Legolas Thranduilion, The Green Knight, Lord of Dol Galenehtar, Ithilien

To Bandobras Took, my Esquire,

My Dear Bandobras,

So harrowed up am I in my mind, dear Little One, I can scarce apply myself to the giving of tiles and accolades.  It is late winter, bleak, cold, wet, and all the earth waits breathlessly for Spring, for the first caress of warmth, the lengthening of days, the blush of green upon the bough – all save your Master.  For Spring brings to me the trade delegation from Mithlond, containing within the maid my Lord Father and Lady Mother hang their hopes upon, and I shall be constrained to feign gentility, though within my breast beats the heart of rebellion.  I have made to deceive mine own parents, my Bandobras, by allowing them to believe I shall look upon this further ignominy with equanimity, when in truth courtship and marriage are far from my plans and I desire only that they let me alone, so that I may apply myself to my work.  And, my Bandobras, when I set my plaint before them, that I am far too preoccupied, they press upon me the argument that a lady in my court would release me from many of my more tedious duties, allowing me the leisure to pursue the larger work unhindered!  I cannot argue with this, but I feel it would be unfair to this maid, this Laustairë, to marry her expecting only for her to run my household, whilst I occupied myself with the rest of the demesne.

I know you shall ask, my Little One, so I shall tell you all I know of her; she is young, having only just achieved her majority (this is the age, I may tell you, the greater part of my folk are betrothed), and an orphan; her mother died at sea, her father faded from grief, and she has been raised in Lord Círdan's household since infancy.  All reports say she is quiet and studious (my mother thinks this shall balance my own undeniable tendency to leap first and look later), and dearly loved within her own household; my Lady Mother takes this to mean she shall be the ideal codicil to her son, though she has neither met nor spoken with her.  O my Little One, what shall I do?  I know what I shall do – I shall greet the delegation, treat the maid with politesse and modesty, and go unto the council chamber with Cirien to work out the details of the trade agreement.  We shall hold banquets and feasts and dances, and Lord Faramir has organized a small tournament (jousts only, and I shall take a part this time, as there is no prize to rob from the other entrants), and they shall return to Mithlond, and I will send a letter unto my parents, saying there were no especial charms in the maid to compel me unto marriage.  And my Lady Mother shall express her disappointment, and set about the task of finding yet another unwitting victim of her strategy, to fling her at my head as one throws balls of snow – the simile is drawn from a scene without my balcony; there Fastred and several of his friends play at battle using balls of snow as missiles – and it is an apt simile, I see, for each maid that strikes me disintegrates into a cloud of ineffective powder, as does the snow.  Aldamir said to me when last we met that he found I had become aloof – am I aloof, my Bandobras?  I do not mean to be, but the past year I have fended off the attentions of so many maids I feel I am constrained to hide behind a detached façade. 

Yet even I cannot dwell upon this subject for long without good humor being restored – perchance it is that I write to you, my esquire, and the thoughts of your merry little face and piping voice so drive out my bleak ruminations I am compelled into cheer; perchance instead it is that I have just observed little Fastred so thoroughly trounce his enemies I am filled with pride, that the boy has the marks of a true and skilled warrior upon him.  How could he not, with two such brave and noble parents?  He asked me only this morn, when we broke fast together upon the lower balcony, if he could return for a time after the first thaw, when the snows melt, so that he and his companion may go unto the tailrace to see how loudly it roars; at first I agreed, but Hirilcúllas and Seimiel, who were seated with us, looked upon me with such horror I bethought perhaps I had erred; later Seimiel did tell me of two boys who had been playing upon the tailrace in years past, who had slipped upon the wooden slats made slick by mud and drowned in the rushing flood.  (She says she heard this tale of Imilmeth, a woman in Osgiliath, and one of Lady Éowyn's servants.)  At first I argued that Fastred was far too sensible to endanger himself so, but she reminded me of what he had done in the kennels his last visit, and I was constrained to agree that perchance he lacks the wisdom necessary for such an outing.  So tonight when I tuck him into his small cot I shall amend my decision, that he may not visit the tailrace save I am with him.  He shall argue with me, for he is high-spirited and independent, but I should fall far derelict in my duty to his noble parents were I not careful with his well-being.

Hísimë by contrast is a quiet and sedate child, preferring the company of the ladies in my household to the warriors as Fastred does; while her brother is off in the armory with Meivel or Himbaláth, peppering them with questions and queries and attempting to challenge them to duels with swords he can scarcely lift, Hísimë sits in the lower garden, surrounded by her dolls and toys, and puzzling out words in the books I give her.  She is fascinated by the pictures in the book of Turgon and Thorondor, and asks many questions about the tale; I love to watch her, the pretty little child, her pale curls framing her cheeks which bloom with roses.  I am very anxious, my Bandobras, for you to come and make their acquaintance; tell your uncle to hasten to the altar, lest I come to the Shire myself, and bear you and your mother away to live with me!  It has been far too long since I have seen you, and I pine for your company, for your cheerful countenance and brazen laugh, for your hands at the kitchen till and your voice lifted in song.  Can you not impel your mother to let you come?  Or perchance will your Cousin Meriadoc bring you, when he goes to visit Rohan next year?  Even then that seems to me too long a time to wait; we have waited nearly ten years already, and I am growing impatient to see you again; it seems nearly an age since last I sojourned in Arnor with King Elessar's company, when they went to Nenuial and Gimli and I rode to meet you in Bree.  From what you have told me in your letters you have changed much, growing both taller and broader, and better skilled with sword and spoon, as befits a Hobbit-warrior of your stock.

Fastred has just called up to me, that he requires my assistance upon the field of battle; as I can refuse him little I shall break with my correspondence here, and play with the children a while, if I can but slip past Hirilcúllas with my appointments-book, and Galás with my other correspondence, which requires my attention.

***

There, my dear Little One; it is now dark, and Fastred sleeps deeply beside his sister upon my own bed (I was reading to them from the Valaquenta, but their lids were so heavy they dropped into slumber almost immediately after I read them the tale of Ulmo); I did manage to escape both Hirilcúllas and Galás for an hour or two, wrestling in the snow with Fastred and his friends, and afterward assisting Hísimë in the library with her doll house (a gift from Gimli, and of marvelous make).  How I wish I had the leisure to do this more often!  For though betimes this winter I have been able to spare the hours for such dalliances, come Spring I shall be overrun with work and activity, so that I fear the children of the Lord and Lady of Emyn Arnen shall scarce see their "Lord Lassah," as they call me, and these visits shall be delayed until the Autumn, when – I hope – I shall bid the delegation from Mithlond farewell, and return to my tasks with lighter heart.  What can I do, my dear Little One, to convince my Lord Father and Lady Mother to desist in their efforts to find me a bride?  I feel neither need nor desire for one; rather would I wait until some fair maid has charmed me into submission of her own will, than to be thrust so upon me.

Well, I have many other tasks to attend to this eve, as my time with Fastred and Hísimë delayed me somewhat (as Hirilcúllas does not tire in telling me); I have yet a stack of parchment to sift through, and other missives to write, so that I shall be obliged to closet myself in my study until the sky grows pale; therefore I shall leave the children to slumber upon my bed, as it seems unlikely I shall have need of it this night.  Write to me quickly, my Bandobras, and so soothe my trammeled heart; remind me how you love me, and that you shall come to see me anon, so that I may forget my parents' machinations, and my many other duties here for a time, and I might pretend to myself we are able to simply mount Piukka and Thistle, and ride down to Osgiliath for the day to visit Miriel and her grandfather, as we used when you were here.  How I miss you, dear Little One! 

Galás and Kaimelas send their love, and desire also to see you again, and Hirilcúllas bids me give you her greeting, though it is overshadowed with her desire to see me put pen to parchment in a more productive fashion.  Care well for your dear mother and kiss her for me, and tell all surrounding you to be well and happy.

Your loving Master,

Legolas