(A/N: Many thanks to my superb beta Nieriel Raina, without whom this chapter would not have been ready! And thanks to all of you who read and review; you are all so kind that you make the process delightful. -- Le Rouret)

3. The Little White Horse

When the mornings ceased to herald the day with frost upon the tips of the grass leaves and olive branches, and the scum of ice on the pond behind the eastern wall finally dissolved into a marshy bog, and the frogs began to twang and croak their ardor in the reeds by the River, the Green Knight’s guests went home. This was to the great satisfaction of the Green Knight’s new esquire, who through abjuring his pagely duties no longer was constrained to run to and fro on humble deeds errant, yet found the constant standing about in the dark corners and warm hearths of Dol Galenehtar’s myriad solars and chambers waiting upon his Master to be far more tedious, especially to one as active as he. Tamin was anxious to begin his training in those gentle arts of war and combat, and marked not how his Master bid him take heed to the more subtle education offered him by listening in on conversations not meant, perhaps, for ears as young as his.

So one by one they all bid the Lord of Dol Galenehtar good-bye, these noble visitors, and went on their separate ways. First, for he had the farthest to go, went Elrohir son of Elrond, declaring himself glad to rid himself of the constant feasts and fetes, but in truth decidedly mellower in outlook. He even smiled on occasion, and admitted to his sister the queen that Thranduilion’s halls were curiously heartening, and he felt the lighter in spirit for having sojourned there. To Elessar’s astonishment, he even expressed a desire to return someday, to continue his argument with Meivel concerning the use of trebuchets. Then went Hildáf of Rohan, with his wife Éodild and all their numerous brood, laden with gifts of cloth and weapons, bearing also missives and offerings from Éowyn to her brother and his family, especially the small daughter now residing in Meduseld, who was, all declared, an even bigger surprise than her elder brother Elfwine had been. Also went Mardil of Ethring and his father by marriage Araval. Mardil was anxious to leave on his wife’s behalf, and Araval scarcely less so, though he had been a grandsire before; Mardil’s wife was the favorite of his daughters and he hoped mightily she might bear a son, unlike her sisters, who thus far had followed in their mother’s footsteps, and provided daughters only. Traveling with them a ways went Cirien the Yellow Knight to Langstrand; a great distance it was for that hale old campaigner, and Legolas in vain begged him stay longer. But Cirien’s heir Gilmir was to produce for Cirien another shoot upon the grafted branch, and Cirien like Araval was eager to see this offspring, and promised Legolas he would come back in autumn to see the winter out with him. With this the Green Knight had need to be satisfied, though it was with anxious heart he bid Cirien farewell, and watched the old man’s wain as it dwindled out of sight; Cirien had aged poorly the past year, and Legolas was not sanguine about his return.

Last to leave were the Lord and Lady of Osgiliath, with their children and retainers. Legolas and his esquire were of like mind concerning Fastred son of Faramir, and Éowyn’s maid Léodwyn; the situation had not improved during their stay in Dol Galenehtar and Legolas, watching them ride away at opposite ends of the caravan, pursed his lips and shook his head, his arms folded across his chest. Tamin stood silently beside him, marking the discontent on his Master’s face; then as he watched from the balcony he saw the small speck that was Halgond upon his horse ride up beside Léodwyn, pause, and then continue on at her side. He let out a huff in frustration, and Legolas smiling looked down at him.

“She is only trying to make him jealous,” he said, though he too sounded irritated.

“But what of Halgond, the rake?” asked Tamin, aggrieved. “What thinks he? Is he not Fastred’s oldest friend? What would drive one to treat an intimate in this fashion? Poor Fastred! O Master, how my heart burns on his behalf!”

“Let it simmer rather,” said Legolas firmly, and turned from the prospect, the riders disappearing into the thick forest upon the winding paved road. Something gleamed through the leaves, then flickered out, and the travelers were gone. “We can do naught to aid; you know that well, my Tamin. Fastred must find his way out of this himself, the poor lad.”

“What an impediment to happiness it all is!” exclaimed Tamin, following Legolas from the bright balcony into the cool blue shadows of the upper halls. He trotted behind his Master, blind now to the magnificence of statue and mirror and lamp and courtier in his familiarity; had he a moment to contemplate he would have wondered at this, for a lowly Galadrim to become so accustomed to such wealth. But he had eyes only for his Master and his Master’s business, and mind at the moment only for Fastred and his troubles. “Love, I mean, Master; all the courtship and bowing and dancing and the giving of flowers and other such ritual.”

“Maids adore courtship and flowers,” said Legolas with a smile as they walked along. Betimes a lady might courtesy, or a passing vassal bow, and Legolas acknowledged his folk with the inclination of his head; he knew, though he did not turn to see, that they with their eyes followed his steps and those of his little esquire, and smiled knowingly after them; he did not begrudge them this however, knowing Tamin was so well-loved and amusing. “It is how one gets them to notice one; with gifts of sweets and playing upon a harp, or using pretty words; it turns their heads and makes them inclined to listen to one’s suit.”

“But when one is married, one does not treat one’s wife in like fashion, does one, Master?” asked Tamin anxiously. “At least, Adar does not, and Naneth does not seem to mind, and they are very happy, you know, Master; at least, they do not quarrel, and when they look at one another, it gives me the strangest feeling in my stomach – a sort of fluttery one, you know, Master, so I suppose Adar is doing something right at any rate. I would not like to think, Master, that when I am wed I shall be constrained to treat my wife so; it would be exhausting, would it not, Master, to be so continually about the business of entertaining her thus? With flower and music and poetry and such stuff, I mean, Master. There will surely be other things to occupy us, and all those other trappings – well, they take time, do they not?”

“They do, Little One,” agreed Legolas seriously. They reached the top of the central stair and began the long spiraling descent; Tathardil of Lothlórien passed and bowed his head to them, giving Tamin a proud look as he climbed on modest exploit intent. Tamin heeded him not however, as he was listening intently to his Master’s wisdom. “There is an anticipatory period during the relations betwixt man and woman – longer for the woman than the man, unfortunately – in which the man is expected to lavish upon the woman gifts and sweet words and declarations of devotion; but these things are and must be temporary, my Tamin, for the press of life, of its many cares and worries and concerns, crowds out such insubstantial fluff; any woman worth her weight will know this, and allow for the incurrence of more mundane expressions of felicity, for her husband labors to support and protect her, and she in turn builds for him the home and cares for the children. It is a partnership, O my Tamin, one of equal balance, equal importance, equal labor, and equal weight; it would be foolish for one partner or the other to waste such precious vigor on sweet froth like that, like eating the cream, and leaving the strawberries behind.”

“But what are these mundane expressions, Master?” said Tamin sounding puzzled. “If not flowers and gifts and jewels and songs, what then? For Fastred has tried all of those, and Léodwyn at first seemed accepting; now she is so indifferent, and naught he does turns her head as it used.”

“Some women do not want flowers and jewels and songs,” smiled Legolas. “Think of Andunië; do you suppose Himbaláth courted her thus?”

Tamin as he followed along tried to envisage Himbaláth playing the harp for Andunië beneath a moonlit window, casting flowers at her and giving her gold collars; his imagination failed him utterly though, save thinking perchance she might have set her dogs on him. “No, Master,” he said thoughtfully. “I cannot see Andunië enduring that sort of thing. It seems to me she would rather have a new falcon, or harnesses for her dogs, or new gauntlets.”

“You are close to it,” said Legolas. “What she wanted was a man who would take her as she was, and love her for it; once she saw Himbaláth did not expect her to leave the mews and kennels, and moreover wished her to remain there, did her cold heart soften; glad am I to see it, for they are well-matched, and he is better for her than others she might have had.”

“Like Brytta,” said Tamin innocently, and Legolas laughed.

“Brytta indeed!” he said, and looking back at Tamin he smiled; Tamin smiled too, his heart turning over for he had pleased his Master so. “You see too much, my Tamin; how did you know Brytta of Rohan had a tendresse for her?”

“Well, by how he looked at her, Master,” said Tamin simply. “It is how Meivel looks at Hirilcúllas, how my Adar looks at Naneth that makes my stomach feel so funny. I would like to have a wife someday to whom I can look like that, and who looks back at me the same way. Would you not too, Master? I suppose I shall wed to Dúrfinwen though, since I cannot have Andunië. I think Dúrfinwen would make a good wife for she is amusing and energetic and not so pretty that one would feel dizzy looking at her – like Queen Undómiel; she is very lovely, almost too lovely, Master, meaning no offense, and I am certain King Elessar appreciates it; but frankly I should rather have a wife that men would think is good fun, than one who does things like eclipse the stars – does Queen Undómiel eclipse the stars, Master? The Lord of Ringló said she did, and he is middling intelligent, so I thought perhaps he might be correct, though I wished to ask you first. How does a lady’s beauty eclipse stars? They are so fiercely lovely it would be difficult, methinks.”

Legolas did not reply, and was careful to keep his face turned from Tamin’s so the boy would not see how he struggled to keep his mouth from grinning; at last he said carefully: “I have seen no lady, mortal or immortal, who might attain to that level of beauty, my Tamin; likely it is the Lord of Ringló was simply flattering the queen. Well, wed to Dúrfinwen if you wish, though you will have to battle betwixt several other hale and mighty warriors for her attentions – if such a thing appeals to her; frankly I deem she would find it more amusing than enthralling.”

“I would like to get Léodwyn to look at Fastred that way though,” said Tamin wistfully, pattering after his Master down the back hallway to the courtyards. “She used to, and I do not know what stopped her looking like that. It is very puzzling, Master, and I do not understand why a maid cannot decide upon a fellow, and stick to him.”

“The same might be said for the fellow,” said Legolas sagely, and allowing a passing journeyman to open the big oaken door, he and his esquire went through into the noon sunshine.

They passed the smithy and the buttery hatches, waving to Hwindiö and the new farrier and the coopers who had stood by the kitchens for a taste of the fresh bread, and went through the postern to the back courtyard, scattering hens as they went. A stray goat hopped up to them, lowering its head and twitching its legs side to side; Legolas splayed his palms to him and said: “Ho, varlet! Have at ye; take me if you dare!” The goat reared up and charged, and Legolas took it by the horns and wrestled with it good-naturedly; it tossed its head to the side and bounded away, sending a nearby milk-cow into a lowing fit. Tamin laughed, and scooping up a nearby puppy waddling past, let the little dog lick his cheeks and chin, and trotted after his Master into the fray that was Andunië’s and Tyarmayél’s domain.

They passed the kennels; there was no yelping or whining or barking, which they took to be a good sign, and Tamin released the puppy, who went wobbling back to find its mother’s milk with scarce a backward glance; then on to the mews, with its high vented crown; they could hear Andunië within, calling to her birds, and the falcons and goshawks answering with shrieks and whistles. Legolas paused at the door and peering in called: “All well, Andunië?”

“All well, my lord,” she replied, coming forth into the light; she had a big eyass on her gauntlet, and was feeding it bits of mouse from a bloodied trap. “Those three hatchlings were delivered yesterday and I think they shall be fine hunters.”

“And the dogs?” asked Legolas, looking round the mews. Tamin sidled up to a large goshawk with yellow eyes, which stared belligerently down at him; he wondered if he put his finger in the cage if it would bite it off.

“Not bad,” said Andunië with a shrug. “That last litter was disappointing – three runts, and two stillborns; that little fat pup is the only one that will be worth anything. I ought not to have bred that bitch out of Vorondil’s kennel for her hips were far too narrow. The bitch I got from Aldamir, though, has proved to be a good one; she has produced four litters so far – there is one now,” she added casually, pointing to the door; three half-grown terriers gamboled in, snuffling and sniffing Tamin’s and Legolas’ boots. “Good shoulders, wide heads, strong grip. I will start training them next month.”

“Excellent,” said Legolas, satisfied. “Will the hounds be ready to go out after rutting?”

“I have instructed them to take naught but bucks, my lord,” said Andunië, turning to go back to her birds.

“As always,” said Legolas with a laugh. “Good work, Andunië.”

“Hm,” said Andunië; she was already distracted. Legolas gestured to Tamin, and they left the mews.

Tamin had been born in Lothlórien during a war, and it had seemed to him that his life there was either quiet, and dull; or filled with smoke and death. Dol Galenehtar he was discovering was neither. It was noisy, and busy, and happy, and full of song and laughter and work and sweat and food and drink and dancing and song; there was a constant stream of visitors and statesmen and merchants and nobility, and a continuous run of parties and balls and dances and feasts and celebrations. It was as impossible to be unhappy here as it was to be bored, and Tamin loved it with all his heart. As he and his beloved Master passed from the mews through the cattle-pens and on to the stables he felt himself almost swell with happiness, and restrained himself from flinging his arms wide, and bursting into song. What a delightful existence was his! He was young and strong and lived in a bustling, bountiful land, had good stout friends and a comfortable room and agreeable parents and O his Master, his wonderful, beautiful, wise Master was beside him, calling out to the shearman and thatcher who stood for a gossip by the allure, his bright hair shining in the sun, his grey eyes full of wisdom and mirth and not a little mischief. Then Tamin was distracted by the call of a woman: “Coo – oop! Ho there, my beauty!” And there was the sound of thudding hooves, and the fine smell of hay and manure and equine sweat, and Tamin was at the round pen, watching Tyarmayél longue a big red mare. She stood in the center of the ring on a big grindstone, a long whip in her hand, and the mare ran round about her, snorting and gnashing her great teeth, cantering and bobbing her head. Tyarmayél did not acknowledge them as they approached, but the mare did; she rolled her eyes at them, and flecks of foam flew from her mouth.

“A fierce beast, that,” remarked Legolas to Tamin. Tamin put a hand on the rail, but Legolas gently removed it, and Tamin guiltily placed his hands behind his back. “Do not distract her, now.”

Tamin did not know whether Legolas meant Tyarmayél or the mare, so he held his tongue and watched. After a few moments the mare lowered her head and began to grind her teeth; Tyarmayél let her slow then, and said: “Whoa!” The mare halted, dropping her nose to the dust and letting out a long sigh. “There we are then,” said Tyarmayél with satisfaction; she went up to the mare, who snuffed at her, and nudged her pockets. “Yes, my beauty; you may have one,” the stablemistress said, and taking a rather battered meringue from the depths of her riding skirt pocket she held it out. The mare nosed it, then lipped it up, crunching contentedly. “Ah,” said Tyarmayél, caressing the mare’s ears. “That is better, is it not? Now, no more biting, or I shall clip you again!”

“Not ready for the list, is she?” asked Legolas. Tyarmayél looked up in surprise; she had not even noted their presence.

“No, my lord,” she said, stroking the mare’s nose. “She is too proud and stubborn; she would make a poor destrier now, though she is ferocious and brave. But she has only five seasons; let me work with her, my lord, and she will charge the tilt as well as any stallion.”

“I think me betimes the mares are fiercer than stallions, at least on the lists,” said Legolas. He ducked under the rails and Tamin followed him; Legolas approached the mare and touched her damp forehead; her withers were coated in foam. The mare looked suspicious but allowed him to pet her. “See that fine curved neck, my Tamin!” said Legolas, gloating. “And mark the conformation of the canons, the full croup! Now this is a well-set animal. Not like my poor Hatchet, who was I own the ugliest steed I ever had under saddle.”

“He was that,” grinned Tyarmayél. She looked over Legolas’ shoulder and called: “Ho, Bandobras! What have you done to my pony?”

“Your pony; excuse me?” said the Hobbit indignantly. Legolas and Tamin turned and saw Bandobras leading Spark by the halter; the pony limped though did not appear disconsolate, but fixed them with a lively eye. “As I recall, miss, Spark was given to me; he is mine. You’re a grabby girl and no mistake.”

“You forget, O Blue Knight, ‘twas I who bred Spark by Thistle out of Buttercup just for you,” said Tyarmayél with a laugh. “Is it his feet or his legs?”

“His hocks I think,” said Bandobras, petting Spark on the nose. Spark nudged his elbow and nibbled on his coat buttons. “Here, none of that, you. Hwindiö checked and said his frogs looked good, though I’m none to certain about that new farrier of yours, Mas – Legolas.” The mare gave a loud whinny, and Spark snorted. Bandobras eyed her suspiciously. “Though you look as though you’ve got your hands full. Shall I stable him for you?”

“No need; I am finished with this beast for now. Let me put her in the back paddock and I shall take a look,” said Tyarmayél, and speaking softly to the red mare she led her from the ring and around the back of the barn. Legolas and Tamin followed, with Bandobras behind them, leading his limping pony.

“How do the olives look, Lit - Bandobras?” asked Legolas of the Halfling as they stood and watched her turn the mare out. “Are the trees filling in well?”

“Very well, M – Legolas; there are thousands of little baby olives all over the branches, and the leaves are nice and thick. Fainilyas is mighty good with trees, he is, which is not surprising, seeing as he’s grown up round them. Good fellow, that.”

“Yes, Fainilyas loves trees,” said Tamin. “He always has. Naneth says he loves trees almost too much for a Galadrim though I do not know what she means by that. We Galadrim love trees certainly, for we are accustomed to living in them, are we not? But perhaps Fainilyas misses living in trees and that is why he loves your olive groves so.”

“Hadn’t thought o’ that,” said Bandobras thoughtfully. “You know, Mas – Legolas, perhaps I’ll tell Fainilyas to camp in the groves this summer. He might like that, and the trees won’t suffer for it.”

“An excellent idea, my – Bandobras,” said Legolas, then laughed. “How silly this is! I cannot seem to call you anything save Little One and my Bandobras; it is very unfitting to speak to one of my knights in this fashion.”

“Well, I can’t seem to keep from calling you Master,” grinned Bandobras. He turned to Tamin. “D’yer mind if I keep calling him that? Not trying to horn in on your duties, now, Tamin, just having a hard time remembering to use his name.”

“Well,” said Tamin uncomfortably; he truly did not want to share the title with anyone, but knew Bandobras had every right to call the Lord of Dol Galenehtar anything he wished. “Perhaps you ought to practice more, or call him my lord like everyone else does, for it might be more accurate than Master.”

“That’s a thought,” said Bandobras, brightening. “Shall I simply call you my lord then? I can’t bring myself to call you Legolas nohow, even though you’ve gave me permission. Seems awful disrespectful to me and I’m not sure if my mum would of approved.”

“Well then let us please your mother’s memory at all costs,” said Legolas. “Call me my lord if you like, but for Tamin I reserve the title Little One ‘til he is big enough to thrash it out of me.”

“O Master, you may call me Little One all you like, for ever and ever!” exclaimed Tamin happily. “I will never tire of hearing you say that to me, even if I grow up to be taller than you, which is not likely because both Adar and Naneth are short, so I think I shall be short, so you may call me Little One always.”

Legolas smiled and lay his hand on Tamin’s head. “Very well, Little One, I shall hold you to this,” he said.

Tyarmayél walked up then, wiping her hands on her riding skirt. “Well then!” she said briskly. “Let us see what is wrong with our little Spark here.” She knelt and started running her hands down the pony’s legs and asking Bandobras questions. Legolas stood silently, marveling in Tyarmayél’s knowledge and instinct, and remembering how irritated his Lord Father had been when she had proclaimed her desire to be stablemistress to the Prince. “How unfair he found it!” thought Legolas with a smile. “Though I am the one with the horses and stables and destriers and knights all round me, he knew I took the best from him for my back courtyard, and it has paid.”

He noticed after a moment that Tamin was becoming restless and bored, and when the boy looked up apologetically, Legolas nodded, giving him permission to wander. So Tamin did, disappearing into the cross ties and stalls, poking round and stirring up roosting starlings and sparrows; now and again Legolas could hear him speaking to a horse or one of the barn cats. By the time Tyarmayél and Bandobras had brought Spark out to the round pen to bring him up to a trot Tamin came dashing back, his eyes full of eager curiosity.

“Tyarmayél, Tyarmayél!” he cried breathlessly. “O excuse me Master, and Bandobras, I do not mean to interrupt, for I know it is very vital for you to determine what is wrong with Spark, for he is a good pony and Bandobras will need him to go round the olive groves and Thistle is getting older and it would take too long to walk but O where did that dear little white horse come from?”

“Little white horse?” said Tyarmayél, puzzled. “What – O him! What of him?”

“I do not recall any white horses in your barn,” said Legolas in surprise. “Have you been purchasing stock behind my back, Tyarmayél? I declare you are as bad as Andunië.”

“My lord! You are unreasonably harsh,” smiled Tyarmayél. “Nay; I paid naught for him, though he certainly eats more than his share of grain and hay. I am not certain what to do with him; he is only a cart-horse.”

“Where on earth did you manage to find a cart-horse in Dol Galenehtar?” asked Bandobras. “It’s not like they go wandering round Ithilien on their own.”

“O think you not?” she laughed. “Do you remember, my lord, O Blue Knight, the silk merchant from Erui, who would bring his wares to the tucking-mill by waggon?”

“The fragrant one?” said Legolas. “I do indeed! Dúrfinwen and Tuilíndo are quite vocal about him, for his mouth is as foul as his odor, though his merchandise quite fine.”

“Well he is fouler than ever now,” said Tyarmayél. “Or at least he was when the patrols found him. He was dead on the seat of the waggon, and his horse standing waiting for someone to come fetch him.”

“Dear me!” said Bandobras. “That’s awkward, that is. Erui’s not exactly what you’d call a neighborly distance from here. His poor family must be worried frantic.”

“I do not think me he had a family,” said Tyarmayél. “He spoke to Hwindiö betimes, you know; Hwindiö gets on better with mortals than most of us do, and the fellow seemed to like him well enough. Tormal, his name was, I believe. Anyway Meivel brought him, body, waggon, and horse, to Hwindiö, and they went through his things; he had but a blanket, and a packet of food, and a chest of gold and silver. We gave the waggon to a family on the River who could use it for their farm, and the blanket and food we discarded for they were worthless; the money we left in holding to pay for the horse’s feed ‘til we could decide what to do with him. He I believe is young, from the condition of his teeth, and seems well-trained, though he is not what I would call a good example of equine conformation and has a primitive head.”

“O do not speak of him so!” exclaimed Tamin. “He is dear and so sweet! O do come and see him, Master; he is lovely!” And he dashed off again, his golden hair flying behind him.

Legolas sighed. “Well his bay mare is getting long in the tooth,” he said; “will this horse make him a good mount?”

Tyarmayél made a face, and tying Spark to the crossties she went along with them to the back of the barn. “He is a strange little horse,” she said in an undertone to Legolas and Bandobras. “Thick neck, short legs, sloping croup, and a very odd gait. It is for that reason I think he was made a cart-horse; I have not put him under saddle yet.”

“Look, look!” Tamin was crying eagerly; he stood in a small sheltered paddock next to a stout white stallion. The little white horse was as Tyarmayél had said an odd creature, fully four hands smaller than the destriers round him but with a large coarse head and broad neck set heavily on narrow shoulders. His barrel was good and round though, and when Legolas ducked under the rail he saw that the black hooves were small, broad, and very sound. “Look, Master! Is he not darling? See his pretty white hair, his beautiful eyes! He is the dearest thing!”

“Hm!” said Legolas noncommittally, and looked the horse up and down. “He is rather unprepossessing, is he not, Little One?”

“O do not say that,” said Tamin, horrified, reaching up to cover the horse’s ears. “He can hear you, you know.”

“No fear, Tamin my boy; he’s from Erui; he don’t speak Elvish,” grinned Bandobras. He put one foot up on the rail, and leaned against a post, thoughtfully chewing on a piece of straw. “Not the prettiest animal I’ve ever seen. Not a bad face though. Ugly but generous and good-natured.”

“I will call him Araval then,” declared Tamin, flinging his arms round the short thick neck. Bandobras looked shocked, but Legolas gave a shout of laughter.

“That isn’t what I’d call rightly respectful,” chided Bandobras. “Naming a beast after poor Lord Araval!”

“But it is like him,” insisted Tamin. “You said so yourself, Bandobras; ugly, but generous and good-natured. And is he not sweet, Master? You may put your hands all over his face and he does not bite but only kisses you.” The horse lipped at Tamin’s cheek and the boy giggled. “He is so whiskery! And O feel his coat, Master! Feel his coat, Bandobras! It is fine as velvet! And such a pretty color!”

Legolas ran his hands over the horse’s flanks. The horse fixed him with a lively and intelligent eye, and when Legolas cupped his muzzle he got a handful of tongue for his efforts. “He is very soft,” agreed Legolas, stroking the broad flat nose. The little horse whickered and nudged his belly, nibbling at his belt buckle. “And he seems friendly enough.”

“Is he not a dear? Is he not pretty? See how pretty he is! There are no white horses in the barn and he is such a pretty color, and so soft, and so sweet! And look at his dear little hooves! And see, Master, how long and luxuriant are his mane and tail! O may I ride him, Tyarmayél? May I, Master? O please do say I may ride him, I want to get on him straight way! Please? Please?”

“Tamin – “ began Legolas doubtfully, but Tyarmayél laughed.

“Let him, my lord,” she said, ruffling Tamin’s hair. “The beast is good-natured enough, and they certainly seem to have taken a liking to each other. Let us see what he is like for your esquire.”

“Well – “ Privately Legolas thought the beast would throw Tamin at once, for poor men’s cart horses are rarely ridden; however the little horse seemed friendly enough, and was engaged in attempting to unfasten the buttons on Tamin’s tunic, to the boy’s delight. Tamin was stroking his ears, and touching his eyes and face, and laughing and embracing the horse, so it seemed unlikely the beast would be peevish; but Legolas did not want Tamin to get hurt, and was reluctant to take the risk. But then Tamin turned to him, his big gray eyes pleading and his little rosebud mouth wistful; he begged: “O please, please, Master? May I ride him? O I am desperate to ride him; O please, do let me try!”

“Mine esquires do conspire to remove from me all authority over them,” said Legolas, glancing down at Bandobras, who chuckled. “Very well, my Tamin; but be careful, do; if I bring you back to your mother with any broken bones she will have my hide.”

“I shall tell her I did it without your permission so you will not get in trouble, Master,” said Tamin stoutly, jumping up and clapping his hands. “Look, Araval! I am going to ride you! O how fun!”

“Let him ride, but for the love of all that’s good, don’t let him call the beastie Araval; it ain’t right,” muttered Bandobras to Tyarmayél. She smiled, and taking a rope halter gave it to Tamin.

“Here you are,” she said briskly. “You wish to ride him; he is your responsibility, and if he throw you, I charge you to get up straight way, and get back on; otherwise he shall think he is in control, and that, O Tamin, is disastrous.”

“I know, Tyarmayél,” said Tamin eagerly, taking the halter. He went up to the little horse and said to him: “I am going to put the halter on you now. Though you do not need it, do you? We will do it simply to make Tyarmayél happy, for this is her barn and if she is not happy then none of the horses are happy, and I want you to be happy, dear one, and I so want to ride you! Come, Araval; let us go!”

Bandobras groaned as Tamin slipped the halter over the horse’s head. “Don’t call him Araval! That’s a terrible name!”

“Lord Araval likes his name well enough, does he not, Master?” said Tamin. Bandobras with a sigh opened the gate, and Tamin led the little white horse through. “I do not think it disrespectful to name a horse after a man, if you do not use his title. I would not call the horse Lord Araval; that would be impertinent, for though he is a dear animal, he is a horse and not a lord.”

“Fear not, my Bandobras,” said Legolas as they followed Tamin out of the paddock into the bright noontide sun. “I am sure the Dun Knight would find this amusing.”

“It still don’t seem right,” muttered Bandobras. He looked critically up at the white horse’s croup. “Not much to his backside, is there, Tyarmayél?”

“He is strong enough,” she smiled. “A willing worker, and very energetic. Take him into that eastern ring, Tamin. He has a lively character, and has already learnt how to unfasten the bolts on the stall doors; not two nights ago we caught him wandering round the barn, trying to let the mares out. He even lets the goats’ kids hop up onto his back and ride round on him, and makes up to the barn cats. If Tamin must fall in love with a horse he at least chose one with good temperament, though I am not certain he will like the action.”

“I can see that, just by watching him walk,” said Legolas. He shut the gate after Tamin and the three of them stood watching as Tamin led the white horse into the center of the ring. “He steps very high, though the cadence is good. You are certain, Tyarmayél, he will not throw my Tamin? I do not wish for my little esquire to come to any mischief.”

“There is no harm in this beast,” Tyarmayél assured him. “If he become agitated and Tamin fall, he will not trample him or seek to hurt him in any way. He is simply ugly and short.”

Tamin pulled the mounting block up to the little horse’s side, smiling excitedly; they could hear him speaking but could not descry his words. The horse’s ears swiveled to and fro, and his dark eyes were fixed on Tamin; unlike most cart horses his head was up, set and proud, and he regarded his new charge with spirited interest. Legolas held his breath. He did not want Tamin to be hurt; in his mind’s eye he could see the beast bucking and bolting, and his poor little esquire left crumpled in the dirt. “Tyarmayél,” he said anxiously; “you are certain – “

“Dear me, my lord; you are as bad as an old woman sometimes,” said Tyarmayél cheerfully. “Pull yourself up, Tamin!” she called out. “Do not put all your weight on his back at once. Let him feel you slide onto him.”

“Shall I be getting the splints and strappings now, my lord?” asked Bandobras dryly as Tamin draped himself across the horse’s back. Legolas bit his lip and tightened his grip on the rail.

The horse did not move, but tipped its large head round to see what Tamin was doing. Tamin looked up at him through his tangled golden hair and grinned; the horse whickered. Suddenly Tamin grasped the horse by the mane and jumped on.

“Tamin!” exclaimed Tyarmayél. “That is not – “

“It is all right, Tyarmayél!” called Tamin happily. “Look! See; he has no notion of bolting!”

Sure enough the horse stood still and patient, and Tamin patted his neck. Legolas watched, his heart in his mouth, as Tamin had the horse walk to the rail and start a great circle.

The walk was big for such a small animal, but surprisingly smooth. After one full pass, during which time Tamin’s beaming face outshone the sunlight, they heard him say: “Trot.”

This the horse did not seem to take to as readily; it was a jarring, jolting gait, and as they jogged by Tamin said through rattling teeth: “I d-do n-n-not li-i-i-ke his-s tro-o-ot at-t a-a-a-a-l-l-l!!!!” But then he clicked and the trot melted away into the most beautiful canter Legolas had ever seen.

“Ha!” said Tyarmayél. “Oh!” said Legolas. And, “Well, well!” said Bandobras, and Tamin laughed and spread his arms wide, holding on to the horse with his legs as he floated weightlessly round the ring. “I am flying, flying!” he called with delight. “My little white horse, you have wings on your feet!” The little white horse broke gait into a full gallop, which was if anything smoother than the canter, and Tamin grasping the mane laughed and laughed and laughed. His golden hair, and the horse’s white mane and tail, streamed along behind them; and it seemed to the Green Knight the white horse shone beneath Tamin’s sober black clothes, like the new moon holding the old moon in its arms. He took a deep breath, relieved, but his heart yet hammering. Tyarmayél laughed and patted her lord’s hand.

“You see, my lord? Naught to worry about; I told you he was a good beast. And see that canter? I had but brought him up to a trot when I longued him, and thought only he had a terrible gait. Well it serves me right not cantering him; what pretty action!”

Tamin with a whoop brought the little white horse up to them; it stopped, snorting and pawing, eager to go on. Tamin’s hair was in disarray, and he had white horse hair all over his black tunic, but his face was brighter than the day. “O is he not a dear! Is he not beautiful! O Tyarmayél do not sell him, I beg you; Master, Master, do not allow Tyarmayél to sell him, please! I want to ride him whenever I come to the barn, Master; tell Tyarmayél she must not sell him!”

“And who’s giving the orders now?” asked Bandobras, winking at Legolas, who out of relief laughed and brushed it aside.

“Mine esquires are commanded to command,” he said. He turned to Tyarmayél. “Well, stablemistress? We had discussed getting a new mount for Tamin, since his bay mare is elderly. What say you?”

She grimaced. “Well it is a good thing Tamin is only an esquire,” she said. “I would not put a knight or lord on such a humble beast, good action or no. But it is rare to find a horse with whom one has such sudden sympathy, and I can tell simply by the way they move together that they shall ride as one. I have no objections, my lord.”

“Hear you that, my Tamin?” smiled Legolas. “He is yours! But you must not name him Araval, for though that good knight might find it amusing, many in the courts of Minas Tirith would consider it discourteous, and feel we slighted our Lord of Tarlang. You may call him Isilmë, which is a good name for a white horse.”

“Isilmë!” Tamin threw his arms round the horse’s thick neck. “O I am so happy, Master! Thank you, thank you!” And flinging himself from the horse’s back he clambered over the rails and into Legolas’ arms, embracing him enthusiastically. “My own little horse! O thank you, thank you, Master! I want to ride and ride and ride! May we ride now, Master? O please let us ride, let us take Isilmë and your Hammer out and ride and ride and ride! Please, please, Master!” He hopped up and down, his eyes shining, and Legolas laughed. “Please, please!”

“Well, since you ask so prettily!” he said, and turning to Tyarmayél he said: “Tamin and I shall put Isilmë through his paces, stablemistress! You may get you to the weightier matter of the Blue Knight’s pony. Yes, Tamin, I am going! Get Isilmë to the allure and I will meet you there. Would you like to come along, my Bandobras? You may ride with me on Hammer whilst Tyarmayél sees to Spark.”

“I’d love to, my lord, truly I would,” said Bandobras, watching with amusement Tamin leap and dance; Isilmë seemed to appreciate it though, and kept trying to catch Tamin by the edge of his tunic with his teeth, stirring the boy into laughter. “But I’ve invited Gimli up to my place for a drink and a smoke before luncheon, and he’s going to show me the shaffron he’s designed for Spark, so I’ll pass on that. You two’ll be galloping off anyway, and I’d rather not find myself a-dangling on a tree branch in the fray.”

“Very well, then, Bandobras!” said Legolas, embracing him. “Thank you, Tyarmayél; I will get me to Hammer then, and should Galás or Laivánwa come seeking me, to sign papers, or meet with dignitaries, or pass amercements, you shall say that you rather think I have stepped out, but do not know whither I might have got myself.”

“I did not even see you leave, my lord,” said Tyarmayél, winking, and as Tamin leapt again upon his little white horse she and Bandobras watched Legolas return to the barn.

“Was I that bad, Tyarmayél, when I was a lad?” asked Bandobras thoughtfully, watching Tamin as he chattered excitedly to his new mount.

“I do not think Tamin is bad at all, Bandobras,” chided Tyarmayél. “And yes, you were.”

Bandobras snorted. “Well, he’ll likely grow out of it as I did,” he said.

“O I hope not!” exclaimed Tyarmayél, and led him back to the crossties.