(A/N:  Oh, my poor readers; my abject apologies for the tardiness of this update.  As you might have guessed, my personal life suffered a serious setback this year, and I’m finding it difficult to pull myself back together.  All of you who have faithfully read this story – thank you; and I’m not dead!  And to those of you who have just jumped in and are wondering what is going on, well … good luck.  But I assure you all, I have not abandoned this story!  Thanks to my intrepid – and patient! – beta, Nieriel Raina, HERE WE ARE.  Chapter 30, for your perusal.

Again, I am so sorry it’s taken me so long to get my muse going.  For some reason all she wanted to do is watch reruns of “Whose Line is it Anyway?” on YouTube.  You may rest assured, Drew Carey does not have a celebrity cameo in this chapter.

Now … on to the mayhem!

-       Le Rouret)

30. The Hundred

They left Malbeach’s body to rot on the ground.  The sword he had used was carefully cleaned and put back with their baggage.  “It is a good sword,” said Gimli, fingering the damaged hilt.  “I am not certain whence it has come.  It is not Dwarvish, certainly; but it is very ancient – possibly moreso than your Irmatenagar, Legolas.  Perhaps my father will know.”  They packed up their meager supplies and headed off again; their only two consolations in the aftermath of that horrible afternoon were Malbeach’s removal from any sphere of influence, and the comforting sight of Dúrfinwen’s lifted chin and determined gaze.

They headed north-west, hoping to meet with some friendly souls along the way, but determined to reach Erebor and its safeties “before anything else awful happens to us,” as Vé rather grimly put it.  They did not dare press their steeds, for fodder was scarce; even Hammer showed signs of hard wear, and Isilmë, though resolute to  bear his small master well, drooped as he trudged along.

Dúrfinwen had chosen to ride Kaimelas’ mare, a hook-nosed roan with three white socks, who took every chance to nuzzle her new mistress, flick her tail knowingly at the stallions in the herd, and drop her head to tear at any grass they trod upon.  Dúrfinwen did not grudge her mare this poor habit, excusing her by saying, “Food is scant, and she is hungered; besides I should rather Tyarmayél scolded me for my laxness, and fixed this aberrancy herself; it is easier that way.”  Legolas was encouraged by her offhand dismissal of Tyarmayél’s opinion, and was sufficiently hopeful of his mercer’s full recovery to tease her gently on this point; her acerbic response sparked a secret smile that only Gimli caught.

In two days’ time they had traveled a mere seven leagues, for the going was rough, and they sought to spare their horses; fresh water there now was aplenty, but the herd tore at any new greenery with a voraciousness borne of great hunger, and had they not been so injured Legolas would have demanded they walk and not ride.  Tamin insisted his leg was better, but Legolas mistrusted him; Vé continually winced when he moved his arm, and Gimli’s breath was shortened by his broken ribs.  Dúrfinwen was horribly thin; Legolas was pained to see her thus, who ought to have been dimpled and creamy-skinned; he did not notice for himself how appalling was his own countenance, sunken-cheeked and pale, with dark circles round his grey eyes.  But Tamin and Gimli saw, and conferred worriedly together in undertones about the paucity of their comestibles.

The third day dawned clouded and yellow-grey, though the high wind scattered the clouds and sent sun down upon their heads in fits and starts; they drank deeply from the fresh water pouring from a cleft in the rock by which they had camped, and ate the last of Bandobras’ beans.  Vé began to look contemplatively at the pack horses, but Gimli said:  “It is no use, Vé; you would never convince them to try it.  They would rather starve.”

“Well, I would not,” Vé grumbled, and scanned the sky gloomily.  “O for a goose!” he muttered.

“I would not turn my nose up at a sparrow,” sighed Gimli.  He glanced over at the Elves, who were sitting together by the dying embers of the morning fire, speaking in their soft sibilant tongue together.  Fair faces were etched with hunger and remembered pain; bright eyes were dimmed by grief and latent fear.  He watched as Legolas gestured to Tamin, laughing lightly; but the hand, of wont so strong, was thin and tremulous, and the tunic he wore hung on him like the skin shed from a snake.  Dúrfinwen answered her lord’s laugh, though, and ruffled Tamin’s sunny hair, but the breeze pressed the old tunic against her form, betraying the skin and bone she had become.  “Worn down to nothing,” Gimli said under his breath.  “Ill and injured and ensorcelled!  We are a fine company, are we not?”

“It could be worse,” Vé pointed out.  “We could in this sorry state, and be facing a hundred enemies.”

“Or another dragon,” said Gimli, smiling nonetheless.  “No, O Vé; you are correct; we are not starved yet.”

“Yet,” said Vé, looking again at the pack horses, at a barrel-bellied chestnut in particular.  “Horse isn’t that bad, you know.  And I’m so hungry I’d risk Legolas’ anger for a bite!”

“I shall never be that hungry,” said Gimli firmly; Vé looked at him with wide eyes but did not answer.

They broke camp, gathering their meager possessions, and mounted once more.  The ground was rising steadily, and the wind picked up; clouds careened through the pale dome of the heavens, and the thin new grass rippled beneath its rough caress.  The sun shone down upon them bravely, winking when the clouds obscured her face, and stretching their morning shadows out far to their left, where they rose and receded against the uneven earth.  They rode up a steep rocky slope, the wind at their backs; it tore through their clothes and whipped Legolas’ and Tamin’s golden hair round their faces.  Dúrfinwen gave an irritated exclamation, and brushed at her curls; they had grown long enough to tickle her torn ear, and she pulled her long fingers through them.  At that moment a shaft of sunlight fell athwart her thin form, and Legolas looked at her, and burst out laughing.

“Dúrfinwen!” he cried, delighted.  “It is red!  Your hair is growing in red!”

Dúrfinwen stared at him aghast, and put her hands to her head.  “Red!” she exclaimed, looking wildly about.  “Not red – anything but red.  A looking-glass – have none of you a looking-glass to spare?”

Vé looked too, and laughed.  “Not so much red as auburn,” he said with a grin, sidling Wuóri over and patting the woman’s knee.  “It’s not so noticeable unless you’re in the sun.”

“But it is red,” grinned Gimli.  “Heavens!  How pleased my mother shall be!  Not enough red-headed women in Middle-Earth, she always says!”

“It is not red,” said Dúrfinwen angrily, plucking at her curls and trying to see them, though they were yet too short.  “It cannot be.  I am not red-haired.  It is not red – is it?”

“It is, a little,” said Legolas with a laugh.  “Red!  My lady mother shall be delighted.  She has long loved Andunië’s copper locks; add your ringlets to the mix and you shall be hard pressed to keep her hands out of your hair.”

“I cannot have red hair,” said Dúrfinwen firmly.  “I simply cannot; it is unacceptable.  It would alter the color palate of mine entire wardrobe.  Red!  It will conflict with my claret-colored ball gown!  And my plum riding-dress! “  She shook her head disgustedly.  “You wait and see,” she said darkly.  “I will be forever compelled to wear green – green, like Andunië always does!”

“I think it is pretty,” said Tamin hesitantly, looking up at Dúrfinwen’s russet tresses with admiration.  “And perhaps it will grow darker as it gets longer, Anóriel.”

“Dúrfinwen,” said that woman shortly.  “And with my luck it will grow the redder.”  She touched the curls discontentedly.  “Red!” she muttered.  “What else can go wrong?”

“It could have come in grey,” said Vé.  Dúrfinwen shuddered.

“Very well,” she said.  “You have made your point!”

They stopped in a little green vale to rest and feed the horses, and Legolas took his bow and quiver, and set out to find game.  “Bring back some rabbits!” Gimli ordered him, and Legolas with a light laugh promised to try his best.  But in very little time he came hurrying back empty-handed, though his eyes were alight and he looked excited.

“Gimli!” he exclaimed.  “I am going to set you a riddle.”

“Bother riddles!” said Gimli.  “Where are my rabbits?”

“Rabbit is too stringy,” said Legolas dismissively.  “What has two hundred legs and smells like a tannery?”

“A very large centipede,” said Vé.

“He said two hundred, not one hundred, Vé,” said Tamin.

“Two centipedes, then,” said Vé.

“I have never smelled a centipede,” said Tamin.   “Do they smell like tanneries?”

“When you squash them, they do,” said Vé.  “Ugh!  Horrible stink.”

“I hardly think Legolas returned to ask me about centipedes,” said Gimli dryly.  “So I give it up, my friend; what has two hundred legs and smells like a tannery?”

“O do not give it up yet, Gimli!” protested Tamin.  “We have not played a game in – O!  Ever so long!  Ask him for another clue, do, Gimli; I am anxious to see you solve the riddle.”

“Very well,” said Gimli with a sigh.  “Give me a clue, Legolas.”

“Eighteen pipes, but only thirteen of them smoke,” grinned Legolas.

They all paused, considering; then the wind shifted to the south, and they heard high and light the trilling sounds of fifes; and Tamin and Dúrfinwen sniffed the air and said:  “Dwarves!”

“You win!” said Legolas with a glad laugh, clapping his hands.  “Better luck next time, Gimli.”

“Jackanapes!” growled Gimli, but he got up happily enough, and dusted off his breeches.  “Stonehelm must have sent them; my father said he would ask that help be dispatched.  How fortunate we are to foregather with them!”

“We’ll be all the more fortunate if they have something to eat,” said Vé, and together they took their horses and trudged to the crest of the vale.

The hundred Dwarves marched in formation, with fife and drum guiding them, and at their head was an old Dwarf in a purple cloak, walking proudly beneath the gold standard of Erebor.  “Dori!” exclaimed Gimli gladly, and taking his hood he waved it over his head and called:

“O my brothers, my kinsmen!  How you have come to us in our moment of need!  It is I, Gimli Glóin’s son; come to us and quickly, bearing food and unguents, for we are in dire need of your help!”

The Dwarves pointed and exclaimed, and Dori glared up at Gimli with a frown, looking from him to Legolas standing tall and pale by his side.  “Gimli Elf-friend!” he boomed; his voice was stuttered by the wind.  “What are you doing, wandering round the wilderness with the Elvenking’s son?  A sad state of affairs this; I have been criss-crossing this barren wilderness to find and fetch you back, when I ought rather to be fighting by my brother’s side in Esgaroth!”

“Fighting!” said Legolas and Gimli at once; but ere they could expostulate Vé struggled to the crest, and looking down anxiously amongst the assembly suddenly cried out happily:

“Papa!  Papa, Papa!  It’s me, it’s Vé!”

A cross-looking Dwarf in a grey hood pushed his way to the front of the file, staring up in amazement; when his eyes lighted upon Vé his face was transformed, and he laughed aloud and cried:

“Vé, Vé!  O thank the devils that misshape the molten earth!  Vé, you ninny-hammered, muddy-brained, doltish dunce of a son; where in the name of the lowest levels of Moria have you been?  Get you down here to once, and let me just put my hands on your knobby-pated, logger-headed canker-blossom!” 

Vé burst into tears, and laughing struggled down the slope to his father, who took him roughly by the shoulders and embraced him.  The Dwarves round them stood back smiling, and carefully did Legolas and Gimli aid themselves to the canyon floor, with Dúrfinwen and Tamin upon their steeds behind them.  Still growling epithets such as “tickle-brained idiot” and “beetle-headed lout,” Vé’s father continued to shake and expostulate, and Vé wept and wept, clinging to his father’s shoulders.  With an amused expression the Dwarf in the purple cloak stepped forward; he was stately and dignified, and his gold belt richly bejeweled.

“Gimli Glóin’s son!” he said, taking Gimli’s hand with a smile.  “You have been long out of our sights.  And Legolas, son of Thranduil!   What mischief has been wrought!  Many thanks though for your valambassador; he has amused our king at any rate, and we are grateful to hear Thorin Stonehelm laugh once more.”

“Has Kaimelas been behaving himself then?” grinned Legolas, shaking Dori’s hand gratefully.  “How wonderful it is to foregather with you!  Have you any cheese?”

“Cheese!” exclaimed Dori in amazement, but then he espied Dúrfinwen upon her mare, and started back, a look of horrified recognition upon his face.

“By all powers!” he breathed.  “It is not the Elf-maid Dúrfinwen Daughter of No-One, is it?”  And he stared at her with an expression of disbelief.  Dúrfinwen blushed deeply, ashamed of her disheveled state; but Tamin piped up angrily:

“It is not!  This is the right and distinguished mercer of Dol Galenehtar, Princess Anóriel daughter of Fércast, and she is very brave and valiant and strong and mighty and is the friend of wizards and thus-such, O Lord Dwarf; and do not disparage her hair for it has not grown in all the way yet, and shall be red and curly, which I think is quite pretty, though apparently I am in the minority in my preference.”

“Indeed!” said Dori, tamping down a smile as he looked up at Tamin’s indignant pale face.  “Red and curly hair is nothing to belittle, O Elfling; not in the slightest; and if Anóriel Daughter of Fércast will forgive my sauce, I shall gift her with all the cheese she like, provided she repay me when her hair has grown in properly, with a coil of those auburn locks – “ he cast an appreciative eye over Dúrfinwen’s shapely head “ – and the promise of a kind word and gracious cup of tea.”

“If you grant me a dram of cheese and a gill of wine, I will shave my head – again,” said Dúrfinwen politely, smiling at the Dwarf.  “And I shall sit bald-pated, and serve out of my porcelain pot the best and strongest tea you shall ever drink, flavored with hot cream and fine lavender honey.”

“Done!” grinned Dori.  “You are a fine specimen of maid, by thunder!  Though I contend you need a good two stone upon you to fill out properly.  By the heavens!  How happy your fathers shall be, Gimli you lout, and Legolas you frivolous fool, to hear you are well!  Well over a week have we wandered this desolate place, hearing naught but the rumble of thunder and the growl of the starving lion; not three days hence did the dark clouds dissipate and we feel brave enough to venture east.  We are missing most of the fun, you know; Thorin and Thranduil have marched upon Esgaroth, and are most likely putting it to flame as we speak.  Hél!  Söga!  Get these Elves some cheese and pomace – no wine, I fear, fair maid!  We are on straited means – and some cram, and see if Váli has any stoned raisins left.”  He clapped his big meaty hands, and several Dwarves near him scattered, vanishing to the back of the file; Dori turned to Gimli and Legolas with a warm smile.  “It is good to see you both,” he said, taking Legolas by the hand and peering carefully up into the Green Knight’s face.  “But you are looking rather peaky, Legolas.”

“It has been a terrible time, O Dori Gori’s son, inestimable servant of Stonehelm,” said Legolas soberly.  “May I present to you mine esquire Tamin son of Rúmil, and my mercer Princess Anóriel daughter of Fércast, with whom you have been forcibly acquainted already.”

“Please, do sit,” said Dori politely, and gesturing to one of his companions a cloak was spread upon the ground, and with the grace and dignity of a high queen, Dúrfinwen took Legolas’ hand, and dismounted, and gently sat herself upon the proffered cloak, smiling upon the flustered young Dwarf who had provided it and thanking him, making his ears turn pink.  Several other Dwarves rushed up with linen-wrapped packages and skins, and they fell over themselves offering to the woman their cheese and bread and drink; Tamin watched disapproving, but Gimli and Legolas hid their smiles behind their hands.  For herself Dúrfinwen with ladylike poise conversed courteously with her Dwarvish courtiers, ‘til they elbowed each other aside and strove to impress her with their manners and food; her chestnut eyes sparkled like a swift-moving river and she demurely allowed them their vanities.  Dori observed this with a grin, then turning to Vé and his father said:

“Búri!  Can you not see the boy is injured?  Let him speak with me, and then you may abuse him all you like, in recompense for the worry he has foisted upon you.”

“O very well!” growled the Dwarf, releasing Vé and wiping his eyes.  “But you wait ‘til his mother gets hold of him!  Running off the way he did, trying to impress the King under the Mountain, and getting himself fair killed!  O you are in for a hide-tanning, you are, Vé!”

“O Papa!” said Vé, giving his father a rough embrace.  “Do you not be too offended with me, now; I’ve fallen into lofty company, I have!  This is the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, now, and the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, he is; and this here’s Gimli Glóin’s son, and I’ve rubbed shoulders with the likes of Wizards and such, and helped kill a dragon – “

“A dragon!” exclaimed several Dwarves, turning white, and even Dori looked amazed.  “A dragon!” he repeated.  “Why, that explains – well – quite a bit, it does, and solves a pressing mystery we’ve uncovered ourselves, out here in the bare wilderness.  A dragon!  All that strange and secretive talk, and the number of dead – yes indeed, it explains quite a bit.  I guess that dirty beggar wasn’t lying, after all.”

“Beggar?” said Gimli suspiciously, frowning at Dori, though he was momentarily distracted by a wedge of cheese and a cup of pomace, which he began devouring hungrily.  “What beggar?” he demanded with his mouth full.  “Is there someone wandering about out here, that has seen what this vile cold drake has done?”

“A beggar indeed,” said Dori grimly, and casting a cautious eye upon Dúrfinwen he said:  “I would use rougher language, but there is a lady present.”

“Good Dori Gori’s son,” said Dúrfinwen mellifluously, smiling her best and most charming smile, “I do commend you for your gentle courtesy, and am o’ercome quite by your modest reticence; but such is the tense terror of these times come upon us that the hour for reserve is past, and we are in need of answers and not politesse.  So I beg of you, inestimable Dwarf among Dwarves, to disclose unto us your mind, and spare not the epithets; my poor ears are sufficiently abused, and so lush do I find your generosity I am confounded, and I shall gladly forgive you any oversight.”

“Nicely said!” murmured Legolas with a wink; Dori however beamed appreciatively at her, puffing his chest out a little, and making the surrounding sycophants glare. 

“O Princess Anóriel!” he said, bowing elaborately and taking one of Dúrfinwen’s wasted hands in his own.  “Such is the magnitude of your refinement and womanliness that I hesitate to ask such a thing of you; but we as rough warriors and Dwarves of the Earth have little truck with creatures the likes of which we have found, and I would beg your advice in this matter.”

“Speak, Dori of Erebor!” smiled Dúrfinwen, squeezing his hand and fluttering her lashes.  “I shall to repay you for your kindness in our hour of need bestow upon your prisoner whatever benevolence and wisdom I might possess.”

“I would expect nothing less from a princess of your dignity and beauty,” declared Dori.  “But I feel obliged to warn you, O Anóriel the Amiable, lady of the House of Fércast, that this base vagabond is a woman of ignoble and corrupt language, and I do fear me she is less than upright in her estimations betwixt truth and lies.”

Dúrfinwen’s face shuttered a moment, and the light in her eyes faded.  “Woman?” she said flatly, and the hand in Dori’s went limp.

“Yes, O Princess,” said Dori sadly.  “A wasted and dilapidated whore we found, wandering mad and forward in the rocks; we have bound and fed her, and dragged her along as best we might; but I am sore confounded by her presence, and would like to know what exactly we ought to do with her.”

“What is her name?” asked Legolas sharply, glancing with an alarmed expression upon his mercer, who had paled with fear.

“She says it is Lenna,” said Dori with a shrug, “but my heart misgives me, and I think she is mad, or lying.”

“What color is her hair?” asked Dúrfinwen, and Dori stared at her, for her voice was thick and expressionless, and her eyes dull.

“She has no hair,” he said, wondering.  “It has all been shorn away.  What little there is may have once been brown, but it is gray now, and very stubbled.  Past her first youth she is, but anxious to prove unto us how beautiful and alluring she might be; she coquettes and presses, but in a sordid and ignoble fashion; it is for this reason I brand her a whore; she is no better than she pretends to be – is a good deal worse, in my opinion.”  He bowed over Dúrfinwen’s hand again, and said apologetically:  “There is no reason, your highness, to so discommode yourself on this slattern’s behalf; I will simply bring her to Bard and – “

“I must see her,” said Dúrfinwen, and leapt to her feet, shaking her hand from Dori’s, who stared in surprise.  Legolas stepped forward, and took his mercer by the arm, drawing her back away from the Dwarves, and holding her still he hissed in her ear: 

“Little One,” he whispered earnestly, too low for the others to hear.  “There is no reason to torment yourself on her behalf.  Let it go rather, and allow me to –“

“You!” she breathed, staring up into his pale eyes, her face grey and tragic.  “You, Legolas of Dol Galenehtar, O Green Knight, Jewel of Ithilien?  Do you not know?  Did you not divine?  Your Lord Father was but the primary pawn in her game.  ‘Twas you, O my lord, upon whom she set her sights; she did press me for your mind, for the deep and most secret corners of your desires!  What color dress did you find most pleasing upon the ladies?  Did you like your meat savory or plain?  Whom did you take to your chambers, and what color hair had she?  How often did you disport yourself in the brothels of Osgiliath?  Did you prefer the scent of rose-petals or of lilac?”  Legolas blushed deeply and she said angrily:  “Yes!  It was to align herself with you, my lord; to take you to bed, and ensnare you, and have your offspring; when I fought her compulsion to betray you did she become the more convinced I was your especial paramour, and O how she hated me for it!”  She sought to wrench her arm from Legolas’ grasp, but he in his bewilderment grasped her the tighter; she struggled against him and clutched at his tunic and sobbed:  “She cut off my hair – and took my clothes – anything – anything to look like me!  In vain did I tell her I was but your mercer and you but my lord; that we had never lain together, despite the one who desired me most –“

“Belias – “ stammered Legolas, white-faced and horrified; she gave a terrible laugh.

“Belias!” she cried, beating Legolas’ chest with her fists.  “Belias the handsome, the forthright, the humorless!  Belias who begged Malbeach to visit those especial evils upon himself, and so spare Melima and me those torments! Belias the tender-hearted, the firm-souled, of high and irreproachable repute!  Belias whose body broke beneath the weight of iniquity but was left close-mouthed and unassailable!  And I – wretch that I am!  I was his beloved – I, I!  But he was not mine – not mine.”  And she fell upon his breast and wept, and in great choking breaths she whispered:  “To impress me - he told me – all the passwords – used by the guards at the river-chambers beneath the palace – “

Legolas’ mind was filled then with the vision he had dreamt, of Eryn Lasgalen aflame; he saw his birthplace engulfed with fire, and his people burning alive, crying for mercy; he smelled the smoke and the scent of scorched hair and flesh, and with a rush of fear and anger he took Dúrfinwen by the wrists, and shook her; Gimli gave a cry, and running to them tried to pry his friend’s fingers off her, but they were like iron shackles, digging into the woman’s arms.  “What did you tell them?” he shouted, overcome with dread; he could only see his mother and father, burning and screaming, and the oaks of his home like torches kissing the sky.  Dori and the other Dwarves stared in amazement, and Vé and Tamin leapt forward with cries of dismay.  “Did you betray him?  Did you?  Did you?”

“I told her!” cried Dúrfinwen, laughing feverishly.  “I told her – I told her Ancanga!”

“Ancanga?” said Legolas, nonplussed; he stared hard into Dúrfinwen’s face, and she gazed desperately back, her eyes streaming with tears; then her face crumpled like a limp cloth, and she collapsed against him; he took her in his arms, bewildered.  “That is not one of the passwords – “

“Belias,” she sobbed, clutching at his tunic.  “He said – it was a code – a trick password – signaling the guards to attack.”

“Oh – “  Legolas’ face cleared, and his heart, so heavy with dread, lifted; then he flung his arms about her and laughed, and spun her round.  “Ancanga, the iron teeth of the trap snap shut!” he crowed delightedly.  “O you and Belias both; you brilliant instigators!  They walked into a trap – a trap!”

“Vile – stupid – you arrogant – “ Dúrfinwen fought him then, punching and kicking at him; but she was yet too weak to do him any harm, and he held her still, still chuckling.  “Did you think – I was so puling – “

“Never – never,” Legolas said soothingly, stroking the auburn curls and laughing.  “Not my Dúrfinwen – not my Little One.”

“Not your Little One – You – you conceited – you percilious – “

“Hush, hush!”  Still she struggled in his arms, but he was laughing in relief and holding her tight.  “O my brave, my clever mercer!  I shall grant you an extra ten chambers and twelve looms and sixteen spindles and twenty skilled laborers and an account sufficient to purchase every ounce of silk from every house in Eryn Vorn – “

She kicked ineffectively at his shins.  “You – condescending – never give me the benefit of the doubt – you – “

“And carte blanche to create your own new wardrobe,” he added soothingly, patting her back.  “Olives and burgundies and chestnuts and golds and creams and oranges, teal and black and crimson and purple – “

She stamped her foot and thrashed desperately.  “You damned facinorous hedgehog, seeking to bribe me – “

“Facinorous hedgehog; I quite like that,” said Búri suddenly, and Legolas and Dúrfinwen, startled, turned to him, still locked in their contentious embrace; so embroiled had they been in their private argument that they had forgotten anyone else was there. Gimli and Tamin were standing by deeply dismayed, and Dori and all his Dwarves stood staring at them, intrigued and bewildered.  “I’ll have to remember that one, won’t I, Vé my boy?”

“It’s a good one, Papa, that it is,” said Vé approvingly, looking with significant interest at the Green Knight’s arms entwined round Dúrfinwen’s waist, and her hands clutching the lapels of his tunic.  “Are we entirely sure, Gimli, that Renna didn’t maybe have a bead on something here?”

Legolas hastily released her, and Dúrfinwen stepped away from him, straightened her dirty tunic, ran her fingers through her curls, and addressed Dori with lifted chin:

“My apologies, O Dori son of Gori, for so base a display; I ought not to have let my temper get hold of me so tight, nor used such vile language.”

“Not at all, not at all!” grinned Dori; his eyes were twinkling and he looked very amused.  “What I say is, a lady who is too mealy-mouthed to swear is not a very interesting lady at all, and you, O Anóriel Princess of the House of Fércast, are a very interesting specimen indeed.  Near perfect you are,” he added apologetically, “barring the lack of beard.  But perhaps that’s something you can work on over time.”

“I trust you are jesting,” said Dúrfinwen severely. 

“Only partially,” said Dori.  “That was an impressive stream of epithets.”

Dúrfinwen blushed deeply.  “Thank you,” she said, a little stiffly.  She glanced at Legolas, who was biting his lip.  “I – would like to interview this woman you have apprehended, but would prefer to do so alone.”

“So I surmised,” smiled Dori.  “I take it there is some – “ he glanced at Legolas, and it was the Green Knight’s turn to blush “ – private history there.”

“In a manner of speaking,” said Legolas, smiling faintly.  “But if this woman is to be questioned, I forbid Princess Anóriel to put herself at the mercy of the slattern’s venomous tongue.  I shall accompany her.”

“Not alone, you won’t,” growled Gimli.  “I’m coming, too.”

“And I,” said Tamin.  “No!” he exclaimed, his eyebrows lowering when Legolas opened his mouth.  “I will go along, Master, and you cannot stop me!”

“I was going to say, O my Tamin,” said Legolas dryly, “that, certainly you ought to come, and Vé too; I believe with the four of us we shall provide all the protection and guard the Daughter of Fércast requires.”

“This is hardly necessary,” said Dúrfinwen sullenly.

“Perhaps not,” Legolas conceded gently.  “But I fear I must insist, your highness.”

She sighed and said, resigned:  “Insist, then, your highness; but impede me not; I must speak with her.”

“I know you must,” said Legolas, taking her hand in his own.  “And so must I.  But not alone, Anóriel.”

“Dúrfinwen,” she said.  “Very well.”  She turned to Dori, who was watching this exchange with keen interest.  “The prisoner?”

“Right this way, your highnesses,” said Dori with gracious politesse, and led Dúrfinwen to the back of the file.

The Dwarves parted before them; Legolas and Gimli walked behind Dúrfinwen and Dori, and Tamin and Vé took up the rear.  They passed the pipers and drummers and warriors, the archers and pikesmen and foot-soldiers; the waggon of foodstuff and its little ponies, and at last, sitting tattered and dejected upon the earth in a little heap, her hands loosely bound with loops of rope and her stubbled head lolling, they beheld Renna of Dale.

“There she is!” said Dori in a low voice.  “And I wish you the best of her.  But we have got naught but strange tales and inappropriate advances out of her, and she changes her story twelve times a day.  Good luck getting the truth!”  And bowing to Dúrfinwen he and his Dwarves withdrew, leaving them with Renna.

Legolas took Dúrfinwen’s arm then, and Gimli, Vé, and Tamin stood at her back; she was trembling violently, and her brown eyes were dilated nearly black; but she lifted her chin upon her wasted neck and stood firm.  “Renna,” she said, and held her breath, as though she expected the woman to strike like a snake.

Renna shifted a little on the hard rocky ground.  She did not resemble the fair and well-dressed woman they had seen in Dale; she was gaunt and bruised and covered in soot, and her lovely red gown was torn at the bodice, and the petticoats gone missing.  She was barefoot and bleeding, and her hands were clutching and releasing, clutching and releasing in her lap, like some strange machine; she stared at the dirt beside her, red lips pursed, humming a little under her breath as though they were not there.

“Renna of Dale!” boomed Gimli then, and everyone jumped.  “On your knees in just abasement, you vile trollop!  Face the one whom you have so evilly wronged!”

Legolas held his breath, awaiting the heaviness, the wool gathering behind his eyes; but when Renna looked up at him, smiling, he felt naught:  No compulsion, no attraction; only a feeling of mingled shame and anger looking down upon that lovely and unfeeling face.

“Legolas,” she breathed, her voice trembling with passion; he grimaced, and drew back, disgusted, for he looking into those warm brown eyes descried clearly then the ugly soul they housed, and it was repulsive to him.  Her lips parted, showing her teeth; and her bosom heaved as her breath quickened.  “Legolas,” she said again; she was pleading, clasping her hands together and pressing them to her breasts, quite cleverly pushing them up and in so that they looked higher and firmer.  Legolas shook himself; how had he not seen her thus before?  Wrinkles gathered at the corners of her eyes and round her mouth, and there were even hoary hairs in her eyebrows; he could smell her too, smell the sour and stinking detritus of her passion.  “Legolas,” she said, gazing up at him in adoration.  “O how happy I am that you are uninjured!  Tell me, please, O glorious and beneficent prince; have you succeeded in freeing my poor Esgaroth from its bonds?  Have you slain my husband and his awful men?  O do tell me you have, O my lord, my prince, my beautiful prince; I have been desolate in your absence, and terrified on your behalf!  But I ought not to have been,” she added  coquettishly, fluttering her lashes at him.  “So strong, so noble, so fair!  Guided as you are by the magnificent and impervious virtue of your honor and integrity, how could you help but succeed!  Thank you, your highness,” she said, turning so that she was on her knees before him, staring with rapt veneration at him, though her eyes lingered a little on his mouth.  “Thank you – thank you for saving my people!”

Legolas was amazed at her audacity.  “You thank me, then?” he demanded angrily.  “You thank me for slaying your contemptible master – the worm, the dragon Muhk?”  She flinched back then, a spark of fear in her eyes; he added scathingly:  “Yes – Muhk!  Perjure yourself no more, nor seek to deceive me; I found the dragon’s lair, and slew him myself.  And as for saving your people – “ He shook his head in disbelief.  “Ask me rather if I saved your husband,” he said, his voice heavy with aversion.  “You loathsome creature!  He told us what you did – “

“It was not I!” she exclaimed, her face white.  “O Prince Legolas, O Legolas the generous, the kind, the munificent, it was not I – believe me, O believe me!  O the lies spoken of me; the indignities I have suffered on my poor misguided husband’s behalf!”  Tears flowed down her cheeks and she sobbed.  “He never desired me – O it was shameful, shameful; rather he wanted men, not I; I in my longing to be loved by him perhaps went too far – “

“Too far!” spluttered Gimli.  “You let the worm eat your sons!”

“O not that!” exclaimed Renna, looking shocked at Gimli, her eyes dilating with fear.  “O noble and wise son of Durin, never that!  What woman would dare - I would not dare!  I – I brought my sons – to meet him – to meet Muhk – I never intended – O I would never have dared – “

“Liar,” hissed Dúrfinwen then, and Renna drew back, alarmed; the fear sparked in her eyes was fanned into a flame, and she looked terrified at the woman.  “Liar thrice over.  What you have done, I have observed with mine own eyes.  You are a liar and a thief and fit for hanging alone.”  Her voice shook with anger and loathing, and she trembled with rage; Renna stared up at Dúrfinwen, her mouth working soundlessly; then she gave a terrible smile.

“Anóriel!” she purred, her eyes alight with mischief.  “What lovely vestments you wear!”  She smirked at the stained tunic and breeches.  “So fashionable, and it suits your lovely hair so well!  Ah; Princess Vandalia would be so proud to see her daughter like this – would she not, your royal mother?”

“What!”  Dúrfinwen started back, alarmed.  “How did you – “

Renna leant forward, her eyes hooded, her lips turned into an unpleasant smile.  “Muhk,” she hissed, and Dúrfinwen cringed away from her.  “Muhk – he told me – told me who you were.”  Renna spat and added angrily:  “So you sought to supersede my claim to Dale’s throne, did you?  Well might you be in the direct distaff line; but I’ll warrant my letters patents are superior to yours – half-breed!”

“Why would I want to rule Dale?” demanded Dúrfinwen, in turn growing angry.  “That middling, squalid, hovel-strewn town!  I should rather be a slave in the white towers of my bountiful and lovely Dol Galenehtar than rule so pretentious and insignificant a collection of blinder-afflicted pompous merchants!  Dale,” she said, affronted.  “The very idea!”

Renna chewed her lip angrily, then burst out:  “Foundling bastard!  A shame Muhk had your rake of a father slaughtered at Rhosgobel!”   At Dúrfinwen’s nonplussed look she added with an evil grin:  “He sought to cleanse the royalty of Dale – bring in folk fitting that noble house – and when Vandalia, your mother, defiled herself with Fércast, he sent his servant Ushtâk to do what needed to be done, to protect Dale’s nobility from the influence of so vile a miscreant, and slaughter him ere he could sully Dale’s royal house by wedding her!”

“How – can this be?” asked Legolas, amazed.  “Ushtâk – I slew him myself – “

“O yes!” purred Renna, turning her gaze, ardent once more, upon the Green Knight; she fluttered her eyelashes and cooed:  “Little … yellow … hornet.”

Legolas’ lips moved, but no words emerged; in his eyes was the look of a man who did not know what to think.  But Dúrfinwen gritted her teeth and said:

“It matters not what lies that worm slipped into your eager ears.  I am Anóriel Daughter of King Fércast of the Laiquendi, Daughter of Princess Vandalia of Dale; I have that on better authority than yours, you foul-tongued, common strumpet!  And I declare your sins have caught up with you at last:  We shall take you to your vaunted Dale, to that filthy, rat-infested, trifling town you wished to rule, and before a high court composed of Dwarves, Elves, and Men, you shall answer for your crimes.  I will see you brought to your homeland and set to trial, and you shall be stripped and flogged and hung upon a gibbet so that the ravens pick out your eyes ere you have perished!”  But Renna only laughed, and giving Dúrfinwen an arch look she said scornfully:

“So you will take me to trial, will you?  O do so – do so!  I ache to see you in the stand, bringing your accusation upon me, half-blooded bastard whore!  O yes,” she added, smirking evilly as Dúrfinwen flinched, her adamance shaken.  “Tell them just what you did!  For I did not force you to do that – did I, Anóriel?  O no!  Coercion one might call it; but I heard you cry out in ecstasy – “

“Stop!” cried Dúrfinwen, putting her fingers in her ears; but Renna laughed.

“I saw you!” she crowed, delighted.  “I saw you give yourself to my husband’s men.  I’ll tell the whole town how you submitted yourself willingly to their caprices – “

“I did not!” protested Dúrfinwen, white and shaking.  “I, I was trying to save Melima – “

“That little white-haired bitch!” said Renna scornfully.  “She wasn’t worth it, and you knew it well!  O no, the Lord of Dol Galenehtar wasn’t man enough for you, was he, Anóriel?  You just had to have more and more – “

“Quiet!” thundered Legolas, appalled.  “You have no right – “

“And what will you do, great and glorious prince?” demanded Renna with a wild laugh.  “Well do I remember the feel of your hands on my breasts, and I shall take great pleasure in describing that to the assembly – “

“Stop it – stop it!” begged Dúrfinwen; she shook as though with palsy, and her face was white with fear.  Gimli and Vé were staring in disbelief, and Legolas felt his blood boil; he was light-headed.

“Stop it!”  Renna shrieked with delight.  “O you coquette, Anóriel; how you teased my men with your false modesty!  And I shall tell all Dale and Esgaroth – and Erebor and Mirkwood too, yes! – how I observed you spread wantonly upon the earth – “

Tamin moved so quickly that not even Legolas could restrain him.  Whence had come the dragon’s fang into the boy’s hand no one knew; stunned past action they watched the Green Knight’s esquire dart forward, and thrust the spike deep into Renna’s chest.  She screamed and fell back, and Tamin landed on her, his left hand round her throat, stabbing her repeatedly with the long poisonous fang.  “You witch – witch – witch!” he cried, striking her again and again; Renna shrieked and struggled but Tamin held her tight.  “This is for Bandy – and Kálfar!  And the girl in the stables!  For Esgaroth – “  Each word matched another thrust with the fang, and Renna began to froth and convulse.  “You vile – you horrible – “

“Tamin, Tamin!” cried Legolas, grasping his esquire and hauling him off the quaking and twitching body; the blood from Renna’s wounds was mingled with a stinking green poison, and she spat foam and blood, her face grey and terrified. Grasping Tamin’s wrist he held the fang far from them; it dripped blood and venom.  “Stop, Tamin!  Stop!”

“No!” shouted Tamin, wriggling and struggling in his Master’s arms.  “She will not disgrace Anóriel before Dale – or you – I will not let her!  I – WILL – NOT!”  He kicked out then, and his foot caught Renna in the side; still convulsing she rolled over, retching blood and foam and poison upon the ground.  Realizing he could not break his Master’s grip, he threw the fang at her; it fell to the ground, bloody and stained; when it rolled up to Vé’s foot he backed away quickly. 

“Tamin!” sobbed Legolas, holding the boy tight.  “No, no; not my Tamin – not my Little One – “

At last Tamin’s struggles subsided, and he let his Master hold him; they stood round silently and watched as Renna’s struggling faded too; with a final awful gurgle her body arced up and stiffened, her eyes glazing over as they stared up to the sky; then with a rattling sigh all life faded.

Dúrfinwen stood stunned with them, unable to tear her eyes away from the dead woman lying in a filthy bloodied heap.  Gimli took a deep breath then, and loosened Legolas’ grip from round Tamin’s shoulders; the boy pulled away, his fair face furious and filled with hate; he was shaking with wrath.  Legolas stared at his esquire in horror, then turned to Dúrfinwen and said with a trembling voice:

“Anóriel – this ought not to have happened – “  He looked at Vé and Gimli standing soberly round, and said, “She ought rather to have gone to trial, and had her sins displayed for all to hear; it would have been more just, especially considering the damage she and her husband have done to the relations betwixt Dwarf, Elf, and Man.  I am very sorry.”  He looked mournfully at Tamin.  “My Tamin,” he said, “there was no cause – “

 “No cause!” cried Tamin, straightening and facing his appalled Master, trembling with rage.  “I would do it again –and had I known what she had done, I should have climbed up the balustrades of the tourney grounds, and slit her throat at the joust!  Why, had I the foreknowledge and opportunity, would I have even smothered her as a babe at her mother’s breast!”  There was a terrible silence then; Tamin’s breath dragged and snagged, and the tears ran freely down his flushed cheeks.  “Dragons are born evil,” panted Tamin, retrieving the bloody fang and tucking it into his tunic.  “But she ought to have known better.”  And turning on his heel he stalked away, back to the waiting wagons, leaving the four of them staring rather blankly at each other.  At last Vé stirred and said to Gimli,

“Your Elves have gone potty.  Let’s get them back to Erebor, double-time.”  And he kicked dust at Renna’s body, and turned, and followed Tamin away.