Gimli son of Glóin, Elf-Friend, Galadriel's Servant, Lord of Aglarond, Rohan,

To Bandobras Took son of Reginard, Crickhollow, Buckland, the Shire

Dear Bandy,

Well, this is an appalling thing, is it not?  Never did I think your Master to be such a fool as this – I know, Bandy, that you object to that appellation, but what other word could I use?  What would you call a man who allows a pretty face to cause him to relent against all his better instincts?  Though it is not only this Laustairë's face and form which has him so entangled; all this talk of marriage and alliance has addled his brains, so that he cedes ground but knows it not, nor recognizes the reasons behind it. 

You asked if he were happy; well, no, he is not, Bandy; I know he is not, for though he does all he can to submit to the will of his parents, to Círdan, to this Nardanë who has wrapped the whole court round her little finger (Galás especially, I must tell you, and were her depredations not so focused upon your Master I should find it quite amusing) he is restless and dispirited still, throwing himself into the work of running his demesne (and there is plenty of that, moreso than even I must endure); when Cirien and I argued with him, that to marry simply to please his mother would aid him not, he disagreed, saying a wife would be able to assist him in the running of his fiefdom; that is perhaps true, but I think he would be better served to take on another seneschal, for Galás is also overworked; I do not see the purpose in saddling himself with a bride. 

And such a bride!  I know it were foolish in the extreme to let Legolas know my true thoughts upon the matter of his betrothed (I say not "beloved," for I deem he loves her not), for to denigrate a man's choice of bride is to end your friendship with him, but this Laustairë will be naught but a burden to him, for never have I met any maid, mortal or immortal, so ignorant of the workings of a kingdom!  Even you at your worst, Bandy, when you were but a child and toddling round King Thranduil's halls, recognized when work needed to be done, and knew which servant or laborer was doing what; you knew when hands were needed to lighten the load, and you were ever eager (if somewhat misguided, you may not argue with me on that point) to see to it that none were tired out in their labors, volunteering your skills and aid so that the burden were made the lighter.  But when my diplomats Ónin and Fríma returned last week they said to me the betrothed of the Elven prince of Ithilien is interested in naught but clothing and hair styles and ornaments; she is devoted to Legolas, said they, in her own fashion, but Fríma did say to me, when she foregathered with several of the ladies of Legolas' court, that some of the maids, Seimiel in particular, were put off by Laustairë's  behavior, for she seems to think she has naught to do but to lie about and gaze adoringly at your Master, and all attempts made by Nardanë to interest her in the doings of the fiefdom come to naught; she is not lazy, Fríma said, but ignorant and thoughtless, as is a small child; Seimiel did say unto Fríma and Ónin both that if she were constrained to listen yet one time more of Laustairë's wedding gown she would cut out the girl's tongue.  Yet when Ónin made gentle queries to your Master on this subject he seemed oblivious that anything was amiss; I do not think he has yet noticed, Bandy, what a burden she has become upon his court, as he imagines her to be learning her duties ere she assumes them; how else would he know, if his people tell him not?  Indeed they fear to broach the subject, Bandy, for Legolas is harried enough by all of this, and anyway they are all far too busy; it is easier to let things go for now, and wait until his mother arrives – Queen Edlothiel will know in a heartbeat that this maid is not fit for her son! – yet we have been told that she has had need to delay her journey for a season, as there is some question concerning border-refugees in Eryn Lasgalen, which she must attend to, as King Thranduil is occupied upon the northern border with trolls.  And I have written to Lord Faramir and King Elessar both, begging them to study Legolas' betrothed more closely; they however are also busy, as it is high summer and the harvests are in full swing; also this autumn will be another tournament, at which your Master shall compete (how I wish you could be here for it!  You are certain, Bandy, your mother will not let you come?), so all the preparations are being made – Faramir told me that he had not realized how much Belecthor had done, in arranging the tournaments in years past; now that he is gone, the Lord of Emyn Arnen is finding it rather a more arduous task than he had expected, and Ethmor is not so wise as Belecthor was – so Lord Faramir has not the time to spare a thought for this silly maiden who has so made a fool of our dear friend.  Éowyn distrusts her, and Arwen looks askance at her; indeed Fríma said to me Laustairë embodied to her the worst aspects of maidenhood, being childish, obtuse, unwise, vain, thoughtless, simple-minded, arrogant and tittery – but Nardanë, she said, is strong-willed enough to quash her, being much wiser and better informed, and is struggling to cause Laustairë to conform to Legolas' view of her, most likely in fear he shall turn one day and discover he has been betrothed to a weightless, feather-brained fool.  I almost wish that would happen – in fact I am sure that is all that will save him in this, that he have the time to sit back and learn her foibles, discerning how impractical it would be to tie himself to this silly girl for all eternity.  So come quickly, Bandy!  You may achieve what all other friends may not, that you would speak your mind in this matter and Legolas would listen to you, with no fear of reprisal, for I believe he loves you best of us all, even myself, and I begrudge you not this, for of us two you are the more lovable I deem.

I meant not to upset you with this missive, Bandy, but I am so harrowed up in my mind concerning your Master that I cannot write of it but I grind my teeth and grip the quill so that it is crushed beneath my fingers.  Why I cannot even raise my letter-writing skills to my previous standards; if I sent off a missive as cavalier as this to my father he would certainly think I had lost all sense of propriety!

Anyway, when I wish to calm myself I try to think that perhaps we are mistaken, and making much of nothing.  After all I met your Master's betrothed but once and upon first acquaintance she is quite acceptable, and certainly very lovely; it is only hearsay I have that she is so irritating to the ladies of the court, and it may be jealousy as has been opined, for few men have anything evil to report of her; it is only the ladies who find her so irksome, and that may be just her youth – perhaps she shall outgrow this tendency of hers; after all she is fresh from childhood and has not yet had time to attain that grace and poise so admired in an Elven woman full-grown.  Yet do we, your Master's friends, want for him to be snared in a marriage in this way, waiting fifty years or more for his wife's character to approach like unto his own?  You did tell me, Bandy, that you wrote to him and begged him to reconsider, and that his reply was subtly discontented, resigned to his lot yet struggling to convince himself this was for the best; and you asked me, Bandy, if there was aught we could do for your Master:  I tell you this, lest Legolas be forced to come to his senses he shall certainly marry the maid, for he has ever been dutiful and unswerving in the carrying out of his obligations, being constant and unshakable in his convictions; no doubt he truly has been deceived by the maid's charm and beauty (and according to Seimiel, Nardanë's cunning), and needs only time to discern his error.  But then, what?  Is he capable of breaking this off, or even delaying it for a time (as I wish he would do)?  I know not the protocol in these instances, for this is more a political match than one of the heart, and Círdan a mighty lord indeed.

Well, that is neither here nor there; we have until late winter at least to convince him of his mistake, and I have hopes your mother will relent and allow you to come to us in time to prevent this calamity befalling your Master.  Tell her for me, if you please, that I shall come to fetch you myself, if that be her concern; I shall certainly let no ill befall you, as it shall most likely be your presence sways his judgment!

I am going to Ithilien for the tournament this autumn – I have yet been involved in mediating the clan-war here in Aglarond, which has pulled factions from the Westfold as well, much to King Éomer's disgust; it still rages through the caves, and it is for this reason I have been unable to go to Legolas myself – so it shall be some months before I am able to see him face to face; by then I hope he may have regained some sense (or she may have grown a little of her own; it appears she needs it even more than he); if not I shall sit him down and attempt to wrench his mind around to a more coherent sagacity.  Barring my success I shall travel up to the Shire myself and take you hostage, bringing you back so that you might do what I may not – and should your mother object, I shall certainly abduct her too; what harm after all could it do?  She at least could perform the function of Lady of Dol Galenehtar and preclude the need for this Laustairë!

Actually that is quite a fine idea; do you think she would object overmuch?  The high court in Dol Galenehtar is a superior one, and the people easily governed; it is a rich demesne and thought highly of in the area, so that she would be counted a great lady.  Well, it is just a thought.

Write to me; I never thought I should admit to this but I miss you as well, Bandy!

Gimli