(A/N: Fifty points to the house of your choice, if you can locate the mangled celebrity quote hidden in this chapter! And many, many, many thanks and house points to my beta, Nieriel Raina, who not only betaed this chapter for me twice, she did so while her little Elfling was down with pneumonia. Send her prayers and virtual chocolates, everyone.

-- Le Rouret)

7. The Sons of Denethor

Bandobras did not think much of the breakfast – “I was joking, my lord, when I said an egg and a rasher and a pot of tea,” he said discontentedly as they rode into the forest. “That’s hardly filled up my chinks and hollows nohow. And we won’t get to Lord Faramir’s ‘til after luncheon!” But Kaimelas had brought a packet of pastries with him, secreted in the waggon by his lady wife; and Bandobras and Kaimelas made short work of them, though they very generously left a few for those who did not at that time indulge, in particularly the gooseberry pastries, which they did not care for. Tamin was far too excited to eat; he had not touched his breakfast, but continually fretted over whether he had packed enough, or too much, or if he had packed the right quantity had remembered everything he needed, or perhaps he had forgotten to remember something which he would remember he had forgotten later when it was too late to remember forgotten things; and he kept dashing back and forth from hearth to dressing-room to make sure Kaimelas had packed his Master’s white robe, or to refill Bandobras’ tea-cup, or to check his own bag to ensure he had packed extra hose, or to inquire whether his Master had finished eating yet, or to chivvy the scully to take the dishes away to wash up. He was in a fever of anxiety to leave – “For the sooner we leave, Master, the sooner we will be there, and the longer I shall have to spend with Fastred!” – and communicated his eagerness to his little Isilmë who pranced about and tossed his head, much to Hammer’s disgust; Hammer was a great big black brute of a destrier and took his job quite seriously, looking askance at the small white stallion who gamboled beside him in so frivolous and undignified a manner. Legolas watched his esquire with amusement; it was immeasurably refreshing to see such innocent zeal, and Tamin’s clear voice was very beautiful as he sang to the birds in the branches above them.

Legolas had tried to sleep the night before, but rest eluded him. He had lain in his big canopied bed, sleek golden head pillowed in down, his softest night clothes and coverlets to caress his skin and a sachet of orris root to soothe him; but whenever he closed his eyes, he seemed to hear that low hissing voice – Crawl, harlot; crawl – and heart racing he would lie still, staring at the luffing bed curtains, ears straining to hear the words but descrying naught but nightly noises. He had surrendered before daybreak, and Kaimelas had found him sitting in his night-shirt upon the balcony balustrade, staring north with fixed and vacant eyes. Kaimelas had said nothing; Legolas knew he and Galás conspired together, and that Kaimelas was watching him closely; ordinarily this would have irritated Legolas but now he found it oddly comforting.

They traversed the smooth paved roads out of Dol Galenehtar, and thence the rough track down to the River. When they descended from the high steppes and quit the forest they saw Osgiliath, shining white in the noonday sun, silver-girt, spire-crowned, spanning the Anduin with springing arched bridges, green and white and gleaming in the fresh clear air. The wind tore at their hair and their traveling cloaks, and pushed and bent the pine-tops, roaring and soughing. They heard the far-off noise of the tailrace and the light jingle-jangle of the noon bells, and Bandobras sighed in relief.

“We might make it for luncheon after all,” he said to Kaimelas, who drove the waggon. “Look! There’s a party of falconers below us; I can’t make them out though – who is that, Kaimelas?”

There was a bright green oval of a clearing below them, ringed round with trees; one of the minor tracks from Osgiliath split it, going from the river up into the woods. On the track a half-dozen horses stood round, and on their backs sat young people in gay clothing, holding falcons. Kaimelas shaded his hands with his long brown hand to determine their identities, but Tamin upon looking spoke first, very excitedly: “O it is Fastred! It is Fastred and Léodwyn, and many others; they are brightly dressed and young – I suppose they are of the court too, and friends of Fastred’s. Look at their beautiful birds! And Fastred has the white goshawk Andunië gave to him for his sixteenth birthday! And he is on Karakse! See, Isilmë? That is Karakse; he is the steed of my good friend and he shall be your friend too. And O look, Master, Fastred and Léodwyn are riding together; is that not a good sign, Master? Perhaps they have made up after all! O may I go to them, Master? Only to greet them I promise; I will go and greet Fastred and come back as quick as I can, I promise, Master! May I go? May I?”

“Let him go, Legolas, ere he flies apart,” said Gimli, and laughing Legolas said: “Yes, Little One, you may go; indeed I do say to you that if it be your good pleasure you might join with them in their hunt, for I perceive they go out and not in.”

“Are you sure, Master?” asked Tamin eagerly, torn. “For it would be unseemly for you to enter Osgiliath without your esquire, and I would not want anyone to speak of you or your retainers in a disparaging manner, for as you know, Master, it is the esquire’s duty to maintain his Master’s reputation in the deportment and behavior of his retainers, in particular his esquire, and if you are unattended – “

“My Tamin,” said Legolas with a smile, “I have here with me the Lord of Aglarond, the Blue Knight of Dol Galenehtar, and Kaimelas my valet. Do you truly think I enter the city unattended? They possess sufficient importance I deem to accompany me with full gravity. Go you therefore to Fastred and foregather with him; it is long since you and he were given the opportunity to spend such time together.”

“O thank you, Master!” exclaimed Tamin delightedly, and speaking to Isilmë they dashed down the road and across the clearing to where the little hunting party was clustered.

Fastred sat upon his great piebald Karakse, and Léodwyn upon her grey mare Éofil, and round about them were sundry other young folk from Lord Faramir’s court, though Tamin saw to his relief Halgond was not numbered among them. They all looked up as he cantered up to them; Léodwyn seemed to look with veiled approval upon him, though the rest of Fastred’s little court appeared ill at ease; some strange expression passed across Fastred’s face, which Tamin could not read, but it was quickly gone and covered with a pleasant smile.

“Tamin!” he exclaimed as Tamin brought Isilmë in with a grin. “What a surprise! What are you and Lord Legolas doing here so soon, when we but foregathered a fortnight ago?”

“O something about a leech,” said Tamin dismissively. He stared at Fastred’s chin in amazement; it had sprouted many black hairs, which seemed to creep up the sides of his cheeks and over his upper lip. He had not realized Fastred was old enough to grow hair on his face, and he blurted in surprise: “You are growing a beard!”

“Yes,” said Fastred, fingering the protruding hairs with satisfaction. “I am pleased with it so far; I think it makes me look older, do you not?”

Léodwyn gave a contemptuous sniff, which Fastred ignored. Tamin privately thought the half-grown beard looked sparse and ridiculous, but he did not wish to hurt Fastred’s feelings by saying so; all he said was: “Well it does make you look older, that is quite true, Fastred.” He slid from Isilmë’s back, expecting Fastred to do the same so they might embrace; however it appeared no one wished to take his goshawk from him for Fastred remained seated. Karakse did his master one better, thrusting a curious nose at Isilmë, who answered the gesture with a whicker and a huff; the two horses prodded each other with interest. “You are going hunting, Fastred?” asked Tamin, hoping to fill the awkward silence. Seeing Léodwyn looked peevish he said, “Hello, Léodwyn! It is good to see you; I did not have much chance to speak to you before when you were at court.” He added as an afterthought, remembering something his father would oftimes do to his mother to get her in good temper: “I like your riding-skirt; it is very pretty.”

“Hello, Tamin,” said Léodwyn politely, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Fastred. “Thank you; it is new. Your little white horse has a lovely canter.”

“Has he not?” asked Tamin proudly, stroking Isilmë’s velvety nose. “I am so fond of him for he has the sweetest disposition! I have named him Isilmë – or rather, my Master said I must name him Isilmë; I was going to name him Araval, but Bandobras said I should not, and so his name is Isilmë.” He turned again to Fastred, who was watching him with an odd expression on his face. Tamin did not know what to make of it and he felt uncomfortable. “Are … are you hunting grouse, Fastred?”

“Well we are quite obviously not hunting rabbit,” said one boy next to Fastred, rather scornfully. Tamin blinked in surprise, and Fastred’s cheeks went pink; but he only said with careful politesse: “Yes, O Tamin; we are hunting grouse.”

“Do ask him to join us!” urged a pretty pink-clad girl on Fastred’s other side. She simpered at Tamin and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “You may hold my falcon for me if you like, Tamin.”

“’You may hold my falcon for me, Tamin,’” said another boy in a high derisive voice, and several of the other boys sniggered. The girl in pink tossed her head and said, her eye on Léodwyn:

“O do not mind their bad manners, pretty Tamin; they are but jealous of your good looks.”

“I – “ said Tamin in confusion, but one of the other boys replied with rancor: “I am surprised at you, Iordreth; for do you not disparage those with prettier faces than you? If Tamin here were to join us, he would be the prettiest face among us, yours notwithstanding.”

Tamin blushed scarlet and looked plaintively at Fastred; Fastred seemed very uncomfortable and darted an angry look at the boy. “That is quite enough, Filgond,” he muttered.

“But it is true!” laughed another boy. “Do you not look so angry, you maids! Yes, Iordreth, he is prettier than you and you are a girl. Do you bring your little friend along with you, Lord Fastred; I want to see that funny-looking little horse of his keep up with us!”

Isilmë snorted; Tamin agreed with his estimation of their manners, but said nothing, expecting Fastred to reprimand his friends; however Fastred merely looked awkwardly away. But Léodwyn said imperiously: “Quiet, the both of you! How you chatter! Let Tamin alone; it is not his fault he is pretty.”

“O and who are you now, Léodwyn, to order us about so?” demanded Filgond. “Being lady’s-maid to Lady Éowyn has gone to your head, has it not?”

Iordreth appeared to find this amusing, for she gave a mellifluous laugh, and leaning over to Fastred she laid one hand on his sleeve. “Come, Lord Fastred,” she said, giving Léodwyn a saucy look. “Tell your little friend to join us; he is so distractingly pretty, and of course, you well know I have a weakness for pretty boys, do I not, Lord Fastred?”

The other boys laughed, and Fastred blushed; he seemed unable to meet Tamin’s eye though, and said gruffly: “Well, do you want to hunt with us or not?”

Tamin’s heart sank to his shoes, and he swallowed, feeling next to tears. He did not want to hunt with this assembly; they made him very uneasy, and he did not understand why Fastred did not make them stop. “I had best not,” he said a little stiffly, hoping his chagrin did not show overmuch; he did not want to display his vexation before Fastred’s friends. “I have only come to bid good-day; I must go with my Master now.”

“Ah yes, the Lord Legolas!” exclaimed another girl in a blue riding frock. “Now he has a pretty face, has he not, girls? I declare I should run after him too, little Tamin!” All the girls giggled, except Léodwyn, who sat stiff and uncomfortable upon her Éofil, and one of the boys said sardonically:

“Well get you hence, pretty boy, and go wait upon your pretty master. We have no falcons for you to borrow anyway.”

“He may borrow mine,” said the girl in blue, winking at Tamin.

“No, thank you,” said Tamin in a small voice. He scrambled up Isilmë’s back and looked at Fastred. Fastred was biting his lip and looking everywhere else but at Tamin. Tamin felt then that perhaps his visit to Osgiliath might not be so fun as he had anticipated, if Fastred’s friends were so oddly inclined. “I will see you at dinner, then, Lord Fastred,” he said, a little formally, and turning Isilmë cantered away, hearing the voices and laughter of the young courtiers behind him. But then overall he heard the thudding of great heavy hooves, and he turned and paused; Fastred was coming up to him alone upon Karakse, and his grey eyes were grieved.

“Tamin,” he panted, reining Karakse in. “It is just – it is not that – “ he stammered a little, then ran his gauntleted hand through his hair. “I would like to hunt with you,” he said, and Tamin’s heart lightened. “But not with them. They do not – they are not – well, they do not understand,” he said apologetically. “The girls – they – and well, the boys – “ He let his voice run out, and sighed, looking at Tamin with eyes both affectionate and frustrated. “It is hard to explain,” he said.

“It must be,” said Tamin with a smile, feeling better. “You seem to be having a hard job of it. Do you not think of it; we will hunt some other time, you and I.” They sat and smiled at each other, while Isilmë and Karakse resumed poking each other with their noses; at last Tamin said reluctantly: “Well go with your friends, Fastred; your goshawk is waiting, and you know what Andunië would say if she knew you let someone else hold him!”

“So I do!” laughed Fastred. “She would have my head, would she not, Tamin? Well then, I will see you at dinner, Tamin my friend; but you shall be serving Lassah and we will not be able to speak freely. Come to my rooms when dinner is wound up, and we shall be wonderfully alone; I promise we shall have a jolly time then!”

“Your rooms?” asked Tamin in surprise. “You do not share the nursery with Théodred and Hísimë any longer?”

“Of course not,” said Fastred, his eyes flickering with annoyance. “I am not a child anymore.” He glanced over his shoulder to where his friends sat and waited upon him. “Well,” he said uncomfortably. “I will be off then.”

“Very well,” said Tamin, bewildered and a little unhappy. He and Isilmë stood and watched Fastred canter away; he saw Fastred take his goshawk from the boy beside him, and the young people all rode off into the woods. Only Iordreth looked back and waved, but Tamin did not return her gesture; she had made him feel very peculiar. Instead he with heavy heart went back up the hill to the road. His Master and the rest of his party had gone on, expecting him to go hunt with his friend; so alone Tamin entered Osgiliath, unmarked even by the guards at the gate. Feeling very young and insignificant indeed, Tamin went unaccompanied into the citadel.

O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O

“Now then, Legolas,” said Faramir, pushing his chair away from his desk and casting a much-used and smudged piece of blotting paper into the corner of his office. He stretched out his legs and leant back, putting his hands behind his head and regarding the Elf lord with wry amusement. “What has got you on pins-and-needles? You have chased off my guests, my wife, my children, my various courtiers and guards; you have sent Kaimelas and Gimli and Bandobras away, and you have teased and goaded even Hísimë’s poor pet cat ‘til it fled from you out the window to escape your harassment. And here you sit, restless and unable to even enjoy your wine – such doings are portents of calamities of great magnitude! Did I know you less well, I should think you were in love.”

“Then I am thankful you know me well enough to recognize that I have not the lover’s disposition,” said Legolas wryly. He unfolded his long limbs from the comfortable chair in which he sat and stalked restively about Faramir’s office. They had all changed and lunched, and Legolas had held court at Éowyn’s right hand with bright banter and good humor, charming a visiting foreign dignitary and his wife, getting their two young daughters to flutter their eye-lashes at him, and further convincing Turgon of Minas Tirith, Elessar’s seneschal who was calling on a minor affair of state, that the Lord of Dol Galenehtar was quite possibly the drollest and most aggravating of his Majesty’s vassals. After the formalities of the meal and subsequent entertainments had wound up, Legolas had claimed urgency and hauled Lord Faramir away, locking the office door behind them, and pulling the key out of the lock; he had then, to Faramir’s astonishment, taken out a large linen handkerchief, and stuffed it unceremoniously in the key hole; but having taken these precautions Legolas seemed unable to disclose his mind, and simply sat and poked Hísimë’s cat until it in disgust jumped up on the window-sill and thence to the gardens below.

Faramir sat and waited; he was full from luncheon, and the room was warm, though a breeze stirred through the windows and brought thereupon the scents of rose-bushes and herb-gardens, and the faintest far-away scent of the River. The bells in the campaniles rang the fifth hour, and somewhere far below them a flock of grebes set up a jarring chorus. Faramir watched his friend stalk round the room; Legolas seemed uneasy, and puzzled and unhappy; this was so contrary to what Faramir knew of his friend’s nature that he could not help but feel apprehensive. At last Legolas paused and turned, and fixing Faramir with an intense look in his bright gray eyes said: “When you dream, do you always dream true?”

Faramir was surprised; he did not of habit discuss his tendency to dream and have visions, not even with Legolas who had never seemed to find it odd enough to comment upon before. It was unusual for any Man to dream thus, and he had been taken to task for it by his family; therefore he did not speak of his dreams at all, not fearing censure or disapproval, but lack of understanding; Elessar had been the only Man in Faramir’s acquaintance who did not think Faramir’s visions peculiar, and they did not discuss them. Indeed the only way Legolas knew of Faramir’s dreams was something Frodo the Halfling had said once, that Faramir son of Denethor had dreamt not only of the Ring and Imladris, but of his brother Boromir’s death. Legolas, unlike Faramir’s other friends and acquaintances, did not appear to find this unusual at all, and simply had mentioned it once or twice before without displaying much interest at all in the phenomenon. Faramir for himself found this refreshing; he was glad to know that Legolas knew of his especial defect, yet did not comment on it, nor seem to find it odd or off-putting; in many ways Legolas was a comfort to Faramir, despite his strangeness and rather erratic nature, and betimes Faramir found himself wondering what proud Boromir had thought of this impetuous and oftimes maddening Elf. “No,” Faramir said thoughtfully, looking out the window at the cloud-streaked blue sky, the black forms of rooks wheeling about in it. “Most of the time my dreams are only dreams; they are but the meandering inner fancies of my mind as I sleep. Bereft of my control my mind wanders down odd paths during slumber, and the visions visited me have neither form nor sense. Such as these do not come true, nor speak truly to me. Indeed it would be awkward to have all my dreams come true – we should be inundated with talking shears, or floating cities, or those long dead.”

“Talking shears!” exclaimed Legolas looking startled, and laughed. “Yes; that would be awkward – and think how the sheep would feel! But tell me, when you dream, Faramir, or have visions that tell you of the future, how do you know they are true visions, and not your inner eye entertaining itself with your imagination? I mean, what tells you that your dream says thus-and-so shall happen, or is of import, and is worthy of your attention; or that your mind simply wanders at will, divulging nothing of interest or consequence? How do you tell dreams of talking shears from dreams of evil portent?”

“Well, silly things are rarely worth worrying over,” said Faramir with a smile. “The talking shears, for example; it would be madness to suppose there was any weight in that beyond determining I should not ingest smoked fish before retiring. Most of those pictures of dream-land are like that, silly and insignificant. But other dreams and visions I have had, which have turned out to be visions of some import; these weigh upon me more heavily than those simple night-time views of garden-variety doings and mine own fears. I can tell the difference, even as I am within the vision, between some common dream, and something of grave consequence.”

“Oh,” said Legolas, and sat back down; he did not look as though Faramir’s answer had comforted him. He too turned his eyes out doors, but did not seem to be admiring the view much; he appeared troubled and uneasy. “Your visions then are quite different from your usual dreams, and thus it is simple for you to tell what you should pay attention to, and what you should dismiss as smoked fish.”

“Yes,” said Faramir. Legolas was silent, his silvery eyes abstracted; he seemed to Faramir to be elsewhere, seeing evil things. At that moment a frisson of unease went through the Lord of Emyn Arnen, and the sensation of being dragged backwards, through the balmy spring air, past the cold white walls of his city, into some terrible and dark place. He turned in confusion to his friend, and saw stamped upon Legolas’ fair face a look of dread and grief; his eyes were blinded by tears and soot and blood, and he lifted his face and his bloodied hands to the dark sky and cried aloud his despair. And even as Faramir shook the vision from before his eyes he heard muttering, as though an evil voice spoke to his friend: “Crawl, harlot; crawl … “

He passed his hands before his eyes, deeply shaken; the room returned round him, holding him in with its quiet safety, and Faramir took a deep shaky breath. He turned to his friend; Legolas had pulled his limbs back round himself, and sat staring with wide eyes at him, his chin upon his knees, his long arms wrapped round his legs. He looked young then, younger than even Tamin, as though all the centuries had fallen away from him and he was helpless, hopeless, and without strength. “You heard it too, did you not, my friend?” Legolas asked in a low voice; he clutched at his knees, and his knuckles were white.

“I did!” said Faramir much disturbed. He looked round the room; the sun shone brightly through the windows, and the breeze was fresh; but Faramir could have sworn he smelled smoke and decay. “This is no mere dream, Legolas,” he said. “Something is warning you; something is trying to tell you that there are dangers ahead of you. Heed these voices, as they touch me as well! And tell me, O my friend, what is this vision of yours, that visits itself upon me too? When you dream, what do you see, Legolas?”

Legolas shook his head, looking very distraught. “I was ready to dismiss it,” he whispered, his eyes downcast; “but two nights running has it disturbed my rest, and I knew I must needs confer with you on it, or go mad with it.” And slowly he related to Faramir the visions he had, of the serpent and the voice and the smell of rotting flesh and fire; and ever Faramir’s face grew graver, and Legolas, as he remembered the dream, grew paler. “And last night,” said Legolas, winding up his tale, “I dreamt again of my Lord Father’s ring, a pale white gem set in mithril, and the hand that bore it twisted and torn in agony. But whose hand is it, mine or his? O that it were mine, and I could spare him this grief! Tell me, Faramir, what I should do; I have never suffered dreams like this, and am reluctant to dismiss them; for what if I dream true, as do you and your son; what if there is some calamity of which I am warned in this fashion, and I must attend to it, or risk the fall of Eryn Lasgalen? What would you do, O Faramir? Advise me please; I can speak to no one of this save Gimli, who accords it full gravity; I know of no one, Elf or Man or Dwarf, who dreams such save you and Fastred. What would you do? Would you go to Eryn Lasgalen? For I tell you truly, that is my impulse; gladly would I cast aside all dignity and trappings and flee north to my Lord Father, even if it meant he but stared at me in amazement and told me nothing was wrong!”

“Legolas,” said Faramir unhappily; “well do I know the vilification accorded one in the unveiling of such visions, and blame you not for your reticence. Also do I commend you greatly in coming to me with this, for I have been in this position before, and more than any of your advisors, wise and ancient and highly esteemed though they might be, I feel I am better able to counsel you in this matter. But do not I beg of you force my opinion of me too soon! Let me sleep on this rather, and ruminate on it full willing; perhaps in the darkness of mine own dreams shall elucidation come, and I be better able to inform you.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair, shaking his head. “Like Gimli, I do not dismiss this as fearful shadows, for what have you ever feared that brought you so low as this?” he asked. “Not winged shadow nor death impending nor wounds agonizing have been for you unbearable; even in your darkest hours have I observed you placid and vigilant. Nay; I do perceive this as a grave and critical matter, full deserving careful counsel. Tarry with me betimes, and enjoy the hospitality of my house; cover your disquiet with food and song, and allow me time to deeply consider what I might tell you.”

“My dear Faramir!” exclaimed Legolas, and springing up, he went to embrace his friend. “That you have listened and accorded me full gravity gives to me the ability to sing and eat with lightness and joy, and I will no longer be constrained to pretend jollity as I did at your table during luncheon – how suspiciously Kaimelas did regard me, to be certain! – so, as the stew well-prepared is brought to toothsome maturity by slow careful simmering, put this conundrum of mine upon the back of your mind and tomorrow you may better tell me your opinion of this matter. I trust you, Faramir,” he said with a grateful smile. “I know you will speak truthfully to me, and that I might depend on your guidance; for well you know that if left to myself I will simply run off, trusting to luck and the sharp edge of my sword to see me through.”

“So you would!” smiled Faramir. “But perchance I plan overmuch and wait too long; a little impetuousness might do me good at times.”

“Balance then,” said Legolas with a laugh. He looked very relieved, and said: “How glad I am I divulged my thoughts to you – how light my heart is, now that the burden is shared with you. And how fortunate I am, O Faramir, that I have one such as you, a brother to whom I might whisper my heart’s groanings, and who accords to me full consideration. None have I in Middle Earth save you and Gimli, and perchance your Lady Wife Éowyn, who to me a sister is. So shall I be the impetuous one, Faramir, and you the prudent, so betwixt us two symmetry be achieved.” He clambered then upon the window sill, folding his long limbs beneath him; the sun struck the back of his head and illuminated his pale hair like a cloud in bright fulgence, and the breeze stirred the silken threads so they waved round his head bright and golden. The light glimmered upon the beaded epaulettes and breastpiece of his white doublet, and when he raised his arms to take the top of the window bars in his hands his cuffs sparkled with gems. Like the sun star-speckled did he seem to the son of Denethor then, and his eyes like silver mirrors glittered full of good humor and fierce faith. “And now, O Faramir son of Denethor, Lord of Osgiliath,” laughed Legolas, “shall you balance me yet again? Look! The sun westers, and the water is dimpled with bugs and broken by the trout’s mouth – “

Faramir’s eyes creased as he smiled; it was so easy for Legolas to lead him astray, despite Faramir’s strong sense of duty. “And Éowyn did purchase for me a new fishing-rod,” he said innocently; “and Théodred, that little scoundrel, was caught secreting a great quantity of beetles in the bread-dough last night … “

“Beetles, is it?” said Legolas, his eyes wide and ingenuous. “Ah! With wiggling legs and squirming bodies; how the trout snap and lunge at them! Good fat trout, bright and speckled and sweet! Did you perchance relieve Théodred of these beetles, Faramir?”

“I did,” said Faramir solemnly. “A big bell-jar full of them, wriggling and writhing, begging to be baited.”

“Hm!” said Legolas thoughtfully. “Well, we did tell your courtiers that you would be in conference some time; I am certain no one will come seeking us … yet.”

“And you will further throw off Kaimelas’ wonderings, if he thinks you conferred in secrecy with me for the sole purpose of going fishing,” Faramir added. Legolas grinned and rubbed his hands together.

“We had better change though,” he said, going to fetch his handkerchief from the door; “for if we soil our good clothes, neither your wife nor my valet shall be overly pleased with us!”

“True,” said Faramir, looking down at his own fine black doublet. “Oiled hose and leather tunics will, I think, be more appropriate than such dainty attire. After all we would not want to cause our retainers any distress.”

“We are very considerate, are we not?” asked Legolas, his eyes sparkling as bright as his epaulettes. “Where is your coracle, Faramir?”

“Tied up beneath the northern wall,” said Faramir. “To my knowledge Fastred has not descried my hiding-hole … I shall be there as soon as I have changed; mind you do not get caught!”

“Trust me for that, my friend!” laughed Legolas, his eyes twinkling mischievously, and slipped silently out