a throne of cushions and cloaks; his shining hair was crowned with a twisted vine, and in one hand he held a willow-branch, and the firelight illuminated him; he was golden and white and silver and green, and his eyes were like pale gems. Brytta stood at his left and Andunië upon his right, and the Elves of Lórien with Rúmil their leader stood round with the men and women of Errakh-Hem; Gimli and Bandobras sat at his side. Fastred could feel Tamin’s hand trembling in his own, and squeezed it to impart some courage and comfort, and led the children to Lassah.

When he gained the makeshift throne he bowed, though he grinned as he so did, for Lassah’s eyes were twinkling, and his lips twitched with laughter. Fastred could almost hear him say: “Ah the things my little esquire requires of me!” for he knew Lassah abstained from such pomp, but Bandobras was anxious his Master be held in reverence.

Fastred took Tamin forward, and as the boy sank to his knees at Lassah’s feet Fastred declaimed: “Legolas, Prince of Taur e-Ndaedelos, Lord of Dol Galenehtar, Green Knight of Gondor, I present to you Tamin Rúmilion of Lothlórien, who with his kin and fellow children seeks your clement grace and protection.”

“Fastred son of Faramir, Lord of Osgiliath and Prince of Rohan and my dear friend!” said Lassah with a smile. “I thank you for this gift you have given me; for as you know to your benefit the children of my friends I regard as mine by proxy, and as a father shall I be to Tamin Rúmilion.” He held out his hand to Tamin and said solemnly. “Rise, Rúmilion; you beg benevolence of me and it is accorded you.”

But Tamin rose not nor took the outstretched hand, but trembling upon his knees still he gazed up at Legolas with hopeful eyes and mantled cheeks, and said: “O my lord! To kneel in your presence is more than I could have hoped for; and to receive from your mouth such courteous words of welcome overwhelms me! But I am greedy, my lord; for though a youth and untried yet I beg a greater boon of you, that should I prove myself worthy of your regard you should take me as your own esquire, that I might serve you with all my heart!”

Fastred stared at him in surprise; Bandobras by Legolas’ side gave a squeak of protest, and Gimli chuckled. But Lassah’s face was grave, and laying his hand upon Tamin’s golden head he said: “I must ask you, O Tamin Rúmilion, to say unto me your highness and not my lord; for oaths have yet to be sworn and though a lord you own me not.”

“Still in the silence of my soul should I call you thus, for in my heart I have sworn mine oaths already,” said Tamin, his voice quavering. Legolas’ lips twitched again, but firmly tamping down a smile he replied:

“I have already an esquire, Bandobras of the Shire, who sits by my side. Would you wait ‘til he achieves both majority and knighthood at the age of thirty-three, and serve me through your sire in the meantime?”

“I would, my – your highness,” said Tamin earnestly, gazing up at Legolas with eyes of one who dreams pleasant things, and laying the spray of lilies at Legolas’ feet. “I will wait, for to be esquire to one such as the Green Knight of Dol Galenehtar has been my desire for some time.”

Legolas then allowed his smile to touch his lips. “And when your majority has been achieved will you then take your oaths as Knight of Gondor?” he asked gently. “Or will your sire impose upon you other duties?”

Rúmil turned to Legolas with brow furrowed, but then Fastred remembered his dream and he exclaimed: “He will indeed be knighted O Lassah; he will be the Black Knight, and we will fight by your side in the Ethir Anduin! I have seen it in a dream.” Legolas looked up at Fastred then, his grey eyes keen; and Fastred saw that Lassah knew he dreamt true as did his Lord Father. Gimli also gave him a sharp look, and turning to Rúmil he said:

“Have no fear, Rúmil of Lothlórien! For this is Fastred son of Faramir son of Denethor of the White Tower; visions have been accorded him, and we will see whether he inherit his sire’s habit or no; yet know this, that should your son indeed become a Black Knight of Dol Galenehtar shall his prominence and repute be of great worth. So console your heart therefore; through your son shall your fortunes be raised!”

“Even so!” said Rúmil with a smile, though his eyes were sad. “Gladly then do I consign him to your care, O Prince of Taur e-Ndaedelos!” he said, and looked proudly upon his kneeling son. “From march-warden to the father of a knight; already is my destiny increasing!”

“Rise then, O Tamin Rúmilion, as you have received your sire’s blessing,” said Legolas, taking Tamin by the hand and drawing him to his feet. He placed his hands upon either side of Tamin’s face, and kissed the crown of his head; when he released him the boy’s cheeks were flaming and his eyes downcast, though he appeared to glow the more with gratification. “Now give unto me the children relegated to your care, that I might know them too!”

Tamin turned then, and meeting Fastred’s eye beamed like a ray of bright light so that Fastred was dazzled; then he turned to the children and called: “Come to the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, Legolas Thranduilion the Prince, and give unto him your love and obeisance, for he is mild and generous and tender, and as flowers beneath the sun bloom so shall we blossom in his care!” And the children of the Elves came unto him bearing the lilies and branches to lay at his feet, and they clustered round him and reached out to him with their tiny hands; and he blessed them and spoke gently to them, kissing them and laying his hands upon their heads. Then did the children of the Dunlendings come forward too, dark-eyed and afraid, but also bearing gifts of flower and leaf; their parents cowered with grave apprehension at such effrontery, and the Elves looked askance, but Legolas did not see the difference: He welcomed them too, and blessed them as well; and all round the bonfire marveled at this, and were comforted by his promise of tenderness and protection upon these little ones.

The morning was bright and fair and cool, with a brisk wind whipping the cattails and lilies round the stream beds, and rippling the surface of the broad shallow Onodló. The boys could see tiny fry in the dark shallows, darting to and fro; above them dimpling the glassy surface were striders and dead leaves. Thin sunrise-gold clouds mottled the blue sky, and when Fastred stepped into a low pool he startled a flock of ducks, which flapped and grunted at him, heaving their unwieldy bodies into the air.

Tamin looked up at the sleek fowl, his pale eyes bright, and fingered his quiver-strap. “Shall I shoot one?” he asked, watching the ducks lurch away.

“Nay,” said Fastred carelessly. “’Tis not our shallows but the Dunlendings’, and I should fain have it said we took food from their children’s mouths.”

“Very true!” said Tamin with lively cheer, leaping lightly across the stream. “And anyway if we let the Dunlendings shoot the ducks then they will smoke them, and I have yet to taste aught so fine as their smoked fowl.”

“Yes!” Fastred laughed. “It is quite good is it not? Even Bandobras could find nothing about it to disparage.”

“In truth ‘tis good simply to walk about with stomach filled,” said Tamin, holding out one hand to Fastred to help him navigate the stony ford. “I have been on short rations so long I had forgotten what a proper meal tasted like.”

The boys walked in silence for a while, watching the larks and grebes squabbling in the shoals, and hearing the wind whisper through shifting grasses, whistle amongst the cattails, and rustle the willow branches. Far above them a hawk shrilled. Fastred looked up at it; it hovered overhead a moment, then veered off to the east. “I wish I could understand the speech of animals,” he said, thinking of Andunië.

“O as do I!” exclaimed Tamin. “Would that not be amusing, Fastred my friend? For we should know just what the beasts think of us, and why they act as they do, and what they know and how they feel. Can you imagine ruminating upon the thoughts of the hunting dog, or the ox that pulls the plough? And what must birds think of us! Though I think I should rather not know how a duck feels, or a fish,” he added thoughtfully; “’twould be melancholy to speak to one you were about to eat.”

“Yes, and think how pigs must feel, or calves,” said Fastred. “Why their sole existence is to be eaten!”

“At least they are well-fed, and have no job of work to do,” said Tamin practically. “That would make up for it somewhat, for their whole lives would be a long holiday.”

“Or a short one,” said Fastred, and laughing Tamin agreed.

They continued southward as the sun rose, sometimes in speech, sometimes in silence, ambling across the grassy fields with their hair tossed by the breeze; between them was the comfortable amity of two souls united in view and value, and two hearts that yearn for and are amply accorded affection. After a time they climbed a hill, and from the top looked over the rumpled landscape of north-eastern Rohan. Fastred caught his breath, for it had been a stiff pull, and set about admiring his imminent kingdom. He looked out over the blue swells like ocean waves, and smelled the burnt-grass scent of late summer; Tamin however furrowed his brow, and shading his eyes with his hand frowned into the east.

“What is it?” asked Fastred. “Your eyes are better than mine; what do you see?”

“There is a man on horseback on that low tor,” said Tamin, his voice quiet.

Fastred thought of Bréawine and Théalof, and his heart froze. “Has he seen us?” he whispered, sinking to his knees in the grass. But Tamin stood and gazed at the figure.

“Nay,” he said when a few moments had passed. “In truth I do not think he is looking for anyone. He simply sits there upon his mount, and his helm I am sure obscures his vision quite. I am certain he cannot see us, for I perceive he is but mortal man and anyway he is looking west not north.”

“What does he look like?” asked Fastred, feeling a little better. “Is it a man of the Mark?”

“I think not,” said Tamin doubtfully; “though I am unfamiliar with Rohan and its many types of folk. But I have not seen one such as this, with armor so bright and pennant of that color. For do not the knights of your uncle’s court bear green? And anyway that is no horse of this country; your people ride steeds swift and fine, with curved crest and firm croup; this destrier is more like unto Andunië’s and Brytta’s steeds, thick-necked and feather-hocked.”

“What is his pennant?” asked Fastred, wondering if he knew this strange knight. It certainly did not sound as though it were a man of Rohan, and in his twelve years Fastred had become acquainted with many knights during the tourneys and games in Gondor. “Though to be sure I know not whether to trust even them,” he thought with an inward grimace; “from what I have heard Théalof has dissembled his plots far south, and even a knight of Lossarnach may be suspect.”

Tamin squinted at the far figure a moment and said: “It is gray and black with figured silver; it is hard to make out from this distance but I think it is embroidered with vines.”

“Grapevines?” pressed Fastred, hardly daring to hope.

“Yes, perchance it is grapevines,” said Tamin doubtfully; “though as I said my friend it is difficult to see from here.”

“Silver on gray!” exclaimed Fastred happily. “And the knight, Tamin; is he shining and deep-chested in his cuirass, bearing a black lance with a square vamplate, wearing a frogmouth surmounted with a black cockscomb, and with an effusion of black curls come from beneath this helm?”

“He is,” said Tamin in surprise. “Know you this man?”

“I do!” said Fastred with a laugh, clapping his hands. “Why it is Mardil of Ethring – how splendid! O he is a fine man Tamin, and such good friends with my Lord Father and with Lassah too; he is brave and honest and loyal; besides which he is a capital swordsman, and true to the tip at the tilt. And if Mardil is here then perhaps many brother knights are not far behind. More allies, Tamin! O how good for mine uncle, that his friends come to his aid!”

“They come to your aid too,” said Tamin as Fastred gained his feet once more. “For you are Heir of Meduseld and this is your land so sadly divided.”

“Come! Let us meet him,” said Fastred, descending the hill. “I am sure it is for this reason Lassah sent us out this morn; he must have known in his heart Mardil was here.”

“More likely it is the birds told him,” said Tamin practically, but followed Fastred anyway.

They waded through the tall grasses into a shadowed dell. Fastred, perceiving no danger to him in the shadow of the tor, went ahead quite blithely; but Tamin suddenly paused mid-stride; he raised his face to the sky, his eyes wary. Then he took out his bow then, and fitted arrow to string.

“What is it?” asked Fastred, putting his hand on his sword hilt and looking round, though he could see nothing save grass in the shadows.

“I know not,” said Tamin slowly, his eyes darting to and fro. “There is something – a smell perhaps – “

“How can you smell me over your companion? Mortals are overpowering at the best of times, but Fastred is grown quite pungent.”

The boys spun, Tamin with bow cocked, and Fastred whipping out his sword. A tall dark Elf stood behind them, hands on his hips, smiling. He was clad in plain brown, but there was an emblem of crossed oak branches embroidered in gold thread upon his breast.

“Kaimelas!” gasped Fastred, his head reeling; then his heart filled with deep relief and he cast himself into the Elf’s arms, heedless of the memory of Kaimelas threatening to whip him. He pressed his cheek into the scratchy gold sigil and felt the valet’s arms surround him; he smelled of tarragon and sun-warmed bark. He could hear his heart beat, and the hitched breath in Kaimelas’ chest, testament to the arrow that pierced him many years ago. “O it is so good to see you!” he gulped; simply the sight of this Elf sent his mind back to Ithilien, to the safety of Dol Galenehtar, to the simplicity of his life ere he had become Éomer’s heir. Circling round his rather disorganized thoughts was the conviction that if Ithilien had come to Rohan then all would soon be well. “I know there has been no post coming out of Rohan, and we have gotten no post from Gondor, so we have had no news and have had no way to send news to you, and we were attacked on the Mering, and Meivel was wounded, and the Dwarves have gone to secure Helm’s Deep because there is treason, and then we were told Lassah was dead but he is not dead only very badly hurt, but Lirlindil died, and Piukka too, and then we were attacked, but Tamin’s father showed up to save us, and the Dunlendings also which is surprising but gratifying, and there is a great army coming down the other side of the river to the plains, and there will be a battle, and O Kaimelas have you brought soldiers with you?”

“You are a font of ill news!” exclaimed Kaimelas gently, dislodging himself from Fastred’s embrace and laying one long pale hand on the boy’s head. “Lirlindil dead? Well that is not surprising, for Hildwen his wife not two weeks hence did fall into swoon, and lies upon the couch senseless; she fades as do the autumn leaves in mute grief enwombed. Such was the bond of love and tender affection betwixt those two we guessed some harm had befallen our friend.” He shook his head, eyes aggrieved, and said sadly: “Poor Hwindiö! To lose his friend Lirlindil is bad enough; but should his sister fade in heartache shall he be quite alone in Arda.” He turned to Tamin, who stared up at him owlishly. “You may return your arrow to the quiver, Little One,” he said with a sigh. “I am indeed dangerous, but you need fear naught of me.”

Slowly did Tamin replace his bow and arrow, watching Kaimelas with care. He espied the gold sigil and said: “You … are an Elf of Dol Galenehtar?”

Kaimelas extended his hands politely. “My heart sings to see you,” he said, his face barely masking a smile. “Your presence is welcome to me.”

When Tamin hesitated Fastred said: “O do not be so suspicious, my friend! You came to me readily enough and I am but a mortal boy. Kaimelas is Lassah’s valet, and ere his wounds sustained a keen warrior of Taur e-Ndaedelos. You may trust him.”

Slowly Tamin’s face softened, then broke into an ebullient grin. Even the shadows of the little dale were brightened. He put his hands in Kaimelas’ and said, “To foregather with you brings joy to my heart.”

“What a daffodil!” exclaimed Kaimelas with a startled laugh. “O but you will be welcome in our court, Little One! Why I can see my lady wife now, fussing over you and dressing you in blue linen. Who is this, Lord Fastred?”

“This is Tamin Rúmilion, Kaimelas,” said Fastred, putting his arm round the blushing boy’s shoulder. “He and a great throng of Elves from Lothlórien have traveled through Rohan to reach Dol Galenehtar where they are going to swear fealty to Lass – to Lord Legolas. They came to our aid when we were beset up the canyon.” He waved his arm north-west, having but a vague recollection of what direction they had traveled. “And when Bandobras is given accolade and achieves knighthood shall Lassah take Tamin as esquire, for his father has granted permission gladly.”

“Ah!” said Kaimelas. “So this is the second half of the party from Lórien. We did receive word ere we departed Ithilien, O Tamin, that Orophin your uncle gained King Thranduil’s keep with three hundreds; I see now why your people were delayed. If such doings are common here in the Mark, Lord Fastred, your regime shall be fraught with trouble. We knew already about the army; in fact it is for that reason we have come – Théalof sent word to his erstwhile allies in Gondor for aid, to which they have responded; though to be sure he shall be rather surprised when he finds upon which side of the lines they position themselves!”

“Good!” said Fastred earnestly. “How I hate him Kaimelas! Wait ‘til you hear what he has done – what he did to Lassah – what he has done to the Dunlendings and to mine own people! O he is a wicked fellow! I cannot wait ‘til the battle is engaged for I wish to try for his neck myself.”

Kaimelas looked surprised but Tamin earnestly said: “O I have no doubt you could so do! Why you were so fierce with that captain you slew; I was so pleased for you slew him so well. I do not even think he marked you took his head.”

“I wonder if he went headless unto Mandos?” asked Fastred thoughtfully, and Tamin laughed. Kaimelas pursed his lips, looking keenly at Fastred.

“Much has happened to you, Lord Fastred,” he said; “you have grown much I perceive! But why are you out here and not at Meduseld? We have felt our lord’s presence nearby but I should have thought you would be with your uncle.”

“Well when Brytta said Lassah was slain we went to fetch his body,” said Fastred. Then he remembered how they had quit Edoras and blushed. “Er … I fear I have run away again, Kaimelas,” he said with contrition. “Perhaps I ought to have been whipped after all, to discourage me from this nefarious behavior.”

“I do not see why, when you wax so good at it,” smiled Kaimelas. “But I perceive you have seen Mardil! Will you go to him? He dwines upon the crest of the hill though he balks not at such lackluster duty, for he is a stout fellow. But to be sure ‘tis a dull job to be the bait for a mislaid lord, and two such youths as you shall brighten his morn.”

“You mean he is not on watch?” asked Fastred.

“In full sight, and wearing his helm beside?” laughed Kaimelas. “Nay; he is not so unintelligent as that! Galás set him upon the hill to draw out any wandering folk from the creases and folds of this country. There are twenty of us round the tor, watching for visitors.”

“Elves only, or men too?” asked Tamin.

“Both!” said Kaimelas. “There are some of your Lord Father’s Rangers in the mix as well, Lord Fastred.”

Fastred gasped, and then seemed to have a hard time exhaling. His head felt very light and his heart began to thump. “Father?” he stammered. “Father is here too?” His vision swam as an overwhelming surge of homesickness flooded him, and he wanted nothing more at that moment than to run to his Lord Father’s side and never be parted from him. That he was constrained to remain in Rohan made his heart wring the worse, and to his disgust he felt his lower lip tremble. He bit it hard, and the sting of pain drove the melancholy away. “Where is he?” he asked, noting that though his voice was rough it was at least steady.

Kaimelas smiled; he saw the boy’s affliction. “Go to Mardil,” he said gently. “When you have spoken to him – and assuaged his ennui – he will show you where your Lord Father is.”

“Thank you, Kaimelas!” said Fastred earnestly, and giving the valet a quick fierce hug he took Tamin’s hand and led him up the hill.

Mardil turned his head when he heard the crunch of feet on the grass; they could not mark his face behind the heavy visor, though the eyes in the darkness of the helm twinkled. His destrier shifted its great feathered hooves and flicked its tail. It was a horse of Dale and not discommoded by the sight of two children. The boys approached, and the Silver Knight raised one gleaming gauntleted hand to the helm and lifted the visor. Sure enough it was steadfast Mardil; Fastred saw the gray eyes and handsome face, and below the helm and over the aventail spread a quantity of black curls. Mardil recognized Fastred then, and his kindly face broke into a smile.

“Fastred son of Faramir!” he boomed; his voice sounded hollow and ringing behind the bevor. “How remarkable! Yet perhaps not so much so; you like your Lady Mother are passing fair at showing yourself where folk least expect.” He dismounted, his armor rattling, and drove his lance into the earth where it stood upright, the black and silver pennant stirring in the breeze. Removing his gauntlets and helm he bowed, and his thick curly hair fell round his shoulders. Fastred inclined his head to him and said:

“Mardil of Ethring! Pleased beyond measure am I to engage you here upon the plains of the Mark! That you appear unsought devalues not your company, for we have dire need of such mighty knights as you.”

“I thank you, Fastred Prince of Rohan, for your generous words!” said Mardil. He turned politely to Tamin, who was staring wide-eyed at this steel-clad man; the boy had never seen a knight clad cap-a-pie and was unsure what to think of such finery. “And I greet you too, child of the Eldar!” he said laying his hand upon his breastplate. “For I perceive you are a friend of the son of my Lord Faramir’s and do justly accord you salutation for such cause.”

Tamin blushed again, but his face illuminated in a brilliant smile that dazzled the knight, who stared amazed. “Does he greet me as a prince too?” he asked Fastred. “O please do tell him for me, Thank you sir, but I am merely the son of a march-warden.”

“He does not speak Westron,” said Fastred to Mardil. “He thanks you for your gesture but begs you to know he is of humble birth.”

“His proximity to such illustrious persons elevates him far beyond his station,” declared Mardil. “Do you please tell him then O Prince Fastred, that I am Mardil son of Múrin of Ethring, called by the men of Minas Tirith the Silver Knight. And who is he, this child of the Eldar, who befriended by Fastred of Ithilien rivals the morning sun with his fulgent countenance?”

“Tamin Rúmilion of Lothlórien,” said Fastred, thinking: “First a daffodil; now the sun herself! If I loved him less I should grow rather peevish.” He wondered what his family would think of Tamin, and if he would be jealous of their regard; he decided however that to borrow trouble is to triple the interest and that Tamin deserved all the compliments he received. He considered that perhaps his Lady Mother might love Tamin too, and if his Lord Father would let him use the bowyer in Ithilien, or practice with the targets in the citadel fields. That put him in mind of how long it had been since he himself had drawn bow with his father, and the wrench of homesickness tore at him again; he wanted so much to see his father again. Aloud he said, “And now O Mardil will you direct me to my Lord Father? For it has been some time since I have foregathered with him and I am anxious to see his face!”

“Of course!” said Mardil gently. He turned, his armor gleaming in the sunlight, and pointed to the east. “See you that little stand of trees, cresting the high flat hill?” he said. “He and Galás and diverse knights and soldiers await Lord Legolas there. If you wind through that little valley alongside the stream you will find steep hewn steps in the rock face; ascend and find you your Lord Father and be reunited with him, for you have been as sorely missed as have you your folk.”

“Thank you, Mardil!” said Fastred, and he and Tamin ran down the tor. Mardil watched them go, his eyes tender and his lips curved into a smile; then with a sigh he retrieved his lance and remounted to resume his lonely watch.

Fastred and Tamin raced alongside the stream toward the hill. They scattered rabbits and voles and set a flock of quail bursting from cover, peeping with alarm. At last they came to the rock steps and scrambled up, laughing breathlessly, using their hands as well as their feet to pull themselves up the steep slope. They clambered over the last step at the top and dashed into the dark fir wood.

“I hear voices!” said Tamin, pointing ahead, but Fastred was too winded to reply. Then they suddenly burst into a clearing. Standing and sitting round the remains of a large bonfire were many men and Elves, some in armor, some in plain tunics; however but one man commanded Fastred’s attention, and without checking his pace he flew across the clearing and into the startled man’s arms. He did not care that all round him were people talking and laughing, for he had found his Lord Father and at that moment it was all he wanted. He buried his face in the plain black doublet and wrapped his arms round his father’s waist; he felt the man embrace him in turn, and heard him laugh disbelievingly:

“Fastred, my son!”

“O Father!” gasped Fastred, seeking in vain to find his breath, but he had run too hard. “O Father – I am – so glad – you are here! I have – missed you – “

All round him were men speaking, and Elves laughing; he heard Galás’ merry voice addressing Tamin, and the boy answering shyly. At last his father drew back, and taking Fastred by the shoulders looked down into his son’s face, his gray eyes shining.

“Look at you!” he said, shaking Fastred a little. “Grown so tall! Why you have nearly reached my shoulder now.”

“It feels like it has been years since I have seen you, Lord Father,” panted Fastred. Then remembering his manners he turned to find Tamin; the boy was standing biting his lip, and watching the strangers round him with caution, shifting from one foot to another; many men had gathered round and were looking at him with interest, the Elves as well as the men. Fastred took him by the hand and brought him to stand before his father. “This is Tamin Rúmilion my friend, O Father,” he said. “He is an Elf of Lothlórien and is going to be Lass – Lord Legolas’ esquire, so be sure to include him in feast-time so he can learn Westron. Tamin – “

Tamin opened his mouth to speak to Faramir but at that moment Fastred was nearly bowled over by two other boys, bigger than he and clad in heavy chain mail. “Fastred!” they cried; it was Halgond and his brother Baldor, who was as tall as a grown man. “You are here, you are safe!” said Halgond, laughing and embracing him. “And we are going to fight in a battle – Father says we are old enough now – so you must be sure to fight with us – “

“Peace, my sons,” said Hallas coming up. He had need to use a cane, for he had been hamstrung many years ago; however on horseback he was as good a knight as any of Lossarnach. He smiled at Fastred and said: “Halgond has spoken of little else ere we quit Ithilien! I believe he has missed you more than his own family.”

“Brothers are born to quarrel,” said Aldamir coming behind him, his brilliant scarlet surcoat a splash of color in the clearing. “It is the proximity I deem.” He inclined his head to Fastred. “Your highness,” he said solemnly.

Seeing the Red Knight in that number gave Fastred a horrible feeling in his stomach. Long had been the years of conflict betwixt Amon Din and the wandering Dunlendings and deep were the wounds of bitterness that separated them. Yet he himself had offered peace to Errakh-Hem, and accepted without question the Wildmen’s help in battle. Would Aldamir countenance fighting alongside the Dunlendings his old enemies? How could those griefs be countered? Knowing what he knew of the Red Knight and his long friendship with Lassah, Fastred thought perhaps Aldamir would take part but reluctantly, and only after an awkward interval upon the field of muster; Fastred had no desire to offend Errakh-Hem when it seemed the Wildmen were ripe for friendship, yet to demand compliance of an old ally such as Aldamir would be the depths of insolence. He knew Lassah could have diffused the situation easily had he been present, but as Lassah languished upon a cot in Errakh-Hem’s hovel the task would have to be accepted by Fastred himself. He cursed the whims of his birth that made him the sole ambassador between three peoples, pragmatically accepted the consequences of his authority, and straightened his tunic. Taking a deep breath he approached Aldamir, and holding out his hands he said:

“Aldamir son of Castamir, Lord of Amon Din, Red Knight of Gondor! Happy is the day you join in battle with your allies, for you are strong and just and loyal and your sword-arm is mighty to save. Indeed the sight of you inspires in me hope that the sad events occurring in my lands shall soon be overturned, for with you fighting by my side I doubt not the perpetrators of these vile deeds shall be justly chastised and peace wrought once again upon the plains of the Mark.”

Aldamir blinked in surprise at these accolades, and behind him Fastred heard Galás say with a laugh: “Why, what a diplomat! Is this what they teach princes in Rohan?” But ignoring them Fastred pressed on hurriedly:

“Yet I should be remiss in withholding my recent deeds from you, O Aldamir son of Castamir; for I have outside convention accepted and offered protection of ones you have recently called your enemies, the Wildmen of Dunland, who have I admit these past years made themselves a pestilence to the peoples of Amon Din through diverse acts of unprovoked aggression and thievery upon you. Yes, I do assure you, O Red Knight, that I acted in full cognizance of these acts, and gave unto their leader, Errakh-Hem, the hand of friendship, proposing clemency and concord between my people the Rohirrim and his the Dunlendings; also know, O Aldamir, that the peoples of Errakh-Hem live to the north in poor villages, women and children and men alike, and are eagerly awaiting peace so that their fortunes might be amended. And also know this, Red Knight and friend of Legolas of Dol Galenehtar, that the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen did this eve past lay hands upon the heads of the children of Dunland and bless them, and Errakh-Hem their leader speaks to him as friend, even as do you.” Fastred took a deep breath; his heart was hammering, and everyone in the clearing was silent, listening to him. Aldamir was regarding him gravely, though in his eyes was a look of alarm; at least, Fastred thought, he was not shouting – Fastred could not bear it when people shouted at him. “And so, O Aldamir son of Castamir, I do trespass greatly upon my Lord Father’s friendship with you, in that I will ask of you to withhold enmity and extend the hand of reconciliation unto the folk of Dunland, for when I am king of Rohan they shall be under my protection, and I would fain have discord between mine allies.”

There was silence in the clearing, broken only by desultory birdsong, and the occasional far-off whicker of a horse. Fastred was terribly aware that all gathered round were staring at him, and watching Aldamir, upon whose face was the look of a man who knew not what to think. That good knight opened and shut his mouth several times, and blinked, and twisted his eyebrows together staring hard at Fastred. Then he looked past the boy to Faramir, but to Fastred’s relief his Lord Father said nothing, though Fastred could feel him at his back, comforting and safe. At last Aldamir cleared his throat, and said stiffly: “You ask much of me, Heir of Meduseld, for the Dunlendings have harried my people, and slain my farmers, and burned my villages for many years.”

“I ask no more of you than I ask of myself, or of my Lord Father,” said Fastred stubbornly. “For did the Dunlendings not seek to slay my Lady Mother, and mine unborn sister Hísimë?”

There was a chuckle behind him; Galás apparently thought this a good riposte. Aldamir looked round at his friends, at Hallas and Faramir, at Araval and Cirien who had come up beside him, and then to Fastred who stood with Tamin. At last he took a deep breath, and taking Fastred’s hand in his own he said:

“Fastred son of Faramir, Prince of Ithilien and of Rohan, I know that in times of war desperate measures are sought and used, and strange alliances made. Do I not remember mine own amazement when first I gazed upon the Green Knight’s visage! Yet I have found in Elf and Dwarf and perian alike loyalty and honor and friendship. Shall I not take the same venture with a fellow man? I shall seek peace betwixt Errakh-Hem and me; I shall pursue reconciliation between our peoples, the folk of Amon Din and of Dunland. Yet this payment I ask of you: that in instances of feud and conflict you will be our peace-maker, for treaties are slippery things, yet I would not discount friendship with Rohan under any circumstance.”

Fastred exhaled heavily, and his shoulders slumped with relief. “How pleased I am you are in accord with me in this!” he exclaimed, grinning up at the knight. “And now we must needs all go down to the plain, and I shall set up a meeting-place, and you and Errakh-Hem will make vows of amity, and then we shall all go to mine uncle’s aid, to rid my land of those two pestilences Théalof and Bréawine. And when all is done we will sit round the council-table and see what trade agreements we might find. For if we are to swear friendship there must be something to tie it together besides good-will, which is fleeting; trade and money however are rather more compelling when one is rethinking one’s actions.”

Galás burst out laughing at this, and even Faramir chuckled. Aldamir smiled and looked round at his brother knights and said: “How canny he is become! With Rohan and Gondor and Dol Galenehtar combined in his soul he shall be a terrifying king, whether on the battlefield or in the council-chamber.”

“I do not mean to press you,” said Fastred earnestly, “but time runs short, and it will be at least a day ere Errakh-Hem and the men of Gondor can be made to trust one another enough to fight side by side. Galás, Lord Father,” he said turning to them, “how soon can you get everyone into the valley? For the sooner we get everyone fighting on the same side the sooner I can get back to Meduseld.”

“We will deploy at your command, O Prince!” said Galás bowing deeply and laughing. “But let me warn Tyarmayél, for she has charge of the destriers and war-dogs.”

“Good!” said Fastred. “Thank you, Galás.” He turned then, and saw his Lord Father regarding him; in his eyes was a look of fierce pride.

“You have done well my son,” said Faramir smiling at the boy. “You choose friends well, and draw all together in harmony that our positions are strengthened. I am pleased with you, Fastred of Rohan.”

Fastred flinched at that; he did not want to be reminded he was Éomer’s heir, but it was impossible to ignore. “Thank you, Lord Father,” he said forcing a smile, and Faramir squeezed his shoulder, and walked off calling to Beregond to muster their Rangers. Fastred sighed, and turned to Tamin, who was standing with Halgond; the boys could not speak and were looking rather shyly at each other. Taking a deep breath Fastred clapped his hands and said: “Very well! It is up to us boys to get things going I suppose. Halgond, we must needs teach Tamin Westron and teach him quick, for I am so tired of translating.”

“You move things very quickly my friend,” said Tamin, heedless of Fastred’s words. “Why do you press the men so?”

“I want to get back to Meduseld,” said Fastred. “I am tired of sleeping on the ground, and eating roast game. I want my feather-bed and a bath.”

“And pastries?” asked Tamin hopefully, and Fastred laughed.

“Yes!” he said. “And pastries of course.” And taking his friends by the hand he led them out of the clearing to the steps.

Éomer sat upon his great war-horse Féaror and looked out to the plains of Rohan. The wind blew erratically, now warm, now cold, and tossed about the hair upon his shoulders, and that of his companion’s. He glanced sidelong at Meivel, cautious of his caprices. That good Elf, dour and uncommunicative, glared out at the fields and grasslands, his brows knitted and his jaw clenched. The bruising had dissipated the past week, and now he sported pale yellow-green blotches round his eye. Éomer was of two minds concerning the incident that had led Meivel to be struck and with such violence. He could not speak Elvish, and had sat mute and uncomprehending in the Hall whilst Meivel publicly berated his lieutenant for letting the runaways go; Himbaláth had simply stood, head drooping and eyes downcast during the diatribe, and did not even seek to defend himself against his captain’s verbal lashing. But then Meivel, far gone in rage and provoked by his lieutenant’s silence, had taken Himbaláth by the front of his tunic and vehemently shaken him, and said something that sounded very venomous; all the Elves standing round silently had suddenly hissed, and Éomer gauging their expressions decided the captain had gone too far. Indeed Himbaláth had blanched, lifting tear-clouded and aggrieved eyes to his friend, and simply turned and walked away to the end of the Hall, head hanging. As soon as he had quit the assembly had the true affront, in Éomer’s eyes, taken place: Hirilcúllas, pretty, dark-haired and proper, strode forward, her lilac gown swishing upon the rushes, her cheeks suffused with blood and her hands clenched; she went right up into Meivel’s startled face, delivered stinging vituperation in a low hiss, and struck him – not with the palm of her hand, as Éomer had been accustomed from a woman, but with her fist, and so hard that Meivel had rocked backward with the blow.

All the Elves had gasped, and the men in the Hall exclaimed at this, for in the Mark it was an act punishable by twelve lashes for a woman to strike a man in public; however when Hirilcúllas quit the dais and stomped out the Hall no Elf stopped her; in fact her brothers Malinadulin and Fionim both stepped aside with looks of alarm on their faces to let her pass seething and spitting like a boiling kettle through the doors. And when Éomer had cautiously approached Meivel, who stood looking stunned staring after the woman, and asked if he would do aught to discipline her for this slight the Elf had shaken his head, as though ridding himself of a teasing fly; and with subdued voice had simply replied: “I deserved it.” But what Meivel had said to Himbaláth concerning Andunië’s departure, and what Hirilcúllas had said to Meivel about the exchange, none would say despite his questioning; the Elves only looked sideways at him, and said as politely as they dared that it was none of the King of the Mark’s business.

Éomer sighed. He missed Legolas. Elves were all very well; but they were strange, and though certainly Legolas had been strange at least it was a strangeness with which he had become in time well-accustomed. And under Legolas’ firm but gentle hand had the strangeness of his Elvish subjects been contained and softened; he had never seen the folk of Dol Galenehtar quarrel, or shout, or lash out at each other in this fashion and he found it unnerving. Ever to him they had been merry and light-hearted and even a little silly; this heaviness and simmering wrath was very foreign. He was certain much of it hinged upon their lord’s death. They were grieving, even moreso than himself for they had known him for many years longer, and loved him more; yet the constant discord that seemed to center upon Himbaláth, suddenly quiescent and unhappy, and Meivel, abashed and angry, buzzed round Meduseld like hornets round a nest, and though the Elves with perfect equanimity worked alongside their mortal counterparts to muster and gather arms the tension lay across every phrase and interaction. It made Éomer uneasy, and he wished again for Legolas’ merry voice, or firm order, or quick summery smile; he thought of Gimli and his heart sank, knowing the love that had died there.

“’Twould not be so bad were Galás here,” he thought, thinking of the Green Knight’s exasperating seneschal with wry fondness. “Mad, but competent; I suppose he shall now run my friend’s demesne.” The thought of Dol Galenehtar bereft of its lord pained him, and when he remembered his Lady Wife his heart turned to stone. Who could take her through her time of pain now? Even Aragorn, good leech he was, had not been able to save her last child; Éomer’s hopes had hinged on Legolas, on his odd talent for midwifery, and on the queer magic of the Elves.

Meivel lifted his face, sampling the wind; the air stirred his dark hair round beneath his helm, and his black eyes narrowed. “What is it?” asked Éomer. They stood before their troops upon the plain awaiting the scouts’ news; they were a day out of Edoras and Éomer felt very vulnerable in the open, far from his city walls. The sky was obscured by low gray clouds, roiling and tumbling in the erratic wind; crows wheeled and called above them, for seeing the mass of soldiers they expected their full feast of carrion.

“I do not know,” Meivel admitted, frowning. “There is aught in the air that drives me to discomfort; but I cannot tell what it might be – the presence of enemies, or simply the passing of spirits.” He spoke flatly, betraying no feeling, but Éomer shuddered inside, remembering his own grief when he thought Éowyn slain upon the Pelennor; how troubled Meivel must be on his sister’s account! “When Fionim and Romastáldë return perhaps we might know better. But I suggest to you we press forward, your majesty, for it has taken us much longer than it ought to come even this far.”

“No,” said Éomer; “until I know what lies ahead we hold our position here.”

“As your majesty wishes,” said Meivel coolly.

Éomer stifled a sigh, and turned Féaror; it was maddening waiting beside Meivel at best of times, but in his grief Éomer did not feel as though he could tease the Elf as he used for his glowering and brusque ways; and anyway the air about the captain had grown so thick it was like cutting through vines simply to speak. Meivel glared, and snapped, and frowned at his people; and they in respect for his rank and sharp tongue gave him wide berth; that he was at least moderately polite with Éomer and Frera delivered unto the King of the Mark only a small taste of comfort.

He passed sundry Elves and men as he rode through the van. Himbaláth was there, shoulders slumped, seated upon Utuë with his eyes vacant; he looked thin and pale and deeply unhappy; Romastáldë sat beside him, casting anxious looks at his friend; but even to Éomer’s unpracticed eye he saw the Elf had made himself ill through grief. Was it guilt through letting Andunië and Gimli and the others go? Had Meivel’s castigation broken his spirit? And it seemed very strange to Éomer to have Hirilcúllas there with all the men, who watched her with fear and admiration mingled; bare-armed and lovely she sat upon her golden palfrey, raven-black hair pulled back severely from her smooth pale face, fingering an arrow and looking daggers at her captain. Éowyn’s right in battle had by that time been fairly firmly entrenched in Éomer’s opinion; but Hirilcúllas ere she had struck Meivel had seemed to Éomer so mild and womanly. Andunië striking her brother, yes; Hirilcúllas though? Meivel’s words must have been harsh indeed to have so enflamed the woman’s anger, for in Éomer’s memory he had never heard her so much as raise her voice.

Sitting upon their great feather-hocked steeds with Éothain, Éodor and Gálef were Belegtilion, his scar nearly healed, and Malinadulin, like his sister sleek-haired and dark-eyed; they were all conversing easily as though war and death did not approach them. They saluted him when he pulled Féaror up to them, and Gálef, his face near obscured by his great heavy helm, said: “Well my lord! Wait we here ere the scouts have returned?”

“We do,” said Éomer removing his own helm; it was growing heavy. He ran his big hands through the yellow hair and looked out over his army. He was two thousands strong, and all mounted; the Dwarves and five hundreds he had sent to Helm’s Deep to secure the West Emnet. “But will it be enough to beat back Bréawine I wonder!” he thought; Brytta had reported at his ill-fated return two weeks ago that Bréawine secured beneath himself over three thousands in the northern reaches alone, and as yet there was no telling how many were to prove loyal to one cause or another. “It sits hard upon Meivel’s head to arrest our pace however; I do think me he should rather charge full-tilt and meet whatever awaits us head-on.”

“He is merely angry,” said Malinadulin waving his hand dismissively. “Were your interdiction not upon him still he should wait for it is prudent, and Meivel is an excellent captain.”

“It rankles in his proud breast that he must needs wait upon the whims of a mortal commander,” grinned Belegtilion. “He suffers – suffered, rather – our lord but was in constant contention with him; what he shall do when Galás is constrained to lead him I know not.” And he looked very sad, reminding himself of his lord’s death.

“Return to Eryn Lasgalen perhaps,” sighed Malinadulin, gazing out upon the plain. “I do confess me to have the selfsame fancy, Belegtilion, for what shall we do without our lord? Galás or no Galás Dol Galenehtar shall be a cold and empty place without our prince to illuminate our halls.”

There was silence; the men held their tongues for the two Elves appeared both pensive and sad. After an awkward moment Éomer sighed and said: “O my dear Elves, do I not grieve too! When I think that I sent my friend your lord to his death does my heart grow heavy within me and I am bowed with woe. Could I but change the past!”

“Well, that would surely be an unusual happenstance,” said Malinadulin with a grimace. “In truth I am not certain what one would do to effect such an event, considering the nature of time itself!”

“Ah,” said Belegtilion perking up; “that depends upon whether one holds to the hypotheses posed by Sintawéthril and the formulae he theorized; remember you well my friend it involved several algorithmic premises – “

That led Malinadulin and Belegtilion into a light-hearted but nearly incomprehensible discussion about the fluidity of the passing of time, as speculated by some long-departed Elvish philosopher of Gondolin; Éomer’s attention wandered, and looking back over his shoulder he saw Meivel turn and gesture impatiently through the van to him. “I will leave you gentlemen to your conjectures and get me to the head of the file,” he said, glad he was leaving for his countrymen were looking glazed and puzzled by the Elves’ conversation. “I do perceive – “

“Wait!” Malinadulin raised his hand to arrest both the king and his compatriot, his eyes lighting up; he lifted his face to the sky, sampling the air; his brows knitted. Belegtilion too cocked his head, frowning with concentration; then exchanging excited glances they urged their horses to break through the van. Likewise were many Elves doing so; with faces shining and smiles upon their lips they wound through the columns of men to gain the head of the van, where Meivel had turned, his eyes like beacons blazing; then Éomer heard him cry aloud in Elvish, and wave his arm forward. At once all the Elves with exclamations of delight galloped away, leaving their mortal friends staring after them in confusion.

“What was that about?” asked Éothain, bewildered.

“I do not know,” said Éomer, very aggravated; “but Meivel ought at least to have warned me ahead of time, ere he departed so precipitately. Fenwine! Féor! Do you ride after them and see what they are about! There is too much at stake here for them to run off merry-making.”

“At once my lord!” said Féor with a grin, and he and Fenwine followed the Elves. Éomer could see the great cloud of dust kicked up by the Elvish destriers’ hooves and though they were but forty in number the thunder rumbled underfoot. He shook his head and turned to Éothain, Éodor, and Gálef.

“How I miss Lord Legolas!” he said heavily. “With him at least these strange Elves did comport themselves with propriety; now he is gone they are like a flock of magpies.”

“They chatter as much too,” said Éothain with a laugh. “Did you mark that last conversation? I could not follow a word of it. But even in grief how merry they are! Though the times are dark they bring with them a ray of light, for with them lies the hope of the future.”

Éomer returned to the head of the van. He waited with his marshals, watching the yellow dust on the plain; after a moment he frowned – the dust-cloud was growing not receding; how could forty horses, of Dale though they might be, kick up such a great veil? Then he saw a lone rider galloping toward them, and from its lance streamed a green standard; it met up with Féor who yet pursued the Elves, paused, then continued on as Éomer’s two scouts pressed ahead. As it approached Éomer saw it was Fionim; he was holding his lance aloft and laughing, his eyes shining like stars.

“Come, come!” he cried to the assembly. “Wait not upon them but come! O see what your heir has brought unto you O King of the Mark! Joys unnumbered await you – come!” And without waiting for them to reply or question him he turned his great gray beast and galloped off again; they could hear his laughter over the thunder of his destrier’s hooves.

Éomer gasped. His heir! Fastred had returned! Flooded with relief, not simply for the future of his land but for his sister’s heart, he turned to his captains and said: “Well you heard the fellow! Let us go forth and see what he is about.” And touching Féaror’s sides with his boot-heels he led the van.

He was of two minds concerning his heir, he decided as he rode with the assembled Rohirrim at his back. Fastred had indeed committed gross grievance against his lord by leaving in so sly and secretive a manner, and Éomer had been angered by his insolence, though in his own grief recognized it was most likely the same high spirits that oftimes had spurred his sister to reckless deed; and anyway Fastred had been so fond of Legolas, fonder even than of his own uncle; and no wonder that, when they had foregathered so often together! Still though did it cut Éomer that Fastred had so thoughtlessly run from the lord to whom he had sworn allegiance and to a dead friend’s bones; the dead were dead, and it was to the living one owed duty, especially in these troubled times. But so pleased was Éomer to know his heir lived and returned to him that the disappointment was covered in relief; he should have been confounded had anything happened to the boy. “I shall scold him not ere we return to Edoras,” he told himself; “unlike Hirilcúllas and Meivel I think it unseemly to rebuke in public.” He well remembered his own father Éomund, a stern and exacting man who thought nothing of open censure, believing the shame engendered by such a perceptible act was better than the whip. For himself Éomer thought he would have preferred the lash of the thong to the tongue, especially with the entire Hall observing.

Now the dust-cloud rose near fifty feet, obscuring the hills and folds behind it; it was apparent a great throng approached, and Éomer began to wonder who had come and if they were allies or no. Then he saw emerging from the swirling clouds a boy on a piebald horse, flanked by three men; two riders, and one on foot. “Fastred!” he thought, and urged Féaror into a canter. He saw as he approached that the boy was dirty but held himself proud and upright upon the gelding; there was in the lift of that chin more than an echo of Éowyn and Éomer felt his heart swell. He recognized the walker too; he had seen him on several occasions – tall, thin and gaunt with burning eyes and a firm mouth; Errakh-Hem of the Dunlendings; he did not slope like a suppliant though but walked with sure steps, which told Éomer that Fastred had performed magic and turned the Wildmen to his side. Then to his astonishment he realized that though one rider, an Elf, was unknown to him he well recognized the other – Éowyn’s husband, his dear brother Faramir; and following upon their heels he saw others he knew: knights of Gondor, Galás singing and laughing and a host of Elvish knights with him, Rangers and minor nobles clad in armor and bearing lance and pennant. Astonished past speech he simply stared as Fastred rode up; at last the boy’s proud face cracked into an abashed grin and laying one dirty hand upon his breast Fastred bowed to his sovereign.

“Well met, my lord!” he said, his eyes downcast.

“Well met indeed!” cried Éomer gazing round him with delight. “How many have you brought me, O mine heir?”

“One thousands, O mother-brother!” said Fastred solemnly. “Six hundreds on horseback, three hundred archers, and a hundred Dunlending warriors; also we have war-dogs with us for Tyarmayél thought we might have need of them. Will that be sufficient do you think to absolve me of mine errors? If not you may whip me for I well deserve it, but I beg you to wait upon that ‘til we get home, for we are rather busy at the moment.”

“The debt is close-paid for I see you bring your lord father with you,” said Éomer with a laugh. “Well met Faramir of Osgiliath my brother! Glad am I to cross swords with you once more!”

“Yes; it has been some years has it not?” said Faramir smiling. “And you know Errakh-Hem Chief of the Dunlendings I am sure.”

“I do,” said Éomer nodding politely to the man; it did not do after all to slight an ally, and in truth Éomer suspected the recent troubles betwixt them had been brought about by Théalof and not the Wildmen. “Welcome to you and your men!”

“Your majesty,” said Errakh-Hem coolly inclining his head, though Éomer saw to his amusement he glanced with approval up at Fastred then. He turned to the Elf and said: “Hail O you of the Firstborn! Pleased am I to have you to fight by my side.”

The Elf stared blankly at him, but then Fastred spoke to him in the soft sibilant Elven tongue and he smiled and bowed his head to Éomer, replying in broken Westron: “Happy are we to help, King of Mark!”

“And what is that disarray behind you?” asked Éomer looking past the lords Aldamir and Cirien to the jumble of Elves, shouting and laughing. “What has bewitched the Elves of Dol Galenehtar?”

“See for yourself!” said Fastred with a smile, and led his uncle back to the crowd.

The Elves were in tumult, clustered and pressing in upon one point, a man on horseback; they were crying aloud, and some were singing, and others wept. Over and over they called out: “Legolas, Legolas! Thranduilion returns to us! Our Prince Legolas!” Then the dust cleared and Éomer could see clearly whom they surged and danced round, the horses skittering and shying with the noise. Sitting on a great black horse, his pale head shining like a gleaming coronel and his arms flung wide laughed Legolas; he was dirty and wounded, and clad in strange dark raiment, but his eyes flashed and he reached out to touch and embrace his folk, who clutched at him with desperate hands striving to prove to the rest of their senses that their eyes deceived them not. Even Meivel wept, clinging to his lord’s bound leg, and Himbaláth standing in the fray merely stared up at him with tears rolling down his cheeks. Éomer urged his horse forward with a glad shout and pushing the Elves out of his way drew next to the big black destrier to embrace his friend.

“Legolas!” he exclaimed, head spinning with delight. “Legolas my friend, of all joys this is the most beguiling! Why I thought you dead – Lothíriel even wears black out of grief – and to have you here is better even than these thousands Fastred brings to me – and what,” he asked, releasing the laughing Elf, “have you done to yourself? Your legs – “

“Broken!” grinned Legolas, turning quickly to kiss Hirilcúllas, who had flung herself weeping upon him. Ruffling her raven locks with one hand he gripped Romastáldë with another and said to Éomer: “I beg your pardon my friend; I am a trifle distracted – “

“Take your time!” laughed Éomer. “I will confer then with Faramir and Galás and we will see about absorbing your rather haphazard army into ours, to the benefit of all save Bréawine.”

“Do so!” said Legolas. “And be sure to ask Fastred – “ Then with a yelp he was dragged off the destrier, which snorted indignantly and tossed its glossy head, and the last Éomer saw of his friend he was being embraced and kissed and passed about from Elf to Elf like a newborn babe first presented.

Éomer returned to where Fastred awaited him with Faramir, Galás, Errakh-Hem, and sundry other knights. To his surprise also stood there Brytta, holding the big cast-eyed Taruku by the reins; he seemed resigned, and kept glancing over his shoulders at the swarm of Elves round Legolas. Then Éomer remembered whose horse he had stolen and laughed aloud.

“Brytta!” he said, his voice merry. “Do you fear Meivel’s wrath then? In truth I doubt not he shall be most angry with you for you have taken a fine steed though you own it not!”

“O I own it, your majesty!” said Brytta gloomily. Taruku lipped at his grey-streaked braids and he gave the horse a tender caress. “Much as it pains me to so admit I have found in myself a fancy for this big beast; I should rather keep it but know I am constrained to give him back, for ‘twas not me who took it but Andunië.”

“You astonish me, Brytta,” said Éomer dismounting. “Why you have for many years disdained anything, beast especially, that was not of the Mark; what love can you have for such a foreign steed?”

“I know not!” said Brytta with a shrug. “But possessed I any thing I should gladly give it in exchange for Taruku.”

“Well we shall see what can be done then,” said Éomer. “I have given unto Meivel a fine steed; perchance he shall be agreeable to a trade.”

“That should be unseemly,” said Brytta stiffly, flushing. “For ‘twas not my steed to so trade.”

“You have earned in my esteem far more than horses, Brytta,” said Éomer gently. “After all you have proved yourself true when many other men have failed me; also you bring back to me not Legolas’ bones alone but his flesh and voice and breath too. How can I not be grateful?” Brytta bowed to him, and Éomer smiling turned to the others. “Well!” he said. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“We did not wish to miss anything,” said Galás glibly. “You seemed to be having so much fun over here.”

There was a shout from the tumult of celebrating Elves behind them, and over it they could hear Gimli laughing, and Bandobras crying in exasperation: “Stop, stop! O you silly Elves, what a scene you are making!” They all chuckled, and Éomer turned to Errakh-Hem.

“Happy am I to have you to fight beside me!” he said. “In truth this is a happenstance both gratifying and astonishing; however did this come about?”

“Ah!” said Aldamir then, smiling over at the Dunlending’s chief. “You may lay blame upon your heir for this one O King of the Mark!” He turned to Fastred, who had slid from Karakse’s back and stood self-effacing by Brytta. The boy blushed and scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt as Aldamir said: “Stubborn as his Lady Mother he is, insistent upon treating peace, yet in sweetness of temper and word did I hear his Lord Father as well, so that Errakh-Hem and I at the end of it were shamed to think we had ever felt ill of each other, and gladly put enmity aside simply to make him happy.”

“He will make a good king, O Éomer of the Mark,” agreed Errakh-Hem. “And he did assure me the documents read me by Théalof and Bréawine concerning the distribution of our lands at Onodló were false, so I have decided to throw my lot in with you.”

“That is hardly a glowing declaration of loyalty,” said Galás.

Errakh-Hem shrugged. “I am a gambler not a diplomat,” he said, and Galás laughed.

Éomer looked back at Fastred and saw that standing by his side were several other boys; he recognized Halgond son of Hallas and postulated the larger boy were his brother Baldor; however hanging by Fastred’s side with two gangly Dunland youths was a slim sprite of a child, slender and golden and strong, starry-eyed and sweet-faced. To Éomer’s surprise he realized he was looking for the first time upon an Elven child, and the fair innocent face gazed up at him in wonder and approval mixed. The boy tugged on Fastred’s tunic and said in a clear voice: “Uncle, Fastred?”

“Yes,” said Fastred, and gestured to Éomer with his chin. “My uncle. Éomer.”

“Your uncle.” The boy blinked his big gray eyes up at Éomer and then said solemnly: “Uncle is like your horse, very big.”

Galás gave a delighted whoop, and all the men laughed. “Fastred my son, go you with your small companions to fetch Lassah ere he is crushed by his people,” said Faramir; “else Bandobras shall shout himself hoarse, and we waste time in merry-making.”

“Yes, Lord Father,” said Fastred, and together with the other boys they ran to the Elves clustered thick about Legolas. Faramir turned to Éomer with a smile and said: “You must forgive Tamin, Éomer; the Elves of Lothlórien do not of habit speak Westron and though eager to learn it has been but two days ere we met up with them upon the plains by Onodló.”

“Elves of Dwimwordene, Elves of Dol Galenehtar, Knights of Gondor and Dunlendings of Onodló!” said Éomer shaking his head. “To think I must needs rely on friends to fight countrymen. Still I am pleased to meet you here, for I have need of such stout allies as you. But how did all this come about? And whence came that big black horse? For Legolas’ own destrier Piukka lies beneath a mound outside the city; also I perceive this one has no blaze nor stockings.”

“Tyarmayél brought him; she felt her lord needed a younger war-horse,” said Galas. “He is not so good-natured as Piukka but he is quite a bit larger.”

“And as for how we all met up together,” said Faramir, “well I admit the Lórien Elves and the Dunlendings were an additional blessing, but once our differences were resolved the Elves of Dol Galenehtar and the Knights of Gondor came together willingly.”

“Let us sit then,” said Éomer. “It is apparent there are great tales to be told, and though time might run short for us and Bréawine approach, I wish to know in brief how all this came about. Besides which,” he added glancing back at the noisy group of Elves celebrating their lord’s return, “It may be some time ere Legolas is free to join us; we will commence without him.”

“Let the Yellow Knight relate it you,” suggested Aldamir; “he is better at imparting much while saying little.”

“I will do so then, at your good pleasure, O King of the Mark,” said Cirien lowering himself carefully to the earth. The others sat in circle round him, and after waiting for the knights and lords to settle he began: “Many lords of southern Gondor did receive not three weeks hence letters from Théalof begging aid in quelling an uprising in Rohan, and reminding them of treaties signed; so with good Araval here – “ he gestured to the Dun Knight, who sat rosy and beaming beside him “ – harrying them along and berating them for their short-sightedness they came unto Minas Tirith, where they sought the council of Targond Elessar’s seneschal, and Galás the seneschal of the Green Knight, and Faramir of Osgiliath. These three did maintain Araval’s insistence upon loyalty not only to Elessar but to his friends, and Galás in particular disclosed unto them many truths heretofore obscured – “

“I told them Théalof was a scoundrel,” said Galás cheerfully leaning back on his hands, his legs crossed. “And that he was a popinjay beside.”

“Many truths heretofore obscured,” repeated Cirien smiling at the Elf. “So persuasive were the arguments that they all resolved to march forthwith to Rohan to see to the rogue themselves – “

“We do not care to be used and deceived,” said Hallas angrily shaking his crutch. “To tell us the Elves cared not for us! To claim the Green Knight had naught but his own treasuries at heart! Such lies! And to have our poverty used as a wedge, to drive betwixt Gondor and Rohan! No, we shall not have it.”

“To see to the rogue themselves,” said Cirien looking irritated. “So they came unto Amon Din not seven days ago, and Mardil, Aldamir and I after conferring with them upon the dearth of post and speering decided to go immediately unto the plains of Rohan to determine for ourselves whether we were truly needed, for if uprising there were certes it was Théalof behind it – “

“Though it appears rather to be Bréawine,” interrupted Brytta, “though they are certainly working in concert I should doubt me Théalof would dirty his hands in combat.”

“It was Théalof behind it,” said Cirien through clenched teeth, and Faramir hid a smile behind his hand. “At the time of course we had no knowledge of the ties betwixt Théalof and Bréawine or we should have come sooner. So we came up through Anórien to the Eastfold and encamped upon a high steppe in the forest, for Galás and sundry other Elves, Kaimelas too, did say to us they felt their lord nearby; so we set Mardil upon a small tor – “

“Dull duty to be sure!” sighed Mardil. “But it bore fruit for little Lord Fastred and his daffodil-friend came unto me within two hours of sunrise.”

Cirien gave Mardil an exasperated look. “We set Mardil on a small tor to flush him out,” he said, turning to Éomer with forced politesse, “and when we had foregathered with Legolas and his party did Fastred force upon Aldamir and Errakh-Hem armistice – “

He paused then, and glanced at the Red Knight and the Chief of the Dunlendings, but they seeing the warning in his eye held their tongues, and Cirien continued: “After securing truce we took council with each other, and learning from good Rúmil here – “ he gestured to the gray-clad Elf, who through speaking no Westron sat mute with a look of polite inquiry upon his face; gratified Cirien said: “Rúmil and his scouts did inform us that Bréawine’s army marched down the west side of the canyon to the plains below to engage Edoras, and knowing you, O King Éomer, were beset by strife also in the West Emnet did resolve to go to your aid, and so pinch Bréawine in the vise, and perhaps learn tidings of Théalof, though he no doubt upon discerning his plans laid waste shall slip away like the eel he is.” Cirien paused then, looking round the circle of men seated there, and Araval said:

“Why that is astonishing Cirien! You did manage I think to say two or three phrases without interruption.”

“Indeed,” said Cirien dryly; “I am amazed.”

“So it is this,” said Éomer; “we go to meet Bréawine, and Nórin and Híldaf and Arúlf to Helm’s Deep to secure my people there; Frera and Fríma remained in Edoras to aid the remaining people in holding firm lest enemies approach; Fram son of Feldwine and his poor villagers remain with them, and we have been given Legolas son of Thranduil back from the dead.” He beamed round them. “A happy day for me, which started so unpropitiously! Know we how soon we shall engage the enemy? For our scouts were delayed by your arrival, and I know not Bréawine’s position.”

“Fear not O King!” said Galás. “I have sent scouts out myself, as likewise has your brother Lord Faramir; we shall know soon enough when death begins.” He gestured up at the sky, at the crows and condors wheeling above them. “They shall feast soon enough,” he said with grim satisfaction.

“Well then,” said Éomer looking back at where Legolas sat surrounded by his happy people; Meivel had evidently satisfied himself his lord had indeed returned and was stalking up to them, his usual scowl marred by a half-smile. “Let us determine the placement of our troops and make us ready; I would not disappoint Bréawine for anything!” He as the others rose, and clasping Faramir by the forearm he said: “What good gifts you have given to me O my brother! With your son mine heir beside me and Legolas brought to life we cannot but win.”

Faramir smiled. “Did you not grant your greatest gift to me and freely? All I have is yours and though our son shall be missed Éowyn and I both know well he shall make a superlative king – as is his uncle.”

“Enough flattery!” said Galás as he walked past them. “We may heap accolades upon each other’s heads all we like when the smoke clears. For now to work!” And whistling cheerily to himself he went to fetch his lord from the fray.

A/N: Well, against my better judgment I've joined National Novel Writing Month (www.nanowrimo.org) which will effectively bleed all spare time away during the month of November. Hopefully I'll be able to crank out another chapter before then ... but don't get your hopes up! Don't let them down too hard either; I will finish this story, darn it!

At last Legolas managed to convince his grieving folk he had truly returned to them – “I was not really dead you know,” he repeated over and over; “do not blame Brytta for his misinformation for he could not have known – O do stop weeping Himbaláth; I promise I am going nowhere!” – and when Gimli had assisted him upon the great black destrier he dusted himself off, ran long fingers through his gold flossy hair, flashed an impudent grin at Éomer and said: “Well! Now what?”

“Now,” said Éomer, smiling at the Elf who sat in a milling crowd of excited subjects, “we take care this quandary once and for all, so we may go back to my Hall to properly celebrate your return from the dead.”

“Good!” said Legolas with satisfaction. “Being dead is so tedious. And besides which I have acquired a horrible yearning for roast lamb and red wine.”

“And mushrooms,” said Bandobras from the back of the little pony Tyarmayél had brought him. He bore the standard of Dol Galenehtar – “I packed it, just in case, you know,” he’d said proudly when Éomer raised his eyebrows at it – “Can’t be lamb without mushrooms nohow, you know, Master.”

Gimli muttered something under his breath then, and Bandobras asked sharply, “What was that now?” “Nothing, nothing,” grumbled the Dwarf, and taking Legolas’ hand scrambled up onto the destrier’s back.

“Beyond lamb and mushrooms however,” said Legolas to Éomer as they came together to lead the van, “I also have a taste for revenge – not a lot of revenge, but just a little bit of it – a dram, the merest soupçon. You may if you like visit vengeance upon Bréawine, for he has done you great harm; but I ask a boon of you my friend that you let me at least speak to Théalof ere you remove his head from his shoulders.”

“Revenge seems strange coming from you my friend,” said Cirien in surprise; his young esquire Tarondor was helping the aged knight upon his horse, eager as had been his father to be nearest the friends of the Green Knight. “You are ever gentle and forbearing and I thought not vengeful violence had its place in you.”

“Not vengeance in violence,” said Legolas, injured. “Vengeance with words. He did not slay me but wound me; so I shall wound him a little but with my tongue and not a weapon. Though I want my sword back,” he added looking sadly down at his hip, where lay the broad short sword of Rohan. “My Lord Father will never forgive me if I say unto him I lost his sire’s sword.”

“Ah! And that brings back to my mind a scheme I had devised when meeting with Errakh-Hem upon the Onodló,” said Cirien, clapping his hands. “Tarondor! Do you please go unto Malbeth of Celos and tell him that the Yellow Knight requires of him those artifacts which he did request two nights ago.”

“Yes, my lord!” said Tarondor and ran off through the line of knights arrayed behind them. Cirien said to Legolas:

“O my friend I know that you are the Green Knight; I know that not long ago you did require your subjects to remember you are the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen and ride beneath a banner of green; does not your own name give unto us the essence of leaves and grass and other living things? But remember you well Bréawine is a credulous man and much given to the apprehension of the uncanny and mystic; also in his estimation you are a being dead and disposed of and therefore of no further concern to him.”

Legolas turned and watched Tarondor run panting up to them; in his arms was a great swath of black fabric worked over with silver designs. He smiled. “And do you propose to array me as a wraith O my dear friend Cirien?” he asked.

“Well you are of the Dwimmerlaik,” said Éothain. “ ‘Twould be simple to convince one so chary of the mystical that you have returned from the dead, and black robes should buttress that delusion.”

“Very well!” said Legolas taking the clothes. He shrugged into the black surcoat, and affixed the black cloak beneath his chin. Gimli fussed about with the hood of the cloak, which hung in his face. “This is quite inconvenient,” grumbled Gimli pushing it aside; “when you ride it shall be all round my nose and mouth!”

Legolas turned round and smiled sweetly at him. “Perchance you should rather ride with Bandobras then?” he asked. Gimli scowled.

“Perchance you’d rather – “ he began hotly, but Bandobras cleared his throat with a loud, “Hem, hem!” and glaring at Gimli said: “Manners, Lord of Aglarond!” So Gimli fell silent, though he shot Cirien a reproachful look.

They arrayed their troops in three divisions. Behind Éomer and Legolas rode the Men of the Mark and the forty Elves out of Edoras, still beaming happily and chattering amongst themselves; to their right skirting the low downs rode Galás and Rúmil with the Elves of Dol Galenehtar and of Lothlórien (“We will teach them a little Westron as we go,” Galás had winked ere they departed); to their left hidden in the cleft of the land went Faramir and Errakh-Hem with the Knights of Gondor and the Dunlendings. The way was rocky there so the horses could not go so fast, allowing the Wildmen to keep pace; also did Errakh-Hem’s men know well the lie of the land and were able to keep their knightly neighbors from going astray. “Better also it is for Errakh-Hem and Aldamir to fight side-by-side,” said Legolas practically; “’tis not time molds friendship but congress in adversity.” Behind the Men of the Mark were Tyarmayél, Andunië, and the war-dogs. Andunië had expressed herself delighted – or as pleased as she would let herself convey – that Tyarmayél had seen fit to bring the beasts. The bull terriers walked with their handlers straining against the strong leather straps that held them, wearing studded leather jerkins across their broad chests, snuffling and making anxious noises in the backs of their throats. To Éomer’s surprise Brytta walked with Andunië. The displaced knight had brought Taruku back to Meivel, growling an apology; Meivel however had regarded the man with a scowl and muttered: “Keep him. He likes you better,” and stalked off. So Brytta walked with Taruku trailing his heels, the dogs clustered about his knees; he looked betimes at Andunië and Tyarmayél walking comfortably together speaking of falcons and ricks and hay and kennels; he often smiled, but spoke not. But looming in Éomer’s mind was the tableau he had observed when the troops first split: Himbaláth had approached Andunië, his eyes sunken and burning, face both expectant and anxious; she had fixed him with cool and disinterested gaze and turned wordlessly from him though to join Tyarmayél. Himbaláth had reached a supplicating hand to her retreating back, though he let it drop when he saw her proud and merciless carriage, and the lieutenant had walked away, golden head sunk between his shoulders. Éomer also saw Legolas watching this mummer’s play; the Green Knight had narrowed his eyes then, and set his jaw; Éomer suddenly felt sorrier for Andunië than Himbaláth, for it seemed apparent the maiden’s lord had other things in mind for his lieutenant than this cold rejection, and the King of the Riddermark knew full well that once the Green Knight put his foot down, something got unequivocally squashed.

Fastred and Tamin rode with Fastred’s Lord Father. The Heir of Meduseld had been much harrowed up in mind concerning this; he wanted very much to ride with his uncle and Legolas, but Tamin had been consigned to ride with his own father and Galás; at last filial affection outweighed other desires – Rúmil’s concession his son could ride with the “other boys” helped in this – and so Fastred, Tamin, Halgond and Baldor rode together, Tamin upon a lively bay mare that seemed pleased to forego bit and bridle and bear such a delightful burden, Fastred upon his piebald Karakse, Halgond on Speckle and his brother Baldor upon his new destrier Javelin, and the younger boys in Errakh-Hem’s rag-tag army walked beside them. Halgond betimes gazed with envy upon his senior, clad in their father’s old tourney armor and sitting proudly upon the thick-limbed stallion; he was anxious to achieve high station though he was but the cadet of a minor house. “I wish I had armor too,” Fastred overheard him mutter; Fastred wished as well for armor but for a differing reason – they rode into full battle, and all he had to protect him was an escutcheon borrowed off Romastáldë, and one of his Lord Father’s old leather jerkins. “I have never felt so unprepared,” he confided to his father, fingering the jerkin. “Though I have fought twice in naught but my old tunic, to ride full-tilt into battle against Bréawine in but leather seems so imprudent.”

“We might not see direct battle,” Lord Faramir said to them as they set out. “Bréawine will surely engage the center line, for he will keep to high ground and not come down this ravine; we are only here to mop up stragglers. And anyway the standard of Rohan is the one for which the traitor has greatest ire – Éomer your royal uncle stands in his way of lordship and he would remove him if he could.”

The three companies proceeded that morn north-west, for the scouts had reported a great army amassed upon the high plateau before them. There was no hope of coming in stealth for the carrion-fowl circled high overhead, eager to dine; betimes Tyarmayél and Andunië looked up at them disapprovingly. Legolas rode upon his great black horse beside Éomer; he had begged a mail shirt off Araval’s esquire and an iron cap from Éothain and looked rather bedraggled with his rag-bound legs sticking out stiffly from the horse’s great girth; however he sat up proudly, eyes flashing with pleasure and eagerness, now and again lifting his face to sample the wind. The black surcoat and cloak served to leech the color from his pale skin and hair, and he looked very eerie. His steed paced Éomer’s own destrier though it was two hands the higher, and the great black head tossed as the huge feathered hooves scraped the earth. Éomer said: “That is a bigger beast than Piukka Legolas, and I perceive he is fiercer beside. What shall you name him?”

“Well Tyarmayél has been calling him Morier, Dark One,” said Legolas patting the horse’s thick glossy neck. “But he reminds me so of my first tourney destrier Hatchet that I think he needs a fiercer name.”

“Hammer,” said Gimli from where he sat clinging to his friend’s waist, and brushing the black cloth from his face impatiently. “Hear how his hooves beat at the ground! He is like a blacksmith hammering at steel.”

Legolas laughed. “Hammer, then!” he said, and the horse’s ears twitched to hear him. “And Aldamir’s people shall be glad, for they may yet sing to me their lays of The Green Knight upon his Midnight Destrier. I had visions of riding into Amon Din upon a dun steed; whatever should the minstrels have done then!”

They lost the morning sun as they descended into a shallow valley, and when the van began to ascend the steep slope Éomer halted and sent out Romastáldë and Belegtilion to determine where Bréawine was, for he did not want to engage his enemy uphill. Soon those two good scouts came rushing down the rise, eyes bright and swords drawn.

“We are near upon them!” they said. “Bréawine’s army is spread over the plain before us, and his standard sits upon a low tor in the middle. We can see him and his guard about him there, and beside him sits that snake Théalof!”

“Two for one!” laughed Legolas clapping his hands. “O they shall rue the day they mocked me in irons. Beware Théalof for now I know where you are!”

“How are they arranged?” asked Meivel from where he rode with Himbaláth, still sunk in gloom.

“Archers out front, the poor devils,” grinned Belegtilion. “I suppose they are none too sanguine about shooting over their companions’ heads; or rather their companions might not be, and no blame to them. Shall we pick them off for you, O King of the Mark? For most of the Riders are armed with but crossbows, and our range is greater, as is our aim.”

“Nay!” said Legolas, glancing at Himbaláth. “I would not waste good archers in that fashion – mine, not his, I mean; a loosed bolt from a crossbow is still a dangerous thing.” He looked thoughtfully at Meivel, his eye lingering on the bruise Hirilcúllas had given him; Meivel shot a look at that woman and his cheeks went pink. Then the Green Knight turned his eye upon his lieutenant, pale and downhearted, and he said briskly: “Himbaláth! Take you the standard from Bandobras, for he and Gimli shall stay with the footmen when we charge. And you are like enough unto poor Lirlindil to fool Bréawine’s men, and look pretty ghastly beside.” Gimli opened his mouth to speak, then seeing the steel in his friend’s eye tipped Bandobras a wink, and slid off Hammer’s back. Bandobras gave the standard to Himbaláth, who with a rather hangdog look at his lord took it, though he did not seem very pleased to so do. Legolas turned to Éomer with a smile that looked more mischievous than kind and said, “O Éomer, I think it is time to see if bull terriers are as good war-dogs as mastiffs! Let us instead bring forward Andunië and Tyarmayél and properly determine what their good beasts can do.”

“As you wish, my friend,” said Éomer in surprise, wondering what Legolas was up to, and reflecting Elves were no less puzzling with their lord than without. “Fenwine! Do you go to the back of the file and fetch forward the war-dogs and their mistresses.”

Soon the two women came forward with their terriers. There were twenty-five dogs in all, bandy-legged, stump-tailed and slavering, snuffling at the wind and whining anxiously. A sharp word though from Andunië silenced them, and the two women presented themselves before their lord and the King of Rohan. Standing off to the side was Brytta, holding Taruku. Legolas looked at him and cried with indignation:

“Brytta! What is this? Why skulk you at the rear of the file and ride not with me into battle? Do you not wish to show Bréawine that you are a Man of the Mark and not to be trifled with?”

Brytta looked at Andunië then; he coughed. “Well my friend,” he stammered, “I – I bethought me the ladies might have need of escort.”

Legolas looked from Brytta to Andunië, affecting puzzlement, then his brow cleared and he laughed. “O that!” he said waving his hand. “I had forgotten O Brytta; you have a tendresse for my huntsmistress.” Éomer saw Himbaláth start at that, and stare down with horror at Brytta, who blushed. Legolas continued airily, “Well I cannot see it for myself; but then I have known Andunië since birth and my estimation of her but a daughter; perchance that obscures whatever charms she might possess. I wish you well of it, and to be sure you shall find no rivalry in me; I have not the lover’s disposition, nor do I desire such an inconvenience.” And addressing the women he said dismissively: “Release the dogs at your whim, O handmaidens of Dol Galenehtar.” Then he turned away and began chatting with Éothain as though nothing had happened.

Éomer did not feel it was his business to watch the immolation of a maiden's heart but he could not tear his eyes away. Meivel sat still as stone, his mouth working with silent fury; Hirilcúllas turned to Himbaláth as though to speak but thought better of it, then looked triumphantly at Meivel; Himbaláth’s gaze darted from his lord to his beloved, torn between indignation and hope; and Andunië went very still and white, her stricken eyes fixed upon her lord’s dispassionate back. Then the cold indifferent mask fell over her; she set her jaw, straightened her shoulders, and spinning abruptly round she with Tyarmayél crawled up to the lip of the hill.

There was an awkward silence then; Éomer could see Gimli and Bandobras watching carefully from atop their pony, and none of the Elves were speaking save Legolas, who pretended unconcern yet shot a shrewd glance over at his huntsmistress as she ascended to the upper plain. Then Meivel turned to Himbaláth and said something Éomer did not understand for he spoke in Elvish; from the tone it sounded as though he said I told you so. Himbaláth still looked from Legolas to Andunië and back again, his gray eyes bewildered and a little angry; gripping the standard so hard his knuckles went white he urged Utuë over to where his lord stood. He did not speak, but Éomer noted with satisfaction he lifted his chin and straightened his back, and held the banner proudly.

The huntsmistress and stablemistress reached the top of the hill; their heads were dark against the morning sky; their shining hair lay across their shoulders, and the terriers waited at their heels. They conferred in an undertone; Andunië’s face was impassive as always but there was a fierce light in her green eyes; Tyarmayél looked sad though, and scratched at a nearby terrier’s head. Then they gestured to their dogs, who leapt to their feet, pointed ears aloft and tongues hanging out. Andunië said, “Ela sen!” and Tyarmayél cried, “ Kela, ndenginata!” And like a brindled wave the dogs rushed past their mistresses over the top of the hill onto the plain, silent save for the sound of their feet crushing the grass, or the occasional eager whimper.

They waited for signs the dogs had engaged the archers; the beasts had a half mile to run and they knew it would take some time. So for a few moments all they could hear was the wind sighing through the tall grasses, or the cawing of the crows overhead. Andunië and Tyarmayél came back down the slope; Tyarmayél looked resigned, but stamped upon Andunië’s pale face was a look of deepest dismay. She turned her face away from her lord and his lieutenant and stalked past to the back of the file, her coppery hair fanning out behind her. Legolas made pretend he did not even mark her, and Himbaláth himself did not dare look at her as she passed. Brytta glanced once at the two golden-haired Elves, and with a wry twist of his lips mounted Taruku and stood with the other men awaiting the charge. In the silence Legolas turned to Himbaláth and said in a voice that brooked no opposition:

“Try not to die Himbaláth; that would upset my plans somewhat; and besides I am quite fond of you. Anyway should aught happen to you Meivel will lose both lieutenant and brother.”

Himbaláth stared hard at his lord, his breath catching in his throat; when he spoke his voice was thready and thin. “And why, my lord, should I die not when I have no hope?”

“Who told you that there was no hope?” asked Legolas gently. “My dear Little One, there is always hope; we are not like our poor mortal friends here who have but three score and ten years with which to find joy. If there is one thing I have learned from mine own disastrous affair it is that falling in love is fleeting, but loving someone – friend, brother, heart’s desire – takes more practice than feeling.” Himbaláth spoke not but looked thoughtful, and then Legolas said meditatively: “She is very stupid about such things; it is so like her to try to hit a moving mark five hundred yards away, when before her is a target simply begging to be pierced.” Himbaláth turned burning eyes upon his lord biting his lip, and Legolas took him firmly by the arm. “Patience, Little One,” he said kindly. Then there was from over the lip of the rise the sound of many horses frightened, and dogs barking and snarling, and men shouting and screaming; Éomer and Legolas nodded then, and Éomer turned to his men and to the Elves round him.

“Men of the Riddermark, Elves of Dol Galenehtar!” he shouted. “Today you go forth against mine own people, men who have sworn loyalty to me yet betrayed me for another. I beg of you to fight and fight well but with mercy commingled with strength; O Men of the Mark, should any brother of yours beg clemency you shall give it him, and consign him horseless and weaponless to our Elvish friends. But for those snakes Bréawine and Théalof I reserve their necks for myself and for my dear friend the Green Knight, for it is against your sovereign they have revolted and against him they have inflicted such slur and abuse. Ride now, ride for death and ruin, for glory and honor! Forth the Dwimmerlaik of Ithilien! Forth Eorlingas!”

“For the king and his heir!” laughed Legolas drawing his sword, and with noisy tumult they charged up over the lip of the hill.

Laid out upon the plain before them they beheld Bréawine’s army. The front line was in disarray; the terriers had hurried through the grass and taken the archers unaware, wreaking havoc upon them; the horses reared and threw their riders, and many rushed about panicking, trampling the fallen men. Dogs had fallen too; some limped about stuck with arrows and howling in pain, or lay lifeless upon the crushed and trodden grass, but many were still at work, pulling men from their steeds’ backs with their great jaws, and tearing at their hands and throats, snarling and slavering and foaming.

Behind the archers came the first wave of the assault upon them, bristling with lances and shining spears; behind them Éomer and Legolas could descry Bréawine upon a gray horse beneath his standard, and beside him Théalof; Legolas could even perceive the glint of the gold torc from there. “Certes I shall present that trinket unto Errakh-Hem ere night falls!” he thought grimly, and calling to Himbaláth and Meivel he and Éomer and Éothain broke through the faltering line of archers and engaged the horsemen.

Bréawine and Théalof stood upon the low tor with their marshals and reserves, watching the green standard of the Kings of the Mark press forward. “They are fewer than we!” scoffed Théalof gesturing to Éomer’s army. “Look! They are but two thousands; we shall have them by evening.”

“They have destroyed mine archers!” fumed Bréawine through gritted teeth. “Dogs! Where did Éomer get dogs? I have heard naught of his raising and training war-dogs! Where did they come from?”

“O no doubt the back stables,” said Théalof dismissively. “A foreign fad perchance.”

“But an effective one,” said Bréawine. “Look what disarray they have caused! The crossbows were supposed to break their line, and now it is our line that is breached!”

“Patience, O my friend!” said Théalof soothingly. “ ‘Tis of little import; Éomer cannot but fail for he is outnumbered, and we are firmly entrenched uphill.” Bréawine did not reply, but stared into the mêlée.

There was great tumult below which sounded far-off to them, safe upon their hill; but even so they could not miss the screams and cries of dismay when the right flank of Éomer’s army erupted in a stream of arrows, beneath which Bréawine’s men melted as ice in the sun. “Longbows!” exclaimed Bréawine in dismay. “Where did – “

Then did Éomer and the van pierce the front line, cleaving it in two like a knife through fat; over the noise of the fray Bréawine and Théalof could hear the terrified cries of their men. Looking closer Bréawine saw two green standards not one; and beside the king there appeared to be a man in flowing black. “Hámaf!” he said to his runner. “Go you to the back of the line and discern for me the cause of this alarm; who is the man in the black cloak?” And the runner went down the hill.

However Bréawine’s news did not come back as he had anticipated, for within moments the disarray at the lines had escalated, and his men were fleeing to the east away from the field and the lowlands, hoping to escape into the rumpled folds of hills; Bréawine shouted to his captain to pursue and bring back the cowards. But then a man covered in blood came panting up the hill; his face was pale as death and his eyes wide with terror. “Bréawine, Bréawine!” he groaned, his hand pressed to his side whence seeped his blood. “It is he – it is the Green Knight – he is the Lord of the Dead now – and the dead and the Dwimmerlaik ride with him!”

Bréawine went white. “What!” he exclaimed and his hands began to tremble. “What mean you? What is this nonsense you are spewing? Surely you are corrupted by pain – “

“Nay, O Bréawine!” said the man. “I saw him myself – the dead knight upon a black horse, all in black like a terrible wraith, and the blood of my brothers bright upon his sword. And King Éomer beside him, laughing and singing! Save us, O Bréawine! The Dead are upon us!”

The men round Bréawine and Théalof erupted then in panicked speech, crying aloud in dismay, and some went to horse and rode off without bidding their erstwhile lord farewell. Théalof cursed them, but Bréawine stood quivering with fear, his face bled of color, staring down into the battle whence he saw the Lord of the Dead wreaking havoc upon his men, who screamed and fled in terror. And he saw Éomer too by the dead knight’s side, turning from the men surrounding him to look up at his enemy upon the hill; and the King of the Mark shook his sword at the traitor.

Terrified Bréawine looked round him, at his men running hither and yon, and the bulk of his army fleeing to the east. “Théalof!” he cried. “We must retreat – we must go to the east as well and salvage what we may! For we cannot fight the dead!”

“Very well!” said Théalof grimly. “Well we have lost most our escort I fear save these good men beside us, but we might find us a few stout captains who are not so chary of ghosts to press eastward; we might gain the fords then and hold them against Éomer and this ostensible Lord of the Dead.”

But then there was a great shout, and the sound of a clear brassy trumpet; and to their dismay they saw pouring down the eastern hillocks many men on dark horses, shooting as they rode and trampling down the fleeing men. Their helms flashed and their swords gleamed, and on the wind they caught the sound of a voice crying:

“Dol Galenehtar! Lothlórien! The Dwimmerlaik for Éomer!”

“Elves, curse them!” cried Théalof shaking his fist. “The Elves of Dol Galenehtar! And Galás the Fool leading them!”

“Not so fool he then!” said Bréawine, staring east desperately. The Elves crushed underfoot those closest to the eastern hills, and drove back the remainder into the thick of the fray, where Éomer’s men and the terrible black-clad man awaited them. There they fell upon their swords, or threw themselves at Éomer’s feet begging mercy; for in their minds it were better to fall to a friend of the Dead than beneath the horrible hooves of the Elven destriers. Bréawine and Théalof watched in dismay their army coming to pieces around them, and then to their alarm saw approaching their hill not Éomer, but the dark knight upon the black horse; they could see the destrier’s eyes gleaming red and hear its awful hoofbeats, and upon its bare back rode the man in the black cloak, his face shadowed but pale and easily discerned; the eyes glittered, and the mouth was set in a firm line, and clutched in the thin white hands was a bloody sword. Beside him rode a terrible standard-bearer, gaunt and pale with eyes that burned like flame.

“Legolas!” hissed Théalof, and Bréawine gave a strangled whimper, and clutching Théalof’s arm said:

“O what shall we do! O what shall we do! Advise me O my friend for I am confounded! He is come from the dead and shall take us with him to writhe in eternal torments! Théalof – “

“Quiet, fool!” thundered Théalof, and turned to his men who stood trembling round him. “Round up as many men as you can; we will head north – “

“But Théalof!” cried Bréawine in a panic. “It is the Lord of the Dead – the dead are upon us – “

“Enough!” said Théalof, and drawing the sword at his hip he ran his friend through saying: “I have no more need of you; you shall do naught but impair me now!” Bréawine gurgled and clutched at him, and then slumped over. The men still standing round him exclaimed at this but Théalof said: “Let there be no more such puling fellows by me! A man so quick to fear the dead is no fit man to rule northern Rohan.”

“What shall we do then, Lord Théalof?” asked his marshal, looking fearfully down at the Elf-lord and his standard bearer who swift approached.

“We head north,” said Théalof. “Keep them off my back! Have you no darts? Shoot them, shoot them! Even if they are dead those horses are real enough.”

At this several men drew their bows and fired at Legolas and Himbaláth. An arrow glanced off Legolas’ tunic, beneath which was the chain mail; however one dart pierced Utuë’s chest, and he fell with a squeal, thrashing in the dust. Himbaláth rolled as he fell still holding tight to the standard, and when he gained his feet he raised it and cried in a terrible voice: “A thousand curses upon you, Men of the Mark! You have slain one of your own! Traitors thrice-known!” And Legolas upon his huge destrier bore down upon them with a shout; the great black horse bellowed, its enormous hooves thundering and scattering stones as he crashed up the hill, and Legolas brandishing his sword gave a great shout.

“Théalof!” he roared; “you black-hearted traitor; arrogant dandy; craven and skulking dog! Now you shall pay for your insolence and venality! Your head is mine!”

Théalof went deadly pale, and turning his steed he slapped its rump with the flat of his sword. “To me!” he cried to his men, and he and his company thundered down the west side of the hill.

The horses of the Riddermark were swifter than the steed of Dale, and when Legolas gained the crest of the tor he was too late to arrest them, and had little chance to catch them up. Himbaláth ran up then, holding a bloody dart in his hand, looking furious; together lieutenant and lord watched the small company vanish into the rocky earth to the west, kicking up a cloud of dust. Himbaláth let out his breath in a low hiss.

“Two horses shot out from under me!” he said in disgust, dashing the dart to the ground. “At this rate Tyarmayél will ban me from the stables.”

Legolas looked down at his lieutenant and smiled slightly; he was pleased to note the color had returned to Himbaláth’s face, and the fire to his voice. “Well, at least there are plenty extras to choose from,” he said soothingly; “the dogs dragged the archers off their mounts and left the horses to wander – you might pick one you find likely, and join me in the chase.”

“It will be too late by then,” Himbaláth protested; “they have got away – the villain got away, curse him!” He folded his arms across his chest and scowled at the retreating dust cloud. Legolas laughed.

“That is somewhat more like you!” he said, smiling at Himbaláth’s flushed cheeks; “at least it was poor Utuë and not my dear lieutenant who was slain – I should have been so angry with Théalof that I might have run this black destrier to death too.” He twisted upon Hammer’s back, looking down at the body by Himbaláth’s feet. “Ah! So there is the spurious lord of northern Rohan; no honor betwixt him and one he called ‘friend.’ I cannot say I am surprised.”

Himbaláth nudged Bréawine’s dead body with his toe. “Well we have one at least,” he said grimly. His lord laughed and cast back his hood; his hair shone like molten gold in the sunlight and his eyes sparkled.

“We shall soon have two,” he promised his lieutenant, ruffling Himbaláth’s fair mane. “Wait and see what Faramir and Errakh-Hem make of him. Now get you up behind me and we shall see about finding you another mount, and learn what passed after we had our mad charge up this hill. Fear not that Théalof will escape, for he runs into the Heir’s arms. I will have that damned torc off him yet!” So Himbaláth scrambled up behind his lord, and together they descended the hill, leaving Bréawine alone in the dust.

(A/N: Yes, I'm back! NaNo played merry hell on my fanfic, but like I promised, Heir of Meduseld will be completed. It's such a relief to get back to Fastred and Legolas - I missed them! -- Le Rouret)

“Ah, there you are my friend!” cried Éomer as Legolas and his lieutenant approached. They did not seem to the king much worse for having charged the tor alone; the Green Knight wore both smile and black clothing with equanimity, but Himbaláth looked irritable and the hand that bore the standard was bloody. The great black destrier upon which they rode trod insouciantly upon the bodies of the slain, snorting and bellowing; the milling riderless horses balked and skittered away as he passed, shying from his bared teeth. Éomer urged his own steed up to the two Elves and said, “Your good Galás has done marvelous work upon the east flank; I do not think there is a traitor left living or unbound.”

“Alas; I have no such good news for you my friend,” said Legolas as Himbaláth dismounted and trotted off to find Meivel. “Well some of it is good I suppose; the black cloak was as effective against the men of arms upon the tor and they have fled with Théalof, but not ere that serpentine cousin of yours slew Bréawine.”

“A shame it was not the other way round,” said Éomer grimly. “Bréawine I could hang for treason, but Théalof as my cousin is granted by law clemency and given naught but exile.”

Legolas clucked his tongue. “Pity!” he said. “Ancient laws can be so inconvenient. Well perchance he shall run into some small accident upon gaining the ravine where he has fled. But not a small accident; for do not your heir and his father hold the western flank? For little though Fastred might be his sword arm has grown strong. Fear not O my friend; our boy I am sure shall exact no middling revenge upon the traitor.”

“I chose well, did I not?” asked Éomer with a smile. “How I have envied Faramir his sons! The only thing that makes this arrangement to seem less than satisfactory is that I must needs wound my sister-husband in order to gain an heir.”

“Well, perchance not,” said Legolas. “There is still that trifling issue of your Lady Wife, if you will excuse my play on words; it was unintentional. At any rate I have full confidence in Fastred and in his Lord Father, for should Théalof run across them I doubt not they shall be strong to impede him.”

“Let us hope so!” said Éomer. “But would that I could pursue him myself; he has done great injury to my people.”

“Hold here a while,” urged Legolas, and gestured with one black-clad arm across the smoking plain. Many men and Elves labored there, guarding prisoners and stripping the slain. The ground was littered with debris, bodies and weapons alike; they could see Andunië and Tyarmayél rounding up the wandering beasts. To the east spread along the rise were Galás’ troops still at work; sword and spear glinted in the sunlight, though the bulk of the traitors had been subdued. “There is work aplenty upon this front; allow your heir his little victory.” He shook back the black hood that obscured his bright pale hair; he removed his gauntlets and ran his fingers through it. “I want a bath,” he declared, setting his jaw. “A bath and a hot meal and a soft bed. Do not laugh at me, my friend! The older I get the more I find pleasure in the dichotomy of want and comforts, and I have been wanting for weeks! Besides my legs itch and are stiff in their bonds.” He let Éomer chuckle at him, and the two friends were silent a while, watching their people at work. Then Legolas turned his fair face to the sky and smiled. “Look!” he said, pointing at a clacking cloud of black. “The crows pass to the west; already they sense the battle shall persist and a fresher meal found elsewhere!”

“Let us hope so,” said Éomer; “I too grow weary and am missing my lady. I do not wish to pursue Théalof any further; he has discomforted me enough. Come, O Green Knight! For I perceive Galás approaches; let us see what your merry seneschal has to say for himself.” And with Legolas singing beside him he went to see to the prisoners and cairns.

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

Fastred waited with his Lord Father and his friends on a slight rise in the rocky ravine. Behind them waited Cirien, Mardil, Araval and Aldamir who, to the other knights’ surprise, spoke quietly with Errakh-Hem. Fastred could not be certain of what they spoke, but betimes he overheard words like “concession” and “crop-rotation” and he smiled to himself. He did not notice for he was too harrowed up in mind concerning the battle, but Fastred’s Lord Father stood too and glanced over at him, watching his son and listening to Aldamir and Errakh-Hem speak peace to each other; his face was grave but his eyes shone with pride for he could see Fastred had grown in wisdom as well as stature, and his father’s heart though yearning for the little boy he had sired reveled also in the man he would become.

Halgond, who thanks to Fastred’s tutelage knew a little Elvish, was speaking with Tamin, smiling and beaming and illuminating the dark shadowy ravine with his very visage. Fastred was pleased Halgond had decided to like Tamin and not envy him; the youngest son of Hallas of Lossarnach was of jealous nature and oftimes Fastred had found himself working to overcome the boy’s little foibles. “But Tamin is so lovable I ought not to have worried,” thought Fastred. “How Hísimë and Théodred will love him!” He had the sudden uncomfortable thought that perhaps Hísimë might love him overmuch, but dismissed it as idle speculation and unfitting a girl of his sister’s rank. “Many mortals fall in love with Elves and it is inconsequential; they always break their hearts and return to their mortal loves in the end. And it does not do to borrow trouble against tomorrow, for the interest is too high, as Bandobras says,” he reminded himself. “O how I wish I knew what the future would bring!” He found himself thinking of Andunië then, of her long autumn hair and cool green eyes, her strong slim hands and dirty boots. “Poor Himbaláth!” he thought. “I do not envy him at all, nor Brytta.”

Against the pale sky burst a cloud of fluttering black; crows were croaking overhead. “Something is happening,” said Errakh-Hem with a frown, fingering the pommel of his battered sword. “We ought to send someone to the lip of the ravine to determine if anyone is approaching.”

“For stealth an Elf is required I deem,” said Cirien where he sat beneath his yellow standard. “O Lord Fastred, as my Elvish is insufficient would you ask your golden friend Tamin to go to the top of the ravine and see what is happening?”

“Certainly,” said Fastred. He turned to Tamin and said, “Tamin my friend, as you possess the craft of the Eldar will you see what has encouraged those birds to come to us?”

“Gladly O Fastred!” said Tamin cheerfully, and bidding his bay mare stand he dismounted, and quiet and swift as smoke blown in a breeze he scrambled up the slope. They saw his fair head, dark against the sky, peering round a rock; then just as softly he turned and ran back, face tight with excitement and apprehension.

“Riders coming!” he said, flinging himself upon his horse again. “Thirty all told, running swiftly and madly, as though frightened; before them rides a man wearing a gold collar and bearing a long bright sword.”

“Théalof!” spat Errakh-Hem when Fastred told the grown-ups what Tamin had said. Aldamir nodded portentously and added, “You and I are of like estimate O Errakh-Hem of the Dunlendings; the swifter we deal with this traitor the better.”

“Fastred my friend, we ought to move further up the riverbed,” said Tamin seriously, pointing north. “For the riders will be upon us and it is never wise to attack uphill.”

“An excellent idea, son of Lórien,” said Faramir smiling at Tamin. He turned to the men arrayed behind him and said, “North, and in silence if you may! And those upon horseback wait you on your neighbors; I will not have Théalof to attack our rearguard unmounted.”

It seemed to Fastred the horses made a horrible clatter upon the dry riverbed. He knew he ought to keep to the front of the file with his father and the other knights, but Tamin was hanging back, watching the top of the ravine anxiously, so he too hesitated. Halgond and Baldor also waited as the file proceeded past them; none of the warriors seemed to mark the four boys, to Fastred’s relief. They watched the column wind round a corner, and if several straggling Dunlendings gave them strange looks they said nothing, deciding the Prince of Rohan knew what he was about. Halgond shifted a bit on Speckle and said uncomfortably:

“Fastred, why wait we here? If these riders come down the ravine they shall meet us first.”

“What think you O Tamin?” asked Fastred of the Elf. “Will we receive the brunt of these riders?”

“I think not,” said Tamin with a frown, cocking his head and listening. “Now that the noise of our companions is fading I can hear the hoof-beats; they are passing north of us.”

“Ought we warn my Lord Father?” asked Fastred. Tamin shook his head.

“The riders are few and frightened,” he said. “They will be no match for this western flank. In fact I fear we shall see no combat at all!” He looked disappointed and Halgond laughed.

“How bloodthirsty you are!” he said. “I know I shall like you O Tamin Rúmilion.”

The boys waited for a while in silence; the noise of the company had quieted and all they could hear was the cawing of the crows, though they could not see the birds. Then there was great tumult to the north; they heard shouts and trumpet-blasts, and the high ping of arrows put to flight. Tamin set arrow to string, and the three other boys drew their swords. “Tamin, what do you hear?” asked Fastred. His heart was beating very fast and he wondered if they had made an error in judgment to stay so far behind.

Tamin’s pale eyes scanned the top of the ravine before them, and he bit his lip. “I hear men dying,” he said uncertainly. “And there are many voices, voices crying in your tongue, O Fastred, so that I do not mark what they say.”

“Well, perhaps we ought – “ began Baldor, but then Tamin cried: “Hush, hush!” and the friends fell silent. Fastred, Halgond and Baldor watched Tamin anxiously, for he had gone very still, and his hands though steady had tightened upon his bow until the knuckles went white. He turned to Fastred, eyes wide.

“Men approach,” he whispered.

Fastred considered saying a bad word. He did not feel he ought to offend Tamin and use one of his Elvish bad words, and he knew Baldor disapproved of rough language so a word in Westron would not do. “How I wish I knew how to swear in Dwarvish!” he thought darkly, rotating his sword-hand to loosen his arm. “Or perhaps later I might learn some bad words in the language of the Mark. I wonder if Éothain would teach me? But I must take care to not use them round Léodwyn!” The four sat still upon their steeds, waiting; soon even Fastred and the brothers could hear the clash and clatter of hoof-beats upon the loose shingle.

“O this was not a good idea,” whispered Halgond, earning a scathing look from his brother. Fastred gave a faint smile, remembering that so far Halgond alone of the four of them had not been tried in battle.

“Do not fear, Halgond,” he said comfortingly. “All will be well.” Then three horsemen burst round the corner of the ravine, and Tamin’s bow sang. The man to the right fell from his horse with a cry, and his horse bolted with fear; the man rolled to his feet, withdrawing the dart which had pierced his side. Tamin shot again, and the leader held up his shield, catching the second arrow with a thunk. “Back, back!” Fastred heard him shout, and he realized with a surge of fierce joy that it was Théalof. He was glad for he felt Théalof’s offenses dearly and wished to repay as much as he could, for the sake of his uncle and of his Lassah who had suffered so.

“No!” he bellowed, urging Karakse forward and swinging his sword. “Come forth, Deceiver of the Mark! You will pay dearly for your treachery toward my people!”

Théalof and his companions paused and looked at the boys; Fastred could see dawning comprehension in the man’s face. Théalof looked a bit worse for wear; he was blood-spattered and dusty and had a rather harried expression, which melted into smug satisfaction when he realized who it was standing between him and his escape.

“Well, boy!” he cried, and when he shook his sword Fastred realized Théalof bore Oropher’s blade. This caused his anger to flare hotter and he came toward Théalof at a jingling trot; he could hear his friends behind him. Tamin held his fire, awaiting the end of the formalities. “Do you dare pit yourself against me, youngling you are?” sneered Théalof. “I am elder and stronger and better tried and shall make quick work of you and your misguided friends. And why skulk you here? Did your father leave you behind fearing you could not defend yourself in full battle? Or are you running away yet again, like the coward you are?”

“How you talk!” retorted Fastred hotly. “Do you fear to engage a mere boy then? I deem your tongue is far nimbler than your sword-arm, though your sly speech is useless against me now; I have secured a tonic against your venom.”

Théalof’s face darkened with anger. “Stupid child!” he hissed. “I am your superior in battle and age alike and should you stand I shall slay you, as I desired in Dol Galenehtar!”

“Child I might be but slay me you shall not,” said Fastred. “Come against me if you are not afraid! For I perceive you are the one running away, and that is hardly conduct befitting one so bold and cunning as Théalof of the Mark.” Keeping his eyes fixed upon the men he said in a low voice to Tamin: “Do you not let him go; alive I would take him unto mine uncle, but he must not escape!”

“Have no fear O my friend!” murmured Tamin with a smile. “He will find it difficult to run when I am finished with him.”

Wanting above all else to protect Halgond from harm Fastred drove Karakse ahead of the other boys. Théalof hesitated but a moment, then turning to his companions he cried: “Kill the Elf-child and the other boys but leave the Heir to me!” And with a shout he surged forward, the long bright sword swinging.

It was detestable to Fastred to see Legolas’ ancient sword in the hands of such a fiend. He was filled with wrath and his head felt very light, and he could not believe Théalof even dared wield it. Brandishing his own blade he cried in Elvish: “Irmatenagar, Blood-thirsty Sword! O sword of Oropher slain in the darkness of ages, return to those rightful hands, the hands of Legolas Thranduilion his heir, for he is your master!” There was a shout beside him and Tamin’s bow twanged; the two men with Théalof fell with arrows in their throats, and Théalof faltered, then with a sharp cry flung the sword aside as though the hilt had burnt his skin through the gauntlet. He stared wild-eyed at Fastred a moment, pale as death and wringing his hands together in pain; then with a terrified cry he turned his horse and fled.

“After him!” cried Baldor, and the four boys shot off in pursuit. Théalof’s steed was far swifter than Karakse or the other Dale horses, but Tamin’s mare had been born upon the plains of the Mark and swiftly outpaced her friends. Fastred saw Tamin draw up behind Théalof, who looked back in panic; he saw Tamin draw his bow and speak but over the tumult of hooves upon the rock could not mark what his friend had said. With desperate recklessness Théalof attempted to drive his horse up the slope of the ravine but Tamin’s arrow was swifter, and with a great rattle and bang Théalof fell tumbling to the earth, an arrow in his shoulder. Though writhing in pain he reached to his hilt to draw his knife but Tamin had already loosed another dart, which struck Théalof in the crook of his arm; the knife fell with a clatter. Théalof scrambled to his feet, arms swinging uselessly, and tried to run, but with another hiss and thock found an arrow in the back of his knee. He fell again, twisting in his agony, his face white and set. Fastred rode up to him panting with excitement, his sword still drawn; Karakse’s great feathered hooves scattered pebbles and dirt over Théalof’s fine doublet and breeches, and the destrier snorted derisively at the man in the dust before him. Théalof looked up at Fastred seated high above him upon his piebald gelding, and in his eyes gleamed the heat of pure hatred. He spat ineffectually at the boy and said:

“Well, what will you now, O Fastred of Ithilien? Slay me? You had best do it and do it swiftly, for I am protected through right of distaff and should you be caught at it will lose your place here in the Mark!”

“Yes, you would like that would you not?” asked Fastred, sheathing his sword. “Nay, I shall slay you not O Théalof my cousin, for I am no longer Fastred of Ithilien but Fastred Prince of Rohan, and though I find you loathsome shall not countenance such breach of my laws. I shall take you to my royal uncle instead, to have such justice meted out to you as he sees fit.” He turned from the man to where Halgond stood beside Speckle, carefully holding Legolas’ sword. Halgond turned it hilt-first to Tamin, who took it reverently, and said in a low voice:

“But Fastred then he shall be loosed, for you well know King Éomer is not allowed to execute him for his deeds. Would it not be more prudent to slay him here and now, and save your uncle the effort?”

“Prudent, yes, but how could I deny my dear Lassah the fun of mocking his detractor?” asked Fastred lightly. “Come; I have rope: Let us bind this scoundrel and take him away, for I have much for which to repay my betters, and to present Théalof shall do much to lessen mine obligations.”

“Besides which,” said Baldor with a grim smile, “should we drag him to your uncle perhaps no trial will be necessary!” Théalof heard what the boy said and turned very pale. But Fastred shook his head.

“Nay!” he said. “Do you please attend to me O my friends; I am prince here and must needs uphold the laws. Bind his hands behind his back, and affix the end of the rope to his horse’s saddle; he will slither behind us in the dust, like the snake he is.”

So it was that Fastred led Théalof up the side of the ravine across the plain, east toward the bulk of Éomer’s army. He saw the royal standard of Rohan set upon the tor, with his uncle and Legolas there; Galás was there too with the standard of Dol Galenehtar, and Gimli and Bandobras stood beside him. All round were Elves and men, and a great earthworks begun to bury the dead; Éomer had declared both loyalists and traitors alike to be placed in the same cairn for they were all brothers. Faramir and Errakh-Hem were there too, having slain the remainder of Théalof’s men; when Faramir saw his son approach he came forward with a glad smile.

“So there you are!” he exclaimed, embracing Fastred as he dismounted. “How proud I am of you my son! Indeed you are worthy of many titles, not least of which Snake Slayer shall be added to you.”

“But he is not dead,” said Halgond discontentedly, looking back at Théalof who limped in the dust at their heels. “I wished to slay him but Fastred would not let me. He said we must follow the laws hereabouts.”

“Do not fear, Halgond!” said Fastred under his breath. “I have an idea.” And with his father the little party went up the tor to Éomer. Beside him upon his great black Hammer sat Legolas, still clad in Vorondil’s castoffs and looking very grim and dangerous and ghostly. He beheld Théalof bound and defeated and cocked his head at the man, smiling. Théalof sneered.

“What; no insults?” said Théalof, spitting at Hammer’s great black feet. “Come O Green Knight, now is your chance; you may repay me for every thing I did say to you, when you were the prisoner and I your captor!”

“I hardly need say anything,” said Legolas dryly. “Théalof the Great, who would rule from the Golden Hall, captured by four young boys?” He shook his head and clucked his tongue. “Dear me, Théalof; you are not the man I thought you to be.” Théalof glowered but said nothing.

“My lord!” cried Tamin coming forward and bowing low to Legolas. “Here is your sword my lord, your grandsire’s sword Irmatenagar, the bloodthirsty one.” He rose and held the great sword out to Legolas hilt-first, his face shining. “It leapt from the traitor’s hands,” he said with a laugh. “Fastred Faramirion called to it, and it so longed to return to you it did burn Théalof’s palm!”

“Irmatenagar?” said Legolas in surprise, taking the sword and holding it up. “That is not the name my Lord Father did tell me was given it at its forging; Tiriméar my grandsire Oropher did call it, Bright Blood.” He looked over at Fastred. “Must I rename it for you, O Little One, who returns such valuable objects to me? Why did you call it Irmatenagar?”

“I, I do not know,” stammered Fastred, embarrassed. “I did not know your sword had a name, but thought perhaps if I called it by a name it would answer. And it did, Lord Lass – Lord Legolas; it rejected Théalof and came to me.”

“Well, Tiriméar or Irmatenagar, I am glad to see it again!” said Legolas with satisfaction, holding up the blade and running his finger down the blood groove with a smile. “Thank you, Little Ones; I am greatly in your debt; I had visions of my Lord Father demanding ten times the sword’s weight in gold as payment!” He looked down at Théalof and laughed. “Oropher’s blade would not countenance a traitor, O Théalof of Rohan!” he said merrily. “Did it taste Bréawine’s blood? Did it? Ah, that explains it; treachery is a dangerous thing, Théalof; you cannot expect a good sword to support such perfidy. A blade used such betrays its user in turn.”

“Bréawine was a weak fool,” growled Théalof. “He was useless to me.”

“As useless to you as honor I suppose,” said Legolas, handing the sword back to Tamin. “Here, Little One; you and Bandobras fight over it now, as you are both mine esquires.”

“Such squabbling aside, let us take the moment in hand,” said Éomer. “A happy day for me, that sees two enemies united in treachery and at mercy of their own lies! The field is mine and it is time to dispense justice.” He stepped forward to Théalof, his cuirass gleaming; he rested one hand on his sword-hilt, and gave Théalof a small smile. “Well, cousin,” he said. Théalof glowered up at him.

“Cousin,” he said in a voice that dripped venom, and spat upon Éomer’s boots.

“On your knees, varlet!” bellowed Gimli, striking Théalof’s legs with a stick. “Bow before your sovereign.” Théalof tumbled to the earth, throwing Gimli a spiteful look. Gimli smiled grimly at him. “Better,” he growled. “You are in your proper place now.”

“And do you please keep your saliva to yourself,” added Galás. He gave Théalof a brilliant smile. “’ Galás the Fool’ was it? Well perhaps, but I suspect this fool’s life shall be longer than yours anyway.”

“Do you see, Théalof, what your machinations have brought?” asked Éomer, gesturing round the assembly with his hand. “All your lies and manipulations and treaties and deceptions, and yet Errakh-Hem mistrusted you, and the lords of Gondor renounced you, and your prisoners escaped you. You did attempt tear my land in twain but my people proved the stronger; your ally Bréawine slew and burned but by my hand shall my true people be repaid for their loyalty. What did you wish, O Théalof, once you had taken Meduseld for your own? Did you truly believe you had but to sit upon my throne and all people would bow before you?”

“I never wished to rule in Meduseld,” said Théalof angrily. “’Twas your gold I desired, the riches of your treasury. Had once I gained the back vaults I should have stripped it bare and gone up the Greenway. I am no fool as was Bréawine, who thought his blood sufficient to cow the Rohirrim; I knew that Helm and Aglarond would ever stand against me, and Elessar repay my acts. You have grown rich, O cousin; and yet you let your distaff blood struggle to maintain even the smallest stables and houses! I tell you I have as much right to that wealth as do you, and had Bréawine faltered not, it should be mine, and you and your heir slain.” He gave an evil smile. “And now, O cousin,” he said sweetly, “you must give the order to have me unbound and sent upon my way; friends I have in Dunland, friends truer than Errakh-Hem. I shall not live my life in idleness nor in such false agonies of guilt, for there is much yet for me to do, and many things I might accomplish outside the Mark. So let me go, Éomer son of Éomund! You are hampered by your own honor.”

Gimli glared down at Théalof. “O my friends,” he said to Legolas and Éomer. “Must we suffer his vile face so? It rankles within me that after all this Éomer must needs free him!”

“Exile from Rohan is ill enough,” said Cirien; “besides I doubt me he shall find succor elsewhere, when his friends in Dunland find his perfidy has been so repaid.”

“You misspeak as usual, O Cirien the Wise,” said Théalof smugly. “How far can your wisdom take you? Up through the fertile plains of Dunland? Nay; your eyes are short, and your vision tainted. Release me, cousin! Give to me my horse and my sword and I shall leave the Mark for the duration of your reign.” He gave Fastred a haughty smile. “Perhaps another King of the Golden Hall shall receive me.”

Théalof looked so arrogant that Fastred knew he must speak or burst. “O Éomer King, my sister-brother,” said Fastred with a bow. “I do humbly request your ear, for I have a boon to ask of you.”

“Ask then, O Fastred Prince, my sister-son!” said Éomer with a smile. “For runaways aside I see you have repaid your debt in full to me, and I welcome you back and grant full indulgence to mine Heir’s whims.”

“O this will be good!” chuckled Bandobras rubbing his hands. “Fastred’s getting right clever at politics isn’t he Gimli!”

Feeling the weight of the assembly’s eyes ought to have made Fastred nervous, but he held his head up and repeated to himself: “I am a prince. I am not afraid.” And he was not; he knew his plan to be a good one and was confident Éomer would accept it. “O Éomer King,” he said, raising his voice so all could hear. “I know full well Théalof is our royal cousin and exempt from the penalty of death for treason, and that you are constrained to grant him freedom in exile and not the beheading he deserves for his contemptible acts.” Éomer nodded and Fastred added: “However by the laws set up in Ithilien my homeland, treason is punishable by death regardless of the offender’s relation to the throne.”

“But we are not in Ithilien O mine Heir,” said Éomer carefully.

“We are not,” agreed Fastred; “nor has Théalof conspired against the Prince of Ithilien, my Lord Father, so that he might demand extradition in Gondor.”

“Your point, please, Fastred Prince” said Legolas patiently, though his gray eyes twinkled with comprehension. Fastred grinned, suddenly liking his Lassah very much.

“However under the laws established by Prince Legolas, Lord of Dol Galenehtar, conspiracy is worthy of death, for Théalof did knowingly connive to abduct me, your Heir, in stealth and for nefarious purpose from his halls, and according to verdict specified in the Hall of Dol Galenehtar before full assembly did Lord Legolas declare a sentence of death to be conferred.”

“Did I?” interrupted Legolas in surprise. “I suppose I must have, though I was so angered I can scarce remember.”

“O you did indeed, my lord!” said Galás. “Loudly, and with great enthusiasm. My ears ring yet.”

“And you’re not the only one neither!” added Bandobras with a grin.

“That is all very well,” said Théalof from where he knelt in the dust, sneering up at Fastred. “But we are not in Dol Galenehtar; we are not in Ithilien or in any of Gondor’s fiefdoms. This is the Mark and the Law of the Mark stands, O Éomer!”

Éomer looked gravely down at his cousin, then turned politely to Fastred. “And your boon, O mine Heir?” he asked.

“As Prince of the Mark I am granted certain distributory rights,” said Fastred, hoping he had got the terms right, and that no one would laugh at him. “I claim the privilege to entitle land to a foreign dignitary in gratitude for deeds done to protect the House of Éomund.”

“Indeed?” asked Éomer raising his eyebrows. “Which lands, O sister-son?”

“This tor,” said Fastred, gesturing with his arms. “Well,” he conceded, seeing it was a rather large tract and well-suited for a watchtower. “The top at least. About a ten-foot-square patch, starting there at Hammer’s bottom, and fetching up right behind Théalof over here. I request we the royal house of Éomund do entitle these lands unto Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, Lord of Dol Galenehtar, to reward and repay him for his labors to uphold our family, strengthening our position and protecting our holdings here in the Mark, and to compensate him for injuries sustained during said acts.”

Théalof’s face went gray with fear when he realized what Fastred had done. Éomer looked complacently down at his cousin and gave a cold smile. “Very well!” he said, his voice silky. “I do so proclaim it, that this tor belongs to Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, Lord of Dol Galenehtar, of the Nine Walkers, my friend and ally; all present shall know that from this day forth this tor is Dol Galenehtar indeed and subject to its laws and decrees – “

“O Éomer King!” cried Théalof in a terrible voice, but Éomer continued: “And commensurate with Legolas Thranduilion’s edicts and proclamations, to be carried out forthwith.”

“No!” sobbed Théalof. “No, O cousin, I beg of you – “

“Quiet!” roared Meivel stepping forward, sword drawn. “You are in Dol Galenehtar now and under my jurisdiction as Captain of the militia of Prince Legolas Thranduilion. Oh,” he said, his voice husky with anger. “How I have dreamed to put your tongue to my blade!” He glanced down at Fastred, and his hard face quirked into a twisted smile. “Well done, O Fastred Prince!” he murmured. Fastred started; he had never seen Meivel smile before and found it more unnerving than speaking in public had been.

“Now, now, Meivel,” said Legolas calmly, regarding the sobbing Théalof with clinical and detached interest. “Let us not be injudicious in our desire for reparation. In Dol Galenehtar as in my Lord Father’s courts I shall rule with parity and patience.” He turned round, studying the crowd around the tor, and called out: “Andunië of Dol Galenehtar, come forward!”

The huntsmistress came forth, cold-eyed and lovely even in her worn riding-kit, looking down with disdain upon Théalof groveling in the dust. She stood beside her brother and folded her hands demurely before her, though she would not meet her lord’s gaze. “Yes, my lord?” she said.

“You made complaint to me, O my Huntsmistress, that a man of Rohan did insult you, disparaging your rank within my halls and using language unfitting the ears of a lady of Dol Galenehtar,” said Legolas gravely. “Also you did corroborate Fastred son of Faramir’s allegations that a man of Rohan attempted to take hostage this boy whilst he was a protected guest and vassal within my house. Do you still hold to this complaint?”

“I do, my lord,” said Andunië calmly. From his position before Legolas Théalof gave a little sob. Legolas glanced down at him and said to Andunië, “Do you recall the name and visage of the man who perpetrated these acts?”

“I do, my lord,” repeated Andunië.

“Is that man present?”

“He is.”

“Identify him for the assembly, Andunië of Dol Galenehtar.”

“It is he, the one before you, O my lord,” said Andunië, pointing down at Théalof, who trembled before her cold face. “Théalof of Rohan.”

“Fastred son of Faramir, Prince of Rohan,” said Legolas gravely to Fastred, who was starting to feel a little sick. “You made complaint to me that a man of Rohan did attempt to abduct you from my halls, and gave offense to one of my ladies. Do you still uphold this complaint?”

Fastred swallowed heavily but kept his head up. “I do, Lord Legolas,” he said, profoundly thankful he had not slipped up and said Lord Lassah.

“Do you recall the name and visage of the man who perpetrated these acts?”

“I do, Lord Legolas,” said Fastred firmly, and pointed his finger at Théalof, who cringed back from him. “It is Théalof of Rohan.”

“Théalof of Rohan,” said Legolas. “Have you naught to say in your own defense?”

Théalof looked up. He was very frightened but still defiant. “Not to the likes of you,” he said, his face twisted into a look of hatred. “I will not beg mercy off one of the wild Dwimmerlaik!”

“Pity,” said Galás with a grim smile. “For Legolas of Dol Galenehtar is rich in mercy as well as valor. I know you think me a fool, but will you not beg for clemency? In service to Dol Galenehtar you might make reparation for your deeds and find absolution.”

Théalof’s response was to spit upon the seneschal’s feet; Galás muttered: “Yet more saliva! I suppose he has run out of words then.”

Legolas studied Théalof carefully for a moment, his gray eyes contemplative; then he sighed and said resignedly, “Then, O Théalof of Rohan, I declare you guilty of these acts by reason of the two witnesses here, and by prior knowledge of your deeds against my friends and fellow knights of Gondor. As Lord of Dol Galenehtar I sentence you to death, and as I am a compassionate lord, and rather in a hurry to have my supper, I proclaim this sentence shall be carried out by my headsman without delay.” Théalof sank his head into the dust. Legolas glanced round his people, at Galás who stood grimly satisfied, and said a little thoughtfully: “You know, Galás my friend, I have not yet had call to execute anyone under mine authority as Lord of Dol Galenehtar and do not have a headsman.”

“A grave oversight, my lord,” said Galás solemnly.

“Have you any suggestions, O my seneschal?”

“Well,” said Galás, “I had not given it much thought, my lord, as you have never yet condemned anyone to death and not carried out the sentence at your own whim – “

“Tempting,” grinned Legolas. “But rather inappropriate, considering the circumstances.”

“Meivel,” said Galás. “Were you not headsman under King Thranduil at Eryn Lasgalen for a time?”

“I was,” said Meivel. “Dethalion and I shared the privilege.”

“But as head of my militia it is an act incongruous with your rank,” said Legolas. “Have you given any consideration to the grade of headsman?”

Meivel thought a moment, still watching Théalof who shook as though with palsy before him. “Well, my lord, the headsman is traditionally a first or second lieutenant,” he said. “They must be men strong and of good repute, fierce in battle and tender in peace, not given to much wine or reckless behavior. Of my lieutenants present, Himbaláth and Nwalmä would be best suited I deem.” He turned into the crowd and called: “Himbaláth! Nwalmä! Come forward.”

The two Elves stepped into the circle. Himbaláth looked, Fastred thought, better than he had before; there was color in his cheeks, and though pale and thin still his eyes were alight, and his golden hair shone like liquid gold in the evening sun. Fastred looked over at Andunië, who stood quietly by her lord’s side; her green eyes were downcast, and the sheet of copper hair hid her visage from him. Nwalmä stood restlessly beside Himbaláth, his hand upon his sword hilt; he was sprightly and dark-haired with fierce black eyes and quick hands. Fastred had always been a bit in awe of him.

“Well!” said Legolas with a smile, glancing down at his huntsmistress and then turning to Fastred. “Which shall do the deed? Prince Fastred? Have you a preference?”

“None, Lord Legolas,” said Fastred, wondering what Lassah was up to.

“Andunië, my child,” said Legolas. His voice was firm but kind, and when Andunië looked up at him through her hair Fastred saw her cheeks were flushed. “The insult given you was not so grave as the danger to Lord Fastred’s life, but as he has conceded choice you may choose. Who shall be your champion today, O Andunië?”

There was silence while Andunië looked from Nwalmä, eagerly fingering his sword, to Himbaláth, whose cheeks flamed red though he did not drop his gaze from hers. The two, man and woman, regarded each other intently for a moment, and it seemed to Fastred as though Himbaláth’s eyes no longer pled, but Andunië’s faltered. She hesitated, and pressed her rosy lips together so that they turned white; then her expression cleared, and she lifted her chin, proud and lovely as before.

“Himbaláth shall champion me,” she said. Her voice though cold was very steady. Himbaláth let out a sharp breath, inhaled deeply, and bit his lip, his eyes blazing; and Fastred felt his heart leap, though he was not entirely sure why. He looked at Meivel, who further confounded the boy by smiling twice in one day.

“Very well,” said Legolas, giving the surprised Éomer a wink. “Nwalmä, fetch aught to be used as a block.” Nwalmä, looking disappointed, nodded and disappeared into the crowd, returning a moment later with an uprooted stump. He placed it before Hammer’s feet, and he and Himbaláth lifted Théalof and set his neck upon it. Théalof was sobbing convulsively, his eyes shut tight, but was limp as a rabbit caught in a snare. Fastred tried to feel sorry for him but all that came to mind was the handsome proud face, sneering at Andunië, and the image of his Lord Lassah emerging white and broken from his erstwhile grave. Théalof was his enemy, and the enemy of all those he held dear; it was right and just that he should be executed. He felt a hand slip into his and turned; it was Tamin, who looked with wide eyes at him. Fastred squeezed his hand and stood tall and straight. If he were to be king of the Mark, this would likely not be his last execution attended and he did not dare falter before all these people.

Himbaláth stood over Théalof, his thumb running down the blade of his halberd. “O condemned mortal,” he said coolly. “It is traditional to give to your executioner aught to induce him to keep his steel sharp. Otherwise it shall take several blows for him to do his job well.” He cocked his head, then bent over and lifted the hair from Théalof’s quivering neck. “Ah!” he said with satisfaction. “That is sufficient gold I deem.” And placing his foot on Théalof’s shoulders he wrenched the torc from the man’s neck. He held it up to his lord and said, “I believe, O my Prince, that you did promise this trifle to a friend?”

“I did,” said Legolas. “Thank you, Little One.” He took the torc and gave it to Errakh-Hem, who looked surprised. “It is the first of many remunerations for your distress,” Legolas promised him. “After all this tor is mine, and when I come to Rohan I shall sit here to pass judgment and amercement alike. Your fortunes are changing, Errakh-Hem, and for the better.”

“Thank you, O Green Knight!” said Errakh-Hem solemnly, affixing the torc round his throat. Fastred kept his eyes fixed upon the gleaming gold as Himbaláth raised his halberd, feeling Tamin’s cold hand tighten round his own. In the end he discovered he did not want to watch after all.

Fastred lay in a deep soft bed, with high canopy and tapestried hangings. At the foot of the bed, across a brightly-lit white room, he saw a window open to a luminous world, through which he could descry a lavender sky filled with tangerine-colored clouds; a heron black against the evening brightness flapped its ponderous way past, giving a guttural croak. He could smell salt-marshes and bread and something sweet like tarragon, and a fresh breeze stirred the curtains. Then before his eyes stepped Lassah, in his shirt-sleeves speckled with blood; his hair was pulled back from his face, and he was flushed and smiling and held out a small squalling bundle. “Look O Fastred!” he cried with delight. “Andunië has brought forth a son. Himbaláth says they shall name him Cuivanar, for he is ruddy as a sunrise!” And Fastred reached for the babe, but his hands were old and knobbly and his trembling arms too thin in their fine linen night-shirt.

He awoke with a start, looking round rather wildly. He lay wrapped in a rough wool blanket damp with dew and smelling of smoke; the gray morning was choked with mists and his ears filled with the sounds of horses and men and the clank of armor. Against reasonable thought he stretched out his arms to see if they had got so old; however they were as he remembered, young and strong, though rather dirty. He shivered; he did not like to think of getting old, like Cirien; he did not want to think that someday he would be constrained to stay abed, too weak to walk or to ride or to do the many other things he loved. He did not want to feel the weakness in the joints and bones, the aches and pains, the illness and shortness of breath. Yet he knew someday that would be his lot – were he fortunate enough to survive his own kingship, he thought with a wry inward smile. He heard deep sonorous breath and rolled over. Halgond slept to his right, his hair mussed and his mouth open; Fastred could see his brother Baldor past him, arm flung over his face and snoring. Fastred sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked around. It was early yet, but already many men and Elves were moving about, poking at fires and moving baggage and horses and tents. Fastred thought perhaps as prince he ought to be seeing to something rather than his own strange dreams, so he got up, brushed himself clean as best he could, and trotted off to find his uncle.

He found Éomer breaking fast with Lassah and his Lord Father at a fire near the center of the camp. Lassah was seated upon a large pile of blankets and packs, eating what looked like the wing of a large bird; behind him stood Bandobras, fussing with his Master’s hair. Kaimelas leant against a small tussock a little ways off, smiling at the Halfling and speaking in an undertone to Himbaláth, who was sharpening his halberd; it made a harsh grating noise beneath the whetstone. Several knights also sat round, looking homely and comfortable in their plain tunics; Cirien was there, old and wizened, reminding Fastred of his dream. He glanced over at Himbaláth again. There was no telling whether or no his dream would be true; it would be better to keep it to himself – who knew, after all, what Andunië would decide? Privately Fastred believed she should be happier with Himbaláth than with anyone else, but then he admitted to himself he had very little experience dealing with maids and their caprices. This got him to thinking of Léodwyn, and as he trotted up to the group round the fire he wondered if he could manage to have a bath before he saw her again. He was not certain, for all round him smelled so strong, of death and smoke and mud; but he suspected he did not smell quite so good as he ought.

Faramir saw his son approach and smiled. “Ah, Fastred!” he said, saluting the boy with his wooden cup. “The Hunter approaches. We were just speaking of you.”

“Were you, Lord Father?” asked Fastred in surprise; he wanted to curl up next to Lassah but thought perhaps that might be rude to his father and uncle; so giving Lassah a precursory embrace he settled in between the two men. Éomer ruffled his hair with one big hand and chuckled.

“We were indeed, O sister-son!” he said. “And you will be pleased to know we have taken the Yellow Knight’s wise and timely advice, and decided not to punish you for running away after all.”

“It is true,” smiled Cirien, taking a steaming cup from his esquire who waited upon him with tender solicitude. “You ran not from danger but into it, and for reasons noble and well-intentioned; that speaks not of rebellion but rather of good merit, and no prince should be whipped for such actions.”

“And by so doing you did accomplish many things that otherwise would have gone undone,” said Lassah, wincing when Bandobras tugged at a recalcitrant knot. “The discovery of the wandering Elves of Lórien; the turning of Errakh-Hem’s sympathies; the reconciliation betwixt the Dunlendings and Amon Din – “

“Not to mention bringing back for me my merry neighbor,” said Faramir, smiling at Lassah. “How sad Ithilien would have become in his absence! Nay, O my son; we are well pleased with you, and with the execution of your exploits; they are worthy of a song.”

Fastred blushed. He did not want a song writ about them; he should have found it more embarrassing than gratifying. “Most of it was Andunië’s doing,” he said; “Andunië, and Brytta, and Gimli and Bandobras too. I could not have done it by myself.”

“Well, maybe not,” conceded Bandobras, pulling his Master’s golden hair back away from his face and securing it with a leather thong. “But to be sure a lot of it wouldn’t of got done without you. You found Rúmil, after all; and because of that them Elves was able to help us out, which got them introduced to Errakh-Hem. That wouldn’t of happened without you, neither. And you got Aldamir and Errakh-Hem talking – at it now, they are, with Brytta overseeing the chat; talking trade agreements or summat like that – and speaking of Brytta, my lords,” said Bandobras, putting his brush away and sitting next to his Master, “what’s to be done with him? I’ll admit I was none too pleased with him at first – thought him a big ugly brute, and rude in the bargain! – but he’s not so bad, once you get to know him a bit, and get beneath the stings and prickles.” He winked at Fastred. “Though to be certain I think ‘twas Fastred here what got to him first. You’d best watch out for this one, King Éomer; he don’t look much like it but he’s got a bit o’ charm going, the quiet type what you don’t see coming, so you’re not expecting it, like.”

“Far from fearing it, good holbytla, I intend to exploit it to greatest advantage,” said Éomer while Fastred blushed again. “Indeed he has done great things, and I am content; there remain but few matters to realize here and then we shall get us to our home.” He put one great arm round Fastred’s shoulders and pulled him close. “You are a good boy, O Fastred Prince,” he said, his voice warm; he pressed a kiss to the crown of his nephew’s head. “And you shall be a great man. I am very proud of you.”

It felt strangely comfortable to Fastred to sit pressed close to his uncle, when Lassah and his Lord Father were so close by; but he supposed it were a good thing, for he should get used to it; and it would not be long ere he were too big for Éomer to embrace in this fashion. “And anyway he is become quite dear to me,” thought Fastred, settling in comfortably with a sigh. “He is great and funny and loud and strong. I shall be as good a son to him as I could to mine own father.” While the men talked of other things he thought of Edoras, of Meduseld and the Golden Hall; he thought of the low warm kitchens, and the dark twisty passages, and the splendid view to be had from the roof-tops and walls; he thought of horses, the vast stables and fields, the freedom to come and go as he pleased, the splendid fishing to be had, and was satisfied. “I saved Rohan,” he thought; “just like Brytta asked me to! And it is as he said a lovely place, and worthy of this regard.”

After breaking fast the marshals and captains gathered the people together upon the plain, and Éomer spoke to them. Before him stood his own people, the ones loyal to him and to his cause; those traitors captured had been granted clemency but were stripped of land and kine; they would be constrained to indenture themselves ere proving their trustworthiness again. Also standing there was Errakh-Hem with his Dunlendings; ragged and dark, but fierce and proud; beside them were Rúmil and his people, men and women alike; the Elven children and the little ones of the Onodló chattered and played together in the shallows, stirring up grebes and goslings and chasing each other round. And there were also before him the knights of Gondor, splendid in their armor, pennants snapping in the growing wind, a blossom of color upon the vast plain. Éomer took beside him Fastred, with stout Himbaláth as his standard-bearer again, and beneath the flag of Rohan did Éomer dispense his thanks. He gave unto Brytta his old lands back, with twenty good destriers and mares, declaring himself satisfied of Brytta’s fidelity. After Éomer spoke Fastred saw the man smile and hold himself taller than before, and was pleased; Brytta deserved to be reinstated to his former glory. “Now perhaps he shall find a maid to wed,” he thought; “if he does not compare them all to Andunië at least!” Then Éomer thanked Gimli and Bandobras for bringing the Lord of Dol Galenehtar back; Bandobras waved him off, saying, “Well, it’s what friends do you know,” and Gimli laughed and assured Éomer he had acted out of selfish reasons. “I couldn’t have Rohan in an uproar, my friend; what good would that have done the mines of Aglarond?” he asked, and Éomer laughed too. Then he turned to Andunië with a smile.

“And you, O Huntsmistress of Dol Galenehtar, I owe you recompense for your role in this; what shall I give you, to so express my thanks to you?”

Andunië sat upon Ronyo beside Hirilcúllas, her face still and composed; her green eyes were expressionless, and she looked very bored. “I have received my reward, O King,” she said simply; Éomer raised his eyebrows at her, but Hirilcúllas pressed her lips together and looked down. Fastred wondered if she were stifling a frown or a smile; it was hard to tell with Hirilcúllas sometimes.

Then Fastred stepped forward, and granted to Errakh-Hem and to his kin the lands round the Onodló, to be theirs ere the throne of Rohan failed, and to Errakh-Hem of the Dunlendings and Aldamir of Amon Din he declared himself the arbiter betwixt the two should attempts at peacekeeping fall short. And Rúmil came forward too, and with Errakh-Hem the two wandering leaders publicly affirmed their amity, to the gratification of the little ones clustered about; already Fastred could hear Elvish lispings from the Dunlending children’s lips, and he smiled to himself; Tamin stood beside his father, beaming like the noonday sun, and Fastred’s heart turned over. That he was constrained to release Tamin to Ithilien! But then he thought of his dream by the river, of Tamin in splendid black armor, and found he could not begrudge his friend such accomplishment. “And anyway he will have Halgond and Léodwyn to be friends with,” he thought, trying to cheer himself up. “What jolly times they shall have together!”

Errakh-Hem bid Fastred farewell upon the shores of the broad shallow Onodló. “Good journey to you, Fastred Prince!” he said, bowing low. “Many years did I spend hating your kind, but so valiant and gentle are you I find it no burden to befriend you. I do no longer begrudge Éomer his victory for I see he has chosen his Heir well, and we are well pleased to live beneath your rule.” And turning to his people he said: “Westu Fastred Hal! My people, all hail the Heir of Meduseld!” All the Dunlendings drew their swords and shouted: “Westu Fastred Hal!” And Errakh-Hem bid farewell also to Rúmil and his people, and to Aldamir his new ally, and to Legolas of the Dwimmerlaik who embraced him warmly; and as the people parted Fastred looked back; he could see Errakh-Hem standing tall and proud upon a low tor watching them, the golden torc upon his neck gleaming in the sun; then they drew away, and the man was lost from sight.

As he and his uncle headed the van back to Edoras he turned his thoughts to the friends he had made there, to Hímalf and Hirdáf and Wálma, and the men of the court, Éothain and Éodor and Gálef and the others, stout loyal boys and men, without pretensions or deceit. The wind whipped across the plain, setting the grass undulating and shimmering on the hillocks and dells; the willows and larches waved their branches and the birds wheeled and cried. High above him he heard the shrill whistle of a falcon and he looked up; he could descry the broad pale pinions, the fingered wings and flared tail; he glanced back to see if Andunië had called it, but in the crowd did not see her. Then the falcon stooped, falling like a thunder-bolt to the earth; he hoped it had got its hare. He turned forward to Starkhorn, to its high white spike, and the mountains surrounding it, and felt a thrill of satisfaction. How lovely was Edoras, set like a crown upon its high green hill! And how homely and comforting to see the cook-fires spiraling away, testament to the wealth and plenty of its fields! And how splendid was Meduseld, its golden roof throwing back the rays of the sun! By his side his uncle began to sing, one of the low sonorous songs of his people; Fastred knew the song for his Lady Mother often sang it to him, and so he joined in, and to his surprise he heard Lassah and Gimli behind him also singing, Lassah’s clear pure voice floating over Gimli’s rough baritone. He glanced over at his Lord Father, who rode quietly beside Éomer, clad in a black doublet, his face downcast. Why should his father be so low, when they were going back to Edoras in triumph? But then Faramir saw his son watched him, and smiled, and Fastred’s heart lifted once more.

There was a great crowd at the front gate of the city. Nórin and Frera were there with Fram of the West Emnet, and behind them all the people shouted, waving pennants and handkerchiefs and willow-branches. Éomer and Fastred dismounted to greet the Dwarves and men, and Fastred discovered for the first time that a Dwarf lady’s beard was no softer than any other variety. Then he heard children shouting, and his friends ran up; the boys, Hímalf in particular, were offended he had run off without them, and very envious on account of all the adventures he had had; they clamored for the tale, and demanded he foregather with them that very evening for the telling of it. Léodwyn and the girls were there too, and upon seeing all the splendid knights and lords many of the little maids grew distracted; Léodwyn however, disdaining her playmates’ conventions and curtseys, threw herself at Fastred. Her embrace startled him, and at first he knew not what to do with his hands, to put them round her waist, or upon her shoulders; then she withdrew making a face.

“Ugh!” she said. “I am very pleased to see you O Fastred, but phew! You need a bath.”

Fastred supposed he ought to have been offended, but he could not seem to work up the affront; he laughed heartily instead, and as Tamin drew shyly to his side he said:

“I know; I know! Have I not heard it from Andunië? But first we are going to the kitchens to get pastries!”

“Hurrah!” shouted the other children, and after securing an indulgent wink from his uncle Fastred and his friends ran off.

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

There was no feast that evening; there were too many wounded, and too many guests to accommodate; so Kaimelas and Bandobras conferred with Éomer’s retainers and they began their plotting. Tents and pavilions began to blossom on the fields before the city like large spike-crowned flowers; several pits were dug and spits erected, and Gimli loaned some of his visiting Dwarves to oversee the building of temporary ovens. Great trestles were set up, with benches and stools, and a dais constructed upon which were placed a High Table surmounted with three great chairs, for the King, the Steward, and the Green Knight; their standards were hung above them, two green and one white, snapping and straining in the stiff cold breeze. The men dug huge fire pits and filled them with peat, so that everyone would be warm, and the Dwarves very cleverly set up screens to impede the wind. That night all slept soundly; the knights and visiting Elves in tents having their own impromptu celebration, with merry Galás presiding beside jolly Araval; in Meduseld though Fastred disdained such adult display and after securing a bath and clean clothing joined his small friends in Lassah’s chamber. Some of the girls were chary of sitting round the Elf-lord’s bed but he was so cheerful and bright, and Tamin so fair and friendly, that soon all custom fell aside and they found themselves laughing and chatting along with the boys. Lassah was a delightful host, and Bandobras and Gimli so accomplished in the pilfering of the buttery, that when Éomer glanced in later that night to see them holding high revel he smiled to himself, and with a warm heart went in to comfort his lady wife.

The fête the following night was one to rival even Éomer and Lothiriel’s wedding feast, and was eaten over in memory and conversation for years afterwards. There were roast suckling pigs with crispy skin; enormous wheels and blocks of cheese in hard red rinds; great dumplings swimming in herbed broth; venison pies with fat mushrooms in gravy; entire sides of beef dressed with onion and sage; tiny quail baked whole in their own bread trenchers; huge salty hams studded with cloves and dripping fat; cauldrons of rich savory stew made from coney and wild hen and potatoes; a whole flock of geese stuffed with nuts and herbs; roasted root vegetables and marrows with cream; subtleties and mead and wine and ale and dried fruit and stewed onions and rabbit, and to Tamin’s delight there were pastries – heaps of them, flaky and tender and sweet, filled with cream and fruit and glazed with sugar, so that the children’s mouths and fingers were sticky and they had to wash up before the dances. The poor folk of the West Emnet, the Elves of Lothlórien and the Elves of Dol Galenehtar, the knights of Gondor and the men of Rohan all foregathered with joy and thanksgiving to eat and drink beneath the black spangled banner of stars, and even the whistling haunted wind was drowned out in the revelry. After the feasting was over and the dogs were gnawing the bones the musicians came out, and there were dances, from which poor Legolas was barred; his legs were still far too weak to hold him, and so it was with a frustrate sigh he leant his cheek upon his hand, his elbow on the table, and toyed with his goblet, watching the spinning reels, and humming under his breath. His brilliant white doublet gleamed with stones and beading and silver thread, and upon his golden head sat the great spiky mithril crown studded with opals and other white gems, glistening and fracturing the light into a million miniature rainbows.

He watched Éothain dance with his wife, though he could hear the man complaining his knees ached; he watched Éomer turn to take Maelaëri in hand and pass her along to Aldamir, resplendent in his red doublet; he watched Léodwyn in a new lavender gown clap and jig, and laugh at something Tamin said to her, her honey-colored hair shining; he watched Brytta turn a stout Mark maiden round about, his silver and gold braids swinging across his back; he watched Fastred take Tyarmayél politely by the hand and lead her down the row. He smiled, for he was satisfied with how things had turned out; his friend Éomer had received Rohan intact, his enemies vanquished, and his allies strengthened; that Legolas himself was brought back as though from the Dead did not discommode him in the slightest, for he recognized his role had been more passive than not. “And I owe Bréawine a debt I suppose,” he thought with a smile; “had I not been struck down would Gimli and Fastred and Bandobras and Andunië not pursue me, nor find Rúmil nor Errakh-Hem. All is well, despite my wounds.” Cheerfully he refilled his goblet, and when Cirien sat beside him filled his as well; Cirien was much thinner than he ought to have been, and Legolas was disturbed on account of it; he wished to see his friend stout and hale again, and believed in the efficacy of strong red wine to cure all digestive ails. “Well, O my friend!” he cried as Cirien lowered himself gingerly into Éomer’s empty seat. “Much has happened ere we faced Théalof down in my throne room! The snake defeated, his allies subdued, and our Little Lord Fastred safely dancing with his subjects. Though I am discontented with Hirilcúllas; she has not finished Andunië’s new gown, so my huntsmistress yet dances in her old green dress.”

“That is as well; she has broken too many hearts already,” said Cirien. “Between Andunië, Maelaëri, and Hirilcúllas the men of Rohan are turned round backwards, and the maids all pine; though I think only Andunië begrudges this.” And taking his goblet and holding it aloft he said: “To the huntsmistress at bay!”

“A worthy toast,” agreed Legolas with a laugh, and they touched goblets and drank deeply. “If I can but convince Himbaláth to press his suit, and if Andunië will be persuaded to but give him a second look, perchance there shall be another wedding in Dol Galenehtar anon.”

Cirien grimaced. “Well I do not wish to discourage you but I think you are being overconfident,” he said. “Andunië is a hard maid and a stubborn one, and though I confer all good hope to Himbaláth I fear he has a hard row to hoe.”

“True,” said Legolas with perfect equanimity. “But then we have longer to wait than you, and do not fear the passage of time. Himbaláth is a fine fellow and far more worthy of Andunië’s regard than anyone else.”

“Yourself included?” asked Cirien guardedly. Legolas laughed again.

“Myself included of a certainty!” he said. “Why should I make busy finding a maid for myself, when there are others who have need of a matchmaker?” He glanced down into the crowd then and espied Araval approaching. “O Dun Knight!” he cried, holding his goblet high. “Join us!” Grinning did Araval stump heavily up the dais to them, sitting upon Legolas’ other side and grasping the jug for himself. “You look flushed with triumph,” said Legolas, pressing a plate of meat pasties upon him. “Have you danced all your rounds and now retire in glory?”

“I have danced but one round; I am too fat for this!” said Araval good-naturedly. “But see you our knightly friends Aldamir and Mardil; they are dancing with great vigor! I shall have to tease Lady Lalanath that she must needs keep closer eye upon her husband and not let him travel so much. There are far too many pretty maids about.”

“Ah!” Legolas sat up eagerly, his gray eyes searching the crowd. “Yes … Mardil! Tell me O Araval my friend, did you mark that he found a maid with whom to dance more than once? For I am anxious on his account, that he be settled; he is getting older you know, and desires to wed, which I find strange but then I am not of like temperament; also wishes he to procure an heir, so we must needs find for him a good maid and by preference a comely one.”

“I did not note he had a preference,” said Araval; “bear in mind he would not wish to take for himself a maid of Rohan, to remove her from her home; nor may he persuade one of the lovely Galadrim to follow him, for they disdain the doom of men.”

“Pity,” sighed Legolas sitting back, and stretching his bound legs in front of him. “I had hoped he might in this new place find a maid worthy of him.” Neither Yellow nor Dun Knight replied, enjoying the spectacle of the dance, and Legolas sipped at his wine, his face thoughtful; at last he said slowly: “Araval – you have yet three unwed daughters – “

“No, my friend,” said Araval with a chuckle.

“Do you not wish to see them wed and wed well?” asked Legolas plaintively.

“Legolas – “ protested Cirien, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“There is no great hurry to get them from my house,” said Araval, settling back in the chair and folding his hands over his great stomach. “They are young yet, and great pets of their mother’s; besides which I do not wish to press upon them a marriage lacking love.”

“O love will come eventually,” said Legolas waving one arm. “Is not Mardil lovable? And he is handsome enough to turn any maid’s head. I am sure he will not ask overmuch – “

“Mardil being lovable is hardly the hindrance,” said Cirien with an aggrieved sigh. “Why, had I daughters I should be shy of giving them away with no thought to their own hearts.”

“Besides which I have just married off the second,” said Araval, laughing and setting his great belly to jiggle. “It is a costly thing, a wedding, you know, Legolas; there is the wedding-dress, and the trousseau, and the prices of tailors these days – “

“Hirilcúllas and Dúrfinwen are fine seamstresses and would be happy to help,” said Legolas hopefully. Araval shook his head, his eyes twinkling in his ruddy face.

“I must needs wait a while ‘til my tithe increases lest there be no dowry for any of them,” he said, patting the Elf’s long white hand. “We have time; they are young.”

“But if it is the dowry that perturbs you, perhaps I could arrange something – “ pled Legolas; Cirien sighed.

“My friend,” he said patiently; “you may not ask our friend Araval to give of his seed simply to please your whim.”

“But ‘tis not my whim but Mardil’s,” protested Legolas; seeing the surprise in Araval’s face he said hurriedly: “Not one of your daughters my friend, but to wed – he has expressed little interest in them saying they are too young for him.”

“And so they are,” said Araval draining his cup. “Why Deniel is only sixteen – “

“She is far too serious; I was thinking more of Elwen – “

“Legolas – “ interrupted Cirien, but Araval had already answered with a laugh: “And she but fourteen! I know you are an Elf my friend, and do not mark the passing of years; but Elwen was born but one season ere you arrived in Gondor, to unseat me upon the lists! Indeed you must not press me so, for my daughters are dear to me, Elwen most of all; she is so jolly and fair; she is the joy of my house! Nay, Telinath, Deniel, and Elwen may wait; find another man’s maids to give unto the Silver Knight his heir. “

“Very well, very well!” said Legolas discontentedly, refilling his goblet. “I will speak no more of it since you are so stubborn! But if you will not give unto your poor friend Mardil the blessings of your house, then you must needs aid me in my search, so that his desires be fulfilled and his line secured.”

“I will do that,” chuckled Araval, “if you will but let my daughters be!”

Legolas gave a sly smile, and shot Cirien a wink. “Agreed,” he said; his voice was reasonable, and Araval soothed; the Yellow Knight however mistrusted the Green, and shook his head fondly, knowing it would be but a matter of time ere Araval conceded, for Legolas was deceptively composed, and crafty and stubborn; poor Mardil would be wed in spite of himself, whether to Araval’s child or to another’s. Cirien sat and listened to his friends discuss distaff and dowry, maids and marriages, watching the laughing men and women below, immeasurably glad they now had the leisure to devote to such a humble task, and thankful his king would return from the North to find peace and goodwill in his lands. He only hoped Mardil would find peacetime peaceful, yet allowed there would be no peace in Ethring ere Legolas procured a bride for the son of Múrin.

(A/N: Well, dear readers, this is it: I had hoped to have it ready yesterday, but events conspired against me. But here it is, with all my wishes for you to have a splendid 2007, full of good health, prosperity, happiness, and with any luck at all, the announcement that Peter Jackson will be allowed to do The Hobbit. I’ve enjoyed getting to know Fastred, and I hope you have too!

Blessings on you all!

Le Rouret)

It was spring, with all the wind and bloom and cloud-streaked blue the season had promised through the long white winter. Stiff cool breezes sped through the valleys and hills, ruffling the serene surface of the plains like the wind on the sea; grass undulated, brilliant and fresh, and the countryside burgeoned with new life –calves, kits, fawns and foals, wheeling birds and lowing kine. Violets and crocus peeped coyly through the grass in sunny dells, showing their bright faces to passers-by, and the willows’ drooping tendrils softened into green. Yoke of oxen pulled black troughs in the fresh wet earth and folk in wooden shoes scattered seed thereupon, singing hopefully of a fine harvest. When the sun was high the still ponds and shallows dimpled with bugs and the trout snapped them up – snip splash! – so that the farmers and merchants and herdsmen dawdled alongside the streams and over bridges, thinking longingly of their fishing-poles.

Two fine gray horses cantered down the roadway, clattering past waggon and wain; their riders were laughing as they rode, their hair streaming out behind them, black and gold together, tossed and torn in the wind. They gained the crest of the hill and pulled up to let their mounts rest; the horses snorted and pawed at the ground with their hooves, eager to go on. Fastred laughed and said:

“O Lassah, see how impatient they are to run! Mine uncle was correct; these are good steeds and very swift.”

“They are!” said Lassah, patting his horse on its sweat-soaked neck; it tossed its head and looked back reproachfully at him. “Patience, Voronda! We shall run again soon; first Prince Fastred and I must needs admire the view, so do not be cross with me!” Voronda stamped and whickered, and Fastred’s horse, Falda, champed at his bit; he did not see why Voronda should stay so unfettered of bit and bridle, and found it unfair. Legolas ran his long fingers through his tangled flossy hair, smiling up at the sun, and stretched his arms out wide. “Ah! How good it is to be about, my Fastred; what a long winter it has been! But spring follows snow and life awakens as always, and all too soon I shall be complaining it is too hot in the olive groves.”

Fastred’s face fell; he did not like to be reminded that soon his Lassah must return to Ithilien. “O do not speak of it now, Lassah!” he begged. “Almost had I forgotten it as we rode; my heart is light when I do not think of your departure, and I wish to delay the day as long as possible.”

“Do not be so sad, my Fastred!” said Legolas tenderly. “For it is less than a week’s ride to Osgiliath, and we shall see each other quite often.”

“It will not be the same as having you here though,” said Fastred sadly. “What a jolly winter we did have! You are such a cheery playmate, and Dúrfinwen is so pretty, and my poor aunt loves her so; why even Himbaláth has been full of fun, hunting and fishing with Éothain and Gálef and the others. What troublesome things titles are, to be sure, Lassah! For were you not Lord of Dol Galenehtar and I not Fastred Prince of the Mark we should not be constrained to go anywhere or do anything that we liked not, and would not have to wear embroidered doublets beside – how I hate those scratchy collars!”

“For your thirteen years you are become quite jaded,” said Legolas with a laugh. “Though ‘tis true; to shed one’s titles is to lighten the burden upon one’s shoulders immeasurably – betimes I pine for those dark days of the Ring War, when I was but Legolas the Elf and required to do nothing save fight, or sing amusing songs when my companions’ spirits were low. And as I recall I did not change clothes but once! No doublets for me that year, and well pleased was I to abjure them. But nobility confers unto us privilege as well as duty; had we no titles we should have no tithes either, and be obliged to work for our living as do most men.”

Fastred grinned. “We could be bandits,” he suggested innocently. “Then we should not have to work much at all, but rest upon the labors of others.” Legolas pretended to consider this, pursing his lips.

“Well so we could,” he admitted, a mischievous gleam in his pale eyes. “Though we should have to promise to rob none but evil men who oppress other citizens, to balance our predations.”

“I do not think I would object to that,” said Fastred thoughtfully. “They would deserve it after all, would they not, Lassah?”

“Very well!” said Legolas clapping his hands. “When you achieve your majority we shall be bandits, us two!”

“Capital!” cried Fastred. “Come, let us tell mine uncle – he will be so pleased to know we will pilfer hard-earned tax money from his constituents.”

“Let us bring Himbaláth with us though,” said Legolas pointing down the road; he could descry his lieutenant, though to Fastred the rider was but a small dot swift approaching. “He may carry the loot so that we do not quarrel over it.”

“And Bandobras shall cook for us,” said Fastred.

“Also an excellent idea, my Fastred,” smiled Legolas. Fastred frowned as a thought occurred to him, and he said:

“Lassah, you do not call me Little One anymore; why do you not call me Little One but My Fastred?”

Legolas smiled again, but it was a sad smile, crooked and filled with bittersweet regret. “You are no longer little, Fastred,” he said with a sigh. “Have you not seen how much you have grown this winter? Already the top of your head is higher than my collar! In a year’s time will you be as tall as your Lord Father; you might even reach to my height some day.”

“O, very well, then,” said Fastred, a little disappointed. For several years had he been in an agony of mortification when Lassah called him Little One, especially before such fine Elven ladies as Seimiel and Dúrfinwen; it was so childish a nickname and he had thought on many occasions he would be relieved when his friend dispensed of it. But knowing Lassah would no longer call him by that name made him feel very strange; he knew he was more grown-up this spring than the last, but having Lassah acknowledge it in such fashion was a little depressing. But before he could speak again Legolas straightened and shaded his eyes with his hand, staring down at the road hard; he said:

“Look! Himbaláth rides Utuë hard; what news does he bring to us? Perhaps we ought to let our steeds run; we shall learn the faster in that manner.”

Reflecting that being grown-up would mean acting in like fashion Fastred bowed in his saddle, and swept his arm out before him as he had seen Lord Mardil do on occasion. “An it please you,” said he politely. Legolas laughed, and bowed mockingly back, and the two urged their horses into a canter. Soon Fastred could see Himbaláth himself; his bright golden hair swirled like a morning cloud round his head; but there was no smile upon his merry face; rather he looked troubled.

“What news, my child?” asked Legolas as his Voronda trotted up to the lieutenant; Fastred reined Falda in, wondering at what point Himbaláth would be big enough in Lassah’s eyes to regain his proper name. “I hope it is nothing pressing; Prince Fastred and I have been planning for our future – plotting, rather; we have decided to become bandits and rob from evil rich men. You shall hold the loot-sack for us if you like, and we shall give you fifteen per cent – twenty, if you behave.”

“How tempting!” smiled Himbaláth. “But another time, perhaps. You go from bandit to leech today, I fear, my lord.”

“Why; is someone hurt?” asked Fastred in surprise, wondering if Éothain had fallen again. Himbaláth gave him a careful look and said:

“Nay – it is the queen. She is in some pain, Dúrfinwen said.”

Fastred’s heart went cold as the fear gripped him, and his pleasant thoughts sped away. “What, already?” he exclaimed. “But it is too soon!”

“Far from it!” said Legolas rubbing his hands together in a businesslike manner. “Turn about, Himbaláth! A good thing it is we ride the steeds of the Mark; they are faster than our own though less tractable – Ho, Voronda! To Meduseld! The lady has need of your swiftness now.” And so saying he and Himbaláth rode away, with Fastred trailing worriedly behind them.

They passed through the gate unchallenged; the porter knew them and their business, and Hirdáf ran behind them crying the news that the Green Knight rode to the queen’s aid. They rattled and banged up the cobbled streets and thus clattered into the square before the Hall; Dúrfinwen stood there with sundry ladies of the court, looking perfectly composed, though the other women wrung their hands and gazed anxiously at the Green Knight. Dúrfinwen made Fastred feel very funny at times, which puzzled him; she was not so lovely as Hirilcúllas or Seimiel, and possessed of finer temperament, for she was jolly and amusing and quite good at putting men at ease; but there was a piquant snap to her that set his blood racing, and her dimples were very distracting. She smiled at them as they dismounted, splendid in her yellow dress, rich chestnut hair falling in waves and curls round her fair face, her brown eyes roguish. “Why is it that whenever I wish to find you, you are truant, my lord?” she asked with disarming sweetness. “And yet when I attempt to accomplish some task you are continually underfoot, teasing and distracting! Queen Lothíriel has been begging you to let her be through the winter, and when at last she cries out for you, you have run off! Why if I did not know any better I should have said you did it a-purpose to provoke me.”

“If that is so I fail,” laughed Legolas, mounting the steps toward her. “Are you ever provoked, O Little One? I have yet to see it.”

She cocked her head prettily to one side, pressing a finger to her curving red mouth as she considered the question; after considering his query she said: “Ah, yes, my lord; the silk-merchant; he provoked me over that green cloth of his; though to be sure ‘twas more his odor than his demeanor. Give me your cloak, and quickly now! Wash your hands and face and join me at the bedside; Lothíriel is become quite agitated.” Legolas chuckled as he passed her and she added acerbically: “You smell like the stables! Very well, my lord, I am provoked indeed; some midwife you are become, returning to your post in this fashion! And do bring in the laver and soap when you are finished so I may wash as well; your cloak is filthy and quite soils my hands. What would your dear mother say were she to see you approach your work this way! I declare I shall dress your bed in lavender and orris-root just to make you palatable again.” She looked over at Himbaláth and Fastred waiting upon the steps and said as an after thought: “O, and take you Fastred to the Hall, Himbaláth; the king wishes to see him.”

Himbaláth raised his eyebrows at her; she threw to them a sunny smile which made Fastred feel rather overheated. “What, saucy maid; no pretty words for me?” Himbaláth asked her, fighting back a grin. “Do I smell so fine then?” Dúrfinwen rolled her eyes to heaven, and tossed her curly head, following her lord into the living quarters, but giving the Elf a roguish backward glance over her shoulder.

Fastred watched this exchange, half bewildered and half offended; how could they treat with such carelessness so weighty an event? And as he followed the chuckling lieutenant into the long dark Hall he pondered why Legolas had let Himbaláth stay behind in Rohan at all. He had overheard two of his aunt’s lady’s maids speaking on the matter; one of them had said: “O no doubt his lord wishes him to be separate from that chilly red-haired maid; his heart will mend the faster this way.” “Not at all!” had replied the other, her voice wicked. “I heard the Green Knight myself: No lady is the worse for missing her lover, Himbaláth; your absence shall make you loom the larger in her eyes. He is sly, that one!” But Fastred wondered at Dúrfinwen’s presence; Hirilcúllas would have done as well, and was sympathetic to Himbaláth’s heart; Dúrfinwen was arch and teased her companions unmercifully, which did not in Fastred’s mind make her a very good confidant to the lovelorn. Yet Lassah had sent not for Hirilcúllas but for Dúrfinwen and that maid had come, bright-faced, bright-voiced, good-natured and laughing, sweet but with enough tang in her that she did not cloy on the palate. She was so distracting and pretty, with her skin like new cream and her rosy curving mouth, her ready laugh and the chestnut curls so unusual in an Elven lady; there were rumors she had mortal blood in her. The ladies of the court loved her, and most of the young men did too; she was a coquette and a flirt, but harmless and tender and full of fun. Did Lassah think Himbaláth would amend his attentions to Dúrfinwen, and disdain the cold huntsmistress in Ithilien? Fastred did not believe Himbaláth would be so false; Lassah must have had some other plot in mind, though what it might be he could not guess.

Éomer was in the Hall, pacing before his throne; he looked very white and unhappy. Éothain, Éodor and Fenwine were there too, Éothain upon a stool with his leg propped up; he was feeling his age, and held his hands out to the warm peat fire. He looked up as Himbaláth and Fastred approached and said: “Ah! Here they are O King; your heir and his standard-bearer approach.”

“That is hardly fitting title for one such as Himbaláth,” thought Fastred; “a good thing it is he is not easily offended!” He trotted up to his uncle and was surprised when Éomer gave him a fierce strong hug; he wrapped his arms round his uncle’s thick waist and embraced him in turn. “It will be all right, O mother-brother,” said Fastred soothingly. “Lass- Lord Legolas is very good at this sort of thing; I am sure the queen will be well soon.”

“Not soon enough, O sister-son!” sighed Éomer, releasing him and ruffling his wind-tossed hair. “Well distract me then, that I might not think of what occurs in the back chambers; talk to me of other things – any things – any thing to keep my mind from wandering away!”

“We may speak of horses then,” suggested Himbaláth cheerfully, throwing himself upon the fur rug by the fire and propping his chin up on his hands; a hunting dog snuffed at his hair, and he gave the beast an absent caress. “Tell your uncle how you fared upon your new mount, Fastred Prince!”

So Fastred and his uncle spoke of horses, of the many differences between the fine gray stallion of the Mark and the thick-limbed destriers of Dale. Fastred would always love Karakse but he was forced to admit to the king that Falda was the superior steed. They discussed breeding, and the superiority of frog and hock and withers, and how best to train a horse to battle, and Éomer soon lost himself in the conversation. This issue occupied them for an hour or so, but when conversation waned and Éomer remembered to be agitated Fenwine said ingenuously: “O Éomer King! The post from Gondor has arrived and there wait for you and for your heir several letters; why do you not read them to each other, to so pass the time?”

Himbaláth glanced at the sachel in Fenwine’s hand and said with forced nonchalance: “Aught for me, good Fenwine?”

“Indeed there is,” said Fenwine with a sly smile, removing a long yellow envelope. “A nice fat packet – though I do not expect you to read it aloud!” Himbaláth’s cheeks flushed but he took the letter with shining eyes; Fastred recognized the writing on the paper as Andunië’s, and hid his smile, happy in the knowledge Dúrfinwen had not turned Himbaláth’s head overmuch. But he blushed in turn when Fenwine said: “It must be something in the air in Ithilien – all these pretty maids writing to our folk! Look; here is a letter for our prince, and in a dainty hand too!” And when he took it Fastred realized he had got a letter from Léodwyn, and cheeks flaming at the men’s laughter he broke the seal and read it.

She told of punting and fishing, of waiting attendance upon Fastred’s Lady Mother, and how her feet would hurt from standing round so long, and Hísimë’s quarrel with Halgond and how she had resolved it, and the new mare Lord Faramir had given her for her thirteenth birthday. “O she is perfect Fastred,” Léodwyn wrote; “she is piebald like your Karakse but not so big, and with lovely brown eyes and such a sweet temper! Your Hísimë and I ride all over the east bank together, so that some call us sisters, and it is so gratifying you know, for one who has no family to be so loved.” Fastred’s heart swelled to know she had found a home with his folk, but it hurt him too, to know it would be many months ere he would see them again. He found himself comparing Dúrfinwen’s chestnut curls, and Andunië’s smooth ruddy locks, with Léodwyn’s honey-colored tresses, and decided fair-haired maids were prettier. “How glad I am all these Elvish ladies have not spoilt me for mortal maids!” he thought with a sly inward smile. “And how pretty Léodwyn looks in blue! I wonder what her new gown will look like?” Léodwyn ended the letter by saying: “There is to be a great ball and feast when Lord Legolas comes back to Dol Galenehtar, and everyone is invited, from Cair Andros to Lossarnach and beyond; even I received an invitation! Hirilcúllas is altering a gown to fit me, since Andunië will not let her finish the new one for her; it is a very pretty dress, but there is too much lace, and too many ribbons – I will ask her if she will take them off; I do not care for such frippery. But I wish you could be there too, Fastred! For then I could say I had filled my dances already for you, and we could go hide in the stables with Karakse and my new mare Léona; but now I will be forced to dance with Baldor, who always treads on my slippers.” Fastred laughed at that, and read the letter to Éomer, who laughed too; Himbaláth though after he had finished his letter merely folded it and slipped it into his pocket, and sat for some time gazing into the fire, his grey eyes thoughtful. “I wager he likes red hair best,” thought Fastred. “I wonder what Andunië thinks of Dúrfinwen anyway?”

“Listen!” said Éomer. “It is from Cirien of Langstrand; he is organizing a tournament, and has opened the lists to all nobly-born knights of Gondor and Rohan. You ought to enter, Éodor; you are the best jouster we have, now that Brytta has decided to settle down.”

“I am not a patch on Brytta,” said Éodor wagging his head; “what a fighter he was; like a hammer upon an anvil when the coronel struck! But he has other tilts to charge now I guess. Is it true his wife will produce for him a child?”

“So rumor has it,” said Éothain with a smile. “The good little widow! They are wasting no time about it, but then neither of them is in their youth; ‘twere best to rush things a bit at their age.”

“I am glad for him,” declared Fastred stoutly. “He deserves to be happy; he was a very faithful companion to us, and so adamant! We would never have found Lassah otherwise.”

Talk lapsed then, and Éomer began to pace again. Himbaláth called for wine and bread and cheese, which everyone partook of save the king; and when Fastred pressed food on him he said: “I cannot eat; my stomach is in knots. Why, O why must it take so long!”

“Do you wish me to explain it to you?” asked Éothain with a smile. “I can, you know, O king; I have five children of my own!”

“No thank you!” shuddered Éomer. “It is not so bad when applied to horses and cattle, but when it is mine own lady so beleaguered I can scarce think of it!”

They fell silent as the shadows grew longer and swallowed the sunlight; a servant lit the torches which hissed and sputtered in their sconces. Fastred lay on the floor with Himbaláth and the dogs, scratching the beasts’ silky heads absently and letting them lick the crumbs off his fingers. Betimes one of the men would attempt to speak, but the king’s silent agitation drowned them all out, and soon all they could hear was the flick and crack of fire, and the clack of Éomer’s boot-heels as he paced back and forth, back and forth, his anxious eyes on the floor.

Midnight came and went, and Fastred’s eyes grew sandy; he dozed a little on the rug, listening bemusedly to Himbaláth hum under his breath; he recognized the tune as an Elvish love-song, and hoped it was Andunië whom the Elf contemplated so tenderly. But then there was a commotion in the back of the hall, jerking him awake; he could hear servants rushing about, and excited speech, and the clatter and bang of doors opening and shutting. Éomer stopped and looked over, his hands in fists; the other men stood, and Himbaláth after giving the king a sympathetic glance ran back to the lintel and peered through. He came up to them, biting his lip. “My lord is coming down the hall, your majesty,” he said, his voice flat and expressionless. Éomer went white.

“Alone?” he asked.

“Yes, your majesty, and empty-handed,” said Himbaláth.

Éomer took a deep breath, and turned to face the lintel, his chin held high. Fastred went to stand beside him, wanting very much to hold his uncle’s hand; he was not sure which one of them needed it most, but did not know if such a gesture would be welcomed. They stood together, watching the dark lintel; soon a white figure appeared, striding toward them; it was Lassah. He was wearing a white shirt smeared with blood; his sleeves were rolled up, and he was drying his hands on a clean towel. He looked very strange, with his hair pulled back from his face, his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes downcast. He approached them soberly, fixing his grey eyes upon Éomer; the king could not await him but said agitatedly:

“Legolas – O my friend, my wife the queen – “

“She is well, Éomer,” said Legolas gently. He came up to them then, and smiling down at Fastred lay his hand upon the boy’s head. “Fastred,” he said gravely, and turned to Éomer again, who had gone white.

“But – Legolas – the child – “

“Ah,” said Legolas with a sigh, glancing over his shoulder to the dark lintel; still they could hear feet running to and fro, and many women’s voices. “So happy is she, and so disbelieving she has brought you forth a son, she would not let me bear him out to you – “

Fastred gasped, and Éomer went even paler than before; he swayed upon his feet and whispered: “A – a son – “

“Yes,” said Legolas, smoothing his stained shirt. “A great red brute of a boy, who did not want to come forth at all, and squalls to wake the dead. Really, Éomer; you ought to have chosen a wife with wider hips.”

“A son!” cried Éodor and Fenwine; and Éothain began to laugh and shout: “Ale! Ale for the king and for his retainers! The queen has given to us a son!” And Himbaláth clapped his hands and laughed. But Éomer stood still as death, and when Fastred grasped his hand he shook it off impatiently, still staring at Legolas as though the Elf had grown an extra set of ears.

“A son?” he whispered, hardly daring to hope. Legolas smiled, and taking him by the shoulder turned him to the lintel.

“A son,” he said gently. “Go you to your wife to meet him. She has named him Elfwine.”

“A son!” Éomer looked down at Fastred then, his face beaming; then he broke into a run and disappeared beneath the dark lintel crying: “A son, a son! O get out of my way, you – “

Legolas watched him go, smiling; Fastred looked up at him with great relief. “So my aunt and the babe are both living!” he exclaimed with a laugh. “O I am so glad! I so feared ‘twould be like all the other times, Lassah, or even worse, for she was so weak and thin! But now she is well, and my little cousin is well – is he truly a big boy, Lassah? When may I see him?”

”In a little while, Fastred my dear,” said Legolas, fetching a great sigh and stretching. “Let me clean up, and we shall go in and make his acquaintance.” He glanced over at the hearth, where the men and Himbaláth were making merry. “Wait not here however,” he said with a smile, “lest Éothain think again to give unto you mead – come rather to my rooms, my Fastred; you and I have much to discuss, and I am weary; it has been a long night.”

“Yes, Lassah!” said Fastred happily, and followed Lassah out.

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

It was morning ere Legolas was able to properly introduce Fastred to his new little cousin. Elfwine was dozing, wrinkling up his small red face and opening and shutting his funny wee hands; all over his distended head was a quantity of pale fuzz, and there was a red mark on his forehead where Lassah had grasped the babe to pull him out. Fastred held the child reverently, filled with a sort of astonished awe; it was wonderful to him how this small person had come forth, and he tried to imagine what Elfwine would be like, how his little voice would sound, and if he would be like Théodred, funny and fair-haired and earnest. Every now and again he would touch the tiny soft face, and the child would make an odd grunting noise and pucker his lips, reminding Fastred of Dúrfinwen, and the way her pretty red mouth would pout and smile. That lady bustled in and out of the solar, businesslike and preoccupied, her skirts rustling and her big white apron crisp and clean; she brought in to the queen’s chamber food and drink, and retreated with empty trays, a satisfied smile upon her roseleaf face. “She has kept down her breakfast,” she announced to Lassah, handing the trays to a maid. “And the king has fallen asleep in his chair. She will not stop talking though! I instructed her to sleep a little, for you had the babe well in hand; but she chatters on, about his many little perfections, and the color of his hair, and if he will resemble his lord father.” The door of the solar opened again, and Himbaláth came in; he brightened when he saw the baby. “And what do you want?” demanded Dúrfinwen, putting her hands on her hips and giving the lieutenant an arch look. “I should have thought humble husbandry to be beneath such a mighty warrior as you!” Himbaláth grinned.

“May I not admire the little miracle too, Dúrfinwen?” he asked innocently.

“I suppose you may,” said Dúrfinwen fighting a smile. “Did you do as I asked?”

“Of course!” he laughed. “I never argue with a lady in an apron. You are quite fetching in it you know! You ought to wear them more often; perhaps they shall become a fad and all the ladies sport them about the place.”

“Idiot,” said Dúrfinwen affectionately, striking him lightly on his arm as she passed out of the room; Himbaláth bent over Fastred and looked smiling down at little Elfwine, his golden hair shimmering round about his shoulders.

“I am forever confounded by how tiny they are!” he said, laying one long brown hand on the small head. “It is amazing to me how a person might be so tiny.”

“This one was not quite tiny enough,” said Legolas dryly from his perch by the window; he had a glass of wine in one hand, and a pastry in the other; he stretched his long legs out on the window-seat, and his hair gleamed like a sheet of ice with the pale yellow light behind it. “Should Éomer decide to put his lady wife through this a second time I shall ask him to adjust the size a bit.”

Himbaláth laughed again; Fastred saw in his gray eyes an eager look as he gazed upon the babe, and was reminded of his dream many months hence, of Legolas holding a small red-haired babe. “There is a great assembly upon the front stairs of the Hall,” Himbaláth said, straightening. “The people wish to meet their young prince, and anxiously await the appearance of the king to present him.”

“The king is asleep,” said Legolas taking a deep drink. “But I suppose Fastred might be his deputy, if he is willing.”

“I?” said Fastred in surprise, looking up. “Do you think I ought, Lassah?”

“I do indeed,” said Legolas seriously. “And if you think about it, O Fastred Prince, you will know why you ought to do the presenting of this little babe to his people.”

Fastred looked down at the tiny child in his arms. Had it been less than a year’s time he had wished for this very thing, that Lothíriel should give unto his uncle an heir of his own? Little Elfwine represented Fastred’s greatest wish of the summer last; freedom from the tyranny of his birth, of the necessity of going to the Mark. But had not the fall and winter been sweet with friendship and laughter and triumph? Had not Meduseld become to Fastred a home and his uncle like unto a father? He thought upon the great sweeping fields, sere beneath a leaden sky promising snow; he thought upon the sleds and skates, the sleighs hung with bells, and snowball fights with Hímalf and Hirdáf and Wálma; he thought of the kitchens, warm and dark, and the laughing cooks and bakers, turning spits and folding dough and thanking Fastred Prince for his gift of pike and grayling from the ice-choked lake. He thought of the rich blustery fall, brilliant golds and greens and reds and yellows that put him in mind of Andunië; he remembered the anxious and delightful day Lassah stood on his own and walked without crutch or cane; he remembered riding Karakse through the willow-woods by the river with Brytta speaking of the man’s holdings and horses; he thought of hunting with Éomer and Éodor, of bringing back the spoils of their arrows and lances, little deer with striped flanks and evil-looking boar, yellow-tusked and bristle-backed. He thought of the harvest dance, turning round about upon the rush-strewn floor of the Hall, the feel of the girls’ waists in his arms, and Lassah dancing with Dúrfinwen, gay in gold and yellow and green, and Lassah laughing in his brilliant white doublet. And he thought also of the advent of spring, the black ice-choked streams, the melting snow, the cold wet wind that rushed round through the city, stepping shivering into Wálma’s house to sit with the family round the inglenook and drink warm goat’s milk while Wálma’s two sisters made eyes at him, and giggled whenever he spoke to them. And he remembered the feel of the circlet upon his brow, seated on Éomer King’s great carven throne with scepter in hand, the heavy ermine robe cast round about him, dispensing judgment and amercement for his uncle who was in the West Emnet; Éothain and Walda stood respectfully by, flanked by Fastred’s men-at-arms, splendidly arrayed with helm and spear; his nervousness fled during the trials and pleas and he heard later that all present found his pronouncements just and pleasing. When he walked round the squares and streets all bowed or did him some obeisance; all knew him and called him Fastred Prince; he was sent gifts from strange foreign ambassadors, and gold and gems from Lord Gimli of Aglarond; even the Elves visiting from Imladris had bowed politely to him and called him “Your Highness” when presented before him and his uncle in the Hall. But the birth of little Elfwine removed Fastred from his especial rung on the ladder to kingship, displacing him, and taking that privilege away.

He cuddled the babe in his arms, smiling when Elfwine made a little grunting noise and squirmed in his blankets; he pressed a kiss to the child’s downy forehead and looked up at Lassah, who was watching him soberly. Lassah was well and hale and strong and pink-cheeked again, and he and Himbaláth were pining for Dol Galenehtar, the steep slopes, the fragrant pine woods, the towering oaks, the blushing vineyards and hoary olive trees, the white dancing fountains and smooth green lawns, the graceful statues and sun-dappled rooms. In Fastred’s mind he saw also the great crown of Osgiliath, shining white in the spring sunlight, the river cloven on either side, gleaming and dark; he saw the arced bridges springing from gate to shore, the wide meads of the Pelennor, the bustling villages and prosperous farms. He remembered the cool dark streets, shadowed and blue in the height of summer, the crooked cobblestones and ancient pitted walls, the piercing call of the bells in their campaniles, the fairy-jangle of the answering peals from Dol Galenehtar and Minas Tirith; he remembered standing upon the high walls of his city, looking down the Anduin past the seven-walled City of Kings, watching the river wind away to Langstrand, the warm breeze filled with the scents of fish and lavender and rose gardens and stone, and the baker who made such excellent sticky-rolls peddling his wares in the cool of the morning; he remembered the open balcony upon which his family would dine on warm evenings, the sound of boatmen talking and working below, the croak and clack of water-fowl, the taste of hot buttered trout and roasted marrow. He saw also his little brother Théodred, fair-haired and giggling, Hísimë proper and prim and polite, his Lady Mother all in blue with her golden hair wound about her head, and his dark Lord Father, smiling and gentle. He rose to his feet, and the two Elves stood with him.

“Come,” said Fastred. “Let us introduce Elfwine to his people.”

He walked from the solar through the Hall, milling with soldiers and courtiers; Legolas and Himbaláth gestured to them all, and they followed Fastred as well, down the long march, beneath the gazes of all the kings of the Mark, frozen in time upon the tapestries and mosaics. The guards at the doors stood respectfully by, and the doorward opened the great carven entry for Fastred to pass through.

The morning sunlight was bright, and Elfwine began to squall. But laid out at Fastred’s feet in the great courtyard were scores of people, peasantry and gentry alike, crowding the steps eagerly and looking up at him with new hope. Fastred looked out over the fair-haired crowd, murmuring in their sonorous tongue, and stepped to the edge of the stairs. Legolas stood beside him, and Himbaláth had managed to secure a small standard and stood behind them both, bearing the green pennant with the white horse; Fastred could feel it fluttering over his head in the breeze. The people fell silent then, watching Fastred; some murmured behind their hands, and others looked darkly at him, wondering what he would say about the little supplanter in his arms. But Fastred smiled at them, and holding up the squirming bundle he called in a loud voice:

“People of the Mark! Your queen has brought forth a son. I, Fastred, Prince of the Mark and of Ithilien, do declare this day that this child is Éomer King’s true heir, of his blood more than I, and to be given just due of honor and power. I do confer upon my small cousin all the rights, titles, duties, and privileges of the rank of Prince of the Mark and accept full willing his entitlement as Éomer King’s rightful heir. And as the son of Éowyn Daughter of Éomund I demand you welcome Elfwine, son of Éomer, as your Prince and Sovereign, and pledge retribution upon any head that vilifies him.” He unswathed the babe and presented him to the people saying: “Behold Elfwine son of Éomer, the Heir of Meduseld! Westu Elfwine hal!”

“Westu Elfwine hal!” cried the people as one, their faces bright with relief and joy. “Welcome, welcome the Heir of Meduseld!”

Amid the clamor and uproar Fastred felt Legolas’ hand upon his shoulder, and the Elf whispered in his ear: “Well done, O Fastred Prince!” Fastred turned to him and was surprised to see tears in his beloved Lassah’s eyes, though the Elf was smiling, and Himbaláth beaming from ear to ear. “I am proud of you; you do not run after accolade or power but are willing to bestow it rightly at need. It is as your father and Éomer have always said; you are a good boy, and shall grow to be a fine man.”

“Thank you, Lassah!” said Fastred smiling. “Perhaps I shall, with help such as yours!” He looked out over the people cheering below. He remembered his dream then, of Tamin in black armor, and of the winged helm of the Tower beneath his own arm. “Lassah,” he said in a low voice, “may we go home now?”

Himbaláth laughed, and even Legolas chuckled; he squeezed Fastred’s shoulder, and led him and Elfwine back inside the Hall. “Wait you until the welcoming-feast,” said Lassah gently, taking the wailing baby from his arms. “And then we shall bid our good-byes and go home again.”

“I’ll start packing tonight!” said Fastred excitedly, and Legolas laughed, kissing him on the crown of his head.

“At your good whim, Little One!” he said with a smile, and went to bring the Heir back to the king.