(A/N: Again, thanks to my wonderful beta, Nieriel Raina, for her help in getting this chapter worthy to be posted! And many thanks to those readers who have left reviews; you're all so encouraging. And for those of you who wondered how Spike did trailering to another barn after 3 1/2 years at the same location, he's fine, and making friends with another quarterhorse, Jaxx. My daughter and I will be at Horse Boot Camp all week, and staying over at my parents' house, so writing time will be limited. But not to worry! Chapter 15 is forthcoming, I promise!

--Le Rouret)

The Great Hall in Lake Town was low-ceilinged and smoky. Tallow candles guttered and flickered in the lamps, and the torches spat and hissed in their sconces. The buttery hatch was blackened and greasy, and the floor strewn with musty, sticky rushes which looked as though they had not been swept out for a year. Legolas had been a guest in Lake Town on many occasions, and had feasted in the Hall; he had seen all its permutations: from an open field with one clay oven, seated upon the grass, when Esgaroth had been but a poor tiny village and the Elvenking and his son an enigma, through its first shaky wooden foundations, its stone walls erected after Smaug’s demise, and later improvements as the fortunes of Lake Town and Dale were built upon the wealth of the Elves of Mirkwood and the Dwarves of Erebor. The Master’s quarters had also improved; ever before the elected Master had lived in his own little hovel, but resultant wealth required palpable expression of importance, and now the Masters of Esgaroth had their own little palace, to which they might aspire as but wise men of the town. Each subsequent Master brought his own advances, so that as time wore on the Master’s quarters grew more and more grand; and it seemed to Legolas that Malbeach had been no exception. But though its steps were new and it had been expanded to include part of the Square, the quarters and the Hall had a neglected look; it was dirty, and unkempt; there were no maidservants about, and nothing had been cleaned in what appeared to be a very long time. Legolas trod on an old bone as he stepped beneath the lintel, and looked down; during the short walk from his chamber in the back of the Master’s quarters to the Hall the edges of his splendid white gown had turned grey. He grinned.

“Bandobras will be furious,” he said to Gimli, who was looking past the lintel suspiciously at the long low tables and shouting, laughing men.

“Bandy has other things to worry about,” said Gimli. “Quite frankly I am glad you listened to Kaimelas, and kept him and Tamin in our rooms. I hope Kaimelas has more luck than we, sneaking round the stables; I want to know what happened to those two knights you jousted today.” He peered round the Hall. “Look, Legolas! Malbeach is not here. And there are no Dwarves.”

“I am uncertain whether that is a good or a bad thing, Gimli,” said Legolas. “I would like to have some of your stout kinsmen here; but I would hesitate to think they approved of the new Master; however, I believe I might bear Malbeach’s absence with a certain phlegmatic pragmatism.”

“Hush!” Gimli looked behind them carefully and added in a low voice: “I do fear me we might trust no one in this place, Legolas!”

“You are so pessimistic!” exclaimed Legolas, shaking the dust out of his robe. “They cannot be all bad. Yes; Malbeach and his Men are undoubtedly violent and base; but look to the Lady!” He gestured with one glittering jeweled arm to the head of the High Table (“Naught but a gimcrack trestle,” muttered Gimli discontentedly, thinking of the magnificent Hall of the Green Knight he had designed himself). Renna of Dale sat there with her ladies’ maids, her diadem sparkling with gems and her face fair and pink and happy; her brown eyes were friendly and her mouth smiled. She felt their regard upon her and turned; when her eyes met Legolas’ she started, then lit up like a lantern, her cheeks mantling. Legolas bowed his head to her, and she blushed deeply and dropped her eyes, then looked shyly through her lashes at him. Gimli snorted.

“That’s an old trick,” he said as they passed through the blackened lintel.

“A charming one though,” protested Legolas. “Especially when the perpetrator is so fair!” Gimli did not deign to reply to this; he was suspicious of his friend’s good humor, for it seemed inauspicious for Legolas to be so bright when circumstances were so dark; this mood usually presaged either a surge of temper, or a maddeningly humorous twist, neither of which in Gimli’s opinion were very apposite to the current turmoil. “Elves!” he sighed to himself, and when the herald approached them, he said gruffly to the Man:

“Announce his royal highness, Legolas Prince of Eryn Lasgalen. And let us not have any of this ‘Mirkwood’ business, boy; that name is right out!”

“And who are you, Dwarf, to tell me my business?” demanded the herald rudely, sneering down at Gimli. “We do not let your kind in here.”

“This is Lord Gimli of Aglarond, the son of the inestimable Glóin of Erebor,” said Legolas, his expression stern; he glared down at the young man, who flinched back in surprise. “And I will thank you to keep your loutish judgments to yourself, or I shall surely shorten you to my friend’s height, and let him deal with you as he pleases!”

“Temper, then,” thought Gimli with satisfaction; “I do not think I could take too much of his tomfoolery tonight!”

“Beg pardon,” the herald muttered, giving Legolas a hang-dog look; and he turned and announced loudly to the Hall: “His royal highness, Prince Legolas of Mir- of Eryn Lasgalen!”

There was a great deal of raucous cheering then, but Legolas did not move; he turned back to the herald and said icily: “And?”

The herald resentfully added, “And Gimli Lord of Aglarond,” and without a backward glance stumped away. Gimli laughed, but Legolas looked affronted.

“The list of men to whom I must apply my whips is increasing,” he said as they stepped into the Hall. “Esgaroth’s courtesy has waned of late!”

“It matters not,” said Gimli as they made their way through the stinking rushes to the High Table. “One insignificant Man’s opinion of me does not change my letters patents in the slightest.”

“A Dwarf of your eminence ought rather to be treated with courtesy,” said Legolas under his breath. “And I do not like how he said ‘your kind.’ This bodes ill for Erebor, my friend.”

“No Elves either,” said Gimli, looking round. “We are the only ones of our ilk here, I fear.”

“That has happened many times before,” said Legolas. “In Osgiliath, and in Minas Tirith when the Queen is absent.”

“All the same I am discomfited,” said Gimli. “I do not trust these Men.”

“No more do I,” said Legolas with grim cheer. “Let us apply ourselves to the women then!”

“They are all fair enough,” owned Gimli, watching Renna and her maids; the ladies kept their eyes upon the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, contemplative and appreciative, murmuring and giggling to each other behind their hands. “A good thing it is that the opinions of the daughters of Men mean little to me; you are so handsome, Legolas, that I own they mark me not at all, when I stand beside you!”

“The daughters of Men are notoriously blind,” Legolas said softly, his grey eyes twinkling. “What proper and intelligent maid would not be delighted by someone as stout and brave and bearded as you?”

“And what proper and intelligent Dwarf would not be as delighted with a stout and brave and bearded maid?” grinned Gimli. “Nay,” he said critically, looking the women over; “they are too scrawny; mark those tiny waists, the thin little arms! And that one in blue I warrant has never done a day’s work in her life.”

“Well, they are decorative at least,” said Legolas with a shrug, “and perhaps they shall be fuddled enough with my good looks to let some secrets slip.”

“I wish you all the luck of that!” said Gimli. “After a time the tittering irritates me; that is why I drink when I am in court at Minas Tirith, for to be drunk and uncaring is preferable to listening to such aimless chatter.” He cast his gaze round the room again and said, “I am going to sit down at the end of the table, next to that man there; he looks drunk already and might be willing to talk. Enjoy your tittering companions, O Green Knight!”

“Shirker!” said Legolas lightly. Under his breath he added, “Remember, Gimli; we have naught but our suspicions; let us see what the opinions are hereabouts, and keep our own to ourselves. It is our fathers’ wellbeing we seek.” But Gimli saw that Legolas’ eyes were on Lady Renna, and Gimli wondered if he were thinking of Malbeach’s brutish ways, and the lady’s welfare.

“You remember it too!” muttered Gimli. “Do you not let the trollop’s fair face and pretty ways ensnare you, my friend!”

Legolas burst out laughing. “What a thought!” he whispered, his eyes shining. “Nay, Gimli; I shall play the foppish courtier, and flatter and cajole myself into her confidence; I shall not allow her feminine wiles to sway me!”

“See that you don’t!” warned Gimli, and the pair split; Gimli went to the drunkard at the end of the trestle, and Legolas presented himself before the ladies. Several of the younger ones were giggling, and watched him with rapt eyes; Renna straightened at his approach and touched her hair with trembling fingers. Her columbine lips parted in a smile and she said breathlessly: “Your highness!”

“My lady,” said Legolas with a warm smile, and bowed. She moved to rise but he arrested her saying, “Nay! There is no reason to courtesy, my lady; I am but a visiting knight from far away, and would not wish for you to disarrange yourself. You are a delightfully pretty picture where you are.” It was an innocent enough remark, but to Legolas’ discomfiture the ladies began to titter again, and to whisper behind their hands to each other, giving their lady arch looks; Renna blushed scarlet and looked at her plate, then raised her eyes to his. They were brown and shining like a deep dark river, glimmering with sunlight upon the waters; a wave of giddiness seemed to shimmer across the surface of Legolas’ consciousness and he blinked hard, seeking to clear his head. “I must be wearier than I imagined,” he thought, putting his fingertips on the table to reassure himself he still stood; the room appeared to be wobbly. “Or perchance I am so hungered I grow faint!” Then the wave of dizziness passed, and the lady came into focus again; she did not seem to have noticed his lapse for she was saying quite easily:

“Do you please, then; ‘twould be a great honor for me, your highness, though I am certain you will find our hospitality quite rough compared to what you are offered in the courts of the king in Minas Tirith!”

Legolas saw she had cleared one of the seats beside her, displacing her maids, who shot her indignant looks but retired; and he realized she had asked him to sit at her right. This was a little worrisome, for the lord of the feast usually placed visiting dignitaries at such a prominent spot, and anyway Legolas thought to dislodge her maids rather rude; but Malbeach was not there, and Renna presently lady of the feast; so Legolas said, “An it please you, my lady!” and stepped upon the dais, seating himself beside her at the trestle.

The ladies’ maids shifted off to the sides, watching them closely; their pretty faces were hard and calculating, and the whispering resentful. He could see Gimli at the end of the table, a cup of ale in one hand and a pheasant wing in the other; the Dwarf was feigning tipsiness and laughing with the man beside him. Gimli caught his eye and winked, and all the lingering vertigo burned away. Feeling more confident Legolas turned to his hostess and said: “So what is on the menu tonight, my lady? I see pheasant and duck and trout and pike, and if my senses do not deceive me there is Dorwinion in that pitcher. May I?” He lifted her goblet, a jeweled affair in gilt and silver, and refilled it; Renna gave a mellifluous laugh, and when she took it from him let her fingers trail down his hand. Legolas was not sure but it felt, even from that brief touch, that her fingertips were icy; he wondered at this, for it was warm in the Hall. While she thanked him he took a goblet from the table, a simple pewter one with only a little scrollwork on it; he filled it halfway and took a deep draught. Immediately his mind raced backwards; the taste of the Dorwinion reminded him sharply of his Lord Father, of feasts in the great cavernous hall, glittering and echoing, filled with bright-faced cheerful Elves, laughing and singing, their colorful raiment like the blossoms of wildflowers. Then the inner vision darkened, and the remembered faces changed; there was fear there, and smoke and ruin, and the screams of the doomed. Startled Legolas jerked back; the vision vanished, and he sat once again in the Hall at Esgaroth, the Lady Renna by his side. He set the goblet down with a shaking hand.

“The meat pies are very good,” Renna was saying, as though he had not lapsed at all. “And of course I love the stewed herbs; they are not so damaging to my figure.” She ran her hands lavishly down her bodice, outlining her bosom and small waist; she fluttered her eyelashes at him and said coquettishly: “Though I am certain an Elf of your standing has beheld many more beautiful women than I in your time! For I am but mortal, and certes I cannot hold a candle to your lovely Elven ladies.”

Privately Legolas agreed; but he was far too polite to say so; besides which he felt if he could but get Renna on his side, he might learn more from her than from any of these strange Men in the Hall. “To be certain the daughters of the Eldar are fair,” he said, affecting a bland expression, “but I am so used to them; after a while I do not even mark what they look like. To me the daughters of Men are very interesting, for you are all so different!”

“O do you think so?” asked Renna, fluttering her lashes again and smiling approvingly. “Well perhaps you are right, though I should certainly never say anything disparaging about your Lady Mother. Queen Edlothiel is I deem the loveliest creature I have ever seen, and you resemble her so strongly, your highness.”

The compliment was bald and unsubtle, and Legolas could not help but smile. “No fool she,” he thought, “to praise the wife of the one she had pursued! You little flirt; did my Lady Mother know you had set your sights upon the Elvenking would your words be laced with terror!” “You flatter me, my lady,” he said aloud, taking another sip of wine; he pushed thoughts of his Lord Father’s feasts from his mind, and contemplated how hard she might pursue him, and whether she had hounded his Lord Father in the same manner. “What son does not like to hear his mother praised? If you have sons, my lady, I am certain they would be as pleased as I to hear a Man admire your winsome face, almandine eyes, and chestnut tresses.”

He had expected her to bask in the accolade, but instead she flinched back a little as though he had spoken harshly; the light in her eyes faded and her smile became fixed. “I have no children,” she said; her voice was flat, and Legolas mentally cursed himself.

“No; I suppose you are too young yet,” he said artlessly, feeling only the vaguest twinge of conscience for producing such blatant sycophancy to a woman obviously past the first blush of youth. “Will you have the pike, my lady? For I observe you have tasted none of the wonderful dishes presented before us. An excellent table you set indeed! Why I own I should not have known myself not at Minas Tirith: Fine food and pleasant company have misled me, and again I find myself attended to by a beautiful and noble lady, and surrounded by the hospitality of her house.” To himself he thought: “I am, as my Bandobras would say, laying it on thick; but I had best win her confidence quickly, before Malbeach shows himself!” To his relief he saw her relax, and the tightness in her mouth softened; she smiled at him and said:

“I would be delighted if you would serve me, your highness, though certes it is improper for the guest to serve the lady! Rather ought I to call my lord husband’s valet over to serve you, than for us to act in so indecent a manner, and before the whole Hall, too!” She tipped her head playfully at him and looked up at him from the corner of her eyes.

Legolas laughed, thinking how flustered his father would have been by such a suggestion. “Why, she is harmless!” he thought; “she is only a coquette, like Dúrfinwen. How sorry am I that I did not see their repartee!” “But here one observes the advantage in dining with you, my lady, in preference to the king’s palace in Minas Tirith!” he said to her. “We have no need for such careful courtesy in the kindliness of your house; for here there are no courtiers who watch so carefully lest we use the wrong spoon for our soup, or speak too loudly. We might take our ease here, and do as we like.” He took up the salver and put some of the boiled fish on Lady Renna’s trencher. She blushed again and smiled up at him, her eyes engaging and wistful. When he moved to set the salver down she lay one soft white hand on his sleeve, and leant in; he could see her heartbeat fluttering in her throat.

“You are so gentle,” she said in a low voice; her rosy lower lip trembled. “How – how pleasant it is to be treated with such gentleness – “

Legolas recalled how Malbeach had pushed her into her chair during the joust, and forced her to watch the destrier slain; he was indignant, though he hid it behind a polite face. “It is every nobleman’s duty to regard a lady with civility,” he said, turning to her and smiling; she gazed intently up at him, and the edges of his vision blurred. His head seemed to spin about, and he hastily set the salver down lest he drop it; he forced himself to blink and focus on her, but her pretty face wavered before his gaze. She leant in closer; he could smell her hair, and the faintest scent of rose petals; her breasts shuddered for she breathed hard.

“Prince Legolas,” she whispered; the roses fled her cheeks, and her brown eyes were filled with fear. “You are in danger here. Your people – the Elves you sent from your lands – they have been – “

There was a great shout in the Hall then, and she started back, her eyes terrified; Men were crying out: “Malbeach! Malbeach! The Master comes to the feast!” Legolas shook the fog from his head and turned to the door; Malbeach stood there, his arms outspread, wearing a splendid doublet of green. His dark eyes glittered like a snake’s, and the smile on his face was sneering and cruel. He turned his dead gaze to the high table, and it seemed to Legolas that the room darkened and became misty; the shouts of the Men, and the worried whispers of Renna’s maids, dimmed; there was a throbbing in his head as though he had held his breath overlong. He was finding it difficult to inhale, for an oppressive weight pressed against his chest, and his head spun. He could see Malbeach approach up the length of the Hall to the dais, weaving through the trestles, seeming to glide without step through the thick rushes, his cold black stare pinning the Elf in his seat. Legolas felt trapped in one of his terrible nightmares, and with a great effort, giving his head a little shake like a horse dismissing a teasing fly, he took a deep breath, blinked hard, and strove to clear the clouds from his head. He had a sudden desperate urge to be with Gimli, and turned in the Dwarf’s direction. Gimli turned also, feeling Legolas’ gaze upon him; the Dwarf looked startled, as well he might, for all the color had drained from his friend’s face, and Legolas’ bright gray eyes had dilated black. But when their eyes met something strange occurred: Like a sudden strong wind dispels woodsmoke did the heavy oppression flee; Legolas’ vision cleared and his ears sharpened, and his breath became easy once more. He was keenly aware of Renna trembling beside him, her breath in panicked gasps, and of the maids standing to courtesy, then bolting with contrived excuses to their lady, leaving her to her fate. He rose to his feet, squaring his shoulders; he felt wound tight as a top, and wondered at the apprehension that swelled in him as Malbeach came up the dais. The Man was smiling his oily smile, eyes heavily hooded, looking from his wife to his guest knowingly. Legolas gave a little bow, which Malbeach answered.

“My Lord Master of Esgaroth,” said Legolas. “How pleased I am to see you, though you come late to your own feast! And I thank you for allowing your lady wife to entertain me; else I should have pined in your absence.”

Malbeach regarded Legolas with a twisted, contemplative smile, his eyes flat. “And I thank you, your highness, for thinking so highly of us and of our regard that you present yourself to my poor assembly in your finest array,” he said, his gaze wandering down Legolas’ robe. “How splendid,” he murmured, and Legolas suppressed a shudder. “I was right to keep Tamin in our rooms,” he thought, and said:

“You are very kind to so say! I shall relay your praise to my Lady Mother and her ladies, who labor to keep me appropriately clad; I am certain when I foregather with them in several days’ time that they will be pleased by your kind words.”

Malbeach’s eyes flickered then, and he gave to Legolas a slow, wide smile. “So you go to visit your father, the Elvenking!” he said in his low smooth voice. “Ah yes, the magnificent Thranduil, and his unrivaled wife Edlothiel the fair! Such splendor had never before been visited upon my poor Hall ere they accepted my humble and presumptuous invitation to dine; how they shone like the stars and dazzled us quite! Did they not, Renna my dear?” he asked, smiling at his wife; she swallowed heavily and bit her lip, cringing back as Malbeach came to sit upon Legolas’ other side. “Renna and I will cosset you, O Prince,” said Malbeach, lowering himself slowly into the chair at Legolas’ right hand. “Do you please sit too, for you are the noblest guest I have obtained, and though I bethought to myself the Elvenking and his bride the fairest folk to foregather in Esgaroth I discover to my shame I was mistaken, for you in brilliant resplendence do overshadow them quite.” He glanced round Legolas and said to his wife again: “Does he not, Renna? O I am very certain you did note this. It is one of my wife’s talents, Prince Legolas,” he said calmly, contemplating his empty trencher, “that she descries male beauty far more … avidly than I.” He glanced over at Legolas’ trencher and said, “Will you do me the honor of passing to me the plate of meat pies?”

“Of a certainty,” said Legolas, sitting; his right side crawled and he did not wonder poor Renna recoiled from her husband. “I was about to sample them myself.”

“Do, please, then, your highness,” urged Malbeach, positioning the salver between them. “My cooks are known for their skill in the distribution of pepper and herbs; the flavor is subtle and complicated, but pleases the palate; and the pastry, your highness, I assure you will melt upon your tongue.” He smiled again, and his tongue flicked out to wet his lips; a chill went up Legolas’ spine.

“Thank you; I will sample them then,” he said, and taking one broke it. It was full of gravy, and its rich pungent scent made his mouth water; he took a bite, and discovered to his dismay that Malbeach had been correct; the pie was every bit as good as something even Bandobras could have made, though it lacked mushrooms. As he chewed he saw Malbeach watching him, eyes half-closed, toying with his goblet, with ever that strange smile on his face; when Legolas finished swallowing he said politely: “Excellent! Most delicious! My compliments to your buttery!” and thought, “I sincerely hope that was either beef or goat; it is so heavily spiced I cannot tell, and from what I have seen today I am not entirely certain they might not serve something else.”

Malbeach smiled and sampled his own. “Delightful,” he murmured, giving Legolas a sidelong look; then he turned to his wife and said loudly: “You had better keep away from the meat pies, my dear; you would not want to ruin your figure. After all if you grow fat, how will you keep the esteem of all your pretty friends?” Legolas looked at them in amazement; Renna had turned scarlet, and was staring hard at her trencher, her lips pressed tight together; Malbeach was still smiling, and watching her carefully. “What a shame about Doring and Berded! I know well you looked forward to presenting them their rewards, my dear.” Renna closed her eyes, and Malbeach said conversationally to Legolas: “It is another of my dear wife’s talents, your highness, remunerating the knights who win at my tourneys! I declare she takes more effort with the victors at the tilt than even I, her poor husband. But then I do not joust. The ladies love the joust, do they not, your highness? And we have no prize for you, our winner! Ah, I am certain my wife would be happy to think of some small token with which to reward your valor today – would you not, Renna my dear? You are so creative, inventing new ways to please the knights hereabouts.”

Legolas was appalled but affected ignorance; he said: “I require no reward, O Master of Esgaroth; there is no need for your lady wife to be discommoded on my account. Besides which,” he added with a sly smile of his own, “I want for nothing; my coffers are quite full, and I have no need of any middling little trinkets.”

It was Malbeach’s turn to flush, and he took a deep draught. “Well then,” he said, his smile a little stiffer. “That will be good for you, Renna, will it not? But you are not eating, my dear; are you not hungry at all? Or have you already eaten ere the feast began?” He leered at her, and she pushed her chair back with a jerk; it scraped across the floor and made a screeching noise. She rose, her hands trembling, and Legolas hurriedly rose as well; Malbeach remained seated, drinking his Dorwinion.

“I – do not feel well,” she said breathlessly, giving Legolas a fearful look. “I think I will go to lie down.”

“Of course you will,” said Malbeach to his trencher, taking another meat pie. “You do all your best work in that position, do you not?”

Renna did not reply, but turned and fled the Hall; several nearby Men who had overheard Malbeach’s dig laughed raucously. Legolas was incensed by such effrontery, deserved or no, especially before a guest and a stranger; but Malbeach merely smiled up at him and said:

“What is it, your highness? Not thinking of following her, I hope! O do you not worry your handsome head about her, Prince Legolas; she is far too sensitive and cannot take a jest. She needs toughening – all these vapors and fine ways do not suit us here in Lake Town; they are weaker than we in Dale, for they have had all the strength bred out of them, letting the Dwarves do their dirty work.” He glanced down at Gimli, who was actually singing with a couple of the Men; Legolas recognized the song about the blacksmith. He slowly lowered himself into the chair, though Malbeach repulsed him and he was not entirely certain he could eat any more. “Your friend Lord Gimli appears to be enjoying himself,” Malbeach said thoughtfully, pouring himself more wine. “How satisfying it is to find an amiable Dwarf! I do hope, your highness, he is able to turn his squat brethren from their current ways; have you heard of the trouble Thorin has been stirring up, and thus come to rescue your Lord Father from Erebor’s depredations?” He took a deep draught, looking over the rim of his goblet at Legolas with his dead black eyes.

“I have heard of no Dwarven depredations,” said Legolas, trying not to sound too stiff; he could pretend well enough in a court, but was finding it difficult not to put his hands round Malbeach’s throat and squeeze some life into those eyes. He pushed his trencher away and leaned back in his seat, fixing Malbeach with a hard look of his own; Malbeach only smiled. “I am here to visit my royal parents, and to bring my people home that came for holiday. It is planting-time and I need my workers back.”

“Your workers?” asked Malbeach politely. “You intrigue me! Did you send then sundry of your best to your Father, and now seek to bring them home again? Are they truant? Well you are within your rights to demand them back, your highness, though I am puzzled that you came yourself, and did not simply send for them.”

“Well, O Master of Esgaroth, as you yourself said earlier today, betimes it is easier to do a thing oneself, than to send a lackey to do it for one,” said Legolas, forcing a smile. “And my people are not truant; I wished to foregather with my Lord Father and Lady Mother, and to see my old home; I am using the excuse of fetching Belegtilion and Dúrfinwen back to reacquaint myself with mine old abode.”

Malbeach started then, and something like interest glinted in his eyes. “Dúrfinwen?” he said; a muscle in his cheek twitched. “I believe I know her – surpassing fair – with dimples in pale creamy skin, dark curly hair like unto my dear wife’s, and dark eyes, and a hot temper – yes?”

“You recall her well,” said Legolas, and smiled to think of Dúrfinwen giving this oily Man the edge of her tongue. “Yes; Dúrfinwen is my mercer, and the chief of my tucking-mill. She is a lady of my household and a dear friend. Also is she a favorite of my Lady Mother’s, for she was orphaned, and raised in the palace like unto a daughter; perchance was from my Lord Father she learned the gentle art of oral sparring. And Belegtilion and sundry others came with her, and now I am fetching them back – if my Lady Mother will let her go that is.”

“Ah, yes!” said Malbeach, and his smile faded. He fetched a sigh. “O dear,” he said mournfully. “How deplorable it is that I am placed in such an awkward position, your highness! Did no one tell you? Did you not hear? I am astonished that you did not hear of this calamity, O Prince; how could your Lord Father’s messengers have missed you? Did you travel in secret then? O dear, O dear!” And he wagged his head sadly and clucked his tongue.

“What is it?” asked Legolas, feeling a twist of apprehension that had, for a wonder, little to do with Malbeach. “Has aught occurred about which I ought to be apprised? What happened?”

“O dear, O dear! Such a tragedy!” said Malbeach dolefully. “Why, it was the – “ He lowered his voice, and glanced at Gimli, who was sitting listening to several men talk; he had a cup of ale in one hand, and looked quite drunk; Legolas hoped he were only fooling. “It was the Dwarves of Erebor, O Prince,” said Malbeach in a low voice, leaning in to speak softly as had Renna; but he was repellent to Legolas and the Elf was hard-pressed to answer the gesture. “They have been looting – getting more treasure, cheating Girion, the fool, who owns it not – ‘twas for that reason I dismissed Thorin; he robbed me – and to chastise us for standing against them, they are going round, robbing people, and carrying them off.” Malbeach shook his head, his face hard. “There is never enough gold for the Dwarves,” he said; he sounded angry, and his black eyes glittered like onyx. “Always, always they want more – more gems – more treasure! They are insatiable, implacable, avaricious, insistent. I hate them.” His eyes burned hot, and Legolas felt again the weight upon his chest, and the low hum in his ears; his vision blurred and he felt faint. Yet over the racket in the Hall and the buzzing in his head he heard Malbeach’s voice, hissing, angry and indignant: “It was they destroyed that village – that one, and many others. They are monsters, misshapen, devouring as they go, crawling underground where we cannot see, cheating us, promising us wealth and prosperity but giving naught but heartache. And it was they, O Prince, who took your mercer and her companions.”

Legolas blinked hard, and struggled to regain himself; the lights in the Hall were swirling round him, and he could hardly breathe. “Gone – how?” he gasped, fighting for control; through the haze before his eyes he saw Malbeach fix him with bright black eyes, burning, avid; Legolas shook his head and pinched himself, and heard the Master say:

“The women were taken and carried off, and their guard, Belegtilion I think was his name, was slain.” Then to Legolas’ disgust, Malbeach smiled, a wide, fervent smile, showing his teeth. “You had best hope the ladies are dead,” he said, and once more flicked out his tongue to touch his lips. “For the way those Dwarves spoke, death shall be better for them than what awaited them in the wilderness.”

The heavy oppressive weight shifted, and seemed to sit in Legolas’ lap; Malbeach was smiling, his black eyes boring into the Elf’s; he rose, and Legolas, helpless, rose with him, staggering beneath the crushing weight. “If you but accompany me, O Prince,” Malbeach whispered, “I shall show to you the perfidy of the Dwarves; I have amassed much evidence against them, which you must take unto your father the Elvenking – the glorious Thranduil – O Prince.”

“I – “ Legolas stammered, his head spinning; he saw Malbeach move down the dais, his eyes like hooks in Legolas’ belly; he was being dragged along, powerless, his feet dragging in the rushes, toward the blackened lintel; the men round him laughed and shouted, but he could not mark what they said. Then there was a hard hand on his arm, and a blessedly familiar voice cut through the fog; he heard Gimli say:

“There, now! Looks as though we have both drunk overmuch, O Master of Esgaroth! No need to worry yourself getting my friend here to his room; I am heading there myself – do you not miss so much of your wonderful feast. Wonderful! Magnificent! What extraordinary ale! Strong, though! Good night, good night! And be you sure to thank your charming lady wife for her hospitality and kindness!”

The Dwarf’s voice drowned out Malbeach’s protests, and Gimli’s hand was like a vise around Legolas’ elbow; the Green Knight found himself marched firmly down the dark smoky hallway, the swirling murkiness in his head spinning itself dizzily ‘til he felt worse than drunk. He stumbled along gratefully; each step brought him further away from that dreadful heaviness, and at last he felt well enough to fetch up against a wall and press his hand against his forehead. He was sweating and cold, and trembling head to foot. He blinked hard again, struggling to focus; Gimli was standing before him, his kindly eyes worried.

“Dragon’s teeth, Legolas!” said Gimli, shaking his head and glancing nervously around. “What in the name of the seven levels of Hell has got you so het up? And what were you thinking, following Malbeach like that? You are not drunk, are you?”

“No,” gasped Legolas; he felt very ill. “I – I do not know – Gimli, get me out of here; my head is full of muck – I cannot think – help me, Gimli!”

“I am here; I am here,” said Gimli, comforting him and patting his arm. “There! Our rooms are right down this hallway. Let me get you to them, my friend, and get you out of that ridiculous robe; I will let Tamin and Bandy at you, and make you eat something. Aulë, my poor foolish Elf,” he added, taking Legolas again by the elbow and leading him down the passageway. “Those damned dreams are making you thick-headed and silly! You need a solid meal, and a good night’s sleep; this calls for Hobbity influence, it does.”

“It does,” admitted Legolas weakly, and let himself be led away, telling himself the prickly feeling on his spine was simply nerves, and not someone watching him from the shadows at all.