A/N:  Sorry for the teaser!  This has been such a bad year that my writing has fallen off considerably; I figured a weekly deadline would galvanize my sluggish muse, and besides being held accountable (even in cyberspace) is good for everyone.  I hope you enjoy this next foray into the Green Knight universe ... I'm having fun writing it! -- Le Rouret

Fastred had achieved but twelve summers – indeed he was looking forward with great eagerness to his thirteenth, a propitious number, he thought, and promising much fun and distraction upon the banks of the River with his friend Halgond – when he discovered that to be the eldest son of the Prince of Ithilien was even more a burden than he had previously suspected.  He had as a small boy never been completely resigned to his fate, one of pomp and ceremony in which he was forced to wear elaborate and uncomfortable clothes, and eat oddly-prepared foreign foods on gold-rimmed platters, and listen to portly grown-ups make tiresome and protracted speeches, and sit in the far corner of the great ballroom while old ladies in stiff brocade dresses pinched his cheeks and called him "cunning."  It all seemed like such nonsense to him, to prattle on about money and crops and letters and taxes, when there were right outside the city walls horses to ride, rocks to throw, streams to explore, ducks to chase and fish to catch.  He would much rather have spent the time with Halgond, who was a year his senior in age, and lived in a small house by the outer city wall overlooking the north hook of the river.  Halgond was, he was sure, a superior companion to any of his noble parents' acquaintances (barring of course Lord Lassah of Dol Galenehtar, who was good as a boy most of the time, when he was not required to act like a grown-up), and in Fastred's point of view it was preferable to avoid those social functions to the best of his ability.

However, as he grew older he discovered to his further displeasure that his presence was expected in more feasts, more receptions, more functions than before; his sister Hísimë did not seem to mind, possessing a more docile nature and more interest to the fashions of the court, but poor Fastred, being a boy (and a bold and adventuresome one at that), found them terribly dull, though he was always careful never to say so in company.  Those complaints he saved for Halgond when they played together, and for his youngest sibling Théodred, though to be sure Théodred was quite small, and not much good at anything yet, save stealing sweets from the kitchen, and holding his tongue, which so endeared him to his family he was more a pet than even their pretty blond sister.

Fastred had great plans for that summer.  He and Halgond had inherited Halgond's uncle's old skiff, and after patching a few holes in the bottom, and repairing the makeshift sail, and bartering Fastred's father's old fur cloak for two mismatched oars from one of the west bank boatmen (Fastred assured Halgond that his father would never miss it), he and his friend had drawn up a little chart of the river near Osgiliath, and marked with ink on this map where they might go in their new vessel.  The more they planned the more elaborate the arrangements became – they would take the skiff round about the entire city – they would take it down to the west bank – they would take it to Dol Galenehtar's docks up the eastern estuary and visit the Elves – they would take it downriver to the docks at Minas Tirith – they would borrow tents and bedrolls and sail down to the Pelennor to fish and camp – by the time two weeks had passed they were contemplating rowing upriver to Cair Andros, though Halgond thought perhaps that might be beyond even their abilities.  But Fastred and Halgond were yet young, and had – or so they thought – the whole world at their feet; there was nothing (barring parental disapproval) to keep them from carrying out their happy scheme, and so Fastred watched the waning of the spring and the planting of the fields with mounting excitement.

The disastrous news that so disrupted his plans for a jolly summer upon Halgond's little skiff descended on Fastred's head one warm night whilst dining with his family.  They were alone save for the valets, and Fastred was quite happy with that; it was one of his favorite things to do, to sit upon the low balcony over the walls of Osgiliath overlooking the river, with no visiting lords and ladies or other such dignitaries around whom he must needs guard his tongue, watching the reflection of the torches on the undulating water being split and shattered by the paddling of the ducks and grebes and geese, listening to the low mournful cries of the owls and herons among the dark trees and reeds at the River's edge, and the ting and clang of the bells above them in their campaniles, and the occasional shout of laughter, or sudden happy speech of his Lord Father's servants in the rooms below them.  They did not have to wear their good clothes then, which Fastred thought quite fine, for his dress doublet pinched so about the shoulders, and the collar scratched him.  He was far more comfortable in his old brown tunic, though he was not averse to admiring his mother in her simple blue gown, her golden hair wound about her head like a living coronet; Fastred was convinced his mother was the loveliest lady in all Osgiliath, an opinion shared by his father, who seemed to take every bit as much pleasure watching his lady as did his eldest son.  The valet had just served the fish, pointing out with a sly wink to Fastred's Lady Mother that it was the selfsame trout her son had caught that morning – Fastred had stared at the fish, cheeks flaming; it did no longer resemble the bright, flashing, flopping thing in his bucket that he had so proudly presented to the cook downstairs; it was filleted and herb-speckled and swimming in hot butter; he was both pleased and embarrassed to have his parents know he had been mucking about in a skiff like a common fisherman.  But his Lord Father had smiled, and his Lady Mother had laid a hand on Fastred's arm, gently remonstrating:  "There, Fastred; it is no shameful thing for the lord of the land to bring the fruits of his labors to the table; why, does not your Lord Father go with the huntsmen betimes and provide us with our venison?" At that reminder Fastred's mortification had melted away, and with a lighter heart he fell to the trout, which was, he congratulated himself privately, very good.  After the valet had refilled his parents' goblets with sweet wine, and reassured himself the three children were well provided with milk, he had retired back to the kitchens, and then Fastred's Lord Father had given his wife a careful look, and turned upon his eldest son and said:

"Fastred, my son, after much discussion and thought, your Lady Mother and I have determined you shall go to Rohan to live with your uncle the King."

A silence fell about the small table then; Fastred, frozen in the midst of bringing a forkful of flaky fish to his mouth, sat gawping, staring at his father; Hísimë gave a startled squeak, quickly muffled, then covered her lips with her serviette, blue eyes wide; Théodred looked from one sibling to another, his little brows pinched over his eyes, wondering why going to see Uncle Éomer would be so horrible, and why his brother's face had gone so pale.  Éowyn their mother glanced thoughtfully at her husband, her gray eyes troubled; she placed one white hand upon Fastred's shoulder.

"Did you not attend unto your Lord Father, my son?" she asked, her voice careful.  "And do not sit so gaping like the fish upon which we feed; it is unbecoming."

Fastred's fork, still full of fish, clattered upon the porcelain plate, spraying herbed butter over the white tablecloth.  "But I do not want to live in Rohan!" exclaimed Fastred, his heart starting to beat very fast, though it felt heavy and cold to him, sitting in his chest.  "I want to live here in Osgiliath, which is my home!"

"We have conversed upon this topic before, my son," said Faramir firmly, putting his own fork down upon his plate and fixing Fastred with a resolved yet sympathetic eye.  "You are the heir to the throne of Rohan, the country of your mother's people.  As there is no heir at Meduseld to carry on your uncle's line this duty and privilege falls to you."

"To me and to Théodred, you said!" cried Fastred, feeling his throat tighten.  He remembered the conversation of course – remembered listening to his Lord Father's long and rather involved explanation about birthrights and distaff lines and dynastic changes – but it had been so long ago, several months in fact, and he had thought his father in silence had dismissed the subject.  The thought that what had been simply discussed would in fact be carried out was appalling to Fastred.  It had been bad enough to contemplate the issue, and he had cherished secret hope that his father would relent.  The thought of leaving Gondor, and studying to become king over a foreign country -- !  It made Fastred's eyes burn.  But he would not cry – he would not!  He was twelve, and the son of the Prince of Ithilien; twelve-year-old sons of princes did not cry at the dinner table.  He swallowed heavily and said, "Father, you said we were both princes and of the line of Éomund and either of us would do – "

"And after discussing you both we have chosen you," said Faramir.  "We have also heard from your royal uncle, and he said the situation calls for more speed and less temperance; he has need of you now."  He gave his stricken son a kind look.  "You are older than Théodred, and have had much more schooling – "

"But he is only five!" protested Fastred, his voice rising in agitation.  "He has not had time yet – "

"Fastred!"  Éowyn's voice was sharp as a knife, and her eyes flashed with anger.  "Do you not quarrel with your Lord Father; such speech is unfitting his rank, and yours also."

Abashed by his mother's censure before his siblings, Fastred dropped his face in his hands, his ears flaming.  Through the fingers pressed into his ears he could hear his father speaking, though his voice was muffled somewhat through Fastred's attempts to block out his voice.  "You are, as I have said, my son, Théodred's elder; you have achieved almost to thirteen summers, and have grown tall; also have you excelled at the many subjects your tutors have given to you; you keep books, and read and write, and as to the art of warcraft you are young yet for a warrior but your skills bespeak great promise.  Your studies in the realm of affairs of state are advanced for one of your years and you are both decisive and tractable.  King Éomer had need of an heir such as you; he did say to us he would be proud to have you as his successor."

Fastred said nothing for a moment, breathing hard as though he had been running; he was very frightened, because he did not want to leave his family; he had hoped Théodred being named for the old king's son would be chosen.  After all Théodred was as golden-haired as his mother; Fastred was dark, as befit a child of Gondor.  His father's accolades comforted him not, for thirteen summers or no, he felt very young, and very ill-equipped to be king over a country in which he had never lived, only visited on occasion, and he did not want to leave his family in this manner, to never return save for periodic visits; also he regretted his friend Halgond, and puttering about on his small boat; what would he tell Halgond when he heard the news?  He could not bear it – to leave his beloved house, his mother and father, his siblings and friends!  And to go to that great howling land, with its folded and furrowed fields of grass, the cold blasting wind and shallow winding rivers, the strange mountains and treeless hills!  Even the people there did not speak his tongue; how could he govern a people he did not understand?  He was silent so long that Théodred began to fidget on his high chair, kicking his small shoes against the footrest, and after a moment his mother spoke; her voice was gentle, but still adamant.  "Well, my son?" she said, and Fastred could hear the steel therein.  "Your Lord Father has given to you high praise unsolicited; have you naught to say to him then?"

Fastred, for he had been raised properly, mumbled through his fingers:  "Thank you, Lord Father."

"My son," said Faramir, and Fastred felt his father's hands on him then, strong but tender, pulling Fastred's fingers wet with tears from his face.  "Ah," said his father, sounding sad; "do not weep, O my son; I did not mean for you to believe you should leave us alone and forthwith!  It was not my intent to throw you out of doors with naught on your back but your tunic.  I am not so harsh as that, you know."

"I know, Father," said Fastred; he gulped back his tears and fought to keep his lips from wobbling.  "But – " he paused, glancing at his mother, who though clement still had steel in her eyes.

"Speak, my son," said Faramir gently, and Fastred turned to him instead, looking up into his father's kind dark face.  His Lord Father had always been gentle with him, at times indulging him so that his Lady Mother would reprimand them both for their caprices, yet he was steadfast in his decisions; Fastred knew that once his father had made up his mind, it was Death or Catastrophe changed it … and betimes the latter would not work, either.  Yet remembering his father's kindness he took his courage in his hands, mustered his manners, and spoke.

"This is my home," he said, and cursed his voice for shaking; how could he expect his father to listen to him if he sniveled and sobbed like a little boy?  He had to sound reasonable, grown-up, logical.  He swallowed and said, his voice a little steadier:  "I do not know the language in Rohan, I do not know the people, I do not know the land.  I am not even of Rohan, Lord Father; I am of Gondor.  I do not want to leave you and Mother and Hísimë and Théodred and … and … "  He faltered then, because Hísimë had given a low sob; Fastred hoped her grief would sway his parents, and despite the wry look his father was giving him ploughed on:  "… and I am not old enough, and I do not want to go so far away, and – "  In sudden inspiration he said, "And I do not want to leave Lord Lassah – I mean, Lord Legolas – "  He glanced over at his mother, whose lips were pressed in a thin line.  "For Lord Lass – Legolas – said I am coming along quite well in the bow, and the lute, and he hopes to teach me the halberd when I am stronger, and I will not remember my Elvish if I leave – "

"Enough," said Faramir, and he and Éowyn exchanged odd looks; Fastred thought perhaps they looked as though they were going to laugh, but as the situation was so serious he was certain he was mistaken; perchance they were so cross with him they could not arrange their facial features in repose.  Had he said too much?  He bowed his head and stared at his plate, at the white trout congealing in the butter, and wondered if they had trout in Rohan, and if it was any bit as good as Anduin trout.  He doubted it very much.  "We know the difficulties attendant upon you with our decision," his Lord Father was saying, gentle but firm.  "Do you not suppose your Lady Mother had the selfsame quandary, coming from her home in Meduseld to dwell with me in Ithilien?  There were obstacles and conundrums aplenty – "  Now his father did smile, and turned to his wife; her lips twitched as she met his gaze.  "Remember, beloved, when the Lord of Erui rebuked you for wearing a riding-skirt upon the lawns of Minas Tirith?  It was during that luncheon-party, to welcome the delegation from Belfalas, as I recall. He had expected a meek answer from a young woman of Gondor, but that is not what he received from you, is it?"

Now Éowyn did smile, though her cheeks turned pink at the recollection.  "Ah!" she said.  "Yes, I do recall dredging my memory for the proper expletives.  Undómiel was mortified, though of course she is far too polite to show it; even the ladies of the court were disapproving.  I did not know at the time that such language was not commonly used in Gondor, particularly amongst high-born women, for I had been but six or seven months here."

"O Mother, you did not!" exclaimed Hísimë, shocked and indignant; she had definite ideas about such things as comportment and propriety and conducted her small self with enough decorum to suit a queen mother.  Fastred, though he did not share his sister's fascination for protocol, nevertheless stared at his Lady Mother in consternation, trying to imagine poor Queen Undómiel's dilemma, and the general embarrassment engendered by such a social gaffe.  Éowyn turned her eyes upon her son; he was relieved to see she had recovered her humor; in fact she seemed both abashed and amused by the reminiscence.

"I did," she said solemnly, looking about the table at her little ones.  "And, my children, did I spend much of the following days composing letters of apology, and creeping in my mortification about the halls of the palace.  I had never offended so many people in public at once; there were, if I remember properly, well over forty folk in attendance, and it is a credit to my brother's tutelage I managed to save much time and effort, and to affront all in one blow."

"They were not all affronted, my bride," said Faramir smiling.  "Remember you well that Legolas laughed."

"Aye, he did, did he not?" said Éowyn thoughtfully, picking up her goblet of wine and taking a sip.  "Laughed long and loudly, and clapped his hands; Lady Mithdael was most offended at him.  I do not, however, recall him writing letters of apology."

They both chuckled then, and exchanged fond looks; on most occasions watching his parents act in this way gave Fastred great pleasure, for he basked in the love and affection his mother and father had for one another; yet now he was too trammeled up inside to give it much notice, and thought upon what his mother had said, that she had embarrassed herself in her new land, and had been forced to write letters of apology.  Fastred hated apologizing and the thought of having to beg the pardon of the entire nation of Rohan for some inadvertent insult was overwhelming.  He did not want to move to Rohan and risk that – it had been bad enough last winter, having to stammer an apology to Lady Lalanath of Amon Din for spilling red wine on her pretty silver gown; how horrible it would be, to have to apologize to an entire assembly!  He could not do it – he would not.  Somehow his mother and father must be convinced to send Théodred.  He looked at his younger brother then, at the curve of his little mouth, still dimpled and babyish, and at his fat little hands clutching his wooden spoon and trying to put a piece of fish in his mouth.  As Fastred watched, the fish fell off the spoon and landed on the linen beside Théodred's plate; undeterred by this social blunder the little boy simply picked up the fish in his fingers, placed it back upon the spoon, and put it in his mouth.  His feet in their small shoes were swinging back and forth beneath the table, for unlike Fastred he was not tall enough to reach the floor, and as he ate he watched the proceedings with innocent disinterest.  Fastred swallowed.  No, Théodred was far too little to go to Rohan; he would not understand what was expected of him; besides which if Théodred left, Hísimë would pine, and Fastred had a secret horror of ever hurting his pale thin sister like that.  Poor Hísimë had not been quite right since two winters before, when the horrible ague had stricken the city, and so many had died amongst the children and elderly; Lord Lassah had taken the children of the Prince of Ithilien himself, nursing them in his private quarters, feeding them broths and applying poultices and giving them tonics until the danger had passed.  Fastred remembered clearly how tiny Théodred had looked, round cheeks flushed by his fever, lying listlessly upon Lord Lassah's lap while the Elf sang to him and brushed back the flossy curls with his long white hands. And how ill Hísimë had been, for weeks past the day she ought to have recovered; at times the fever drove her to delusions, and only Théodred's presence and voice would soothe her, as he curled beside her burning body in Lord Lassah's big canopied bed, putting his little hands round his sister's fingers.  Fastred shuddered at the memory – no, he could not send Théodred to Rohan!  What would Hísimë do; what would his mother and father do, without Théodred?  Fastred swallowed hard and decided that, if his parents would not bend in sending him to Uncle Éomer, he would never try to convince them to send Théodred in his stead.  Then he realized his mother was speaking, and he had been so absorbed in his thoughts he had not attended to her; startled he looked up, to find her eyes upon him, and upon her face was a look of both sympathy and resolve.

"Any change is difficult, and we find other lands and peoples passing strange, despite our love for them, and our determination to dwell with them," she was saying; Fastred noted with a pang that his Lord Father held her hand tight, and wondered if he would some day be constrained to wed a foreign bride, and if it would be awful, or if his marriage would fall into pleasant lines, as had his mother and father's.  "But by our birthrights and our lines we have both privilege and duty accorded us, in equal portions; to date you have been enjoying but the privilege of your birth, the wealth and honor attendant to your rank and position; now however do the duties of your royal family press upon you, and your uncle has desperate need of you.  You are not solely of Gondor, O my firstborn," she said, leaning forward and taking his chin in her fingers; Fastred felt her tip his face up to his, and he was struck anew by his mother's beauty; could there be ladies in Rohan to rival this?  "The blood of Eorl the Young flows in your veins, commingled with the line of the Stewards of the White Tower.  Your ancestry is noble and honorable, whether on your Lord Father's side, or upon mine.  Until now you have been but a son of Gondor; that is only half of your legacy."  She smiled then, her eyes shining.  "Take you up this honor, my firstborn; succor mine own people, and give to them a hope and a future, for this is the debt of your blood, and the will of the royal house of Rohan."  She released him then and sat back, and Fastred, feeling as though his head had been turned in on itself, could say nothing.  In fact he remained silent throughout the rest of the meal, ignoring his sister's pleading looks, and his parents' quiet talk, eating little; when at last he was excused from table he went not to the dock below the kitchens, where waited Halgond his friend with the boat, but to his rooms, where he lay on his cot for some time, his face buried in his arms.

He could not send Théodred to Rohan; his mother and father would not relent; he himself would be sent.  He would leave his beloved chambers, with his toys and scrolls and books, and the wolf-skin rug by the fire that Lord Lassah had given him; he would leave Halgond and Hísimë and Théodred and his mother and father; he would leave Osgiliath and its high walls from which he would look to the west, and see the tower of Ecthelion shining against Mindolluin, or to the east and see the gold-tipped tower of Dol Galenehtar piercing a living canopy of green; he would leave his tutor, and the servants, and the man who sold bread from his cart in the early morning who made such splendid sticky-rolls; he would leave the high pines where he and Halgond would climb, and the low hills east of the river where he and his friends would play, and the armory, and the olive groves and vineyards and wheat fields.  He held back his tears, reminding himself that sons of princes did not cry, and consoled himself by saying:  "Well at least I shall not have to leave my Karakse."  Karakse was his gelding, given him by Lord Lassah four years before; he was next to Halgond Fastred's best and closest companion, for like Halgond he was loyal and possessed of good temperament and bravery (and slightly oversized); however unlike Halgond he had no especial lineage save he was a half-blood horse of Dale; Halgond was the second son of Hallas of Lossarnach and failed not in reminding all and sundry of this; at least Karakse comported himself in all humility.

Upon considering Karakse Fastred paused; the poor beast was unlike the horses of Rohan, which were small and swift; Karakse though a brave and powerful beast was large as his sire, and though quicker than most of the Dale beasts as befit his dam did not resemble his uncle's stock in the slightest.  He had long powerful legs, streaked with muscle, and hooves obscured by rich silky feathering, and his face was hooked not dished; he was placid in temperament and tireless, but fully twice the size of his mother's horse, which was of the royal stables of Meduseld.  He thought of a group of pale-haired Rohan boys circling his Karakse and laughing in their strange tongue at him, and his heart hardened.  He might be resigned to going to Rohan but he would not let the Rohirrim laugh at his horse!  He would rather leave Karakse in Ithilien than to subject him to such treatment.

But what would he do with his steed?  He could not leave him in Osgiliath; who would ride him?  Halgond had his own horse, a sturdy cow-hocked roan, and his aunt would have no room in her stables for another.  Also Karakse due to his great size ate at least twice as much as Halgond's Speckle; Fastred was coming of an age to understand that though his friend's line was noble that in no way meant he had as much money as Fastred did, and he rather suspected Halgond's aunt could no more feed Karakse than an additional herd of sheep.  Fastred sighed.  He would have to send poor Karakse back to Lord Lassah; at least he knew Tyarmayél the stable-mistress would care well for him.  Lord Lassah would be disappointed, but –

Fastred sat up so abruptly his head spun.  His heart clenched within him and he began to feel both excited and afraid.  Dol Galenehtar!  He had solved his problem.  He would not have to go to Rohan.  He would not have to leave Ithilien.  He would not have to leave his friends and family.  He would not have to abandon Karakse.  And he would not have to leave Lord Lassah!  It was so simple!  Why had he not arrived at this solution before?  Lord Lassah loved him; that he well knew.  Lord Lassah opened his doors to all travelers and wanderers; Fastred knew that, too.  Lord Lassah was only a half-day's ride away … by that time, Fastred knew that fact very well.  Since infancy had Fastred gone to visit Lord Legolas of Dol Galenehtar, called by Fastred, Hísimë and Théodred "Lord Lassah" (though their Lady Mother tried with increasing frustration to make them call him by his proper name); in Lord Lassah's towers were many rooms, filled with marvelous things – large curved fireplaces with white marble mantles; huge gilt-framed mirrors bezelled about the edges that threw rainbows about the walls; shelves filled with books and scrolls and maps; and outside the towers were gardens with hidden fountains and herbs and peacocks; stables smelling of sweet hay and horses; kennels with dogs that snuffed at one's trousers and thrust wet noses in one's hands; hills green in summer to roll down, till one was covered in grass-stains, and white in winter to sled down, till one was covered in snow; and trees – trees by the thousands, hoary oaks, slim lindens, bristling firs, stalwart pines, standing about streams and waterfalls and rock outcroppings that hid badgers and rabbits and, on the rare and exciting occasion, skunks.  And Elves!  Dol Galenehtar was full of them – merry-voiced, bright-eyed, quick-tongued, beautiful Elves, and Lord Lassah their Master, who called him either "Lord Fastred" or "Little One," and took him as seriously as he took the mortal adults of his acquaintance – thus, not at all  -- yet sparred with him in the armory, or helped him win snowball-fights, or rode with him into the woods and taught him the names of the trees and shrubs, or how to imitate bird calls, or took him down to the kitchens to find something good to eat at hours when most little boys ought to have been asleep in bed.  Some of Fastred's happiest moments were at Dol Galenehtar, particularly when he was not constrained to share Lord Lassah with Hísimë (who wanted to brush his hair) or Théodred (who wanted to play hide-and-seek) – when it was simply Lassah and Fastred, sipping honeysuckle, skipping stones, sharpening hunting-knives, practicing marksmanship upon the wide green lawn to the east of the Great Tower, lying in his cot listening to Lassah read to him old tales of war and bravery and errantry, or – best still – being allowed to sleep in Lassah's own bed, wrapped in the soft fragrant sheets and watching beneath heavy lids the Elf's slim tall form upon the balcony, shining hair twining in the shifting breeze, lifting his hands to the stars as he would sing Fastred to sleep.

Fastred lay back down on his bed and began to think about what he should bring with him.  He only hoped he could slip away with no one noticing.

When one is raised by a Ranger of Ithilien, and when one's mother is a Shieldmaiden of Rohan, and furthermore when one's most cherished adult companion is a Wood-Elf with many centuries of war and privation beneath his belt, one has a better sense of travel preparation than the average child; thus Fastred found himself two mornings after that fateful dinner with his small satchel packed, his escape route premeditated, and his dream of freedom firmly entrenched.  He had taken stock of the situation, and carefully planned out what he would need for his day's journey, whether things went well or ill; he had surreptitiously secreted bread and cheese beneath his tunic and smuggled them up to his room; he had filled his travel flask with clean water and sharpened the dagger his sister Hísimë had given him; he had most circumspectly tested his tinder-box and bow-string; he had collected all the spare arrows he could find, including some from his Lord Father's private stock (he knew well they would function, for had not he inherited his father's bow from when he was a child?); he had packed his small bed-roll; he had even fed Karakse extra from the grain box to compensate the steed for a day's ride and checked and polished all his tack.  He had, for he was an orderly boy, thought of writing out this list and ticking his tasks off one by one, but he possessed a secret horror of anyone ascertaining his plot, and thus in the dark hours of the night he could be found reciting his errands one by one, anxiously double-checking to be sure he had missed nothing.

He considered leaving a note telling his parents where he was going, but then bethought to himself perhaps they would pursue him, either with a guard or by themselves (the former alternative would be degrading; the latter, terrifying); so he decided he would leave the telling up to Lord Lassah, who surely would write to them upon Fastred's arrival, saying he had their son, who had sought asylum within Dol Galenehtar's walls, and would succor and protect him from any harm.  Indeed Fastred's secret thoughts concerning this were quite elaborate; he saw himself riding post-haste toward the Elven citadel, with guards holding wide the gates and cheering him on; he further saw himself approaching Lord Lassah's dais, grandly throwing back his travel-stained cloak, his hand on his dagger, whilst Elves in bright array stood respectfully by; he heard himself give his oft-rehearsed speech:  "I claim sanctuary behind your noble walls, and beg indulgence and protection from harm."  And then would Lord Lassah with tears in his eyes approach him, embracing him and calling him "son," and order a great feast be prepared for the brave young lord who had in desperation called upon his dearest friends, and then – well, by that point in Fastred's fantasies he had drifted off to sleep, so that he never got to eat his dream-feast, which disappointed him, for the cooks and pantries and cellars of Dol Galenehtar were the stuff of legend and all who sojourned in that land found themselves upon leaving a good two stone the heavier.

He had thought at first to leave at night when all in the palace slept, but realized after due reflection that such an act would immediately arouse suspicion should he be seen; he therefore resolved to leave in that magical hour betwixt the valet's waking him with a hot breakfast and his tutor's arrival. He judged that if he ate quickly, he might have a full hour and a half with which to secure his departure before Iordred came in with his books and scrolls, and had arranged within his mind what he would say, should anyone question him:  "I am only going for a ride on Karakse before my lessons; it is so fine a morning."  Fortunately for Fastred the day he had chosen for his removal was fine indeed; the sun had yet to peer over the craggy peaks of the Ephel Dúath but the sky was pearly blue and streaked with golden clouds, and there was a fresh wind blowing up from the south.  Fastred peered out his bedroom window, his heart full of mingled excitement and shame; now that the time had come to leave, he was not so certain he wanted to; how could he leave behind his family and his friends and his city?  "I must be resolved," he told himself firmly, pushing the traitorous thoughts down, and seating himself at his little table he quickly ate his breakfast, though upon reflection slipped some extra slices of toast and rashers in his serviette for later.

When the valet had collected his tray and gone Fastred pulled out his sack from beneath his cot.  In it he had packed his good doublet and extra linens; his favorite book, which Lord Lassah had given him, The Valaquenta; a marvelous collection of animal's teeth that he had gotten from Halgond the previous winter; his stolen food; several gold coins and twelve silver pieces wrapped in a chamois cloth; his tinder-box; and lastly a striped rock flecked with glittery bits that Théodred had found by the river, and in an act of profound selflessness presented to his beloved brother.  Beneath Fastred's riding cloak (a gift from his mother, with a brass horsehead clasp holding it beneath his chin) he secreted his bow and arrow, though he hung his dagger and flask upon his belt, reasoning no one would question their presence there.  When he was done he stood before the cheval glass and straightened his brown tunic.  He did not look so bad, he thought; no one would ever guess he was planning to run away; he looked only like a boy out for a morning ride.  He was pleased with his preparations and truly believed he could not but succeed.  Yet despite his resolve and anticipation he was afflicted with a deep sadness, for that he loved the most was what he turned his back upon – his family and home; he hoped they would understand, though he was fairly certain that they would not.  After all, what could parents understand, who willingly let go their eldest child to the wilds of the North?  No, his Lord Father and Lady Mother would not understand; therefore there was no use in trying to explain himself.  With a sad sigh he opened the door of his room and slipped out.

No one challenged him in the halls of the palace; he saw but few servants, and those were engaged in their morning rituals of the sweeping out of fireplaces, the laying down fresh of rushes, and the carrying of meals hither and yon.  To his relief he did not see anyone from his family, for he knew that if he once laid eyes upon them he would crumble, and he had planned too much to let such weak feelings be his ruin.  So with his heart in his throat he traversed the dark back stairs to the door leading out to the east courtyard; only a few chickens were out, having already broken their fast; they regarded the boy with looks of beady-eyed contempt and let him hurry past on the dew-slicked stone.

Hoping the groomsmen were busy elsewhere, Fastred went to the stables, trying hard not to run; he did not want to attract any undue attention.  He let himself in through the back door and took a deep breath; he loved the smell of hay and horses and other such homely scents, and a rich golden light filtered through the barred windows, calming his heart; he could hear the other horses shuffling about in the hay, or nickering to one another. He passed through the hall, sparing a quick scratch between the eyes for his sister's mare Goermeril, who looked at him in surprise over her gate; then Fastred opened the door to Karakse's stable.  Windfola, his Lady Mother's first destrier, raised his head over his own door and watched him with dull eyes; he was very old, and had long since been relegated to a warm hayrick in winter and a quiet pasture in summer.   Karakse seemed very strong and hale indeed by comparison; he pricked up his ears when Fastred entered, and came forward eagerly, snuffing and nudging at Fastred's tunic in search of some sweet thing for him to eat.  Fastred absently petted the horse's nose, and taking him by the halter led him from the stable to the front room.  His horse's huge hooves clattered loudly on the stone floor, kicking up old straw and musty dirt; he hoped the groomsmen were not about.  "I really have no other option open to me," he said to himself again, fighting back a growing feeling of shame; "I must not go to Rohan, and I cannot stay here; Dol Galenehtar is mine only choice."  He began to be afraid someone would come, so he tacked Karakse as quickly as possible, his hands shaking; when a mourning dove hooted dolefully in one of the dovecotes he jumped, his heart hammering.  At last Karakse was ready; he had on bridle and saddle and numnah, and was looking round the back courtyard, nostrils flaring, catching perchance some of Fastred's own excitement and eager to go; seeing this, and descrying the way clear to the alley behind the palace, Fastred mounted and led Karakse out through the postern into the city.

So far Fastred had seen no one out of doors; this comforted him, and he urged his horse into a trot.  Karakse's fullered hooves made what seemed to Fastred a horrible racket on the pavers; however none but housewives sweeping their stoops paid him any mind as he passed, looking up and nodding politely to the young lord.  Once before gaining the east gate Fastred espied the sops-in-wine, who knew him, and his heart turned to lead within his breast; however the man but waved once, and went back to trundling his cart, his face downcast and uncaring.

Fastred breathed a great sigh of relief when he got to the gates.  They had opened at dawn, as was the custom thereabouts, and the gatekeeper was engaged in some task in his house and did not even mark Fastred's passing; Fastred and Karakse crossed the shining span of the bridge to the east bank unchallenged; the boy was so troubled in his mind, and anxious lest he be caught, that he scarce noticed the silky dark water beneath them, nor the great white egrets standing about the reeds on the far bank.  Fastred began to grow nervous again when they got to the guardhouse on the far end of the bridge; however the guard glanced up and saw naught but a boy on a horse out for an early-morning ride, and waved him through.

Fastred took a deep breath.  The sun had just cleared the tips of the Ephel Dúath and bathed Osgiliath in light; his city when he turned to look at it shone like a white jewel set in the liquid silver of the Anduin, the gilt spires of the campaniles glinting and the gleaming marble so bright it hurt his eyes.  How he loved Osgiliath!  How he yearned to run through the cobbled streets dim and blue in shadow, to trace out the ancient patterns on the walls made by both men and war; how he longed to turn Karakse's head and gallop back across the bridge, back to his home!  But then he remembered his Lord Father's mandate and he hardened his heart.  Go to Rohan?  Never!  If he could not live in Osgiliath at least he could stay in Ithilien, though he cross demesnes to so do.  Had he asked he was sure Lord Lassah would say yea; therefore there was no need to ask.  Turning his back on Osgiliath Fastred clucked to Karakse, who had already begun to fidget with impatience, and boy and horse headed down the winding dirt road toward the forest.

The eastern settlement, built on the fertile plain betwixt bridge and wood, was new, and the folk there both brave and a little strange; others in Osgiliath thought them foolhardy to so dwell beneath the mountains of Shadow, and wagged their heads at the huts and houses, the piers and pastures.  But those who resided on the eastern shore of the Anduin laughed at their chary neighbors and said:  "Did not the Dark Lord hate Elves more than Men?  And we have Elves a-plenty betwixt us and his land." For their parts the Elves of Dol Galenehtar took especial care of Lord Faramir's folk on their western borders; 'twas they with whom the Elven merchants traded first and best, they to whom were given the grandest and richest gifts, and they for whom the Elven minstrels reserved their newest and finest songs.  Fastred preferred the peasantry upon the eastern shore himself; anyone who enjoyed the company of Elves was to his mind a superior person, and he had gained the reputation there of being both open-handed and friendly with the settlers there.  So he crept through the outskirts of the settlement as carefully as could be; he had no desire to be recognized by its citizens, who would surely point out to his father's rangers where the young lord had gone.  He passed from the last field beneath the boughs of the wood, and was just believing himself to be in the clear, and to breathe a bit more easily, when with dismay he heard running footsteps behind him; he was sure he had been caught and would be brought forthwith to face his father's wrath.  However when he took courage and turned he saw not the familiar faces of farmers or vassals but only a small girl in a ragged dress running to him, her dark hair flying behind her.  She seemed very thin and pale to his eyes, and Fastred was dismayed to descry her soiled hands and knees; she looked as though she had been digging in the dirt, perhaps attempting to unearth roots of some sort.  He knew there were some small handful of the destitute in all areas of his father's demesne despite great efforts to feed and clothe everyone, and to witness such poverty so close to his own great home, whilst clothed in warm wool and full of eggs and toast, was nigh unbearable.  He turned Karakse and slipped down off his saddle, waiting till she approached.

"O sir!" she panted, coming to a halt and holding her side, puffing and blowing.  "I so feared I should not catch you!  O sir, have you naught to spare my brother and me?  For my father was drowned last week and my mother had nothing to give us for supper last night, and has nothing to give us for breakfast this morning either.  I do not mind for myself so much, but my brother is very small, and he is hungry, and when he asks for food my mother cries."

Realizing by her carefree address she had not recognized him Fastred took heart.  "Why certainly!" he cried, and turned immediately to his sack.  "I have food here, enough to feed him and you and your mother all three."  He brought out his purloined bread and cheese, wrapped in a scrap of linen, and showed it to her.  "It is not much – " he began apologetically, but the girl laughed and clapped her hands and said:

"Why that is more than we have eaten all week!  O sir, you are certain you can spare so much?  This is a feast!"

"Of course!" said Fastred, cut to the quick; he did not know what it was like to be hungry, and it had just occurred to him that, had he not been in the process of running away, he could have brought her plaint himself before his Lord Father and so improved her fortunes.  "Perchance I might mention it to Lord Lassah," he thought, handing the girl his food; "perchance he might send some Elves to succor her."  "What is your name?" he asked, while the girl carefully wrapped the bread and cheese in her apron.

"Beraen," she said, giving him a quick smile.  "O thank you, sir; I so hoped you could help us!  The Valar bless you for your kindness!"  She turned to go, but then when Fastred put his hand upon his sack he felt the serviette.  "Wait!" he cried, and she turned; Fastred ran to her, and gave her the serviette.  "Here are four good fatty rashers," he said, "and some buttered toast, though it is cold.  But now you will have some meat for your meal."

"Sir!" the girl exclaimed, her thin face flushed with pleasure.  "Such riches!  Why, I have not tasted rashers in well over a year!  You will surely be blessed, sir; no one else has given us so much.  I only wish I could give you something in return!"

"You may," said Fastred eagerly.  "Will you tell no one of my passage?  I wish to travel in secret, and do not want anyone following me.  Can you do that for me, Beraen?"

"I can and will, sir," said the girl stoutly.  "You have spared nothing and given us much.  It is the least I can do for you, sir."  She cocked her head then, looking for all the world like a little bedraggled wren; she asked, "And what is your name, sir?"

Fastred gaped, then answered quickly, "Halgond."

"Ah!"  The girl smiled.  "Then none shall know Halgond passed here."  And giving him a wave of her hand she was off, clutching her treasure close; Fastred breathed a sigh of relief.

"There!" he said to Karakse, who was eating early clover by the roadside.  "I knew that food should come in handy; I have eaten well today, and she not at all. What matters it if I suffer the pangs of hunger upon this short journey?  Better I am deprived and so give to those who cannot provide for themselves.  And this way I know she will guard my passage; she owes it me, and seems clever enough to confound any who might question her.  O I hope Lord Lassah can help her poor mother! It is a nobleman's greatest duty to feed the poor – Lord Lassah said that, you know, Karakse, and he is middling wise, so I suppose it must be true."  Karakse, being a horse, did not reply, so Fastred mounted and rode deeper into the woods.

He had been that way many times before of course; from infancy had his noble parents brought him to the Elves of Dol Galenehtar for visits short and lengthy; betimes Fastred would stay in Legolas' tower for a month at a time, toddling round the white halls and green gardens and lisping out his Elvish to the jolly laughing dwellers in the wild; as he grew older it became a great treat for him to so do, to play upon the hills and in the streams, to ride behind Legolas on his great black destrier as he inspected the olive groves and vineyards and herb gardens, to play the lute and practice his marksmanship and eat bread-and-milk in the starry evenings upon the upper balcony of the great tower.  Always before had the wood seemed to him a friendly and magical place, for he had ever traveled in company with his mother and father then, and a great company of Rangers; even in the dark had there been torches and lanterns, and the merry voices of his people had mingled with the welcoming cries from their Elvish neighbors, making the forest of Ithilien innocuous and secure.  Fastred had never traveled the long forest road alone before.  He had never seen how dark it was beneath the looming firs, how the glossy thick branches crowded out the light, how the shadows beneath the brakes rustled and clicked with secret movement.  He had never before noted how the low cry of the owl, or the guttural voice of the quail, or the shattering bolt of a frightened rabbit broke the heavy silence, and when he heard the far-off shriek of a wild cat he jumped and put his hand on his bow.  Karakse did not seem overly concerned, though, so he quieted, and attempted to still his hammering heart.  He consoled himself instead with thoughts of his arrival, how the ladies of the court, Seimiel and Hirilcúllas and Dúrfinwen, would exclaim over his bravery and kiss and pet him, and how proud Lord Lassah would be, that he had traveled the whole way alone and with no one to help him.  "How courageous he is!" the women would cry, and Fastred felt his heart lift within him.  It would be a very fine thing to be thought brave, even if it were just the ladies who said so.

He could barely track the course of the sun, hidden as it was behind the thick branches; however after some hours he exited the fir forest and found himself amongst more oaks, whose boughs were lighter and let in more air.  He looked up, trying to determine the hour; he knew it must be round luncheon, for he was hungry.  He thought about the food he had given Beraen and fought back regret; then he remembered the silver he had packed and was filled with vexation.  "I could have given her silver to buy food," he thought, chagrined; "then she could have got the fresh, and I could have eaten my day-old bread, and hard cheese!"  He looked round, hoping to espy some edible herb or root, but recognized nothing; he was at least woodsman enough to know experimentation could be fatal.  With a sigh he said, "Well, at least you will not go hungry, Karakse; there is still grass to be had in these little clearings.  Are you hungry, Karakse?"

Karakse swiveled his ears but as before replied not.  Fastred dismounted and led him off the path into a small clearing, sun-dappled, and filled with green grass and small yellow flowers.  "Dandelions," he thought, and pulled up a few slips to eat; they were bitter, but better than naught.

His ears caught the sound of a running stream and he said, "Are you thirsty, Karakse?  We might as well drink, we two; I do not know how much longer we are to travel."  He looked around again; he did not recognize the clearing.  "I know that this is the road to Dol Galenehtar," he said slowly.  "But I do not remember how long it takes to get there; also I do not know how long we have been riding.  'A half-day's ride,' Father always says; but I do not know if we have ridden for half a day yet.  It feels like it, does it not, Karakse?"  Karakse was occupied in tearing up great mouthfuls of the sweet green grass and did not even mark what Fastred was saying.  "Well I am going to drink," said Fastred firmly, "and I do not want you running off, Karakse, so you shall come with me."  He took up his horse's reins and pulled the reluctant beast toward the sound of water chuckling over stones.  Sure enough he found a small estuary, brown and sparkling in the filtered sunlight; striders were dotting the still spots by the water's edge, dimpling the shining surface, and he could see small speckled fish undulating in the swifter part of the stream. 

"Trout!" he exclaimed, falling to his knees in the mud beside the stream.  "O Karakse, would not trout taste so very good right now?  But I have no hook nor line, and anyway," he sighed, getting up and brushing off his knees, "it would take far too long to build a fire, I suppose."  Then his eyes lit upon a pile of driftwood on a sandy spit, and he said slowly, "Well … to get a good bed of coals; that takes but an hour, does it not, Karakse?  And while it is burning perhaps I can convince one of these fish to swim over here – see this, Karakse?  If the fish swim round here it is trapped, then I stand like so and can perhaps catch it with my hands.  What think you, Karakse?"

Karakse did not seem to think too highly of this plan, but as his small master had already begun to dig out his tinder-box it became apparent any objections would be ignored.  So the horse continued to tear up the grass while Fastred hurriedly lit a small fire and fed it with all the dry wood he could find; then as it burned he went to the little hollow by the stream in which all manner of things had been trapped – twigs and leaves, and the occasional fry – and attempted to catch a slippery trout with his bare hands.

It took longer than he had expected, and by the time he had landed a small trout his fire had all but burned out; however with much blowing and the feeding of twigs and small branches Fastred managed to get it burning again.  Then he cleaned the fish, wrapped it in wet oak leaves, and set it sizzling on his hot coals.

When the fish was done Fastred ate it; it did not taste quite so good as the trout he had caught the other morning, but he attributed that to his lack of butter and salt, and his ignorance regarding fresh herbs.  Yet he was hungry enough to do it justice, and had just licked his fingers clean when a low sullen rumble caught him by surprise.

"Thunder!" he exclaimed, looking up at what he could see of the sky; the sun was gone, and between the branches were only gray clouds, hidden betimes by the tossing boughs.  "I did not expect it to rain," he said with dismay, kicking dirt over his small fire.  "Well at least we have eaten both, Karakse; we shall not arrive at Dol Galenehtar over-hungry … and there shall be a feast for us you know, Karakse; I hope they have cherry subtleties, for I am fond of them."  He took hold of Karakse's reins and led him away from the stream.  "I shall save you some sugar," he promised his horse, patting the piebald neck.  "Do not the cooks at Dol Galenehtar make marvelous subtleties?  If they make one for me with the spun-sugar icing I shall break some off and give it you. Will you not like that, Karakse?"

He walked with his horse for some minutes in the direction of the clearing, but after a short time he stopped.  "This is not right," he said hesitating.  "I was sure we would have found it by now."  He looked round again, then up at the sky, which was growing ever darker.  "If only the tiresome sun would show her face!" he exclaimed.  "I marked my pathway by her presence; how can I find my way back without her?"  He turned round.  "I think we'd best return to the stream, Karakse," he said.  "Then I will pay the closer attention and we will find the clearing; never fear!"  He said this more to comfort himself than his horse, who as before had not replied; when he realized he had lost his way he felt within his heart a sliver of cold fear, quickly tamped down.

"These woods belong to my Lord Father and to Lord Lassah," he told himself.  "Even should I lose my way it shall be but a brief time before I am found – "  Then he remembered he had told no one where he was going, and had asked Beraen to hold her tongue, and with a sinking feeling realized that not a soul knew he was in the woods save a peasant bound to secrecy.  He bit his lip to quell the sudden treasonous tremble and walked back towards the stream.

This time however he could not find the stream.  He looked upon the loamy floor of the forest for clues to their passing but saw none; the moss absorbed all signs of their footsteps and Karakse contrary to his nature had not even left some telltale load behind them.  Fastred stopped and listened hard for the sound of flowing water but all he could hear was the thudding of his own heart, then the low cracking boom of thunder.  High above them in the canopy of the trees came a light pattering sound; it had begun to rain.

"Well," he said to Karakse, sounding cheerier than he felt "we have got wet before, and I am sure we shall find the road soon; after all there is little but road hereabouts; we are bound to run across it eventually."  For though in his father's training he had prepared for any delays he did not want to stay in the woods overlong; the trout had been very small and he was sure he would be hungry again in a few hours' time.  "A half-day's ride," he muttered to himself, casting about on the ground for some clue as to his whereabouts.  "I know I came uphill; why is it when I go downhill I do not find my way?"

He wandered about thus, growing ever more agitated; Karakse followed him through brake and shrub, up rocky faces and down shingled dells, his long tail catching in brambles and thorns and his feathered fetlocks choked with cockleburs and grass; though the boughs protected them somewhat from the rain they began to get more and more wet, and when Fastred pulled up his hood Karakse shook his head and spattered rain drops all over Fastred's face.   At last over the thunder and drumming rain Fastred heard the cluck and chuckle of moving water; with mounting excitement he led his horse to it.

It was not however the stream he remembered; this was a broader expanse of water, and far swifter; a small cataract led it away from them down a steep slope, and Fastred could see the water rushing headlong into a low scrubby valley.  It had begun to grow darker and Fastred was hungry; however he well knew he could neither catch a trout, nor build a fire, under these circumstances, and his frustration gave way to fear; for the first time that day he wished he had told someone of his plans, or left some note; he knew his father's Rangers could have found him, or Legolas' scouts.  But no one looks for that which they know not is lost, and Fastred with sinking heart admitted to himself that things had not gone as well as he had planned.

"I was to be in Dol Galenehtar by now," he grumbled to Karakse, who was pulling half-heartedly on a gorse bush.  "I was to be warm and dry and eating a fine meal, and you were to be in one of Tyarmayél's nice warm loose-boxes eating mash with your sire."  He sighed and looked up at the darkling sky, blinking past the rain drops.  "Well before it gets much darker I suppose I'd best find some place for us to sleep," he said; "at least you will not go hungry, Karakse!"

He led the horse up away from the gorge, flanking the stream; the way was rough for many rosemary and boxwood bushes impeded their passage, and the ground thereabouts was rocky and slick. At last they gained the summit and Fastred looked around, hoping to see in what direction he should go; the sky however was so heavy he could not even tell which way was west, and though he had climbed was not so high he could see the horizon, or determine to which way lay either Osgiliath or Dol Galenehtar.  In fact all he could see were more trees, colorless in the gloom – ash and maple and pine and fir, with oaks scattered throughout.  He could not even see woodsmoke, for the mists that lay about the hills obscured that as well.

"I do not remember climbing so high before," said Fastred to Karakse, who was standing with his head hung dispiritedly before him.  "I am quite tired.  Do you suppose we might find a cave hereabouts where we might spend the night?"  The thought of a cold damp cave was uninviting; he had entertained such lovely thoughts about his reception at Dol Galenehtar that he felt very flat and disappointed.  He cast one last dejected look round about him and was about to crest the hill when a breeze tattered a wisp of cloud, tearing it like filmy gray cloth before his eyes, and he saw a long winding track below them, dark and glossy with rain.  His heart leaped and he cried, "The road!  Look, Karakse!  The road!  We are safe now!"  With joy he led his steed down the far slope, crashing through thick brakes and fighting his way amongst the wirevine and moneywort which wound round his legs; he fell once, landing heavily upon the heels of his hands and cutting them on the sharp rocks, but in his excitement did not even mark the pain; he ploughed forward in the growing darkness, eager to find the road.  When at last he saw a dim twinkle through the trees he tightened his grip on Karakse's reins and said:  "We are nearly there, Karakse!" and plunged through the forsythia hedge onto the smooth, flat road.

He knew beyond a doubt he was in Legolas' demesne; the road was not the rough rocky track leading from the Ithilien proper here.  Hwindiö and his workers had paved and leveled it and marked it at intervals with beaten bronze signs hung on the trees; the sharp facets and pierces threw back even the dimmest of light and their sparkling rays cried comfort to all travelers.  "We must have gone up round the boundary-markers," he said to Karakse, who only twitched his wet ears at him.  He sighed.  He had hoped one of the guards at the boundary-markers would have gone ahead of them and announced their arrival, ensuring a warm reception; however it could not be helped, and Fastred thought perhaps it would look even better for him were he to arrive unannounced; how surprised Lord Lassah would be, that he had eluded the border guards!  Fastred smiled to himself; for a twelve-year-old boy to circumvent discovery by Elven scouts was unheard-of and he was certain Lord Lassah would be quite impressed.  "Though I will admit to him it was naught but an accident," he said to Karakse, who was looking at him reproachfully.  "It would not do to get his guards into trouble!"

He looked at the bronze markers; on one side of the road were runes carven that read "North-East;" on the other, "South-West."  "Well I suppose we want North-East," said Fastred slowly; "though I would have thought we should be heading South-East instead." There was another grim roll of thunder; Fastred looked up at the gloomy dark sky.  "We cannot be that far," he said cheerfully to Karakse, mounting; "we might as well ride 'til we get there."  He clucked to his horse and Karakse started out.

They rode for about an hour in the pouring rain, and it grew darker and colder; Fastred was drenched, and he could see rivulets of water streaming off Karakse's flanks.  He was dreadfully hungry and wished he had caught two trout and not one.  To pass the time he began to daydream about what a feast he would have at Dol Galenehtar – he was far too tired now to want a great gala, but would settle comfortably for one of Bandobras' rich meals in Lord Lassah's chambers – roast venison perhaps, with thick heavy gravy swimming with onions; light fluffy bread and soft sweet butter; spicy terrine with aspic, sharp creamy cheese with a floury rind, sweet wine cut with cold water –

He jerked his head up; he had nodded off in the saddle!  His eyes felt very sandy and dry, and his limbs were heavy.  He looked around.  Even in the dark he could tell they were not in the forest anymore; Karakse had halted at a clearing.  The road led through the clearing, which was strangely ovoid, and covered with soft-looking grass; tall white pillars surrounded it, and on either side of the road were white marble ewers, filled with rain water and choked with leaves.  Fastred frowned and urged Karakse forward, but the horse shied, dug in his hooves and refused to proceed.  With a sigh Fastred dismounted and let the reins hang; Karakse was too tired to run away now.

"What is this place, Karakse?" he asked, approaching the nearest pillars flanking the entrance.  "I do not think I have ever been here before."  He looked back at his horse.  Karakse was shifting his hooves nervously, rolling his eyes and shivering; Fastred frowned and said:  "There is no need to be so foolish, Karakse! After all we are in Lassah's domain and naught can harm us here."  He turned, brushed the water from his eyes and walked into the clearing.  Suddenly he heard music and laughter, and saw bright lights, and smelled fresh bread; though the voices were ghostly and he could see no one for some reason he was not afraid.  He stumbled a little as he passed the pillars, and rubbed at his eyes; a feeling of contentment and lassitude filled him then, and with a happy sigh, not even noting Karakse's anxious whinny, he sank to the damp grass and fell into a deep sleep.

Fastred opened his eyes.  He was lying in a soft bed, looking up at a strangely familiar white plaster ceiling, with a crack in one corner shaped like a bird.  He looked round.  Sunlight filled the room in which he lay; the walls were yellow stone and decorated with bright tapestries, in which had been woven silver and gold threads, glinting and flashing against the fine wool.  At the open window were gauzy white curtains, shifting and billowing in a fresh breeze, and upon the table beside his bed was a beautifully painted blown-glass pitcher filled with water.  He blinked, and sat up.

He recognized this room; this was the nursery where he and Hísimë and Théodred would stay, when they came to visit Lord Lassah.  Yes – there was the tapestry with the mûmak on it – and the little rocking-horse in the corner, that Lord Gimli had made for Théodred – and Hísimë's doll house – and his lute!  Filled with excitement Fastred bound from the bed and ran to the window.  He had done it! He was here, in Dol Galenehtar!  Sure enough outside the window he could descry the green lawn, sparkling with the night's rain, and rimmed round with cedars and linden; in the midst of the lawn laughed the round white fountain throwing up its bright foamy spray to the early morning sun.  And he could see the tile rooftops of the other edifices of Lord Lassah's domain, the stables and the armory and the smithy and the kitchens and the other buildings, and the fields and vineyards beyond, crowned by a sharp high peak; he knew if he ran to the other window he would find the barns and the ricks and the woodcotes and the storage-houses and the view down the green valley to the estuary, and if he ran down the stairs he would pass rooms and offices and libraries and the big ballroom and the dining hall and then on to the throne room, where he would find Lord Lassah.  So overjoyed was he that he started to the door at once, only to look down upon himself and find he was clad in naught but an oversized nightshirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and hanging down round his ankles.  "It must be Lord Lassah's nightshirt," he thought, his heart swelling, and he cast about near the bed for his clothes.

He could not however find his sack, nor his other possessions, not even after looking on shelves and in boxes and under the bed and in the wardrobe; there did not seem to be any spare clothing in the nursery at all.  "How vexing!" he thought; he could not run to the throne room in a nightshirt, and a borrowed one at that; it would be far too unseemly, and mortifying beside – what would happen if one of the ladies, such as Seimiel, or worse Dúrfinwen, found him?  His face flamed at the thought; it would not be worth the risk; he would have to wait 'til someone came to fetch him.  So being still somewhat fatigued after his strenuous ordeal the day before he clambered back into bed and pulled the counterpane up round his waist, and tried to remember how he came there.  But though he put his head in his hands and thought as hard as he could he did not recall coming to Dol Galenehtar, to the bright bronze gates hung in the white marble, flanked by Elves in dark armor bearing tall spears; he could not even remember the approach road, lined with carven posts painted white and festooned with vines and flowering shrubs.  In fact he could remember nothing beyond riding Karakse to the clearing; it was very puzzling, for he recalled well his long cold ride in the rain, and his catching of the trout; had he fallen perhaps, and knocked his head?  He was just feeling his scalp for a lump when the nursery door opened, and Fastred looked up eagerly, expecting Lord Lassah; however he was disappointed when he saw it was only Kaimelas, Lassah's valet.  Yet still he smiled, for Kaimelas was a blithe and good-hearted Elf; however the valet did not answer his smile, but looked instead quite put out indeed.

"So you are up!" Kaimelas said rather abruptly.  He crossed the room to the boy and dropped a bundle on the bed; Fastred saw it was his clothing, cleaned and dried.  "I thought you should sleep the morning away.  You have made everyone very late; get dressed and hurry; Cirien has already crossed the border, Andunië has not yet returned from the hunt, and Hirilcúllas and my lady wife are far gone in panic."  He turned to go, stepping briskly as was his wont when preoccupied; greatly bewildered, and not a little provoked by this cavalier reception, Fastred leapt to his feet and cried:  "Wait a moment!" 

"What is it?" asked Kaimelas, his hand already on the doorknob.  "Do you please hurry; I am quite behindhand this morn, and waiting upon you has delayed me unreasonably."

"I want to speak to Lord Lassah," said Fastred angrily, wishing he were not wearing a nightshirt; it was difficult to be authoritative in one's underthings.  "I want to know how I came here; and there is no need to be angry with me; I have done nothing wrong!"

"O have you not!" exclaimed Kaimelas turning; though always Fastred had known him lighthearted and kind he was startled to descry the umbrage in the Elf's eyes.  Kaimelas drew himself up to his full height; Fastred had never noticed how tall he was, nor how commanding; Kaimelas had ever been "Lord Lassah's valet" and it was with chagrin Fastred late remembered that the Elf had prior to his injuries in Amon Din been one of Legolas' chief scouts, and a brave and canny warrior.  He looked every inch of it now, grim, his dark eyes blazing, and Fastred realized he was a little afraid of the Elf.  When Kaimelas spoke next his voice was low and cutting, causing the boy to flinch as from a blow.  "Do you then please explain that to Meivel and his twenty best soldiers, who rode off in the gloaming expecting an invasion of orcs or evil men into our borders, preparing themselves for battle, yet found to their amazement and irritation only a small wet runaway in one of our sacred clearings!  And do you also explain that unto your Lord Lassah, who turned so white upon discovering it was your body lay in Meivel's arms, thinking you dead or gravely wounded, I feared he should swoon in his fear and dismay, being filled already with alarm at news of your disappearance!  And furthermore do you explain your lack of misdeeds unto your noble parents, who spent all yesterday searching the river for you, believing you drowned, and the nearby forest, believing you dead in the mudslide upon the slopes of the Ephel Dúath – O yes, to your Lady Mother, from whom my lord received a letter written in shaking hand, far gone in fear and dread, begging his aid in the search for her beloved son, who so unaccountably went missing!  And lastly, O Lord Fastred, do you explain that once again to my lord, upon whose shoulders you have dropped yourself as a burden and a disgrace, trespassing upon his hospitality and mercy, bringing mortification upon him that he must needs explain your transgression unto your poor mother, sending off in the darkness and rain two scouts with word of your mischief and selfishness, staying up all the night awaiting her reply, and further increasing the yoke upon his neck, that he must occupy his time with your aberrant self in concert with his other duties this morn!  O no, little Lord Fastred," said Kaimelas turning from the white-faced boy standing stunned before him; "there is no reason for me to be angry with you – not one!"  He wrenched open the door and would have stepped in the hallway, but Fastred leapt forward, catching him by the sleeve.

"Wait!" he cried, his heart turning to lead within him.  "I did not mean – I did not think that – I did not know!"

"Well then you may tell my lord that when he arrives," said Kaimelas coldly, pulling away.

Fastred gasped.  "He – he is coming?" he stammered, suddenly afraid.

"Indeed!  He has cut a good stout willow-branch which I am certain will soon be well-acquainted with your hindquarters," said Kaimelas, turning away.

Fastred felt his stomach sink.  "Lord Lassah would not whip me!" he cried defiantly, balling his hands into fists.  "He would not dare!"

"My lord dares much," said Kaimelas grimly.  "He is reasonably wroth with you, not only on his own behalf, or on his household's; but also for the pain you have caused your parents, for whom my lord has greatest esteem, and deepest friendship; upon discovering the distress your duplicity has caused them he was so gone in wrath he could scarce speak.  And now I suggest unto you, Lord Fastred, that you put on your trousers; it shall not sting so much that way."  And he went out and shut the door behind him.

Fastred stared at the oaken door, shaken to the center; this had not turned out well at all, and he was both angry and abashed.  Then when he ran back to his bed the words Kaimelas had spoken regarding his perfidy swept over him, and he stopped as though struck, stunned and horrified.  He had frightened everyone – the Elven soldiers, Legolas, his parents!  He saw in his mind Legolas' white face looking down upon his still form and his heart wrenched within him.  Then he thought upon what his mother's ruminations must have been, believing him drowned or crushed, and the strength left his legs; he collapsed upon the bed and covered his face.  Then he remembered that Lord Lassah was on his way upstairs to whip him and he threw himself facedown upon the bed and began to weep.  He cried for a while, then grew angry again, but this time with himself.  "I am not fit to be a Ranger's son!" he exclaimed, dashing the tears away with his knuckles.  "I planned my route but disdained my consequences.  I thought only of myself and my own aim and not of my parents – nor of Lassah and his people – nor even Hísimë and Théodred!  O how miserable they must have been, and how deeply injured by me!  And Karakse – I rode him all day and I am sure he was tired and hungry and cold – if they even found him – what if he still wanders the woods; O that would be terrible!  And now I am causing even more trouble – and my Lord Lassah is angry with me – and Kaimelas is angry with me – and how disappointed my Lord Father must be – and in the end I did not even get here on my own – Meivel had to rescue me, or I should be out there yet!"

He sat for a moment looking out the window, staring unseeing at the bustling courtyards below.  It was clear to him now that he had acted a fool, and a selfish one at that; he had angered and frightened many people, and put everyone off their labor by his imposition; he had caused his Lady Mother to think him dead and his Lord Lassah to sit up the night attempting to heal this hurt.  He had driven many good and kindhearted Elves out of doors at night for no good reason save his own duplicity, and was further delaying and inconveniencing the very ones he hoped would welcome him; his heart hurt, and he wished Lassah would come, so that he could abase himself and beg forgiveness; yet he also hoped Lassah would not come, for the thought of the Elf lord's distress and anger was painful to him, made the moreso by knowledge of his own contribution to it.  He concluded it would have been far better for him to have run to Rohan and not from it; then with another sickening inward wrench wondered if his royal uncle would even want him when he heard of Fastred's flight from duty.  This notion so depressed him he lay back down on the bed and hid his face in his arms, wishing with all his might that he could disappear, or better still, die and have done with his suffering once for all.  So immured was he in his private misery that though he marked the sound of the door opening softly it touched him not; thinking it was Kaimelas or some other servant come to reprimand him further he said into the crook of his elbow:  "O please do you let me alone in my abasement; I can sink no further, and when Lord Lassah comes he shall whip me, and though I know I deserve it I wish he wouldn't, I wish I were dead, rather than be whipped by Lord Lassah!"

"Is that so?" asked a voice softly; there was warmth in the tone of it, and compassion, and taking heart Fastred raised his head.  To his mingled joy and horror he beheld Legolas himself, clad in pale blue and crowned with mithril; tall and forbidding he seemed to the boy, gray eyes sober and mouth downturned.  He did not however hold a willow-switch, which Fastred found slightly gratifying; but the expression on the Elf lord's face was not one to inspire him to relief; Legolas looked very stern, which was so unlike the benevolent Lassah Fastred knew he would rather have seen the willow-switch than that frown upon the fair face above him.  Recognizing his guilt Fastred slid off the bed and stood face downcast, staring between his two bare feet, hoping he would get the switch and not a lecture, for a whipping was over in but a moment, however Fastred had learned through experience that a lecture might last for hours. 

There was silence for a few moments; all Fastred could hear was his own breathing, and the far-off voices of Elves in the courtyards below; after a time Legolas said:  "Well."

Fastred gulped back the lump in his throat.  He could hear the disappointment in Lassah's voice and it cut him deeply.  But he steeled himself for Lassah's displeasure; his culpability demanded it after all.  Before the Elf could speak again Fastred said with a shaking voice:  "I am sorry, Lord Lassah.  Please whip me and be quick about it; I need to be punished or my heart will surely break."

There was a pause; Fastred did not dare look up; had he done so he would have seen the determined frown on Legolas' face twitch, and his eyes soften.  "And why, Lord Fastred, should I be constrained to whip you?" he asked. 

"Because I have run away from my parents your friends, and I have frightened and discommoded everyone, and made many people angry with me; therefore I should be whipped, and better you should whip me now and have done with it, Lord Lassah, than my Lord Father whip me, for the longer he waits the angrier he gets, and it shall take at least a day for me to ride back, that is if Karakse is even able to, otherwise I shall walk, and by the time I get home Father will be so angry with me that I shall not be able to sit down for three days."  Fastred took a deep breath and closed his eyes; he could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks but did not care then that he was a twelve-year-old son of a prince; he must weep or die.  "So please will you whip me forthwith, or at least when I have put on my trousers, for Kaimelas said it will not sting so badly if I am wearing my trousers."

"Fastred," said Legolas gently, kneeling and holding out his arms; Fastred burst into tears and threw himself at the Elf, clinging to him and sobbing.  Legolas embraced him as he wept, stroking his dark hair and holding him tight; at last when Fastred's sobbing stilled he kissed the boy's temple and set him back, holding him by his shoulders and looking up into Fastred's tear-stained face.  "Little One," he said seriously, "I deem betwixt Kaimelas' words and your own flagellation you have been whipped enough; I can see that you are contrite and repentant and I do not wish to subject you to further humility.  However reparation must be made; though I forgive you completely – and how could I not, Little One, when I love you so well, and you express regret so earnestly!"  Fastred sobbed again, though even he could not tell whether it were in relief or mortification; Legolas rose and stood before him, wiping the tears from the boy's face with his fingers.  "Lift your face unto mine, Fastred of Osgiliath!" he said, and Fastred swallowed his next few sobs and raised his face to Lord Lassah's; the compassion and concern he saw there drove all thoughts of whipping from his mind.  "You have apologized well for your offense against me and against my people, and I shall forgive you; you came to me not in malice but in ignorance, and I know that with thought and sober effort you may find a way to recompense us for this crime.  But the greater transgression you saved for your noble parents, and your sister and brother; that still must needs be addressed ere I return to my guests in the throne room.  Now Fastred, my dear Little One, what think you that you must do, to make reparation for what you have done?"

Fastred thought hard, biting his lip; at last remembering his mother's words at table, when she spoke of her offense committed in Minas Tirith, he said: "I must write unto each one of them a letter of apology, outlining my misdeeds in detail and repenting of each one of them, and promising never to so do again; also must I offer unto each of them some act of retribution to repay them for their pain."

"Ah!" said Legolas with satisfaction.  "That is indeed an excellent answer, Little One, and I commend you for it.  Whilst I welcome my visitors and hold court upon the dais you shall consign yourself to this task; there are quills and ink, and parchment aplenty at the desk there; I shall read over what you have written at luncheon, and we shall decide then if your missives express contrition enough to soften your Lord Father's heart.  But Fastred," Legolas said seriously, tipping the boy's face up to his own.  "What will you do then?  Where will you go?  Back to your home, to your tutor and friends?  You came to me for a purpose, Fastred; what purpose was that?"  When Fastred blushed Legolas said:  "Nay, speak and be not silent!  In back of your small head was some plan, of that I am certain.  To what end was your flight?"

"I – I hoped you would offer me sanctuary," muttered Fastred, blushing even redder and staring at his toes.  "I did – do – not wish to go to Rohan and I thought that – well, since you open your doors to the oppressed, and give refuge to the helpless, I – I hoped that you would – "  He stammered a moment, deeply embarrassed; at last he looked desperately up at the Elf and blurted:  "I hoped I could stay here with you, Lord Lassah, that you would keep me safe."

Legolas bit his lip; Fastred could not tell but he thought perhaps the Elf were thinking.  "Well that is true," said Legolas slowly; "on many occasions have I succored the broken and lost, and given safe haven to those who wander with no home to welcome them.  But that sanctuary comes with a price, Little One; did you know that?"  Fastred shook his head, eyes wide with wonder; he had thought Lord Lassah took in all and sundry without question, and contemplated whether the gold and silver he had brought would be sufficient.  "O no!" smiled Legolas as though he had read the boy's mind.  "Seldom do I ask for money or treasure – that is not the price I ask.  Nay, my Fastred, the cost for my refuge is commensurate with each expatriate's skills and need – for the widow and orphaned of a village they might feed the livestock or do some light tasks in the stables and barns; for a nobleman divested of his riches, service with my soldiers or in the council-chamber do I require; for a maid fleeing her oppressors work upon the loom or wheel; for a workman accused unjustly, a stable-hand or laborer.  Yet these I feed and house most generously; and when they feel it is safe to return to their lands they do so.  Do you see, Little One, what it is in common I require from them, peasant, gentry, nobility all?"

Fastred considered this for a moment, then said slowly:  "Well, Lord Lassah, I guess it is a sort of temporary servitude – as though you made them to be your vassals, until they could go back unto their own people."

"That is so," said Lord Lassah smiling.  "And had you come to me truly in need I should have extracted such a vow from you too; there is no sense in letting folk think they have but to plead a sad story and get free food and shelter.  Had that been the case, Dol Galenehtar should be choked with mortal indigents, and I left a beggar!  Nay, Fastred, 'til now you have been a child and a guest, but now you come to me pleading sanctuary, and that is denied you save you swear unto me you shall work for your shelter; in that way you shall earn your keep, and learn the ways of the workings of my demesne, and repay the debt you owe my people.  Fear not!" he laughed, when he saw the look of apprehension on the boy's face; "I do not propose to send you out to weed the vineyards, or to manure the olive groves; you are the son of a prince, and such tasks would be beneath one of your birth and upbringing.  However you are not sufficiently wise to aid me in the council-chamber or the treasury; therefore I think I shall put your especial talents to some other good use, should you choose to stay with me.  Otherwise I shall be constrained to send you back to your noble parents, to deal with you as they see fit."

Fastred reflected on this carefully; it seemed to him the duty imposed upon him by Lord Lassah might be harder than that which he imagined his noble parents would require of him; yet he was unwilling to return to Osgiliath yet, hoping perhaps Lassah could change everyone's mind, and he not be constrained to go to Rohan; for was not Lord Lassah his father's friend, and King Éomer's beside? Perchance with time and good behavior he could persuade Lassah to take his part, and Lassah should become his advocate, for Lassah did say he loved him, and would perhaps be distressed by his removal.  It seemed therefore to Fastred a safer plan to stay in Dol Galenehtar; and besides he would not have to continue his studies with Iordred, which had reached the ancient history of Ciryandil, who was notable only for his death in Haradwaith.  Fastred thought perhaps he could learn a more engaging history from the Elves.  "I shall stay with you, Lord Lassah," he said after a moment.  "I shall claim sanctuary and swear fealty and do the work necessitated." 

"Will you Little One?" smiled Legolas.  "Then apply yourself to your first task, and write those missives unto your family; come luncheon we shall see what further labor I shall extract from you."

"I will, Lord Lassah!" said Fastred, relieved.  Legolas kissed Fastred upon the crown of his head and turned to go; however Fastred thought of something and exclaimed, "O, Lord Lassah!"

"What is it, Little One?" asked Legolas looking back at him.

"If I swear fealty unto you I can no longer call you 'Lassah,'" said Fastred, distressed.  "I must call you 'Lord Legolas' for I shall be your vassal!"

Legolas regarded him soberly.  "That is so," he said, his gray eyes twinkling despite his somber mein.  "Well you had best start at once; it shall be good practice."

Fastred hesitated, then bowed deeply to the Elf and said, "As you wish, Lord Legolas."  Legolas smiled at him then and went out, leaving the boy to his task.

Legolas shut the nursery door behind him and took a deep breath.  He looked up and down the hall, determining he was well and truly alone, then closed his eyes and let his shoulders sag.  "Well that was not so bad," he murmured to himself, absent-mindedly straightening his doublet.  "He seems contrite enough, and very repentant; he is though as Mistress Pearl said very high-spirited and will need much labor to quell him; also he has inherited from his distaff side a stubborn willfulness that must needs be tamped."  He started down the white hallway to the staircase, looking longingly betimes out the narrow windows set at regular intervals in the polished stone; their panes were thrown back and the shutters opened, and a cool breeze stirred his hair with each passage; he could descry the bright fresh green of late spring and brilliant blue of the sky, streaked and blotched with high filmy clouds tearing along as though they were in a terrible hurry.  As he watched the starlings tumbling by, buffeted by the wind, he heard above him the caroling of the tenor bell in the west campanile.  "The third hour and I have not yet broken fast," he muttered to himself, rubbing the aching spot between his eyes.  "O how I crave a corner of cheese and a glass – nay, half a glass of wine!"

He determined to visit the kitchens before going in to greet Cirien; after all Cirien had only just ridden into the compound and would likely be speaking with the guards and workmen and of course Galás, who, as Gimli had once said, "chattered like a mad magpie" to all and sundry; also Araval was already ensconced in Dol Galenehtar and as that jolly lord rarely followed local custom it was unlikely he would wait with the rest of the court to foregather with his knightly friend.  Surely, Legolas thought, he would have sufficient time to fill the aching void in his mid-region before he were too sorely missed.  Humming lightly to himself he tripped down the stairs two at a time, trailing his fingers along the smooth banister as he went.

His journey to breakfast was interrupted however; first did Hirilcúllas catch him unawares by the library, demanding his signature and seal on several documents, including one involving the livestock upon the Pelennor; no sooner had he escaped his secretary's clutches than Sólormoïle his chief messenger caught him up, still fuming over Fastred's untimely arrival, and Legolas spent a good five minutes hearing once more the litany of Fastred's infamies, the list of scouts sent with messages back and forth to Osgiliath, and the prognostications of further delays and inconveniences visited upon them by Legolas' unexpected charge; it took an additional ten minutes to soothe his envoy's trammeled spirit and convince him Fastred's presence could perhaps be turned to advantage for all involved; by that time his stomach was so empty he felt one side surely flapped against the other like two flags on the same pole.  Yet even so he was fated to be overdue for his morning sustenance; as he rounded the corner to the hallway leading to the kitchen courtyard Tuilíndo was there with news of a shipment of silks fresh from Erui; there was some confusion regarding the color green used in its pigment, which he and his son Laivánwa objected to greatly; however they were reluctant to send the shipment back, for three reasons (Legolas stood silent as long as he could, composing his features into a semblance of interest during this): First, the merchant involved was the premier seller of silks and widely acknowledged not only as the purveyor of the finest of fabrics, but also capricious and easily offended; Dúrfinwen had already caused some small trouble with her comments upon the shade of green used (Legolas was not sure but it sounded as though it were more a brilliant poison-green than the requested grass-green); the merchant was now offended and finding someone else who could sell them silks of such quality was doubtful; also, both Laivánwa and Hwindiö had examined the weave of the silk in question and been greatly intrigued by its construction; apparently it was double-woven, with the offensive green upon one weave and a brilliant silver upon the other, giving the cloth a shimmering quality not normally seen in silk; lastly, it was quite obvious the silk could not be used for its intended function, that was in the construction of banners to be used for the presentation of the new Heir to Edoras; did his lord think it possible, asked Tuilíndo, that the silks be purchased forthwith and used for some other purpose, and a new order made for a heavier cloth in a more conventional color?  It would entail additional funds –

Lack of rest the previous night and a dearth of food in his belly had caused Legolas to lose track of the explanation by that point; he could see past Tuilíndo's earnest countenance the doorway to the outer kitchen courtyard flung wide, giving him tantalizing glimpses of the back door of the bakeries, and the crisp breeze blew in the enticing scent of freshly-baked turnovers, which provoked Legolas' stomach into such twists and turns it quite hurt him.  He thought longingly of butter and sugar and perhaps if he were lucky a bite of bacon while Tuilíndo explained the difference in the cost of the silks from the docks of Erui to those from Eryn Vorn; after a full quarter hour of tedium had passed he realized with a start that Tuilíndo was now looking at him expectantly; apparently he had posed some question, or required some decision, which his lord had missed; hurriedly and rather distractedly Legolas said:  "Well as always, my friend, whatever seems best to you, I shall support you in it," and hoped it was a sufficiently vague and encouraging answer, that would send Tuilíndo back to the merchant, or to Laivánwa, or anywhere but in front of him, so that he could see to filling his belly; however fate played against Legolas' hunger and with a smile Tuilíndo said:

"Well, my lord, since you are so amenable, then let us go unto the merchant straight way; he is not tractable, you know, my lord, and far gone in pique; I have so far been unable to quell his resentment, but simply your noble presence, my lord, and your gracious words, shall soothe his spirit, and perhaps I shall be the better able to bargain with him when we order the new silks."  To Legolas' horror the deputy seneschal took his lord by the arm and led him away from the kitchens back to the tapestry workrooms, in which they discovered Dúrfinwen, lovely in her blue and silver gown, but with a distinctly affronted expression on her fair face; Laivánwa Tuilíndo's son, anxious and well-prepared with several scrolls, a chart, and a pencil; Hwindiö in his rough working clothes and burn-spotted leather apron, arms folded across his chest and eyes twinkling with secret mirth at the conundrum; and in their midst a very short, very grubby, very irritable mortal man, with out-thrust lower lip and beetling black brows, scowling at the newcomers and emitting a miasma of stale sweat.  When Legolas was introduced the merchant's look of resigned umbrage doubled, and Legolas, with thoughts of glazed raisin bread and salted ham and Fastred's letters chasing themselves round his addled brain, was constrained to spend another half-hour appeasing and pacifying all involved, including Dúrfinwen who felt her aesthetic sense had been challenged; he fingered the felonious fabric appreciatively, flattered the merchant into good humor, jollied a reluctant smile out of Dúrfinwen, and at the earliest possible moment and with as much diplomacy as he could muster, excused himself from the workrooms and fairly fled along the corridors in search of nourishment.

His sharp eyes and many years' training in tracking and spying held him in good stead as he made his careful way back into the main halls; he managed to hide himself in an empty closet whilst Hirilcúllas went bustling by, her arms full of papers and parchments, a harried look on her face; he ducked round a bend into a dark alcove and waited breathlessly for Galás to pass, for his seneschal had the look about him that he was in search of someone, and Legolas did not want to wait to find out that it was he; he was forced to double back when Meivel and Himbaláth came down the hall, speaking earnestly together, for Legolas remembered he had asked specifically for his general to give him a full report of the security of the eastern borders; by the time he managed to find himself completely alone he was in the opposite end of the tower from the kitchens, and so dreadfully hungry he could scarcely think.  He had just resigned himself to dodging round the back lodgings to the kitchens and risking discovery when he heard the gloriously familiar sound of small feet pattering behind him; he turned with hope, and sure enough round the corner came his esquire Bandobras, his arms full of parcels; he stopped at once when he descried his lord, and gazed up at Legolas in amazement.

"Master!" he exclaimed, his brown eyes sweeping critically over Legolas' form.  "What in heaven's name are you doing in this part of the palace?  You ought to be in the throne room or the Great Hall, getting ready to greet Cirien; he's just seen to his horses and cleaned up and is looking forward to being presented to you."  When Legolas did not respond at once he added, "And you're looking awfully harried, Master; why you look like my old friend Holbard always did when he was caught doing something naughty.  What've you been up to, Master?" asked the Hobbit, cocking his little head at the Elf and fixing him with a stern glare.  "You've gone and stained your shoulder, now; that pretty blue sateen is all spotted, and you shall have to change doublets before the presentation or my reputation will be fair ruined.  How did you go and spill something all the way up there?"

Legolas turned his head to look at his shoulder; sure enough the pale blue fabric was blotched in several places.  "It must have been Fastred; he wept when I held him," he said wearily, trying to brush the offending marks off the blue fabric.  "O do not be cross with me, Little One; such a morn have I had, with the little son of Ithilien, and Sólormoïle raging about, and silk-merchants to appease, and to cap it off no breakfast!  I am near faint with hunger, my Bandobras; have you no morsel in your pockets to give a poor starving Elf-lord?"

"My poor master!" cried Bandobras, stricken. "Why I had no idea you hadn't had breakfast yet – what was Norolindë thinking, letting you go off like that? But of course it's been nothing but bedlam round here since yesterday evening; I'm the more surprised you're even on your feet.  Come with me, Master," he said, turning and gesturing with his head for Legolas to follow.  "I'm on my way to Mother's rooms; I'll fix you a nice cup of tea, and I'm certain she's got some breakfast still on her tray."  Legolas fell into step beside his esquire and reached down to help him with his packages; Bandobras added, "Thanks, Master – that one was starting to get heavy – I think it's a pitcher or something like that – and there are pots of some sort of unguent in that one; mind you don't drop it – got it off Liquíseleé, you know," he said, his voice faltering somewhat, and Legolas paused in the dark corridor, despite his fear of discovery, and dropped to one knee, his heart turning over.  Bandobras stopped as well, his eyes downcast, and let his master embrace him, even though they were both impeded by paper-wrapped packages.  He too as Fastred had done pressed his face into Legolas' shoulder; he did not cry, though his master knew he wanted to.

"She will be well soon," Legolas assured his esquire, though his words sounded hollow even to him; Liquíseleé and Aragorn both had looked grim enough the last time they had examined Mistress Pearl, for after all two years was such a long time to be ill, especially for a Hobbit.  "We are making her rest, and she seems very happy here."

"I know," said Bandobras with false cheer, pulling back and smiling bravely up at his master.  "And she's a Took, you know; we're terrible stubborn.  It'll take a good bit more than this to keep her down."

"That is true," said Legolas rising.  "I have much experience with the obduracy of Tooks after all."  This earned him a more genuine smile from his esquire, which comforted him somewhat, and they continued on the corridor to a bright hall.  At the end of the hall was a low oval door painted yellow, with a bright brass doorknob; Bandobras walked briskly up to it, tapped on it twice, and walked in.  Legolas was obliged to duck beneath the lintel but he did not mind; once inside he felt as though he had been transported; the plaster walls were hung with bright paintings, and the low-beamed ceiling festooned with dried herbs and garlic and onions; yellow check curtains hung from the windows and a cheery fire burned in a cozy grate.  Before the fire sat a Hobbit matron in a comfortable armchair, holding an embroidery hoop; her curly hair was pulled back into a gray-streaked knot, and she had a gaily-colored rug spread across her knees.  However this Hobbit-matron was not like her peers in the Shire; her cheeks which ought to have been round and rosy as apples were sunken and pale, and her twinkling brown eyes were shadowed and lined.  But in her face was strength and character and bravery, and she did not appear sad or discontented at the least; she seemed instead to savor some secret jest, which she turned over in her heart when troubles pressed upon her, and so brightened her countenance.  She looked up at her visitors with delight, and favored them with a bright smile and said:

"Well, now my morning is truly a good one!  I have my two pet boys come to visit me; what more could a lady want?"  She accepted her son's perfunctory kiss of greeting, and when Legolas bowed to pay her honor she said impatiently:  "O let us have none of that, son of Thranduil!  Why do you constantly treat me like a queen?  My son's your esquire after all.  Stop being so formal, and sit yourself here beside me and warm your hands; your fingers are so cold they are like ice."

"He has had naught for breakfast, Mother," said Bandobras, dumping his packages upon a nearby table, and going to take the others from his master's hands.  "Been up all night, and running round all morning; can you believe that?  And he's got to go see Cirien right away, but he can't do naught on an empty belly.  Have you anything left from your breakfast tray to feed him?"

"Of course I have!" exclaimed Mistress Pearl cheerfully. "As though Norolindë didn't give me enough food for twenty young Hobbits each morning; I don't know what she is thinking, that I could eat so much.  'A cup of tea and some toast is all I need,' I tell her, but she sends in two full trays each daybreak, with tea and toast all right, but with meat and sausage and cheese and pastries and porridge beside.  A waste, really; I can scarce eat but a tenth of it, and what she does with it when I send it back I don't know; I hope she feeds it to the pigs at least.  Bacon in, bacon out, as my father always said.  The tray's on the table, Bandy; warm the bacon and sausage by the fire, and freshen up the toast, but the porridge ought still to be hot enough.  Drop a little sugar in it, and a dot of butter; that'll be quite tasty."  She turned to Legolas, who stood bemused before the fire, holding out his hands and warming them by the inglenook.  "Pull that rug down there so you don't spoil your nice clean hose, Legolas, and sit down.  No, not the brown one; it's too small; get the blue one over by the herb-pots.  Are your shoes damp?  Do you need to take them off and air them out?  You can set them on the hearth over there.  Ah, and there's the kettle just starting to sing.  Bandy!  Make a fresh pot, don't use that old stuff; it's boiled too long.  And get some of that nice cream and sugar out of the pantry for your master too.  Are you comfy now, pet?  There you are … Bandy'll set you straight."

Obediently the Lord of Dol Galenehtar collected a knitted rug from a nearby couch and spread it on the floor, lowering himself onto it and accepting a hot cup of tea from his esquire with a grateful sigh.  He sat and watched, snug and sleepy, as Bandobras bustled about his mother's rooms, setting up vases of fresh flowers, and pots of preserves, and vials of medicines, listening to the two Hobbits bicker affectionately with each other, as he accepted platter after platter of eggs, rashers, ham, sausage, bread, sweet rolls, stewed fruit and toast and butter until he was warm and full and contented.  He thrust the dirty plate aside, pushed Mistress Pearl's hoop out of the way, and lay his head on the matron's lap with a happy sigh.  She smiled and stroked his sleek pale hair, and looked over at her son.

"Well, this is better, I guess," she said, her eyes twinkling.  "You can't do much without a good breakfast – two to be safe – and now at least he'll have the wherewithal to stand up on that dais and listen to all those long tiresome speeches."  She ruffled the flossy gold spread over her knees and said, "And what did he do, little Lord Fastred?  How did he take your lecture?"

"I had no need to lecture him at all, Little Mother," said Legolas, feeling very hazy and unperturbed.  "Kaimelas went in to bring him his clean clothes, and let him have it 'twixt the eyes – you know how long-winded Kaimelas can be, when he is properly motivated."

Bandobras from where he stood by the pantry grunted.  "I certainly do," he said blackly.

"Anyway when I came in Fastred was weeping and thoroughly repentant," continued Legolas, closing his eyes and relishing the touch of Mistress Pearl's fingers in his hair.  "He accepted culpability and recompense both, and works as we speak to mend his error."

"I thought he might," said Mistress Pearl.  "He's a good sensible boy, if a tad high-strung."  She stroked Legolas' hair a few minutes more, then asked, "And which path did he decide to take?  The one to Osgiliath, or the one to your work-rooms?"

"As you foretold to me he chose to remain in Dol Galenehtar and work out his retribution," said Legolas.  "I am not certain but I think I shall send him down to either Tyarmayél or Andunië, as he loves to be out of doors, and has shown himself capable of establishing easy rapport with our animal-friends.  In the kennels and stables he might make himself quite useful; the work shall be difficult, but he will be in a site pleasing to him and befitting his parents' interests."

"Better make it the stables," cautioned Bandobras.  He sat upon his mother's other side and picked up a stray piece of rasher from the platter on the floor, took a bite out of it and chewed thoughtfully.  "What with Lady Éowyn being from Rohan and so horsy and all, seems to me he'd fit in there real well.  And we're taking him to King Éomer, and the practice ought to do him good.  Besides – don't get me wrong, now Master; I mean no offense – Andunië's a fine woman but she's mighty standoffish."

"Don't speak with your mouth full.  Tyarmayél's too soft-hearted," said Mistress Pearl to her son.  "And putting Fastred in the stables for punishment would be like sending you to the pantry if you'd been naughty.  He'd find it too much fun; it would be more like rewarding him for running away."  She patted Legolas' head.  "Take my advice, Legolas; send him to Andunië, or even to Hwindiö or Liquíseleé.  Hwindiö would strengthen his back and Liquíseleé his mind."

"And Kaimelas his hindquarters," said a voice from the doorway; Legolas' valet stood there, a silver doublet slung over one arm; on his face was an expression of irritation overlaid with amusement.  "So I have run you to earth at last!" he said to his lord, who sighed in a resigned fashion and rose to his feet, shaking the crumbs off his lap.  "Cirien awaits you, as does the rest of the court; you are quite recalcitrant this morn, my lord."  He held out the doublet.  "I did notice – as I am sure did your excellent esquire – that little Lord Fastred's repentant tears stained your blue doublet; can you imagine, my lord, what Seimiel would say, should I let you appear so before our noble guests? Indeed my life would be a burden to me! Give to me that garment, to remove the watermark, and put this on, and get your royal self down to the throne room, ere Cirien sleeps in his ennui in the entry.  And hurry!  Galás is quite restless, and Tyalië did inform me he and Araval are plotting some mischief unbefitting that lord's age and repute."

"I do think me your case to Fastred supplied ample whipping," said Legolas, removing the doublet and submitting to Bandobras brushing down his linen shirt with a soft brush; the Hobbit was so short he was constrained to stand upon a low stool in order to reach his master's shoulders.  At Kaimelas' raised eyebrow he said further:  "There shall be no more talk of whipping, nor of lashes or straps or belts; your remonstration was sufficiently severe to bruise his soul, and he was to me amply repentant; you may tell all to whom you protested this morn that Lord Fastred shall work out his redemption with sweat and toil, even within our own courtyards."

"Indeed!" said Kaimelas with a smile.  "Then, my lord, did I carry out your directives satisfactorily?  My sternness fulfilled its task, and he is truly sorry?"

"He is," said Legolas, holding out his arms and letting Bandobras button up his silver doublet.  He looked down at Mistress Pearl, who was smiling up at them both.  "You once again hit the target in the mark, Little Mother; with the one harsh and the other kind did we bring him low, yet were not compelled to undue chastisement."

"Despite his Lord Father's consent," said Kaimelas, and added with a grin, "and mine own inclination!"  He looked Legolas over once and said reluctantly, "Well, my lord, I deem you are satisfactory; I should rather you had assented to wear the gold robes – "

"Too formal," said Bandobras primly, straightening his master's hair.  "Let's save that for the feast tonight, Kaimelas."

"As the Little Master wishes," said Kaimelas with a polite inclination of his head.  "In that fashion we might make him to wear the wire coronet – "

Just then the tenor bell rang four times, and Bandobras with an exclamation of dismay said:  "O look how late you are, Master!  Hurry, hurry, and do not wait, for though Cirien won't get mad you don't dare leave Galás there alone for fear of what hijinks he and Araval will get up to."

"I am going, I am going!" laughed Legolas.  He bowed gracefully to Mistress Pearl and took her hand.  "Little Mother, I am so far already in your debt it is unlikely I shall ever find us on equal footing," he said, kissing her fingers.  "Your advice as always was flawless, and Fastred did just as you said he would.  You have once again proved that your expertise in the raising of small boys is unsurpassed on both mortal and immortal soil, and I am very grateful."

"You are also very late," said Kaimelas firmly, taking his lord by the arm and steering him to the door.  "Bandobras!  Do you attend to your master and be sure he gets to the throne room immediately!  And if any attempt to impede him you have my express permission to run them over, though be you sure to proclaim For Halflings and the Shire! at the top of your voice."

"Count on me!" said Bandobras cheerfully, and taking Legolas by the hand ran out the door, the Elf lord trailing behind him.  Kaimelas and Mistress Pearl could hear Bandobras' little voice speaking excitedly as they ran, and Legolas laughing replied.  Kaimelas shook out the soiled doublet, looked critically at the water mark, and shook his head.

"Many ages has it been, since I was forced to think of the ways and motives of small boys!" he said.  "Indeed the last boy did I take hand to raise was the very one to whom I pay obeisance; though many centuries have passed but yesterday does it seem I taught him first to draw a bow.  So between us two we have yet another thing in common; invalids we might both be, yet we work together to make sure our boys grow up well."  He went to the door then, but paused with his hand upon the lintel and said:  "Did you note, Mistress Pearl, that the odor of breakfast clung to him still, despite the changing of his doublet?  Now he shall be obliged to greet his noble guests smelling of toast and sausages!"

"I cannot for the life of me imagine either Cirien or Araval will object; they are quite nice smells and far more pleasing than any of those fancy colognes they sell in Serni," said Mistress Pearl comfortably, taking up her embroidery hoop once more; Kaimelas agreed laughing and went out.

(A/N:  Yes, I know; Monday is supposed to be Green Knight Day, but I was in Arizona.  So sue me.

I hope you like this week's offering!  Chapter warning: food descriptions! -- Le Rouret)

Cirien of Langstrand was tall and thin and had achieved in his middle-age that spare wiriness of form so envied by the corpulent; he had also a lean hooked nose and low brows, and his pale hair was thin and wispy atop his bony head.  His features were gaunt and his emblematic air one of resigned tolerance to his lot in life; this was deceptive, for Cirien was acknowledged by friend and foe alike as a man of keen insight and deep understanding.  He sat upon the low soft chair by the inglenook, his doublet collar so stiff and high it seemed surely to hold up his head upon the thin neck; in one hand he cradled a crystal goblet; with the other he perused a letter, his lips pursed in deep thought.

His friend at the hearth beside him could well have been chosen as an exemplar of a perfect opposite to the wise knight reading the vellum missive; he was swarthy, and jolly, and rather fat; he had at one time been a stout and muscular man but retirement and inactivity (not to mention a love for that peculiar red wine so commonly found in Dol Galenehtar, where he was a regular guest) had rendered his muscle down into flesh, and he was more inclined to sit at table than upon his destrier, as had been customary in his youth.  He too held a goblet filled with his favorite wine; indeed his host had been so thoughtful as to put a decanter at his elbow, so that when the goblet emptied, as occurred with a touch more frequency with him than of his two companions, he was not obliged to request more and so discomfit himself, but could refill his glass at will.  He watched Cirien read, his expression somewhat more subdued than was his wont, and the third member of their party, tall, pale, and full of restless energy, echoed his gravity, standing with arms folded by the mantle-piece, his golden hair shimmering in the firelight.  After a moment Cirien made a little huffing noise, folded the parchment in two with his fingers, set it upon the table, and took a draught of wine.

"Well, Cirien, what think you?" asked his host, stirring; the embroidery upon his doublet flashed as he moved.

"It does not look good, Legolas," said Cirien, setting his goblet upon the table beside the letter and leaning forward, putting his elbows on his knees, knobby in their scarlet hose.  His fingers laced together resembled wicker-work.  "This Théalof, who purports loyalty to the king; seems to me to speak out of both corners of his mouth; upon the one side he claims allegiance to the house of Éomund, praising King Éomer and making many broad felicitations to his allies; yet when he speaks of the dissenters it is as though he gloats over them; almost would I say he finds the discord in Rohan to be his king's just due.  Also I have difficulty believing, as he claims, that fully one-half of Rohan's populace wishes for Éomer to put aside his foreign wife and marry one of their own; the Rohirrim may be as many say barbarians but to my knowledge they remain at least honorable ones."

"It is not unheard-of for a barren queen to be supplanted by a younger bride," said Araval distastefully.  "It is not apposite but the lords in Belfalas have been known to so do."

"To hear of something and to do it are, I hope, two very separate things," said Legolas dryly.  "Nay, friends, I do not think Éomer would divorce Lothíriel, even if it were found she were of Harad, or worse, Umbar.  Nor should the Rohirrim – at least the ones I have had occasion to meet – support their king in that decision; Lothíriel is well-loved though she came as a stranger; she gathers unto herself ladies' maids of Edoras and the nobility in its surrounds, has learnt the language passing fair, adheres to the customs, and moreover she is generous in her works of munificence and an untiring source of mercy to her assumed people.  In fact the only fault one might find in her as queen is her inability to produce an heir to the throne, which to my mind begs not the question of supersession, nor even of divine disapproval as some have suggested, but of natural incapacity, and I do not, mere Sinda that I might be, claim to know the Valar's mind in their workings on this.  My lord of Langstrand, you and I are as one in this; I do not trust Théalof, and am chary of meeting with him as he suggests.  To ask me to consider neutrality rather than risk my ties with the trade-houses of Edoras!  He thinks little of me, if he supposes my exchequeur controls my loyalties.  Rather would I have naught to do with such men, who attempt to draw me in one side or the other; Éomer is my friend, and I will brook no attempt to divide us, nor will I allow spies and liars to weaken the bonds betwixt our lands with idle gossip or malicious deceit."

"What will you do then?" asked Araval, refilling his goblet.  "Tell him not to come? He did say in his letter he had planned already to meet with you in a fortnight's time."

Legolas made a face.  "That would be very rude," he said.  "You know well, my friend, my mother raised me with better manners than that.  I refuse hospitality to none, despite my personal estimation of a man's comportment."

"I suppose," said Araval, his eyes twinkling, "you might arrange for him to get lost in your wood – turn him off the proper path, perhaps; lead him up into the knees of the Ephel Dúath – the longer he wandered, the more you might put off the fateful meeting; and if he should happen to run across a hungry bear, or to accidentally fall into a crevasse – Well!"

Legolas laughed.  "That should surpass rudeness and sink well into the depths of vulgarity!" he said, going to the sideboard and fetching a goblet.  As he poured out a quantity of wine for himself he added, "Besides, it is my duty as one of Elessar's vassals to search for and rescue all who go missing in my demesne; my scouts are far too well-trained – they should find him immediately, and then not only would I be constrained to speak with him about the uprising but nurse him back to health as well."

"Pity," sighed Araval.  "It should have been such a neat solution."

"You cannot, I think, short of giving offense to him and his followers, avoid meeting with him and discussing the succession," said Cirien, turning the goblet round about in his fingers.  "He is quite insistent – bringing in your friendship with Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn and your position as the White Lady's champion, your attendance at the wedding of the King and Queen of Rohan, and your approval in Éomer's wish to adopt Fastred as his heir.  How, by the way, O Green Knight, did he discover that particular tit-bit of information?  I myself had no idea you had discussed this with Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn; Fastred's legacy was a surprise to me when I heard of it."

"I know not," said Legolas shrugging.  "Gossip runs faster in the fields of Gondor than a startled rabbit – indeed it runs as erratically, and with as little purpose and direction as well, making it an uneasy cohabiter.  Théalof as a special envoy of Rohan in Minas Tirith could have heard it from any visiting dignitary I suppose.  We made no exceptional care to speak covertly; servants were about, and the occasional minor cleric.  After all it is no secret the King of Rohan is childless, and his closest kinswoman in possession of two fine sons."  He hooked his foot round the leg of a light chair and pulled it up to the fire, sitting upon it and staring into the flames.  "And also it is no secret the children of the Lord and Lady of Ithilien are welcome and frequent guests in my halls; think you, Cirien, if you sought enlightenment concerning their doings and futures; whom should you inquire of, their parents, or a family friend?"

"I suppose if I desired to seek information in secret I should ask the friend," said Cirien, "for a parent might be wary of a grown man inquiring into his child's affairs, but to gossip as one lord betwixt another of an acquaintance's family seems the more innocent.  And you are one of the Firstborn; few of the Rohirrim – few Men, for that matter – know aught about you and your folk; it is likely he thinks you an easy target.  Also, Legolas, you are viewed in some quarters as quite soft; your largesse is well-known, as is your tender heart toward little ones; there are many who think a kind heart obstructs a shrewd eye."

"Yes," said Legolas thoughtfully, thinking of Fastred running blithely to the shelter of his halls.  "I know that full well, though those seekers find otherwise when they ask charity of me."

"And whilst we speak of it," smiled Cirien, "what shall you do with the eldest son of Faramir of Ithilien?  Will you send him back or keep him here, to keep the sharper eye upon him?  And if you keep him here what will you do with him?  He is too old to let play and wander; especially now that so much depends upon him in the North."

"Your kind heart hides not your shrewd eye," said Legolas with a light laugh.

"But then I am not so kind as you," said Cirien wryly, "so my shrewdness is not quite so obstructed."

"Quite so," said Legolas.  "Well I am going to keep him, my friends; he came to me seeking sanctuary, so sanctuary he shall find here amongst my people in Dol Galenehtar.  He has promised to swear temporary fealty unto me, which perchance might hold him harder than filial ties at the moment; I have sent a message unto Faramir telling him of this, and plan to keep him here with me ere we set out for Rohan at midsummer."

"Knows little Fastred you take him to Rohan?" asked Araval in surprise.

"Nay!" said Legolas.  "Had he known he surely would have fled not towards me but from me.  I shall hold that niggling detail from him for now; it would do us no good to have him run away again, and who knows where he would go a second time?  I should like to have him at hand when I need him, and not go running about looking for him.  Besides what would I say unto his lady mother, if I lost him whilst he was under my care?"

Araval shuddered.  "O do not suggest such a thing; it is terrible to contemplate!" he said.  "Rather would I explain his loss unto his father than to the White Lady; he is adamant but she is frightening."

"So what will you do with him?" asked Cirien.  "Make him a page?  Take him as a second esquire?"

"Now it is you, Cirien, who frighten me," said Legolas, smiling.  "One esquire is enough, thank you!  No, I have decided he shall work in my hunting-barns."

"Capital!" cried Araval, clapping his fat hands.  "The dear small warrior, he will like that quite well.  Tyarmayél then?"

"No," said Legolas.  "I am sending him to work under my huntsmistress; he loves horses and riding, and would find the stables no chore at all.  Amongst the dogs and falcons is work aplenty, and he will learn the more that way."

"You are not sending him to Andunië!" exclaimed Araval aghast.  "What a terrible punishment for the boy!  Surely his iniquities deserve not that!"

"Andunië is not cruel," chided Legolas, raising his eyebrows at Araval.

"Not cruel, no," admitted Araval reluctantly; "but she is so stern and unmoving; that will be so hard on a boy of high spirits.  I mean no offense, my friend; I have known colder women, but to be sure they were already dead."

Despite himself Legolas laughed.  "You have not known her as have I," he said, draining his goblet.  "She is not cold – far from it!  There is fire in her though buried deep; one has but to wait and to listen and to work along side her and the warmth seeps out – reluctantly, I do admit to you, my lords both; she is stiff and unbending and it is a patient man who whittles away at her hard shell.  But as to Tyarmayél – she should be far too easy on Fastred; that, coupled with his love of horses, which he surely has inherited from his lady mother, should turn his stay here into a holiday, and that would not suit my purposes for him at all!  He has done his noble parents great injury, and sent a subtle insult also unto his uncle; for that he must be duly disciplined, and play and merriment are not part of that plan.  Nay, friends, it shall be Andunië, and her cool silence and brusque way; he respects her greatly, and even fears her a little; she shall have no trouble with Little Lord Fastred at all."

"Dear me!" sighed Araval.  "Poor Fastred!  Despite his perfidy I do feel within my bosom the stirrings of compassion and pity."

"For myself I should rather pity Andunië," said Cirien dryly.  "Have you told her, O my friend, that she shall be burdened with this young charge of yours?"

"Not yet," admitted Legolas.  "I think I shall spring that surprise on her when she is in a better mood than present; she has lost a falcon today, and is cross; after the feast this eve, when she learns from Tuilíndo that I have requisitioned the purchase of three eyasses from Targond in Minas Tirith – two speckled peregrines and one gray goshawk; a fine creature – with noble enough pedigrees; fierce and loyal and hand-fed from capture.  That I deem shall raise her spirits sufficiently, and as we discuss how she shall train three at once I shall slip in the news of Fastred's labor with her."

"A capital plan!" cried Araval approvingly.  "Perhaps then she shall not scold you overmuch."

"O Andunië never scolds me," said Legolas, waving one long white hand.  "Hirilcúllas scolds, Dúrfinwen scolds, Seimiel scolds, even Leithwen scolds, though gently.  But Andunië has never scolded me; ever her bearing towards me is one of acquiescence – disapproval betimes, but always acquiescence."  As he spoke there was the chiming of bells; Legolas looked over his shoulder out the window, through which he could descry the sun.  "One hour 'til feast-time!" he said cheerfully, getting up and setting his goblet upon the mantle.  "I ought to get me to my chambers to dress, ere Kaimelas and Bandobras come to look for me – I was so late this morn I have set them all back, and if any should scold me this day it shall be those two.  Have you all you need, my friends?  Shall I send in your esquires unto you?"

"Nay, I am knowledgeable enough I think to negotiate your halls," said Cirien; "Araval, shall I call your esquire, or perhaps some random Elf to get you up?  You seem less portable this eve."

"It is the wine," said Araval with a laugh.  "It is so good; I cannot but drink it!  Yes, perchance you might send in some agreeable Elf to aid me to my rooms – getting up is harder these days; I do not know how you stay so nimble, my lord Cirien.  One would think you were ten years my junior."

"I shall send Kaimelas," said Legolas.  "Then he will not have such occasion to reprove me for my tardiness.  By your leave, my lords both!"  With a graceful bow he exited the room, leaving the two knights in the gloaming.

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Legolas as lord of the feast did excel in amiability that night; his Elves, forever hospitable and merry, made the banquet hall to ring with laughter, filled as it was with the delectable scents of the harvest of the kitchens.  Even Araval, forever hungry, was satisfied with the roast venison, the geese stuffed with bread and chestnuts, the boars' heads surmounted with apples, the platters of dried sausages and creamy cheeses, the thick-crusted bread that broke apart into steaming white marrow when torn, the olives and potato fritters and pickled vegetables, and the abundance of wine of course – sweet cold white wine from the eastern slopes of the Ephel Dúath, sharp blush from the fields of the Pelennor with a bite to match the dark yellow cheese with which it was paired, rich dry red wine from the lower vineyards to drink with the game.  Indeed Araval had sampled so much goodness that by the time the pork pies were served his trencher was sodden with gravy and he was obliged to request a new one, offering the old to the huntsmistress, Andunië, for her dogs.  After the serving-Elf had brought it over Araval watched her where she sat, near the lower end of the hall off the dais, clad in a simple gown of pale green, her tawny hair pulled back with a gold fillet; though all her companions laughed and sang and spoke in merry revelry Andunië held herself still, absorbed with her trencher in silence, attending with preoccupied air to the conversation about her.  When the serving-Elf presented to her the trencher, with the message from Lord Araval of Tarlang that it was to be brought to her hounds, she turned seeking him out amongst her lord's guests on the dais; Araval smiled at her and raised his great silver goblet in salute.  She in turn raised her own plain tumbler up to him, acknowledging him with a slight upward curve of her lips and an inclination of her head, barely marked.  Pleased with himself, Araval took a deep draught, and humming a lively air set himself to carving a large portion of the smoked pheasant sitting before him, making sure to take with it a goodly scrap of the richly seasoned skin.

"For shame, Araval," said a cheery voice in his ear; "you flirt so with my house-maidens and distract them from their proper duties.  I shall inform your wife of this, and she shall take unto you a good heavy belt when you return to your home!"

Araval turned to see his host beside him, resplendent in his ornamented robes of green and yellow; the elaborate beading and embroidery flashed and sparkled in the mellow light of the candelabra above them, and the great mithril crown surmounted his head like the nimbus about a snowy moon.  In one hand he held his golden goblet, filled again with dark red wine; in his other he took a small pasty in his fingers, which he popped into his mouth with a wink.  "Try the pasties, my lord of Tarlang!" Legolas said, taking a drink.  "They are made with mushrooms and thyme – I shall set you a game now; do you guess for me who made them!"

"That is no game but a sure thing," said Araval; "if they contain mushrooms for certain it is your esquire had much to do with their composition!"

"Ah, you are too canny for me," sighed Legolas with mock-sorrow.  "Soon even you shall rival Cirien for wisdom.  Tell me, O my friend, for what purpose did you send your trencher to my huntsmistress?  Seek you alliance with her, or are you as Galás has just now suggested entranced with her many charms?"

"Neither!" said Araval, his belly jiggling with mirth.  "Rather I wished to see her smile; I have watched her this night as she sits there betwixt Tyarmayél and Hwindiö, and have not seen even the ghost of a smile upon her lips since she entered the hall.  I did however manage to eke one out of her; I thought I might, if I sent a gift to her dogs; I am convinced one could give unto that maiden an offering of the most splendid of gems and jewels, set in twisted gold and shining silver, and get naught for one's pains; however to send a present to her hounds might perhaps stimulate her to more lighthearted mien.  And as you can see, O Green Knight, I was correct; did you not see that she smiled at me?  To be sure it was not much of a smile, but it was more than I have seen of her since I have made her acquaintance, and it is rising ten years for that."

"Very well," said Legolas, his eyes twinkling; "I shall absolve you then of attempting to waylay my maids with your sly ways.  But know you this; already have I coaxed a smile from her, when I informed her earlier she should be receiving those falcons."

"I am crushed yet again!" said Araval shaking his head.  "But perhaps it is just as well; I would not have you telling tales on me to my wife for anything."

"Behave yourself then," smiled Legolas, clapping his friend on the shoulder, and went to attend unto his other guests.

"Where is Fastred?" asked Cirien when Legolas had gone to him and bid him try the pasties.  He unlike his friend Araval had abstained from the richer foods, finding them indigestible, though Legolas noted with pleasure he seemed to be enjoying the boiled beef with herbs.  "You have not forbidden him from feasting?"

"Nay!" said Legolas.  "So fatigued was the poor thing this eve that he took but a bowl of broth and cup of fresh milk ere retiring; perchance he shall be rested enough in the morning to foregather with you and my Lord Araval.  He did good work today, writing for the redemption of his conscience five letters of apology; I perceive his breast is well-beaten and on the morrow he may start his apprenticeship with my huntsmistress."

"I venture to guess that our friend Araval sent unto her that trencher to cheer her countenance," said Cirien, looking across the table at that jolly lord of Tarlang, who was laughing and talking with the Elves all round him.

"He did," said Legolas; "to Araval's mind the sober face is the sad face; he knows not the joy can be hidden beneath such gravity."

"And is Andunië joyful this eve?" asked Cirien with a smile, refilling his friend's goblet.

"I assure you she is," said Legolas; "so pleased was she with news of her three new charges I felt confident enough to tell her about Fastred; she did not so much as flinch, my Lord Cirien, and even ventured to admit – albeit grudgingly – that he might be an aid unto her as she trained the eyasses.  And though Tyarmayél is disappointed I did not assign Fastred unto her (for he has been since birth an especial pet of hers), she graciously consented unto Andunië that Fastred would be better suited in the kennels, furthering the goodwill betwixt those two in the barns."  He lowered his voice then and said, his fair face serious:  "I have had a letter from Éomer; it was delivered by one of Elessar's messengers not five minutes before I left my chambers for the feast.  The news is not good; will you meet with me after the dances in my offices?  For I greatly desire to speak with you regarding this report, and to garner such wisdom as you might be benevolent enough to bestow upon me.  I might ask Araval to join us anon," he added, smiling, "should that good lord abstain some from the wine-jugs; otherwise it might be best to leave him here."

"I am as always at your eager and immediate disposal," said Cirien.  He glanced round the hall then, at the chattering Elves, the merry musicians, the servers running to and fro with platter after platter of good food, and said, "The feast is likely to go on into the night – will you dispense then with your presence in the dances?"

"I had best not," said Legolas shaking his head; "Bandobras becomes quite irritable when I neglect my duty in that area.  I am constrained to at least five rounds; you might show due support of your poor host and join him in the fray." When Cirien hesitated Legolas added slyly:  "I shall find for you a good partner, fair of face and not given to much prattle – Liquíseleé perhaps?  She is quiet enough, and possesses both visage and carriage so well-designed as to turn any man's head, even one so sober and careful as your own; also do I recall your predilection for fair-haired maids.  O do you join us, Yellow Knight; many years has it been since I have seen you to make merry upon my rushes."

"You are too kind," said Cirien wryly.  "Very well, I shall dance as well, and so please my host and his Halfling."

"Your humble servant!" said Legolas, rising and bowing floridly; with a laugh and a wave he went off to see to his other guests.

Legolas' private offices were in daytime bright and airy, with tall paned windows topped with stained glass, which broke into brilliant rainbow colors about the floor when the sun streamed through; the marble walls were white and hung with pale tapestries, and the floor satiny sanded oak, so smooth it was a pleasure to walk upon barefoot.  The rooms were filled with bookcases and tables stacked with rolled parchment, and hung upon the walls were maps and naval charts, calendars and star charts; however wherever one looked there was paper – reams and reams of it, printed with plain ink, or covered in spidery or loopy script, or scrawled with charcoal, or decorated with colorful calligraphy.  The paper was stacked in neat piles upon his large black desk, and Hirilcúllas his secretary kept them from blowing off or shifting round by the simple expedient of placing large polished rocks upon each pile, preventing them being lost or muddled.  During the late fall and winter months the desk was nearly empty of these papers, showing its glossy polished surface to the high-beamed painted ceiling, and affording its owner little concern; the few documents that accumulated there were quickly dispensed with, and the Lord of Dol Galenehtar could enter his office with a feeling of quiet satisfaction.  In the spring and summer however did the paper flowers bloom thereupon, vexing Legolas with their presence and insistence, like dandelions persisting upon a clean green lawn.  Hirilcúllas and Tuilíndo did their best to shield their master from the effluence engendered by reason of his wealth and nobility, but there were many items that could only be managed by the Green Knight's personal touch and seal; far from engendering pride in his position it served only to make the Elf to sigh mournfully, and whilst he attended to these myriad matters Hirilcúllas betimes caught him gazing out of his mullioned windows at the mountains beyond with a wistful expression upon his face.

In the dim hours after midnight his office took on a gloomy, shadow-strewn aspect, as though it had thrown on a dark cloak and stood half-obscured by shade.  Tall beeswax candles were lit, and the fire set the shadows to dancing; the high ceiling swam with silhouettes and the tapestries whispered and shifted upon the walls like tall ghosts; the star charts glimmered and the papers hissed and rustled against each other as the breeze wandered through the rooms, round columns and behind curtains, stirring parchment and cloth, and setting the Lord of Dol Galenehtar's flaxen hair to winding about his head like gold floss.  He sat not behind the overburdened desk but in a soft armchair by the inglenook, and round about him were seated his hastily-assembled council:  Cirien, haggard in the gloaming; Araval, nodding and snoring despite his good intentions; Bandobras, bleary-eyed but still alert; Galás and Meivel, those polar opposites, flanking the mantle, looking oddly alike with arms crossed and faces grave; and Hirilcúllas and Andunië, still shimmering in their finery though Andunië had let down her hair; Hirilcúllas sat primly beside her fellow maid, dark eyes attentive, but Andunië despite the muted splendor of her green gown looked as though she would have rather been clad in her leather tunic and riding-skirt; she leant her tanned face upon one hand, which was propped by the elbow upon the arm of the couch, and played absently with her sash. Her green eyes were fixed upon her lord, though her face as always betrayed not any sentiment; she appeared more bored than otherwise.

Legolas looked round about him, satisfied with the wisdom he had collected in that room; he cast a tolerant eye upon Araval slumped slumbering in his armchair, and spoke into the silence which heretofore had been broken only by the snaps and hisses of the fire.

"Well, friends all, what think you?  A pretty problem, is it not? And coming as it does upon the heels of this trade proposal with Éomer's cousin; does it seem to you, as it does to me, that this has been rather more carefully orchestrated than we had previously supposed?"

"You need not ask my opinion of that, my lord!" said Meivel grimly.  His arms were folded across his chest, and his jaw was set; his pale eyes flashed.  "Not since this Théalof first set foot in Minas Tirith have I been at ease with him; he smiles and flatters and turns his head to look at you, and I am reminded of a snake on the hunt for an unsuspecting dove.  He is to my mind a man over-ambitious and possessing no restraint – see you how he works to garner approval and alliances within Elessar's court! – edicts go missing, gossip spreads, and ever does Théalof, whose first allegiance ought to be to his king, smirk and apologize and slander the house of Éomund, though in dissembling guise and with soft convincing words.  I do think me he craves the Golden Hall for himself, and thus seeks connections with those of influence in Gondor; hence for what reason would he insinuate himself into the minor houses of Langstrand, or promise land to our own lord?  And as for these letters you have received, O Legolas my friend, first from Bréawine, then Théalof, and now King Éomer, I am the more convinced Rohan is become a breeding-ground for deceit and treachery."

"Surely you do not include the king in this estimate of venality!" exclaimed Hirilcúllas.  "Why, Meivel, if any one man has aught to lose in this commotion it is he."

"Please, Hirilcúllas, do you not put such words in my brother's mouth," said Andunië, toying listlessly with a ribbon on her sleeve.  "The three letters were written by three separate men, all purporting to have three separate designs for the future of Rohan and the throne in Edoras."  When Meivel gave to his sister a nod of approval she added, "Yet, O my brother, must I express my disagreement with you upon one point; these past years you have as you said been wary of Théalof of Rohan, and I doubt that not, for of all gathered here yours is the more suspicious mind – "

"I give no argument to that opinion," said Galás dryly, and he and Bandobras exchanged winks; Andunië continued as though he had not spoken.

" – Yet I feel Théalof seeks discord not for the throne, but for fiscal gain."

"A cogent point," said Cirien from the hearth.  He rubbed his bony hands together near the flame, for the night was chilly, the hour was late, and he was feeling his age.  "I have shared with you, gentles all, the trade proposals, the concessions, the grand promises made beneath the seal of the King of Rohan, yet I am uneasy; my fellow knights in the south are eager to concede to these pacts for the terms are generous, but I am not sanguine for the promises come not from the hand of the king but from his emissary, and I as Meivel here do not trust him.  Indeed I have never trusted him, from the moment I met him in Erui; smooth I thought him, smooth and slippery like oil slicked upon water, and his words though purporting to be gentle and wise are laced with bitterness and deceit.  I will have naught to do with him, though my brother knights chivvy me along.  'Leery' they call me, and laugh; we shall see who laughs last."

Legolas sighed, and the fire reflected itself in his eyes as he gazed into the flames.  "Power and wealth," he said, his voice tinged with both anger and sadness.  "O how foolish are the children of Men, who so desperately chase after such fleeting things!  Upon their pathways are haste and misery and despondency, for their years are brief, and thus they trample underfoot the poor, the weak, the worthy toward whom their energies ought rather be directed.  And a great pity it is Elessar opened the way for treaties to be signed betwixt his vassals and foreign powers – 'twas a generous sentiment, but misguided perhaps."  He was silent a moment, then said, "So is it power, or wealth?  Meivel says power; Andunië says wealth; Cirien hints at both."  Bandobras shifted on his stool, and Legolas turned to him with a smile.  "Speak, Little One, and be not silent!" he said.  "I can see you have your own opinion on this matter."

"Well, Master," said Bandobras slowly, picking up the thick yellow sheets of paper with the great green seal of Meduseld broken upon it.  "I read this here letter from King Éomer and I don't see a man thinking his emissary's getting the best of him, nor that he might get into trouble due to this Théalof's sneaking ways.  But neither do I see him blowing kisses at him, no indeed.  Seems to me, Master, my lord and everyone else, that he don't trust Théalof much neither, but got him out of Rohan because he couldn't do naught with him anyway, him being the king's cousin and all.  And maybe he's thinking Théalof'll cause less trouble away from home than in it.  Look here – "  He unfolded the parchment, scanned down the second page with his finger, and said:  "Here it is.  'Inasmuch as Théalof is my chosen agent I have given to him certain liberties, which he has executed to the utmost of his abilities,'  but then a few sentences later he says: 'My representation in Minas Tirith is ineffectual and touches on the inconsequential, affording me little protection.'  Mighty big words he uses," sighed the Hobbit, "but you see what he says – he put Théalof in Minas Tirith for a reason, and gave him a good bit of leeway, but all those 'liberties' as he said Théalof used up pretty quick, and in all the wrong places, and looking to make himself rich, and not helping his king out nohow."

"It seems to me as though Éomer wishes for allies in the south, and sent his emissary down to so do; yet now he suspects himself denuded of them by reason of his emissary's duplicity," said Cirien.  "My brother knights in Langstrand sign the treaties, but to date I have not, for I see that though the proposals are beneath Éomer's seal, the documents have but Théalof's signature and sign."

"That bodes ill for King Éomer," said Hirilcúllas.  "He might believe himself to have support in Langstrand then, but Théalof has naught to do but to call upon these knights and when Éomer needs them Théalof may hold them in abeyance."

"To what end does Théalof pursue them?" asked Galás curiously.  "What I mean, my friends, is, does he desire trade with them, to so increase his wealth, or will he instead use these treaties to withhold help?  If he wants solely to enlarge his fortune that is bad enough; but if he seeks to keep their allegiance for himself that may argue some deeper and more sinister plan."

"You mean treason?" asked Hirilcúllas, her eyes flashing.

"Do not look so surprised, Little One," said Legolas to her with a grim smile. "This is not the first time in Rohan's brief history that the kingship has been disputed.  In our talk of Théalof we do not mention Bréawine.  Do we consider them to be working separately?  You, Andunië, seem to think so."

Andunië shrugged.  "They would be odd allies," she said disinterestedly.  "It is possible though, I suppose."

"Possible!" exclaimed Cirien.  "I do beg your pardon, Andunië, but I should not have thought so.  Firstly, O huntsmistress, do you take into account their heritages; Théalof is Éomer's cousin – a distant one to be sure but perchance he considers himself a more appropriate heir to the throne.  Bréawine instead is of the line of Helm Hammerhand, and the lord over a strong-willed and obstinate people who through history have not often been loyal to the throne in Meduseld.  Did they both seek power, they should be in contention; Bréawine has said publicly no son of Dol Amroth shall rule over Rohan, and opposed Éomer's marriage to Lothíriel.  Yet Théalof is better served to remind the people the line of Éomund is a legitimate one, for that brings him the closer to the throne.  Also consider their separate pleas to the Green Knight! In this also to me they appear to be working at cross-purposes."

"How do you see that, O Lord of Langstrand?" asked Galás.

"Think you again upon Bréawine's letter to your lord, my friend Legolas," said Cirien.  "He asked for support from you and Aldamir of Amon Din to drain the marshes about the Onodló to increase the amount of arable land."

"It seems a reasonable request," shrugged Galás.  "The marshes have expanded these past ten years, washing over field and pasture and permeating the good black soil there, giving pleasure to naught but ducks.  Both my lord and the Lord of Amon Din have good engineers and much experience in the draining of marshland, and they are both on excellent terms with King Éomer.  Why should he not ask for their collaboration?"

"To begin with those marshes do not belong to him," said Cirien.  "They were ceded not ten years ago to Errakh-hem of the Dunlendings.  King Éomer wishes to keep the Wildmen out of Rohan, yet does not want to slaughter them, for he is not only a warrior but a just and compassionate man.  So he has given the fenland to Errakh-hem and his tribe to fish upon and to live within.  But Bréawine's holdings are to the marsh's north-west corner and perchance he wishes to expand his demesne.  And it is this very land Théalof also holds out as a tempting morsel to the Green Knight; Éomer's it might be to give unto Legolas rather than to Errahk-hem, but Bréawine's, no!  So for both men to offer unto your lord this land seems to me to be imprudent; it belongs to neither.  Therefore I say they work against one another, for if Bréawine knew Théalof offered the marshland to Legolas he would rather beg Legolas' help, and did Théalof know Bréawine's plans likewise he would wish for clemency – or rather play at working to protect Éomer's assets, which is more like unto the Théalof we know – crafty and underhand."

"Hirilcúllas," said Legolas, "where is the letter in which that information was given me concerning the ceding of the marshes to the Dunlendings?"

"A moment, my Lord," she said, rising and going to the back of the room with a candle. She searched through some shelves for a moment, then came back holding two envelops.  "Here you are, my Lord," she said; "it is a letter written not long after our arrival, from Lord Aldamir; he mentioned it in detail, for it concerned some of his own demesne."  She handed Legolas the first envelope and he read through the letter within; he frowned and nodded and said:

"Yes, it is as I remembered; Aldamir and Éomer both were concerned with the restlessness of the Dunlendings; not so much out of compassion for their lot, being pressed in this vise betwixt Amon Din and Rohan, but out of concern for their own folk, for whom the Dunlendings were fast becoming a threat to their property and well-being."

"And remember also, my Lord," said Hirilcúllas, handing him the second letter, "you and King Elessar discussed this; Elessar out of concern for his brother king, and for his vassal Aldamir, considered eliminating the Dunlendings utterly, but you dissuaded him, reminding him of his own homeless wanderings in the wild; here is the copy he did send to you, my Lord, of his reply to Éomer, that Gondor would protect folk threatened by the Wildmen, but not persecute the Dunlendings."

"As I recall that was a point of some contention betwixt the two kingdoms," said Galás, taking the papers with a frown.

"Yes," said Legolas shaking his head regretfully.  "It pained me to see them so divided, but in truth I could not encourage Aragorn in the indiscriminate slaughter of those people; I know their presence is a continual thorn in Éomer's side – and do we not see evidence of the Dunlendings' violence and hatred whenever we look upon the sickly countenance of the daughter of the Lord and Lady of Osgiliath! – yet it has always galled me that they had no home nor land nor lord.  That they have chosen this Errakh-hem to lead them promises further discord, for he may be strong enough to convince them to oppose even Éomer's men."

"Hence Bréawine's arguments seem the more convincing," smiled Meivel.  "If he is able to absorb the fens into his own demesne and dispossess the Dunlendings, how happy will be the people of the Onodló and Amon Din!"

"And how unhappy the Wildmen," said Cirien.  "Will that not stir them to further discord?"

"It would me," piped up Bandobras.  "Get given a gift of land, and then get turned out of it?  A false giver, that's what we Hobbits would call the king if he did such a naughty thing.  Unfair, that's what it would be.  Not so bad now that it's rising summer, but it gets mighty cold in Rohan in the wintertime, and that's the truth.  Think about it, folks, these Dunlendings aren't just the men running round burning and killing and stealing; they've got to have wives and children same as everyone else, or how would they keep breeding?  What can they feed their little ones when they ain't got barns and cows and such?"

"Well spoken, O Halfling!" said Cirien.  "We do not wish to see the folk of Onodló and Amon Din harassed by such as these; nor would we wish to watch their little ones starve or freeze to death upon the plains.  What said you to Bréawine, Legolas?"

Legolas smiled.  "Bréawine knows I opposed displacing them and he wishes to change my mind," he said; "he attempts to undermine my allegiance to Éomer with promises of fiscal remuneration, and to placate me with offers of land.  Not wishing to show him how firm my loyalties lie with my friend Éomer I have given him naught but vague replies."  At Hirilcúllas' muffled exclamation of annoyance he added with a laugh:  "I have composed my answers couched in platitudes and inanities such that he will think me a complete idiot, and an uninformed and naïve one at that.  Hirilcúllas seems to think it reflects upon her own duties that her master is seen to be so foolish, but in this way it is easier to put him off than to make him aware I am his enemy."  He smiled at his secretary, but she only tossed her dark glossy head and frowned at him.

"Better he think you an idiot than an enemy; he will not see you coming this way," said Cirien; "that was wise I deem."

"To be wise by playing the fool?  Perhaps," said Legolas.  "Well, and now we have decided Théalof seeks wealth, and Bréawine land; what is it Éomer asks of me?  For of these three men he is the sole claimant for whom I have the inclination to help."

"Can't ask you directly, can he, Master?" asked Bandobras, looking down at the letter.  "Never seen a note from him as is so fuzzy.  Makes me think maybe he knows his letters might be read."

"As well they may," said Cirien, "since they go through his envoy first."

"Think you then Théalof reads his king's correspondence?" asked Hirilcúllas looking shocked.  "It is hardly within the boundaries of his position to so do, and shameful beside."

"I do not suppose that would stop him," said Meivel.  "King Éomer is wise I think to couch his fears in such a circumlocutory fashion."

"The letters are sealed though upon their arrival here," protested Hirilcúllas.

"O but that's not so hard," objected Bandobras; "all you need's a hot knife and nimble fingers, Hirilcúllas, and you can lift a seal and leave not a trace.  Why I can do it quick as a flash, and you'd never know I done it."

Hirilcúllas looked scandalized, but Galás laughed merrily.  "Capital!" he exclaimed.  "O that I were a Hobbit and could think of such perfidy!  Do you show me how to do that, Bandobras, I beg you!"

Bandobras blushed deeply and looked up at his Master, but Legolas was smiling.  "Peace!" he said to Hirilcúllas, who was very affronted; "it is a wise lord who knows the best and most loyal spies."  He turned to Andunië.  "And how went your day, Little One?  Did the heir of the throne of Rohan perform his several duties to your standard?"

"Hardly," said Andunië, her green eyes cold.

"I am not surprised; you are such a martinet," grinned Galás; when Meivel frowned at him he added, "Ah, I did not mean to insult you, O Sober-and-Conscientious!  There are none to rival you in that area, not even your sister here."

Meivel took in his impudent air with the disapproving look he always reserved for the seneschal.  "Though you meant it as an insult I shall consider myself flattered," he said.

"Enough!" said Legolas, running his hands through his hair; "Andunië, do you know why I have sent Fastred unto you?"

"Yes, my lord," said Andunië evenly.  "You either hate me, or are cruelly punishing me for some unknown offense."

There was some muffled sniggering at that, and Hirilcúllas laughed aloud.  "Nay!" said Legolas, his eyes twinkling.  "Wished I to discipline you I should have taken your riding-clothes away, and made you to wear your pretty green dress and slippers every day, and to put up your hair in ribbons, and do naught but teach him to dance."  Andunië's mouth twitched at that, but not even Cirien could tell whether she had stifled a smile, or a frown.  "Listen well, Little One!" said Legolas, reaching across to the couch and taking her by one slim wrist.  "I consign Fastred's little heart unto you; it is hard still, and aching with affront.  But by your insistence upon hard work, your ideals for a job well-executed, and your lack of sympathy for any who complain about their lot in life, he shall at first be frustrated, but your firm resolve and unswerving perseverance shall overcome him, and he be taught to accept his destiny and go unto his uncle – not uncomplaining, perhaps, but at least willingly."

"You ask much of him," said Andunië, looking hard at him, "and of me, my lord."

"I would ask naught of either of you if I did not think you capable," said Legolas firmly.

They held each others' gazes a moment, Legolas adamant, Andunië reluctant; at last she said:  "Very well, my lord."

"Excellent," smiled Legolas releasing her hand; "I knew you to be the fitting one for the job at once, despite Araval's objections – "  That knight, hearing his name spoken even in the midst of his slumber, muttered and shifted; Legolas smiled down at him, then looked to the others.  "Tyarmayél is disappointed, Andunië my friend, that you have been so privileged to take upon yourself the schooling of the heir of Rohan, but I am confident in you and know Fastred will be the better for it."  Andunië said nothing, but only bowed her head in acquiescence; Legolas turned to the rest of his companions and said:  "Well!  Have we determined anything, or have we as I suspect merely run about in circles, deciding nothing of import, and having no plan for the future?"

"Circles, my lord," said Galás promptly.

"O I don't know," said Bandobras; "We decided Éomer knows something's up, and the Dunlendings are about to get their noses put out of joint, and Bréawine and Théalof aren't what we'd call bosom companions.  I think that's doing well, Master."

"It leaves more questions unanswered than answered however," said Meivel.  "Still, my lord, we have not determined what you should do – we trust not either Théalof nor Bréawine; Éomer warns you though surreptitiously of trouble in his land; Fastred is known to be Éomer's chosen heir and it will not be long ere both Éomer's enemies descry his presence here.  You did plan, my lord, to go to Rohan with Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn as they delivered their son up unto the King of Rohan to be his heir; yet here is Fastred living in Dol Galenehtar.  What will you do?  Send Fastred to his noble parents to let them bring him to Rohan themselves?  For if you are in the vanguard with Rohan's heir they shall know full well your compliance and loyalty, and you shall lose what edge you have over Éomer's enemies."

"That is true," said Cirien thoughtfully.  "It seems to me, my friend, you would serve Éomer better by withholding any outward displays of allegiance; in this manner you might further determine the depths of Théalof's machinations and Bréawine's plots.  So long as they are determined to bribe you with promises of land and monetary reward they will speak with you, albeit deceitfully; however as you are able you might sift through their empty promises and flattering words and see more of the truth which you could then use to strengthen Éomer's hands against them."

"And well he needs it!" said Legolas fervently, taking the letter from Bandobras and looking down at it with a frown.  "Poor Éomer," he added softly, shaking his head; his pale hair swung round his throat and glinted in the dim light.  "To have taken up the throne with such hope, and pride, and confidence; then to be openly criticized for taking to wife the daughter of Imrahil … then the blight and famine which nearly beggared him … heir after heir stillborn; dissention from Bréawine, violence from the Dunlendings, and now to suspect treason at the hands of his own ambassador to Minas Tirith!  A pity it is Elessar and Undómiel are at Fornost; he has the authority and the armies to wrest peace even in a separate kingdom, and we his vassals do our small best in his place."

"Then you must needs forego thinking yourself his vassal," said Cirien firmly, "and remember instead you are the son of the King of Eryn Lasgalen, and in yourself a free agent with the authority of the Firstborn behind you."

Legolas cocked his head at him, his gray eyes sparkling.  "So I am," he said, laughing, "and I thank you for your timely reminder!  My friends, what think you?  Should I comport myself as the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, or as Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen?"

"Your Highness!" said Meivel, putting his hand upon his breast. "But speak the word and we shall comply. We might well live amongst the mortals of this land but we never forget that the length of our days and the hope of our future are tied up in the heavens and stretched upon the surging sea; the time for play-acting at mortality is at an end.  Take you up your crown and scepter, O Prince, and we shall follow you with all faith, for you are far more than Elessar's vassal, or even the Lord of Dol Galenehtar.  You are Legolas Thranduilion and come of the line of Doriath and your enemies will do well to be reminded of this."

Legolas rose to his feet, and Galás, Meivel, and Bandobras rose as well and bowed to him, and Hirilcúllas and Andunië rose themselves and curtseyed.  Legolas smiled, but the eye he bestowed upon his subjects was grave nonetheless.  "Very well then," he said, looking about the room.  "The Green Knight goes to his friend King Éomer of Rohan and brings with him the stanchion of the Firstborn.  I give permission to no man to speak of my doings concerning this for now I act in secret, in order to determine how best to uphold the line of Éomund."  He turned to the inglenook; the Yellow Knight sat there, his lined face grave, and Araval still slumbered in his chair.  Legolas asked, "Are you in agreement with this, O Cirien of Langstrand, my friend?  Will you, as you have always done, hold your tongue when men ask of my doings?  And will you lend unto me your support and wisdom, so that I as Prince of Eryn Lasgalen might go with better will unto my friends in Rohan?"

"You know that I shall," said Cirien; "you may do more as Prince Legolas than as the Lord of Dol Galenehtar anyway; you must needs act as two entities ensconced in but one vessel."

"My thanks, dear friend!" said Legolas, returning to his seat.  "And now as it is nearing dawn it is time for our mortal friends to get them to their beds."  He looked at Araval, who was breathing deeply, slumped in his armchair.  "Galás," he said, "find Araval's servant and get him to roll his lord to his chambers; we have no further need of his wisdom this eve."

"As you will, my prince," smiled Galás, and went out.

"And I'm off to Mother's rooms," piped up Bandobras cheerfully, pattering over to his Master and throwing his arms about the Elf's neck.  "It's still nippy these nights and I want to make sure she's got enough quilts and coverlets so she don't take another chill.  Will you come in and say good-night to her, Master?  Mother sleeps so restless nowadays, but she seems to drop off faster if you go in and see her for a bit first."

"I will certainly do so," said Legolas kindly, kissing his small esquire upon the crown of his curly head.  "Do you go unto her now and see to her comfort, and I shall come in scace ten minutes or so; I have some trifling thing to see to here ere I enjoy your mother's company."

"All right," said Bandobras, and giving everyone else a wave with his hand trotted from the room.  Meivel offered his arm to his sister but Legolas said:  "Nay, my good Meivel! Take unto yourself instead Hirilcúllas here and accompany her to her rooms; I must speak with your sister a moment."  Meivel nodded gravely to them and he and Hirilcúllas left as well.  But though Andunië waited patiently her lord said nothing to her, engaging instead in desultory conversation with Cirien ere Araval's servant came to aid his master to bed; when the three men had departed Legolas gestured Andunië to the chair beside his desk, and as she lowered herself into the chair he sat at the desk across from her.  He folded his long hands on the polished black surface, studied them silently a moment, then looked up at his huntsmistress; his hair in the dim firelight gleamed golden, but Andunië's tumbling locks were burnished copper, and her eyes though downcast flickered green in the gloaming.

"Be you sure Fastred learns to track with and without the hounds," he said, "and teach him the importance of keeping the kennels and roosts clean and the animals in good health.  Work him from sunup to sundown, with only short rests to eat.  He is soft, and he will need toughening ere he takes up his duties in Edoras."

Andunië raised her head; her face betrayed no expression, and her eyes were distant.  "And his marksmanship and swordplay?" she said; her voice was almost disinterested.

"In three weeks' time, when he is quite resigned to his fate, shall I send him unto Himbaláth for those things, but only when he has completed his work to your standards," said Legolas.  "And when he is brought up to our measure shall I commence his education in reading the stars; I ought to have begun this instruction last summer but he was distracted by the fishing-boats.  When do you think you will have the three new eyasses ready?"

"With the boy's help, perchance two months' time," said Andunië.  She reflected a moment, her eyes distant, then said, her cool voice husky and warming:  "They are good birds, these eyasses you have purchased for me; the goshawk in particular, my lord, is very fine.  I foresee no difficulties in training them to their duties."

Legolas heard her emphasis on the word "them" and smiled.  "Boys are not eyasses," he said gently; "but then, Little One, save in the Misty Mountains eyasses rarely become kings."

Andunië regarded her lord with sober eyes.  "We are far from home," she said simply.  But Legolas shook his head, rose, and held out one hand to raise her to her feet.

"This is home now," he said, and saw her out.  But despite his conviction when she had gone he sat for some time at his desk, his eyes turned to the stars which twinkled and burned in his windows; then with a sigh he rose to go see Mistress Pearl.

Lady Éowyn of Osgiliath sat upon the high chair in the Great Hall, clad in a gown of pale filmy blue overlaid with tiny golden stars; her yellow hair wound about her head like thickly-braided ropes, and upon her slim white neck she wore a gold collar set with gems.  The Hall was quiet, for it was as yet early in the morning; yet even so she had heard five plaints and given just judgment, signed three official letters and set thereupon her seal in blue wax, set two amercements for minor infractions, and met with her advisors concerning the outstanding bill for the repair work on the Pelennor.  The last courtier had just pattered away from her, dissatisfied but with his grievance managed, and Éowyn sat stiffly upon the hard embroidered cushions, wishing the Hall were empty so she could rub her back, which had begun to ache.

She looked round, wondering who would next occupy time better spent in the stables, and gave a fleeting but longing look out the high windows, through which she could see the sky, blue as a robin's egg and likewise speckled though with sparrows; narrow strips of sunlight lay across the gray stone floor mocking her with their warmth.  The peat fires were far from the dais and though summer approached the stone houses of Osgiliath were as yet cold.  And then, proving that though a Shieldmaiden she was foremost a mother, she thought of her eldest with a pain edging upon anger; she ached for his presence, yet when she remembered his flight she ground her teeth in frustration.  And ever in her mind spun the same questions, unanswered yet repeated in round:  Was he well?  Did he truly regret his actions?  When would he come home?  What would she do when he did?  What would she do if he did not?  Did she truly, as she and her husband had decided, want to send him to her brother in Rohan?  The ache began anew and deep within the recesses of her heart she began to doubt her resolve; this angered her for ever had she been stern and unmoving, and to find within herself this duality of spirit dismayed her.  She saw Beregond approaching from the far end of the room, his face purposeful yet unhurried, and let out an impatient sigh; this could mean but one thing:  There was yet another plaintiff to be heard.  She dutifully cast aside thoughts of her comfortable riding-skirt and the feel of Hásef's reins in her hands, and awaited him wearily.  She did not want to hold court; she wanted to escape to the outdoors, to drown out her roiling thoughts and battered heart with the thud of hoofbeats and the whistle of the wind in her ears.  Yet she schooled her expression to one of attentive stateliness; it was a comfortable mask and one she was accustomed to wear at least, and had stood her in good stead during many trials and difficulties in her life, so that she could show a proud and indifferent face to both dependents and detractors.  Beregond gained the dais and bowed deeply to his lady.

"Yes, Beregond?" she said, hoping she did not sound so jaded as she felt.

"My Lady," said Beregond; "I have dismissed the minor courtiers and villeins; you have a guest who though unannounced I am sure supersedes all other plaints and affairs."

"Who is it?" asked Éowyn in surprise.

"Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen, my Lady," said Beregond promptly.  Éowyn frowned at the title given, though she felt deeply relieved it were her champion above all others; she had hoped to foregather with him, to speak with him of her son, and also to receive from his hand her eldest, for whom her heart did writhe in tumult; she did not know whether to whip or embrace Fastred upon his arrival, and heartily wished Faramir were there, to soften her temper, and restrain her tongue.  Yet she felt within herself a burgeoning joy at the thought she would soon hold within her arms her son, whom she had thought dead during that long horrible day; she longed greatly to look upon his face, and to touch him herself, to reassure herself he was well and truly alive.  "And how happy Hísimë and Théodred shall be!" she thought, her heart lightening; "and how good it shall be to have him to table once more!"  Faramir was often gone, and Éowyn could take his empty chair during dinner with equanimity; however the absence of one of her children pained her, and the sight of Fastred's empty seat had quite taken her appetite.

"And why do you announce him as the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, Beregond, and not by his proper title?" she asked.  "Have you then forgotten he is Lord of Dol Galenehtar and our close neighbor and fellow vassal of the King?"

"Well my Lady, he has proclaimed himself thus," said Beregond, shrugging.  "He came unto the gates and said to the gatekeepers: 'Tell the Lady of Emyn Arnen that Legolas Prince of Eryn Lasgalen seeks audience with her.'  I do not know, my Lady, for what purpose he advertises himself in this fashion, but as he is certainly of royal blood it is his proper appellation; also he has been a loyal friend and close companion to Osgiliath, and has brought us wealth and protection and respite in festival; it is only fair we go along with his whims."

"Very true, my friend," said Éowyn; "well bring him in then, and have the herald announce him as Legolas Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, since that may make him happy.  We all know he is the Green Knight; it is not as though he is a stranger here."

"As you wish, my Lady!" said Beregond, bowing again, and went back to the doors.  Sure enough in but several minutes the brown-clad herald banged his spear upon the floor and declared in a voice that boomed and echoed through the Hall:

"Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen seeks audience with her Ladyship, Éowyn of Emyn Arnen, Princess of the House of Éomund."

"Éowyn of Emyn Arnen welcomes the grace and wisdom of the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen," replied Éowyn in a ringing tone, and the remaining courtiers and advisors stood respectfully by. The great oak doors swung open, and the Elf came through, unattended, though clad in richly beaded garments and with a fine fur cloak cast about his shoulders.  He strode the length of the Hall, his fair face composed and placid, and in one long white hand he held several heavy parchment envelopes.  Éowyn rose to her feet, grateful to have an excuse to shift her position, and Legolas with a polite inclination of his head ascended the dais and bowed over her proffered hand to kiss it.

"My Lady," he said courteously, rising.

"My friend," said Éowyn warmly, smiling; he answered her smile and handed her the envelopes.  "And do you play messenger-boy this morn?" she asked gently teasing, taking them from him.  "Where is Sólormoïle? Is he become so weary of his running to and fro betwixt our demesnes you must needs deliver your letters unto me yourself?  I did not realize, Legolas, that this was one of the duties of the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen."

"Did you not?" he said dryly.  "It has been long since last you conversed with my father then!"

Éowyn glanced about the Hall, to be sure none of the courtiers could hear.  "Where is my son?  Where have you left him?" she asked in a low voice, careful to not let her anxiousness show.  Legolas had no such compunction; he grimaced, and said as he unfastened his cloak:

"As Prince Legolas plays at being messenger-boy, so does Little Lord Fastred play pin-cushion," he said, and when she gave him a sharp look added, "Never fear!  As I said to you in my last missive, O Lady of Emyn Arnen, he comes to no harm within my borders.  He is training eyasses with Andunië, my Lady, and finding their talons a tad sharper than he had first estimated."

"Why did you not bring him with you?" asked Éowyn growing distressed.  "Is it not enough, O Prince of Mirkwood, that I suffered a mother's greatest fears at his disappearance?  Do you withhold him from me so to protract my misery the more?"

"Never!" exclaimed Legolas looking dismayed.  "Think you so little of me, my Lady, and of our long friendship?  Do I not come to you in body and not simply send notice of my doings?  Have I not spent three nights away from mine own chambers attempting to rectify his errors?  And have I not cared for your son as though he were of my own people?  I came to you as soon as I could; I have ridden the night and gained your gates after sunrise in order to speak with you, not wishing to merely send another letter, but to speak with you face to face, so that all might be explained and justified."

"My apologies then," said Éowyn though she was keenly disappointed; "and now I perceive the time to speak in public is past; we shall quit this Hall then and go unto a private chamber, where you shall explain and justify to your heart's content."  She gestured to her herald, who came forward; she said to him:  "Announce to the assembly I go to meet on matters exclusive with the Green Knight and shall reconvene court on the morrow."  The man nodded and turned to the Hall, and while he was speaking Éowyn took Legolas' proffered arm and they exited.

They went along a long low allure, dark with shadows and lit solely by random oilettes, for they were in a more ancient part of the castle; several torches in iron sconces burned, and the floor was worn and curved.  Éowyn led Legolas through several crumbling arches until they had gained the solar, its pocked walls covered over with new white marble, and opening to an inner courtyard; it was light and airy, and warmer than the Hall.  Éowyn gestured to the servingman and he brought forth hot spiced wine for them both; she lowered herself into a comfortable couch, taking a goblet; Legolas however remained standing, hands behind his back, looking out onto the courtyard, his face sober.  When the servingman had departed, and the Lady of Emyn Arnen alone with her visitor save for the sergeant-at-arms who hovered always in the pediment, Éowyn turned to Legolas, who with a sigh closed his eyes, and leant upon the window arch.

"Why did you not bring my son with you?" she asked reprovingly.  "Surely you know, my friend, how I long for his presence, to reassure myself he is well! Why would you leave him behind, yet come through the night to see me?  Do you disdain then a mother's love for her firstborn?"

"Why do you ask questions like that of me?" asked Legolas; he sounded tired.  "Do you disdain then my love for you, and for your husband and children?  Do you suppose I leave him in Andunië's care for my own benefit?  Do you not think I should rather have delivered him here for you to deal with as you wished, and not keep him underfoot to wreak havoc on my household?  And do you not think I have good reason to withhold him from you?  Or shall you commence with the firing of arrows ere the white flag can be raised?"

Éowyn stared at him in surprise; she had not seen him so dejected in many years.  "My pardon, O Champion!" she said in astonishment, rising and lifting the other goblet, steaming and fragrant; she held it out to him.  " 'Twas my mother's heart spoke to you so; that is why I rejoined in bitterness, for out of the fullness of my heart do I address you, and I apologize for my harsh words.  In future shall I attempt to speak to you solely as a Shieldmaiden, trusting your judgment as I ought, and believing good and not ill of you ere you disclose to me your motives.  O Legolas, come sit with me, and drink some wine, to mend my hasty words!"

Legolas turned and smiled at her, and taking the goblet from her said:  "Give to me no contrition, and keep such lowly talk from your lips!  Otherwise I shall believe myself to be in some other castle than the Keep of Osgiliath, and to converse with some puling and weak-minded lady, not the Shieldmaiden whom I promised to champion.  Shall I not continue to uphold your cause?  Drink then with me, O Éowyn of the House of Éomund; as a sister you have ever been to me, the sister for whom I mourned my want of a true companion as a child.  Many times did I harrie my good parents, begging them to give unto me a small sister, yet of all good gifts they gave unto me I lacked that one.  And now that I have found you, why do we quarrel?"  He lifted his goblet unto hers and said, "To the drumming of hoof-beats upon a wide plain!"

Éowyn's face broke into a smile.  "And to the thunder of battle that precedes no rain!" she cried finishing the salute; they drank together, and when Éowyn sat again upon her couch Legolas sat across from her, stretched out his long legs in their mud-spattered boots, and sighed, closing his eyes.  Éowyn watched him, wary of the ache for her son now, but strengthened by his assertion of his affection for her, and wondering how she would have fared, had she been brotherless, living as an only child in the halls of Edoras.  Far down in the courtyard below they could hear the strains of music as one of the serving-maids sang during her duties, and there were echoing through the screens the sounds of people going to and fro in their work, talking and laughing.  After a few moments Legolas opened his eyes and drained his goblet; leaning forward Éowyn grasped the pitcher to refill it.  "I have waited these past five minutes for you to put your boots up on the table here," she said smiling.  "The Lord of Dol Galenehtar perchance may be too well-bred to so befoul a Princess' stand, but I had thought better of an Elven prince."

Legolas looked down at his boots.  "They are quite muddy," he said.

"And you are quite weary," Éowyn answered; "did you not say to me, O Champion, you have foresworn sleep these past three nights?  Of the Firstborn you might be and immune to mortal fatigue, but even an Elf must needs take a little rest."

"Very well; as you have no ladies' maid present I shall offend no one's sensibilities – save your sergeant-in-arms there."

"Telumel is impervious to dirt," Éowyn said.  "Sit and drink, but do you please have pity upon me and tell me your errand!  I can be patient only so long; a Shieldmaiden I might be but I am also a woman."

"I shall sit but not drink overmuch," said Legolas, propping his feet upon the table.  "Else I shall sleep and speak not."

"That would astonish me more than anything else you could do," said Éowyn; "I have never known you to be without words."

Legolas laughed, and put the goblet down.  "Very well!" he said.  "I shall begin with the question foremost in your mind – why I have not brought your Fastred back to you.  Believe me when I say unto you, O Sister-In-Arms, that I do this not out of perversity, but in an attempt to champion your cause once again.  You must know your resolution to give Fastred as heir unto your brother sat ill upon your son's heart; 'twas for that reason he fled his home to the sanctuary of my borders."

"I thought perhaps it was so," sighed Éowyn.  "O Legolas, what shall I do?  For truly I do not want to lose him; it is said mothers should not play favorites but Fastred is the core of my heart.  Rather would I have sent unto Éomer his brother Théodred, but he is so young, and Éomer has need of an heir of an age to take some measure of command.  I am resolved in this, yet greatly pained, for I do not wish to lose him, though he go to succor mine own people."

"I do not wish him to go either," said Legolas.  "Many happy hours have I spent with him in your demesne and mine; he is more like unto a small playmate to me than the son of a neighboring lord.  And 'twas for that reason he came to me, for in his mind I am naught but the rich and merry and indulgent lord who lets him come and go as he pleases, and presses him to no labor; you and your noble husband, however, are now seen as the enemies of his happiness, and Éomer and Rohan the darkness that covers his future.  But fear not!  I have a strategy in place to reverse his viewpoint, so that he will long for you, and regard Rohan as a haven."

"You plot to change a young boy's mind?" asked Éowyn in amazement.  "Are you not aware, O my Champion, that Fastred is mine own son, and is possessed in no niggling measure of my obduracy?"

"Say not 'obduracy' but 'tenacity,' " said Legolas mildly, lifting his goblet to his lips.  "It is not so discourteous that way.  Yes, O Lady of Emyn Arnen, I am well aware of his … tenacity; it is that very attribute I hope to use to turn him to our will."

"Speak then and be not silent!" said Éowyn.  "Now I am more curious than provoked, which was no doubt your aim in presenting your scheme to me in this roundabout fashion."

"It is thus," said Legolas.  "Do you know, O Shieldmaiden, for what purpose he came unto me and my people?"

"To claim sanctuary," said Éowyn.  "He must have thought you would accept him unquestioning, and allow him to live on there as he wanted, free and unfettered by the constraints of court and obligation, having naught to do but hunt and fish and play and eat, for that is why he loves you so."

"And know you," asked Legolas, "how came he to my people?"

"Nay," said Éowyn.  "Only that Meivel fetched him in a swoon, in the dark while it was raining, and Himbaláth found his horse so choked with brambles he could scarce move."

"He came upon one of our olintalari in the southern part of our sacred groves," said Legolas.  "I had set enchantments about it so that any one who journeyed uninvited in our lands, and came upon our feasting-rings, should fall into a deep slumber, and I be alerted forthwith, so that I could send out soldiers to deal with any intruders."  Legolas shook his head.  "I confess to you, O Éowyn, that my mind was full of thoughts of Fastred's disappearance, and I imagined any trespasser to be part of the puzzle; there are severe consequences in Eryn Lasgalen when one of my Lord Father's olintalari are breached – as Gimli's father Glóin knows full well! – and perpetrators of such infamy are customarily sent to the dungeons.  By my laws, which echo my Lord Father's, I could very well have sent Fastred to the dungeons – "

"Do you have dungeons?" asked Éowyn in amazement.  "I have never heard of any dungeons being built beneath Dol Galenehtar."

"Well, not dungeons as such; more holding-cells, if we have a visitor of low rank who makes himself a nuisance in some way, such as stealing, or prowling about.  It is a foolish ruler who assumes everyone behaves well at all times.  Anyway I could have sent Fastred there, but the thought galled me; yet I knew his perfidy to be true, for I had heard already of Éomer's need and your solution, and it angered me that he should so set your authority to naught, and turn his back upon his royal uncle; also it vexed me greatly he should have the effrontery to assume I was soft as well as kind.  Kaimelas wanted to whip him, but though that thought appealed to me I felt I could not administer such chastisement lacking his parents' permission – "

"Which you would have got; that thought was foremost in my mind as well," said Éowyn grimly.  Legolas laughed again.

"Being but Elves, and unused to the motives and minds of small mortal boys, we instead requested the aid of an expert."

"Who?" asked Éowyn.

"Pearl Took," said Legolas, his gray eyes twinkling, and Éowyn laughed.

"And what did Mistress Took prescribe?" she asked.

"That Kaimelas should flog him with words to stir his conscience, and I come in sorrow and silence to prick it; it worked quite well, for he wept, and said he was sorry, and begged my forgiveness.  And also did Mistress Pearl say to us that Fastred should be given a choice, whether to be sent in disgrace to his home, or to stay in Dol Galenehtar, and predicted he should choose to stay; also did her words hit target, for that is what he did.  And she further said unto me, O Lady of Emyn Arnen, he should work out his punishment and thus pay for his lodgings, and I should find for him some work so disagreeable he will be dismayed by it; also that I turn from him my desire for companionship and good camaraderie, treating him as a vassal, so that he will become angry, and disillusioned with Dol Galenehtar and with me; I shall also impress upon him the importance of his duties, and work him hard with no rest, so he be weary of my home and my presence and think longingly instead of Osgiliath and his family, and know that to reign in Rohan is better than to toil in Dol Galenehtar.  And so that is what I shall do, my Lady; he is with Andunië now, who as you know is brusque and exacting and unsympathetic; he works sunrise to sunset with little rest, and thus is trained and toughened and made more a man than a child.  And it is for that reason, O Éowyn, I keep him from his mother; for he is angry and chagrined, and though he writes letters of apology to you and to your husband – " Legolas gestured to the envelopes he had delivered, which Éowyn had dropped upon a footstool unseen
"  – still he harbors within his small heart the resentment he shall be forced to leave his home and go to your brother's kingdom; this anger will not fade if he be kept here, among his friends and family and in his comfortable room; the anger will turn upon me instead in his exile, thus preserving his regard for you, and giving unto him the desire to escape from me."

Éowyn considered this for a time, her eyes upon the window to the courtyard; she looked troubled.  "But though he turn his hard heart from me he shall hate you," she said; "how can you bear it, to have Fastred hate you thus?"

Legolas sighed.  "Well my lady, I am your champion after all; it is my right and duty to uphold your honor and judgment.  And also I am not merely the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, or even the Green Knight; I am first and foremost the Prince of Greenwood the Great, and it is a grave thing to seek sanctuary of me, for I espouse obligation over fancy and value trustworthiness more than many bright gems.  Fastred's view of me has been only Lord Lassah of Dol Galenehtar; he shall know me now as Prince Legolas, who is far more stiff-necked than he – after all I have been at it longer, and am better at it having had so much practice."

Éowyn shook her head, but leant forward to take Legolas by the hand.  "Then I endorse Mistress Pearl's judgment and bow to her decision," she said, her eyes bright with tears.  "Though it pains me to so do I shall relinquish the chastising of my son's soul unto you, O Prince of Greenwood.  Only tell me, I beg of you, when shall I see him?  For my heart yearns toward him and he is greatly missed not only by his mother but by the entire household."

"Mistress Pearl said to give him two months, three at most," said Legolas.  "Then perchance shall his heart be softened toward you, and he might stay with you for a night during our journey unto Rohan.  O yes!  I am taking him to Rohan, my Lady; do you not look so surprised!  Better the hand administering his fate to be mine own than his mother's, for he shall hate me the more, and cling to soft and tender memories of you in his sorrow."

"Two months!" sighed Éowyn shaking her head.  "But that is nothing; I am constrained to lose him for good by sending him unto my people."

"Say not 'for good' but 'for Éomer,' " said Legolas tenderly.  He rose, brought her to her feet, and kissed her upon the forehead.  "He is fortunate indeed to have you for a sister; you are generous and kind and faithful and devoted!  He reigns well who has such bastion behind him; stand well upon your promise, O Princess of the House of Éomund!"

"Let me be your sister then, and you might be unto me a bastion and fortress as well," said Éowyn.  "I am losing my son – he is already gone; it is as though I have sent him out into the wilderness, away from my help and succor!  O what have I done, my Champion?  I am losing him; he is already gone.  But I cannot go back on my word – Rohan needs him.  O I am so weak; help me to be strong!"  And she wept.

Legolas took her into his arms to comfort her.  "I am here," he promised; "I will always be here."  And he let her weep upon him for a while, that her mother's heart would find some respite not only in her tears but in his strength.

Soon spring gave way to summer, and the bright new green of the leaves darkened and deepened on the trees; the sky blew open its dome of brilliant blue and settled into a warm yellow haze as the pine trees set forth their seed, and the clouds clotted and rumbled together, scurrying past and dragging their shadows behind them, surprising everyone with violent showers or letting out gusts of hot damp air, booming and cracking when a thunderstorm struck, and roosting upon the horizon to set sunrise and sunset glowing with golden molten embers.  Birds nested in the green leafy towers of Dol Galenehtar in droves, chattering and bickering over branches and seeds; deer rutted and bawled, squirrels built huge untidy nests in the tops of the pines, and the last winter snows upon the slopes of the mountains melted and rushed down the rivers and cataracts in white surging plumes, stirring up huge mists that watered the ferns and boxwoods and rosemary brakes nestled in the rocky cliffs.  In every dell the daffodils and narcissi and hyacinth gave way to daisies and violets and dandelions, and the gardens of the Elves burst forth in fragrant display, twining with vines and blossoms and trumpets and tendrils.  The vineyards started to put forth good show with huge clusters of dark grapes upon the eastern slopes, and tiny bunches of white grapes huddled beneath dark leaves in the southern fields; the olive trees were laden with fruit and the herb gardens heavy with scent, and with the hum of the bees darting to and fro seeking nectar. 

But Fastred's thirteenth summer, that he had anticipated with such great pleasure and elaborate scheming, crawled by with an interminability tantamount to eternity.  Summers had ever been fleeting affairs for him, flashing by as quickly as a bright sleek trout in clear water, pleasing yet brief, and when autumn came he had always found himself wondering where the warm lazy months had gone, and why he had not been able to accomplish all the wonderful things he had planned in the spring:  the building of tree houses, the climbing of cliffs, the exploration of the ruins of the old citadel, the fishing and camping and tramping and boating – there had never been time enough before; summer had always fled past on feet too swift to stay for him even an instant.  But not this summer!  Ever did Fastred toil in the back courtyard, hot and aching and weary, with scarce a moment to spare to gaze out the gates to the delights beyond; but oftimes his thoughts wandered back to Osgiliath, and to his friend Halgond, and a sharp pain pierced him when he would realize this last summer here in Ithilien would have been spent with his friend, had Fastred not run away.  And he would think of his brother and sister, and the many happy hours he ought to have spent with them in the nursery, building up treasures of memories to bring with him when he went alone to Rohan, and then he would miss them terribly; also he thought upon his Lord Father and Lady Mother and his heart was wrung with a sickening mixture of guilt and longing.

Worst still was Legolas' indifference – Fastred had thought that at least in his toil he might foregather with his Elvish friend but that was not to be so; the Elf lord came rarely to the back courtyards but kept himself to his chambers and offices and throne rooms, and when he would ask Andunië her lord's whereabouts she would shrug and say:  "What matters that to you?  He is likely too busy."  Fastred could see from the dusty yard the citadel walls and the high tower of Dol Galenehtar – clad in white marble, girt with gold leaf and dressed in verdant ivy dotted with flowers – could see the tall windows sparkling with cut glass and oriels, could see the dovecotes and terraces and balconies and the many Elves going to and fro about their business.  But he did not see Legolas, and he could not go there; he was confined to the eastern courtyard where worked the huntsmistress upon her dogs and her falcons and her young mortal charge.  There were no feasts nor outings nor quiet lazy days with books or toys for him; he had sworn fealty unto the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, bowing before his beloved Lord Lassah and taking an oath to work through his sanctuary, and his days of leisure were past.  His disappointment in his friend turned slowly to resentment, and then to sorrowful acceptance; his thoughts became bleak and sad, and he found himself missing his brother and sister all the more, and his own room with its big comfortable bed – Andunië insisted he sleep in the kennels – and especially his noble parents, against whom he had rebelled so heartlessly.  He missed his father's gentle laugh, and twinkling eyes, and strong brown hands; he missed his mother's quick fierce embraces, and the proud lift of her chin, and her long golden hair.  When he recalled their thoughts upon his disappearance his throat grew a lump and his eyes stung; only Andunië's cool and disinterested face kept the traitorous tears away.

But once did Fastred admit to anyone his atonement had worn thin; Bandobras the Perian had passed his way and asked a question, casual and friendly as was his wont, on a day when Fastred's head ached and his back groaned and his heart hurt, and the Little Lord of Osgiliath tearfully vented his frustration, full of penance and anger and homesickness and weariness.  The Hobbit had only patted Fastred on the shoulder and given him what words of comfort he could find – "Well, it is only for a short time; soon you'll be going to Rohan anyway, and there'll be no more kennel-work for you – you'll be a prince then."  Fastred had agreed vehemently, his eyes clouded with tears yet glowing with the hope of his future, and Bandobras seeing this hid his smile behind his hand, and scurried off to talk to his master.

Andunië worked Fastred hard; he found her exacting and merciless, and was convinced she thought more of her birds and dogs than for the small boy placed in her care, and this was perhaps not far from the mark, for Andunië was unsociable and preferred the company of her beasts to that of her fellows.  Fastred was in awe of her, for her great ability to mold the animals' wills to her own, and for her innate understanding of their natures, and for her proud and thoughtless beauty; he feared her, and admired her wisdom and energy, and at times he quite hated her.  She never smiled nor laughed; her green eyes were hard as stone, and her face immovable; she was immune to entreaty and tireless in her duties, and expected the same perfection of toil in her young charge.  And when Fastred stung beneath her disapproval, or sweated through her orders, he found himself resenting Legolas the more, for it was he who had placed Fastred in this intolerable position – could he not have let Fastred work in the palace or the stables, where at least they might meet each other and speak?  But the Green Knight was nowhere to be seen, and Fastred felt quite injured by his insouciance.  "My Lord Father's belt would have been preferable to this," he thought to himself on more than one occasion; it would have been bad enough to be whipped at home, but it would have been better than to be ignored abroad.

At first he was required simply to clean the kennels and mews; this involved much shoveling and lifting, and was smelly and unpleasant; after a week of this Andunië trained him to clean the cadges and creances and jesses and hoods, being sure to point out to him every crease and crack he had missed, making him feel as though he could never please her; when she perceived his enjoying play with the dogs overmuch she confined him to the mews and to the caretaking of the eyasses and haggards, teaching him the importance of using the heavy leather manifers when the hawks and falcons perched on him.  He was surprised the first time the great goshawk stepped, nervous and unwilling, upon his arm; he had not thought so large a bird would be so light, and said so proudly to the huntsmistress.  Andunië narrowed her green eyes at him, and Fastred was filled with apprehension; sure enough she then forced him to carry several peregrines at once for an hour to show him how heavy a bird could become over time.  His muscles ached and he was covered with pin-holes and punctures despite the manifers; once an eyas bit him hard on the arm causing him to cry out; while Andunië mopped up the blood she simply said:  "You tugged too hard on the jesses; that is no way to man a raptor."  And Fastred's heart sank again; he was sure nothing he could do would ever rise to her standards.

And still he did not see Lord Lassah – or Lord Legolas, as he was now constrained to call him; Andunië had casually threatened to box his ears when he had once let slip the childhood nickname – or anyone from the inner court at all for many interminable weeks.  He did not know Legolas watched him anxiously from upper windows or behind fences and walls, marking his labor, his heart wrung with pity and frustration; he did not know Andunië would go to her lord every evening after Fastred had been sent to his cot, to give a précis of her charge's day in great detail, and to discuss with him Fastred's progress; he did not know Bandobras and his mother set spies upon him to see if he fared well or ill, sending special treats from the kitchens to augment his simple meals of bread and meat, and anxiously arguing whether the plan would work or no.  He had no idea Legolas' absence pained the Elf as much as it did him, and that his friend ached within, longing to see the boy, to embrace him, to give him a kind or encouraging word.  He knew only the Elves working within that courtyard for he was never permitted to leave it, not even to visit Hwindiö in the smithy; he had hoped at least to spend time in the stables, visiting with his Karakse and perchance hearing a kind word from Tyarmayél, for whom he had ever been a pet; but even that good woman gave him but quiet smiles and nods of greeting; he was trapped with Andunië, and was very unhappy.

After five weeks of this treatment, Andunië said he was ready to go out with the hunters.  Fastred exulted; he had longed to run in the woods and fields, to feel the cold wet noses of the hounds thrust into his hands, to ride upon his Karakse in the hunt.  But then he realized he was to be naught but a carrier-boy: They loaded him down with packs and supplies and went off ahead of him; he did naught but jog along behind them on his own two feet, bringing to them skins of water or replacement leather for hoods and jesses; his arms and legs were so tired that night he could barely move, but lay simply upon his cot and groaned.  And the following morning Andunië roused him before daybreak and said:  "On your feet, son of Faramir!  We go up the slopes to the high plateau to weather the eagles."  And for all that day, and for days after, did Fastred struggle behind the heartless hunters bearing their loads, so out of breath he could scarcely pay attention to the fruit of the hunt; after several weeks of this however he began to grow used to it, and with Andunië at his side learned how to slip the falcons, and stand back as their huge wings sent them aloft, how to call to them so they would wait-on, how to cast a recalcitrant bird when it bated, and how to feed it its reward without getting his fingers bitten.  Soon he discovered the tight-chested thrill of watching his eyas enter and stoop upon its prey, and when his goshawk at last perched upon his arm bearing in its beak a fat rabbit all the hunters applauded him, and his heart soared.  He looked to Andunië hoping for approbation but she only shrugged and said, "Adequate."  Disappointed Fastred put the rabbit in his pocket and hooded the goshawk, and followed the hunters back down to the valley.

That evening when he was raking out the mews Andunië called to him; he turned to her and was startled to see her holding a large heavy halberd, bound in iron and carved with Dwarvish runes, which she threw to him upright.  Automatically Fastred dropped his rake and caught it one-handed; he held it up to her, puzzled; for the first time he saw those agate eyes soften.  She approached him, took the halberd, and left the mews saying over her shoulder, "You are nearly ready."

Wondering what she meant, Fastred finished his chores and went to bed; he was tired as usual, but just before his eyes slipped shut remembered that, the last time he had tried to pick up a halberd, many months ago when he had been a guest and not a servant in Dol Galenehtar, he had struggled simply to lift it.  He gave his arms a tentative poke, and felt hard muscle; pleased, he drifted off to sleep.  And Andunië went to the trough and washed her hands and face, wiped her soiled boots upon the mat, and strode up through the citadel to the main tower to speak to her lord.

The next morning when Fastred awoke he went forthwith to the mews and lifted his rake, for that was his primary chore; Andunië however took from him the rake and said:

"Go see Hwindiö."

Confused but happy to leave the courtyard Fastred trotted away; he passed through the back postern and circled the inner ward past the buttery, waving to the cooks as he went; they all bid him good-morning and he sped past with a light heart.  He thought perhaps Andunië were releasing him to work in the smithy, which pleased him; he liked Hwindiö, liked his brash laugh and short shaggy hair, his cinder-dusted clothes and easy smile.  However when he gained the smithy there stood not before the door Hwindiö nor even the Man Onborn his assistant, but Himbaláth smiling down at him, his bright hair streaming about his shoulders, and two halberds in hand.  After Fastred stopped before him Himbaláth handed him a halberd and said:

"Now these blades are dull, Little Fastred, but one can still injure oneself or one's companions quite easily if the weapons are incorrectly used.  Stand to upon that mark, and I shall instruct you how to use it; it is not so elegant a weapon as a sword, but as you will see far more damaging to an enemy when wielded with skill and strength."

For the rest of that month did Himbaláth teach him to use sundry weapons – the halberd, both broad swords and cutlasses, a curved scimitar, and a flail.  Fastred was glad Andunië's rigid resolve had hardened his muscles for Himbaláth was as ruthless as she, pressing him and spurring him on, teaching him stance and cuts and blocks.  When on one broiling summer afternoon Fastred at last pinned Himbaláth to the fence with the handle of a battle axe Himbaláth had laughed and said:

"Hold, enough!  Yes, I concede you are ready."  And at that he had sent Fastred back to Andunië, and when Fastred running back to the eastern courtyard looked over his shoulder he saw the scout chuckling and gathering up his various weaponry, and speaking in his light cheerful voice to Hwindiö, who had come out to watch, and who was laughing at his friend.  And when he returned to the mews and presented himself to Andunië she looked at him simply and said:

"Go to the nursery and get your bow."

Fastred ran breathlessly into the citadel and up the stairs to the towers; he ran past courtiers and secretaries and servants and burst into the nursery.  There seated at the window, looking out upon the courtyards, his pale hair pulled back with a leather thong, sat Legolas; his long legs were stretched out on the window-seat and in one slender hand he held Fastred's bow.  He turned when Fastred entered, panting and red-faced and startled, and regarded his charge gravely.

"So, O vassal, you have manned eyasses, and hunted, and learned to fight with a halberd," said Legolas, fixing the flustered boy with a steely look.  "You have grown at least an inch, and are become strong; you have I am told work without complaint and perform your sundry tasks with alacrity. Have you ever shot an arrow from horseback?"

"I – no, I – I have not, my lord," stammered Fastred, greatly perplexed; he had not seen his Lord Lassah since swearing fealty to him in the throne room, and had assumed he took no notice nor interest in Fastred's doings.  That Legolas seemed informed of his progress made him feel at once comforted and very nervous, for though he was delighted to have Legolas speaking to him again it was disconcerting to have his friend use such a stern and austere tone with him.

"Then I shall teach you," said Legolas, handing Fastred his bow and striding to the door without looking back.  "Come with me to the stables; we will tack up your horse, and you shall learn how your brothers the Rohirrim use their bows."

Fastred's heart twisted within him; could not Lassah at least give to him some friendly word or look?  "Father would I am certain be happy about teaching me," he thought with resentment, staring indignantly at the Elf's retreating back.  "He would not regard me as some slave or ignorant serving-boy.  Does not Lassah remember I am a prince?"  Then he recalled his flight from duty and his heart heaved again, but this time the bitterness was turned toward himself, and not his friend.  Thus perplexed and unhappy Fastred followed Legolas to the stables.

It was much harder to shoot from the back of a moving horse than Fastred had imagined; it was made the more difficult by Lord Legolas' steadfast refusal to speak to Fastred as a friend.  Fastred had hoped that with time Legolas would soften toward him, but to his chagrin his friend acted as though Fastred were naught but an insignificant charge in his care; his voice, which to Fastred had ever been warm and affectionate, was distant and businesslike; he rarely said anything except:  "Have a care, or you shall pierce your horse's ear, and he will not like that much," or, "Sit up straighter, Fastred of Ithilien, so that your left arm is parallel to the ground," or, "That was good loft, but try to hit the target next time."  Fastred wanted very much to beg Legolas to call him "Little One" or to speak to him with warmth and tenderness as had ever been his wont; however he thought of what Legolas might say should he so entreat him, and of a steadfast rejection; the thought was mortifying, so Fastred pressed his lips together and firmly refused to notice Legolas' detachment.  And Legolas, who watched his little vassal behind a carefully crafted mask of indifference, felt his heart wring within him when he descried the boy's proud courage veiling his pain and disappointment; it took all that was in him to hide his grief, and when he would dismiss Fastred to the mews went forthwith to Mistress Pearl to lay his head upon her lap and seek solace from her mother's heart once more.

After some weeks Fastred was able to strike the target four times out of five, even when Karakse would go charging wildly by it; at the end of that afternoon Legolas had called him off his horse and Fastred stood respectfully by Karakse's side, waiting for the inevitable cold praise and dispassionate comments.  But Legolas had instead but given him a keen look, and Fastred to his surprise saw in those gray eyes the barest hint of grief and pity.  Then he understood why his friend was treating him so:  Fastred had failed his family and friends, and this more than the labor was to be his punishment.  Holding back tears as best he could he let Legolas dismiss him; but as soon as he was able Fastred fled to the hayloft above the stables and sobbed as though his heart would break.

As the solstice approached Fastred became aware of a quickening in his mistress' manner; she pressed him the harder and was more apt to snap and growl when he failed to rise to her measure, and Fastred threw himself desperately into his work in order to forestall any show of temper. Himbaláth had declared himself satisfied; even Legolas had by that time admitted Fastred rode and shot "passing fair;" why would Andunië withhold approbation?  At last upon one sweltering steaming afternoon, when the inner courtyard shimmered with waves of heat and even the Elves perspired, Andunië looked upon what Fastred had done with the goshawk's roost and delivered a cold sharp comment upon his many deficiencies.  Fastred's youthful heart heaved with the injustice of it but remembering the ignominy of his debt he bit his tongue and lowered his eyes, not wishing the huntsmistress to see the seething rebellion housed therein.  He listened to her move about the mews, rearranging things and speaking in a low soft voice to her raptors; then she said:

"Well I do not know why we bother with this; it is apparent you shall never attain the rank to which you might aspire; you are not meant to be a huntsmaster."

Fastred did not reply; his throat felt tight, and his eyes stung with tears.  Yet he continued to work upon the offending roost despite the sweat that rolled down his forehead and into his eyes; his arms were sore, and his back too, and he very much wanted a drink of water from the dipper in the corner, but did not dare ask for Andunië when her ire was so raised was a terrible thing to behold.  He heard Andunië close off the eyasses' cage and walk up to him; the heels of her boots beat a sharp rattle on the wooden floor, and her leather gauntlets made a soft rushing noise as they brushed against her riding skirt.  Still did Fastred fix his eyes upon his work, not wishing her to see the indignation and hurt therein.  After all he had never sought to be a huntsmaster; he was here solely for penance for his misdeeds and not as an apprentice, and heartily wished he had never rebelled against his parents' edicts but accepted his lot as a prince of Rohan.

"And what have you to say, Fastred son of Faramir?" Andunië asked; her voice was very cold.  "How shall I answer my lord when he inquires of me your progress?  Are you not mindful your deportment reflects upon me and mine own labors?  You are making me appear incompetent before him! At this rate it shall be years ere you are capable of running even a kennel."

Fastred bit his lip hard, not wanting to reply; he could not say to her that it was beneath him to be a kennel-hand, for not only was he as Andunië under Lord Legolas' protection and rule, but to imply he outranked Andunië would be both insulting and ridiculous. He was after all merely a twelve-year-old mortal boy, and Andunië had, as he had heard from Tyarmayél, managed first King Thranduil's kennels in Eryn Lasgalen, and followed her brother Meivel to Dol Galenehtar to be Lord Legolas' huntsmistress after.  That she believed him solely capable of such menial labor made him all the more conscious of that from which he had so heedlessly run.  He thought of the great wooden throne in the Golden Hall, upon which he had seen his uncle the king hold court; he thought of the high-beamed ceiling carven and painted, and the gilt horse-heads hung upon the pillars, and the pierced golden crown resting upon Éomer's noble brow.  He looked down on his own hands, that had grown knotted and strong with his labor, and the muscular arms streaked with dirt and sweat, and tried to imagine instead of the lathe those same hands gripping the great broadsword girt upon his uncle's hip, tried to see himself swinging it aloft, astride a gray horse, crying out in a strange language to a fierce and adamant people, who likewise drew their swords and called out to him:  "Westú Fastred hál!"  But he had run from that glorious future and wound up a common kennel-hand instead.  It was not his parents' fault Éomer needed an heir; it was not his uncle's fault either, nor even his aunt's.  And it was certainly no fault of Legolas that a selfish, boorish, fickle boy had proved so untrustworthy that instead of thrones and scepters he was given a straw cot and a lathe.  At least he was being trained; at least he had learned to fight with halberd and axe and bow; that proved his inheritance was as yet secure, and taking small comfort from this Fastred took a deep breath and said:

"I shall not be a huntsman.  I shall not run a kennel.  I am not certain why I work here for you; I do not know why Lord Lass – Legolas has placed me here with you, for my hope is tied to my blood, and I belong elsewhere."  He glanced through his matted wet hair up at Andunië, who was regarding him darkly, her green eyes hooded.  "When the summer is ended and my servitude paid I shall go to my uncle in Rohan and learn there to be king – if – if he will yet have me."  These last words were uttered in a choked whisper, for Fastred knew well the shame he had heaped upon his family's head, and knew also it was not unheard of for a king to reject an heir who had proved himself unworthy.  That Éomer should after all deny Fastred his birthright was a very real possibility, and the boy's heart was heavy because of it.

After a moment's silence in which he was well aware of Andunië's silent presence whilst he worked to rectify his trifling error he heard a sigh, and glancing up at his mistress saw she regarded him if not with compassion then at least with clemency; she removed her heavy gauntlets, ran dirty fingers through her dusty copper hair and said with satisfaction:

"It is as my lord promised to me; you are ready at last."

She stepped forward and removed the lathe from his fingers, dropping it upon the bench beside him.  Then she took him by his shoulder and led him to the doorway of the mews.  Through it Fastred could see the dusty hot courtyard, undulating beneath the blazing sun; he could see here and there in the shadows of the outbuildings Elves and Men moving about, leading horses and carrying burdens and going about their business; then a lone figure detached itself from the doorway of the kennels and approached them where they stood in the shadows.  The sun kindled the pale hair and illuminated the white linen doublet until it was so bright tears pricked Fastred's eyes anew; at last the white disc of the shining face coalesced beneath the shade of the lintel, and Legolas stood there, his pale eyes bright with gladness and his arms outstretched.  Fastred gulped, his heart leaping within him; no longer was his beloved Lassah's face detached and cold; his mouth smiled and upon his countenance was a look of deep affection.  Fastred bolted into Legolas' arms which held him tight; he could hear the Elf's voice speaking, oddly dissonant, through his chest.

"At last, Little One – at last."  Then Legolas spoke to Andunië; Fastred was surprised to hear the Elf's voice tremble:  "Thank you, my child; your gift to me is beyond price."

"O I think not," said Andunië dryly.  "There is that litter of pups for sale at the village in Rammas – the weanlings sprung from the king's bitch out of that great deerhound of Lord Aldamir's.  Only one has been sold; there are five remaining still, or so I have heard."

Fastred heard Legolas chuckle into his ear.  "They are yours," he said, and released the boy; Fastred looked up at him, greatly perplexed, but filled with happiness to have Lassah restored to his usual disposition.  Legolas smiled down at him and took him by the hand.

"Come, Little One!" he said, and laughed; Fastred could hear the relief therein.  "This is no place for the prince of Rohan.  Let us go together to mine esquire, and he shall instruct you in the proper manner in which to prepare for tonight's banquet, and in this fashion he might also have ample opportunity to dress me as he likes, and bully me into wearing my heavy gold crown – that is a favorite of his after all!"

"I shall wear whatever Bandobras likes, so long as I might with him wait upon you, Lord Lassah," said Fastred earnestly, his heart soaring; to his delight Legolas laughed again and embraced him, and hand in hand they left Andunië standing in the mews as they went to make ready for the banquet.  And the huntsmistress watched them as they went, arms folded across her chest; her face was as ever impassive, but if one looked carefully one might descry a glint of satisfaction in her green eyes.

Cirien sat upon the westward balcony and looked out over Ephel Dúath's slopes to the shining serpent of the Anduin far below, its silver gleam obscured by tree and hill as it wound its corkscrew way through the valley.  He could see to his right the vast undulating fields and vineyards and orchards of Dol Galenehtar, richly green and verdant and burgeoning with fruit; to his left he could just descry beneath the heavy boughs of the trees the glint of the estuary leading to the docks beside the Elvish city, upon which now and again he might catch sight of a small skiff or fishing-boat.  He knew that if he foreswore his comfortable arm-chair, with its tasseled footrest and conveniently located table sporting a carafe of wine with which to replenish his silver goblet, he might lean over the balustrade and look directly below the high balcony, to the entryway of the great Tower of the Green Knight, the pavers white and shining in the bright noon sun, the gleaming sweep of marble walls, the proud columns and brilliant green lawn with its sparkling fountains.  But Cirien was far too comfortable to peer over the edge of the balustrade and gaze down at the foreshortened figures of the Elves below; he had icy yellow wine, and crisp savory shortbread upon a salver, and a deliciously cool blue shade all about him; he was discovering in the advancing of his years a delight in ease and well-being, savoring small luxuries over the revered status he had known, and enjoying the value of rest and peace and quiet, far from the duties of his own house.  That the Lord of Dol Galenehtar received his aged friend joyfully and accorded him full welcome and bounty within his gleaming halls was yet the primary part of Cirien's delight in this country; here upon the heights of the hills breezes blew still in the simmering summer, and one could find soothing dark shade beneath the firs and lindens and pines; the waters flowing down the mountainside were cold and fresh, and the food plentiful and rich.  It was so unlike his own land in the midsummer, dry and rocky and blasted by hot heavy winds; the heights within his demesne were burnt brown in the heat, and seared gray in the cold; Ithilien was lush and green and growing.  And of course whenever Cirien turned a corner there were Elves – beautiful Elves, hale and strong and laughing; they gave to the Yellow Knight a tantalizing glimpse of what a life would be without illness or penury or hardship, and offered also unto him hope for the future of his kind.  And betimes as he lay in his comfortable canopied bed in the blue room, that was his for when he came to visit, he would think upon his poor beloved wife, who had died of a lingering illness some years hence, and wonder to himself if she might have lived, had he met Legolas when she was young.  Then, he speculated, perhaps the peace and plenty within the Green Knight's walls might have succored her and strengthened her, and the terrible gripping malady that had so haunted their years been stayed.

Yet despite his persistent sorrow Cirien found it difficult to be sad here; there was within the house of Legolas Thranduilion a tranquility that settled in one's core, coupled with an underlying sense of perpetual mirth, which was perhaps why sojourners to that land came eagerly and left with great reluctance.  Indeed Cirien himself had planned to be back in Edhellond some weeks ago, but delayed his departure, each day telling his host he waited still upon some important missive of his heir Gilmir that he would fain miss upon the road.  Yet this noon he was thwarted, for that epistle had indeed come, and Cirien had read it, so that coupled with his disappointment that he no longer had adequate excuse to protract his stay he was also much harrowed up in his mind on its account, and wished mightily to speak with his friend.  To make matters worse the envoy from the Rohan ambassador Théalof had come to meet with Legolas, and none within Dol Galenehtar looked upon this council with equanimity.  Cirien was amused to find Meivel was not the sole Elf within Dol Galenehtar's walls to look askance at King Éomer's cousin; even Mistress Pearl spoke of him with thinned lips and an expression of disapproval on her small pale face.  So Cirien waited upon the high balcony, watching the swallows swoop and swirl in the shade of a trembling aspen nipping up flies and sundry other insects in joyful pageantry and chattering and chirping one to another; Cirien knew he had but to wait until the fifth bell and Théalof would quit Legolas' presence for the front gate on his journey back to Minas Tirith.  Though Legolas received Théalof politely it was yet understood he was not welcome to sleep within his halls; feeling his host's censure Théalof but smiled and complied, claiming he must needs return to his offices by nightfall, and was thus escorted by a phalanx of Meivel's men – an "honor guard" Legolas called it, but all knew, Théalof as well, it was naught but indemnity against any men lingering uninvited.

Cirien had finished the wine in the carafe, and was watching the sun dip west towards the high white spike of the Mindolluin, when the fifth bell rang; he noted to himself Nyelledil had chosen to use the treble bell and not the tenor that day, and rose to his feet, listening to the bright clear chiming of the small brass bell calling the hour in the louvered campanile.  He passed within the solar from the balcony, pausing to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior after the brilliance of the outdoors, and made his way down to the Hall.  He nodded to the passing Elves as they went about their business, and when he gained the broad entryway to Legolas' Hall, whence emitted judgments and decrees and dictation, he paused by the great gilt oaken doors, for he could hear voices still within.  The guard at the door did not acknowledge him, but this astounded him not; the guards about Legolas' offices and chambers preserved a careful reticence and with Legolas' full knowledge allowed their lord's friends to overhear at will Dol Galenehtar's private business; in this way, Legolas laughingly explained, it saved him much time and breath rehearsing events in his council-chambers for their benefit.

"I assure you, O my lord of Dol Galenehtar, I doubt not your valor nor the security of your house; I have in mind solely the interests of my small cousin, who as I have heard through diverse means lodges here, far from kith and kin, and doubtless pines for those of his own kind.  It cannot be well for him, O Green Knight and Jewel of Ithilien, to live amongst beings so far above himself, both in age and wisdom; surely it shall spoil him, and he be made to look in scorn upon his rightful throne.  For all know King Éomer though wealthy and powerful in his own right cannot but sigh with envy when he thinks upon Dol Galenehtar and your great fortune and influence; 'twould be ill indeed for our little Fastred to become accustomed to your abundance and spurn his people in their time of great need.  And as I travel forthwith through Ithilien to Osgiliath to treat with his noble father, and with our Shieldmaiden his mother, it would be both pleasure and beholden duty for me to deliver him unto his family, or even to Rohan whence I came, to so relieve you of this load, and bring him to his accustomed people, for my cousin his uncle has great need of him, and pines for him; I would be churlish indeed to let him here, where he is naught but a burden unto you and your people, busy as you are; also I desire greatly to present him to my sovereign, who so longs for the little one's presence."

The speech was smooth and persuasive, and gave thought that the orator begged naught but to be of aid; Cirien recognized the voice of the man speaking and frowned.  That Théalof should yet be closeted with Legolas was no good thing; already three hours had he spent bending the Elf's patient yet unwilling ear, and Cirien knew his friend when tried became more like unto his father than his mother, and increasingly apt to sharp words and reckless impulse.  Thus it was with relief he heard Legolas reply in a voice both dulcet and temperate:  "O loyal vassal of the House of Éomer!  That all kings should have by their sides men such as you, who disdain personal consideration and comfort in order to succor their lords and betters, and lighten the load of those who strain beneath crushing work!  How happy my dear friend Éomer must be, to rest secure in the knowledge you watch out for his well-being, and the fortunes of his kin and heir, the child Fastred, first-born of my beloved neighbors the Prince and Princess of Ithilien!  I am reminded yet again of the selfless labor you have performed in accordance with King Éomer's requisites, of the many noble employments spent in self-sacrificing pleasure to your lord's wellbeing, and am overwhelmed by your most generous offer!  Truly is Rohan triply blessed to have you as the king's strong right hand in Gondor, and I shall cry abroad your praises that you seek to sublimate your own needs in order to succor the heir of Edoras beneath your wings, as a hen her new-hatched chicks."

"Laying it on a bit thick, ain't he?" muttered a small voice by Cirien's hip; he looked down and descried Bandobras there, ear cocked to the half-open doors; the guard in his splendid armour overheard him and glanced unmoving down; his lips twitched but he did not stir nor give any indication anyone was there, instead standing at attention, his body shielding sight from within, so that neither Théalof nor Legolas would see the two eavesdroppers.  Cirien smiled at the Hobbit, who rolled his eyes and jerked his head toward the door; Cirien bent over, and Bandobras put his mouth to the old man's ear.  "Been in there near four hours now … and the longer old Théalof speaks, the sweeter my Master's replies become, and the less he gives away."  He shook his head and said discontentedly:  "At this rate Master'll be obliged to let the dratted fellow stay the night – dinner's in two hours, and the kitchens are full of good things that I'm sure Théalof's men can smell – it'd be awful impolite to send them back with naught but their luncheon."

"Should we interrupt do you think?" whispered Cirien.  "It would be easy you know, O Bandobras Esquire of the Green Knight – I have within my doublet a letter concerning this man, and to insinuate ourselves into the conversation would be simple; also the information contained within this missive is such that Théalof should become discomfited, and remove himself forthwith.  But perhaps," he added thoughtfully, "'Twould be imprudent to so show our hands; I am sure your Master is well able to contain himself."

"Well, now, I dunno," said Bandobras, knitting his brow.  "Théalof's not so foolish as to think we're taken in by his smooth talk and sly ways.  And my Master's about had enough of this; it won't be long afore he starts picking the fellow apart himself.  Better it should come of you than of him, for then Théalof will still think my Master fair pickings, but from what you've said he knows you're a tough nut and won't dance to his music."

"Well spoken," murmured Cirien, and straightening his doublet and lifting his chin he nodded curtly to the guard, whose eyes twinkled, and who turned so that he faced the Hall, and spoke in a loud clear voice:

"Cirien the wise, Lord of Langstrand, the Yellow Knight and friend and counselor of the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, seeks the insight of Legolas Thranduilion of Dol Galenehtar, the Green Knight and Champion of Amon Din, and brings to his fellow vassal news of the sun-drenched lands of the south which are his home."

"Why, we're all eloquent today seemingly," said Bandobras looking with approval at the guard, who winked.  Bandobras answered the wink with a wave of his hand, and pattered down the hallway, his mind on his supper.  Fighting down a traitorous smile Cirien stepped into the Hall. 

He saw immediately and to his trepidation the tight firmness of his friend's mouth, which bespoke ground and clenched teeth, and there was a dangerous glimmer in those bright gray eyes.  Yet Legolas sat with seeming equanimity upon his throne, clad in a splendid robe of silver-blue glimmering with beads and metal threads, and crowned with the shining mithril coronet of oakleaves which glistened and flashed as the afternoon sun pierced the cool dim air of the Hall.  A square of sunlight lay upon Legolas' lap like a golden blanket, and tiny rainbows graced the arms of the white throne and danced with each immortal breath round about the alabaster hood above him; when he raised his hand in greeting the sleeve of the robe flashed, and Cirien's eyes were pierced by the light which shot from the green stone upon his finger.  To Legolas' right, seated in a comfortable chair several steps below the dais, was a tall clean-shaven man, fair and handsome and clad in a rich green doublet decorated with gems; round his neck he wore a heavy gold torc that would not have looked ill upon a mighty king.  Cirien felt his heart twist angrily within him, that this man should so array himself, as though he were as great a lord as the one who sat above him, and not a mere emissary; yet he as Legolas did comported himself with tranquility and showed not the apprehension upon his face.  He gained the dais and kissed Legolas' ring, careful to not look too deeply into his friends' eyes, for he knew once their composure were broken the charade would be revealed, and Legolas had an unnerving habit of making Cirien to laugh unexpectedly, which would at that juncture be disastrous.  So straightening up he stood respectfully at Legolas' feet, well aware the man of Rohan stood behind him, watching him, mistrusting him.

"The Prince of Eryn Lasgalen gladly receives the Yellow Knight," said Legolas; his voice was dulcet still, but brittle.

"The Yellow Knight thanks the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen for his clemency," replied Cirien, knowing he and his friend would laugh over their formalities later.

"You have met I am sure the ambassador of Rohan in Minas Tirith," added Legolas, gesturing with his glittering arm down the dais; Cirien turned and met Théalof's eyes, which narrowed at him. Cirien smiled but his own eyes were hard.

"O yes," he said coolly.  "I am well-acquainted with the deeds and doings of Théalof of Rohan; my brother lords in Langstrand can scarce pass a week without mentioning his endeavors."  Théalof's eyes flickered but he smiled anyway, and held out a placating hand to the older man.

"And I have for many years longed to know the Yellow Knight, Cirien who is called The Wise, Lord of Edhellond," said Théalof; his voice was sweet as honey.  "Yet an astonishing thing it is, that he and his esquire Gilmir are continually occupied when I pass through Langstrand.  Were his politesse not so famous I should almost think he were avoiding my association."

Cirien took the man's hand; it was cold and damp, and he suppressed a shiver.  "Then as my comportment is unimpeachable you must draw your own conclusions," he replied, withdrawing his hand and resisting the impulse to wipe it clean upon his doublet.  He turned his shoulder to Théalof and spoke to Legolas, upon whose face was a look of controlled interest.  "Your highness," he said, laying his hand upon the breast of his doublet, "I have at last received that letter which we have awaited these past weeks; it lies folded in my pocket, and contains therein news of the lands of Langstrand, my beloved home, and of the many pecuniary exploits accomplished by my fellow lords and knights there.  Believe me when I say unto you, O my dearly-loved friend and bravest of defenders, that the messages enclosed therein shall bring to your fair eternal face deeply-regretted expressions of concern and sorrow, for the fortunes of the lords of Langstrand hang in the balance, and I would fain join in their misguided folly, but seek the aid of all our lords – yea, even unto Elessar's distant gates to the north – in turning their hearts from this present disastrous course.  I know not the subjects upon which you and this good emissary confer," he lied, glancing back at Théalof who had grown quite pale.  "Perhaps they are to your mind, O Legolas the Benevolent, of greater import than this dire news I bear; if that is indeed the case, gentles both, I shall withdraw so that you might conclude your business, which seems to me to be greatly pressing as it has taken a full four hours of your sovereign time, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen."

Legolas opened his mouth to speak, but a flicker of dark humor ignited his eyes and he instead pressed his lips firmly together to stifle a smile, struggling for composure.  "Have you waited for me long, O my friend?" he inquired politely, arranging upon his face an expression of artful innocence.  "But you well know that time passes swifter than the fleet-footed deer pursued by hounds when one is closeted with compatriots bound to one's own purposes."  He smiled sweetly at Théalof, who had the look about him of a man trying to see whether or not he were insulted.  "My apologies, emissary of Rohan!  Through my indecision I have taken up valuable time from you, which would be better spent in your journey back to Minas Tirith!  Why if you do not leave forthwith surely it shall be gathering night ere you gain your rooms.  Therefore I give you leave to depart, to gather together your sundry men-at-arms and other advisors, so that your journey might be made the easier in the light of the sun.  We shall speak of our sundry matters another day, when there is not such ominous news from the south, where dwell not only my dear friend Cirien here, but also good Araval of Tarlang and Mardil of Ethring, the Dun and Silver Knights, who are my brothers in arms and close companions, and for whom I should willingly send forth my armies in all their strength, should the need arise, and danger await them.  Good journey to you, Théalof of Rohan; I shall consider with great care the proposal you have laid before me, and deliver unto you a message containing my reply at the first available moment."

Théalof looked from one to the other, his eyes wary.  "But the boy Fastred," he said at last; "forgive me, Lord Legolas, O Green Knight and the Protector of Ithilien, it shall take him some time to gather up his belongings so that he might accompany me back; perhaps I ought rather to wait upon him ere I depart, to give him sufficient time to collect his things.  To travel at night through your enchanted lands affords me no disquiet for I know well little occurs within your sacred borders to cause fear, and I have at my disposal many brave and strong men to protect him.  We shall arrive safely and the boy delivered in full health though we stay but an hour longer."

"That will be unnecessary," said Legolas, his voice cool and his eyes hooded.  "Fastred son of Faramir shall remain within my halls ere his debt to me is repaid.  There is no need to delay yourself on his account; you are free of obligation in that regard."  He watched Théalof as the man struggled to find yet another argument, then with a small smile said kindly, "You have my permission to withdraw, O Théalof."

Face dark with frustration Théalof bowed stiffly, gave Cirien a fearful look, and turned on his heel.  He walked the full length of the Hall under the unsympathetic eye of the guard at the door, whose face was unreadable, yet all watching the guard could see his hands tighten upon the grip of his spear.  Théalof did not hesitate but strode past the Elf, head high; he was confident in the courtesy of Legolas' house.  "Too confident," thought Cirien to himself, for he well knew Elves suffered from shortness of temper as well as their mortal friends.  He watched Théalof turn the corner and disappear, then looked back up at Legolas, whose shoulders had slumped, and upon whose face was an expression of deep disgust.

"Have I occasion to speak yet another word containing greater than twenty letters I shall surely commit gross murder," he said; he shook his head as though twitching away a teasing fly and added, "And hark at me yet!  By Manwë, I have not sounded so pompous in many years; would not my father laugh at me could he have heard me just now!"

"The greatest aggravation with such courtly language is that it is difficult to cast off once it is assumed," agreed Cirien. 

Legolas rose, removed his crown, and ran his long fingers through his hair, disarranging it and marring the studied perfection of his form.  "Well I want a drink," he declared, hooking the crown over the arm of his throne and loosening the hooks of his robe at his throat.  "Is the letter so bad, or was that simply your conniving way to rid me of that pest Théalof?  Either way I greet you with delight; I am once more deeply in your debt, O Cirien my friend.  But one more twisted phrase from those snakelike lips and I should have kicked him across the hall to the entryway, and down the main staircase through the front gates!  Indeed I have entertained such thoughts the past two hours, amusing myself with the image he would make, tumbling down the broad marble steps like a child's doll."

"I ought rather to have left you to it then," said Cirien smiling.  "But alas!  My news from Gilmir is not good, O my friend; Théalof has succeeded in securing treaties with all but three lords in Langstrand, from Calembel where dwelt the nefarious Eradan, to Poros by the Harad road."

"Those three lords being, I take it, you, Mardil, and Araval?"

"The acumen of the Lord of Dol Galenehtar once again proves itself," sighed Cirien, withdrawing the letter from the inner pocket of his doublet and handing it to Legolas.  "Even poor Hallas has succumbed to Théalof's honeyed tongue and the promise of wealth, for as you know he is poor; Baldor left him little, and his wife is most imprudent in the production of heirs."  The Elf shrugged off his robe, revealing a light linen shirt and trousers beneath, and casting his heavy garment upon the seat of his throne sat down on the steps of the dais to read the letter.  Cirien sat himself upon Théalof's chair and watched as his friend's face grew graver and graver.  After a moment Legolas raised his head and said,

"Well, now I need double the drink; this is worse than we had thought!  Théalof has managed to wheedle his way into the fortunes of Langstrand, betraying not only his own lord but our sovereign Elessar!  How angry Aragorn shall be," he sighed, resting his chin on his hand.  "Alas that he had need to secure his northern reaches!  That he were here to take this in hand himself, though to be sure I see not what part he could take, as he gave leave to his vassals to so ally themselves with Rohan.   Well," he said, folding the letter and handing it back to Cirien, "I know well my old friend Aragorn; he is not above rescinding treaties if they serve him not, and has the might of the armies to back him up if need be.  I hope it shall not come to this though, and Théalof be found a traitor ere force must needs be used.  Gondor is divided enough, and Elessar has had trouble unending with these southern duchies.  At least the fiefdoms round the Anduin are loyal.  Ah and that pricks my memory, O my friend; that serpent Théalof did suggest unto me, with regretful eye and diffident expression, that lest I claim the lands round Onodló the Red Knight shall be further beset by those unhappy pests the Dunlendings.  He indeed had sufficient effrontery to press me to accept the parcel immediately, claiming Éomer repudiated his claim there, yet, I did not fail to note, did not mention Bréawine at all. I do not think he is even aware Bréawine has approached Aldamir about the draining of the marshes; he surely would have mentioned it to me otherwise."

"The Dunlendings have ever been a threat to Aldamir's western borders," said Cirien, "and surely Théalof is well aware you have gone to his aid, beating the ruffians back at Aldamir's side, the Red and Green Knights resolved together.  Did Théalof indeed propose you take those lands not only from Éomer and Errakh-Hem but Aldamir as well?  It seems to me there are far too many claimants to that particular tract; does he propose apportioning each hectare by lot?"

"By arms more like," laughed Legolas, standing and stretching his long limbs.  "I find it unusual and inauspicious for a man of Rohan to be so wed to words; spear and sword are their preferred tools for negotiation.  He is as unlike my friend Éomer as a lion a fish; I know not the proximity of relation betwixt those two for the Rohirrim mark their ancestry in charts as convoluted as the Halflings have, but it must be a distant connection for save the color of their hair I can find naught in common with them both.  And to bring up his proximity to Fastred!  I know not what thought has he to take the heir from my protection, but I shall be fool indeed ere I let Faramir's son pass into the clutches of that rake."

"Perhaps he wishes to play upon Lady Éowyn's instincts, by delivering unto her the heir of Osgiliath, so that she will refuse her brother's need," said Cirien.  "It is a sore trial to her I know to so release her son to Rohan; Théalof must think her puling indeed to bend beneath such grief, for you and I know full well she is adamant and fiercely loyal.  But thieves think all think as thieves, and likely Théalof assumes all are fickle as he."

"Then we must needs play upon that failing, and let him so think," said Legolas.  He hesitated, his bright eyes distant and troubled, then said slowly:  "Yet his interest in my small charge disquiets me; I think I shall send someone to collect little Lord Fastred where he is and watch over him ere Théalof and his band of miscreants depart my halls.  So long as the serpent of Rohan lingers in my dwelling I do not believe the son of Faramir and Éowyn ought be left alone."  He gestured to the guard then and said, "Astaldir!  Tell Galás to send someone to Fastred of Ithilien, or to go unto him himself, and stay with him ere our friends from Rohan depart.  I do not want the boy wandering about alone."

"At once, your highness," said the guard with a bow, and left; Legolas turned back to Cirien with a smile and said:  "Now!  And what about that drink?  Perchance you are not so dry as I but I would fain drink alone.  Will you accompany me, O Yellow Knight and wisest of companions, to the buttery, where we might begin our feast early?  For the afternoon has been trying and your friend the Green Knight yearns for sweet yellow wine."  Laughing Cirien agreed, and the two knights left the Hall for the solar, and thence to the keep to seek solace for their stomachs.

**************

As for Fastred, he was as his friend had feared quite alone; having finished his apprenticeship in the eastern courtyard he had been studying the stars, closeting himself in the nursery with charts and globes and astrolabes and spending many happy nights upon Legolas' balcony, watching the slow complicated dance of the planets as they wound their ponderous way about the vast wheeling dome of the sky.  He had just completed a new star chart upon a large piece of parchment, marking the movements of Alkarinque through the constellations of Menelmakar and Wilwarin, and was quite proud of it; once he had blotted it he rolled it up tight, secured it with a ribbon, and quit his room to find Lord Lassah, so that he might be released from his studies for the day.  He hoped he might persuade his friend to go riding with him, for he knew Legolas had been closeted with a visitor that day and like himself the Elf did not willingly foreswear sun and grass and tree for the dubious pleasures of the counsel-chamber.  So he trotted down the hall, preoccupied with thoughts of the hot sun on his back, and the squeak of Karakse's saddle, and the smell of dust and warm stone, and when he rounded the screen at the head of the stairs was so startled to see before him a group of men he stopped immediately, his heart pounding with surprise.

The men also stopped, and one of them stepped forward to him, smiling; Fastred hesitated, wondering what they were doing in that part of the tower, for it housed the personal apartments of the Lord of Dol Galenehtar and his closest friends and family and he was certain he had never met this man before.  The stranger was handsome and splendidly dressed, and his face open and friendly, but Fastred had been taken aback and hesitated to approach.

"Greetings, O my kinsman!" cried the man, holding out his hand and smiling in a friendly fashion at Fastred.  "How fortune favors me today!  I had just come up from Lord Legolas' Hall to seek you, and here you fall right into my lap!  What a joy it is to make your acquaintance, O Fastred Prince of Ithilien!  Long have I desired to foregather with you, for you and I are cousins, and blood calls to blood even in these sacred halls."

"I beg your pardon, sir; I do not know you," said Fastred politely, his heart slowing.  He looked round the group of men and saw they were of Rohan, and smiled.  "But you must be kin to my mother then; I do not often go to Rohan, though I am to live there anon."

"So you are; and as we go so shall you," said the man with an affable laugh.  "I have just spoken with Lord Legolas concerning this very thing; as I am on my way to Rohan myself it is far more practical to bring you with me, than for you to languish in these halls, the sole mortal child among such lofty beings.  I am Théalof, special ambassador of your mother's brother to King Elessar, and am charged with a noble task – to bring the heir of Meduseld unto my sovereign safely, so that you might begin your proper instruction as a man of Rohan."

Fastred went pale.  "I – I am to leave immediately?" he said, his heart sinking with disappointment.  "But – I have not finished my studies here – and I still have so much to learn ere I go unto mine uncle."

"Ah," said Théalof, shaking his head, "think you wisdom and knowledge reside in Dol Galenehtar alone?  I tell you there is far more that you might learn outside these halls; besides it is far more prudent to acquire knowledge appropriate to the kingdom in which you shall live.  Wise as he is, your friend Lord Legolas is an Elf – immortal, removed from our brief lives, possessing great knowledge in things that concern Elves and other such-like – stars and trees and jewels and thus; things we men of Rohan do not mark.  But you are a man, and it is better to be instructed by a man, since you shall rule over men and not Elves."

Fastred frowned; despite Théalof's flattering words he did not like to hear anyone disparage Elves, and Legolas in particular.  Notwithstanding his friendly demeanor he mistrusted this man, and did not think he wanted to go with him; besides something felt odd to Fastred, a tickling uncomfortable sensation in his heart he had come to recognize as a warning sign against a liar.  "Besides which I cannot believe Lassah would simply throw me out with no explanations or good-byes," he thought; "Lassah is not like that."  "I cannot leave straight way," he said to the man, hoping he could gain time.  "I have not packed my things.  I am not ready.  You will have to wait."  He took a step backwards, attempting to lengthen the distance between himself and Théalof; suddenly to his mind he heard Himbaláth's words, as the Elf had instructed him in the use of the halberd:  "Ere your enemy advances stand your ground; step neither forward nor back, for if you step forward you shall engage him when perchance combat might be avoided, and if you step back you shall encourage him to attack.  Let your enemy come to you."  Wishing heartily for a halberd in the place of his star chart Fastred stepped back again, and to his dismay Théalof and his men stepped forward, closing the gap he had made; then Fastred changed his mind about wanting a halberd and decided he would prefer Himbaláth instead.

"There is not much time, cousin," smiled Théalof.  "If we are to gain Osgiliath by nightfall we must needs leave immediately.  Surely your Lord Father and Lady mother have sufficient clothing and such in your home!  You may leave your things here to collect at a later time; imagine how glad your mother shall be when you arrive!  And the rest of your possessions reside still in your old rooms in Osgiliath.  Will it not be pleasant to use them again?  I am sure you miss them, and your family too.  So foreswear the few paltry items you have here; the sun falls westward and time is short."

Fastred took another step back, his heart starting to pound again; Théalof stepped forward, his hand still outstretched, his mouth still smiling.  Fastred opened his mouth to object but then his ears, sharpened by his fear, caught a strange sound – a click-click-click and a guttural grunt, coming from behind him.  He did not dare turn, but watched instead Théalof's face; it changed, the smile fading, and the eyes lighting with alarm; then a look of contempt crossed it, and he drew back, his smile sardonic.

"Well, maid, have you lost your way?" he asked, his voice cool.  "Methinks this not the place for such beasts, and by your attire I perceive you are better fitted the yards below."  A couple of his men sniggered, and Fastred turned.  Andunië stood there, clad in her dirty tunic and riding-skirt; in each hand she held a dog on a lead.  These were not the hunting hounds Fastred loved however, with their silky ears and tails like flags and easy dispositions; these were bull terriers, short-snouted, bandy-legged beasts with slavering tongues in their toothy grinning faces.  They strained against their heavy leads, sniffing the air and making anxious throaty noises, staring past Fastred to the men congregated by the screen before them.  Fastred's heart leaped with relief – any other maid, Dúrfinwen or Hirilcúllas or even Seimiel, would not have comforted him like Andunië; woman though she was Fastred knew her to be strong and quick and brave, and the presence of the terriers was also reassuring, for these were not friendly hounds but stalwart terriers, and though they might not be fully trained all beasts danced to Andunië's tune.  Not wishing her to think him cowardly he stood his ground and let her come round him, the dogs' nails clicking on the marble pavers, their brindled backs thick and muscular, the crooked little tails immobile.  They pricked their pointed ears at the men and watched, and though Fastred was a little afraid of the terriers he was greatly relieved to have them beside him.

"I know my way well round my lord's halls," said Andunië, her voice even.  "It seems to me rather you have lost your way, O Théalof of Rohan.  I do not recall your being invited into this section of Dol Galenehtar's towers."

"You will address your betters with some semblance of respect," said one of the men warningly, his hand on his hilt.  "His grace will not bear insolence from a common serving-wench."

Fastred's heart flared with indignation, but Andunië seemed unperturbed.  "I do indeed address my betters with respect," she said simply.  "I have naught for which to apologize."

The men stared at her, and Théalof's face went scarlet.  "I have not the time for such insignificant debate," he said through gritted teeth.  He turned to Fastred and his voice sweetened.  "Come, cousin!" he said with a smile.  "We need not stand about wasting time better spent returning to Osgiliath.  Bid the servant and her pets good-bye and come with me."  He took a step forward, holding out his hand to Fastred, but just then one of the dogs barked; its deep voice echoed through the hall and sounded very loud; the other dog began to growl, and Fastred saw its hackles rise.  Théalof hesitated, watching the dogs cautiously, then with a small smile turned to Andunië and said, "Hold your beasts, girl; it is unseemly for hunting dogs to roam the halls thus.  Go you unto your lord that he might mend your manners better beneath the headsman's rod."  The men laughed at this, though Fastred noted they watched the dogs carefully as well.

"They are not hunting dogs," said Andunië with an air of disinterest.  "These are war-dogs.  They have been trained to kill men not beasts."

There was a brief and rather uncomfortable silence following this announcement.  Fastred watched Théalof's face; he seemed to be struggling within; at last assuming an expression of low cunning he said: 

"I am surprised that you should lie so boldly to a visiting dignitary, girl; as anyone can see there are but bitches before me, and no bitch is used in the art of war."

Théalof's men grinned at that, and Fastred thought they looked quite pleased with what their lord had said; Andunië however only replied:

"The male dogs are used in battle; the females to protect those behind the lines.  There is no difference in skill nor ferocity; in fact it has been my experience that the female dogs far exceed their mates when ordered to defend the helpless, using their own lives as shields so that women and children might be safeguarded."  Théalof did not reply but watched her warily; Andunië's face was as ever a cool expressionless mask, and appeared quite calm, but Fastred could see her hands upon the lead-straps gripped the dogs tightly so that her knuckles were white.  One of the terriers barked again, and then they both set up growling and snapping their great heavy jaws; they felt their mistress' disquiet and tried to surge forward, pulling on the leads.  Théalof took another step back, and his men began to look nervous.

"I tell you, girl, contain your beasts," said Théalof; his voice was harsh now, and he looked angry.  But Andunië shrugged.

"They are strong, and I am but a weak woman," she said.  "Who knows how long I shall be able to hold them back?  And as you can see they do not seem to approve of you.  I suggest you go back down the hallway, to the keep, and thence to the entry way, and mount your steeds, which await you there; you have said your good-byes I think, and lack naught for your journey.  Terriers are tenacious, you know, O man of Rohan, and renowned for persistence and strength; did you know, for example, that this dog here – " she shook the left lead " – chased down a thief on a horse, hamstrung his steed, and dragged the man twenty yards through the shrub to his pursuers?  To be sure she was perhaps a touch too eager for by the time the man was brought back his throat had been torn out, and he died a few moments later."  The men looked at the dog with apprehension, and Andunië added objectively, "Nakthan is a good dog."

Théalof hesitated, then turned to Fastred; despite his anger and chagrin he smiled down at the boy.  "Come then!" he said, glancing quickly at Andunië.  "There is not a moment to lose; let me take you from this dangerous place!"

"I cannot go," said Fastred; his voice sounded very high and thin over the growling of the beasts by his side, but it was their presence gave him the courage to speak.  "I have sworn fealty unto the Lord of Dol Galenehtar and there remain yet two months' debt to him in his service.  I thank you for your offer, Théalof of Rohan, but I remain here.  Good journey to you," he added pointedly.

Théalof stood angrily with his men, his hands working by his sides; Fastred could hear even over the growling of the dogs the rough skittering noise of teeth ground together.  The left-hand terrier barked again and snarled at him; this appeared to make up his mind for him, for he gave Fastred a brief bow and with his eyes on Andunië and the dogs said:

"Very well, cousin – I will meet you in Rohan in two months' time then.  I shall leave you under the spurious protection of the bitches of Dol Galenehtar."  Then he turned and with a sweep of his cloak he and his men retreated down the hall, their booted feet clacking and clattering on the tiles.  The terriers renewed their barking, tugging on their leads and snarling angrily until Théalof and his men were out of sight; then Andunië said sharply:  "Hama, Nakthan!  Hama, Ndengina! Daro!"  The dogs looked up at her and subsided, though they still stood and watched after the men.  Fastred took a deep breath and turned to her.

"O I am so glad you came when you did, Andunië!  I did not know what to do; I did not think Lord Lass – Legolas would consign my fate to those men, but in truth I knew not how to avoid them."

"Hm," said Andunië disinterestedly, giving one of the leads to Fastred.  He took it with hesitation, but the terrier looked up at him and wagged her stump of a tail at him, and he felt better.  "Come back to the kennels," said the huntsmistress, and turned away, walking with the other dog back down the hallway.

"Why did you bring the dogs up here, anyway?" asked Fastred curiously, following her with his dog.

Andunië did not reply, but turned to a nearby oriel open to the hot summer wind; to Fastred's surprise a kestrel was perched on one of the crenellations, its bright yellow eyes staring unblinkingly at him; it clicked its hooked beak and flew off.  Fastred stared after it in amazement.  Then he realized Andunië was still walking down the hallway, and his own terrier tugging at the lead to follow her; he hurried to catch up with her, and they walked along in silence through the cool dark hall a moment 'til they reached the back staircase.  Fastred sighed.

"How I wish I could speak with beasts as do you!" he said wistfully.  "It must be helpful to have them tell you what passes, so you might act with greater speed."  Andunië was silent, and Fastred ruminated over what had just occurred; then with a start he recalled Théalof's words to her, and his heart filled with hot wrath.  "O that awful man!" he cried angrily, stamping his foot; "that he should call you such a thing!  O that I were full-grown so that I could take him to task for speaking an insult to a lady of the house of Dol Galenehtar!  O Andunië, I am so sorry one of my kinsmen could have said such a thing to you!  How shameful!"

Andunië looked calmly at him.  "Insults are like bird-droppings," she said.  "The smaller and more insignificant the bird, the less mess it will make."

Despite himself Fastred laughed, but then he thought anew on Théalof's words and shook his head.  "Well anyway," he said darkly, "I know you do not wish for a champion, Andunië, but someday I shall avenge his words and thrash him soundly."

Andunië yet did not smile, but her green eyes seemed to soften.  "That will be a great comfort to me, Fastred of Rohan," she said, and led him to the kennels.

(A/N:  I apologize for the dearth of posting!  I have had to go back to work, and am finding it more difficult than before to have the time to write to my standards.  I haven't abandoned you – I will see this through, I promise!  -- Le Rouret)

Legolas' wrath upon hearing of the incident with Théalof was terrible to behold, and Fastred was struck dumb by the sight and sound of his beloved Lord Lassah far gone in storming fury.  Never had he seen that fair face bled of color, the laughing mouth raging, the pleasant voice turned harsh and filled with the promise of violence, long white hands clenched into trembling fists and sweet demeanor turned over upon itself so that all within hearing range  – "they can probably hear him all the way up in Cair Andros; good gracious!" exclaimed Bandobras, his fingers in his ears – flinched back, Elves and Men alike.  At first Legolas proposed to go to horse himself and pursue Théalof, bringing upon his mortal head vengeance so complete as to be the end of the man of Rohan, his lackeys and steeds alike; when Meivel with great diffidence suggested unto his lord that course of action might prove imprudent, Legolas then commanded his Captain to assemble a group of stout warriors to go after Théalof and bring him back, in pieces if need be; at that point did Cirien clear his throat, bringing all eyes in the assembly upon him, and when Legolas had demanded, "Well, what?" Cirien had demurely said such an act would quite likely result in a serious skirmish, and might be seen by their mortal neighbors to be a direct provocation upon Rohan by Dol Galenehtar.  Seething with reluctant agreement, Legolas changed his tactic; Meivel was then ordered to send out his best and most canny scouts to follow Théalof to Osgiliath, Sólormoïle was told to depart with full guard bearing a message to Fastred's Lord Father and Lady Mother detailing the offense, and also a letter unto Fastred's royal uncle, to be delivered as quickly and secretly as possible, and Legolas was just calling Hirilcúllas up for dictation of a letter to be delivered to the Silver Knight in Celos, begging his aid in overturning Théalof's machinations in the South and warning all the lords about the banks of the delta to beware of the ambassador of Rohan, when Cirien, who had remained quite calm through this second tirade, cleared his throat once more and suggested to the Lord of Dol Galenehtar that such direct dealings would be premature, for until Legolas could prove to the lords of southern Gondor that Théalof acted against his sovereign's orders they might assume Rohan itself had conspired against the Steward of Gondor.  "And that, O Green Knight my friend, would surely be far more disastrous than your first impulse – bold and honorable though it was – to pursue Théalof forthwith and acquire from his shoulders his head so that you might convey it with full escort to Osgiliath, presenting it unto Lady Éowyn as her right and noble Champion; agreeable as that task might appear I am certain both actions would result rather in further obfuscation than solution, and I beg you to wait until your wrath, though justified, has subsided ere you embark upon so foolhardy a mission."   And while the remainder of the court that had not been harried from the Hall stood about eyeing their lord with deepest caution, Legolas ground his teeth in impotent rage, bright eyes flashing and fists working, standing trembling with suppressed fury before his throne.  And Fastred was not certain, for he was far too frightened of Lord Lassah at that moment to think altogether clearly, but he thought he could feel a growling oppression emanating from the Elf, a dark and dangerous anger flowing down the dais and roiling and rumbling about their feet, filling up the corners and creeping out the doors; even the torches seemed to flicker and fail.  The boy covered his eyes with his hands, his breath growing short in his throat; he could feel it flooding the Hall, filling up the air and choking out his breath; it seemed then to flow over his head like a wave, and it was heavy, pressing him down – deep ancient wrath, a black cloud flickering with lightning.  Then with an impatient exclamation Legolas stamped his foot once, the heel of his boot striking the paver beneath like a hammer upon a stone; it made a loud crack! and the cloud seemed to dissolve, so that Fastred wondered if he had but imagined it.  He looked back up at Lord Lassah, cold and shaking; the Elf was regarding Cirien with irritation and affection mingled, and a slow flush was creeping its way up his ivory cheeks.

"So that is your counsel, Cirien the Wise?" demanded Legolas, his eyes glittering silver in the lamplight.  "To let him go?  To let him believe me ignorant of his perfidy?  To allow your brother knights to be further confounded by this serpent? To continue to let him lisp his lies abroad, to my friends and yours, to Faramir and Éowyn, to Éomer?  To sit back and do nothing?"  Crack, crack!  Legolas' boot struck the pavers twice more, and his voice rang out in the Hall, echoing off the shining floor, disbelieving and indignant.  Bandobras opened his mouth to speak, appeared to think better of it, closed it again, and heaved a great sigh, ruffling his brown curls with his hands and shaking his head.  Meivel also glared at Cirien, for his blood was up, and he was eager to pursue and chastise the fiend for the infraction so boldly perpetrated within the halls he had sworn to protect; indeed he had been chagrined when his lord had changed his mind and decided to fight with the written word and not his sword, and harbored secret hope Legolas' temper would flare once more, and he be allowed to bring Théalof back to Dol Galenehtar for right and proper punishment.  All the Elves stood round, watching their lord apprehensively, and glancing from time to time at Fastred, who, being the subject of the current debate, had been placed prominently in the center of the floor before the dais, and stood awkward and anxious, shifting from one foot to the other, clutching still in his hand his star chart, and heartily wishing he could sink into the floor, away from the contemplation of the assembly.  After a long moment aged Cirien spoke, his voice as always composed and quiet.

"Well yes, O my friend, that is my counsel; I do beg your indulgence in this, for I know that contrary to courtly decorum have I twice spoken out of turn, not being asked for my mind, and also that I give advice unwelcome to your high spirit and quick nature."  He put his thin hands behind his back and cocked his head up at the figure standing seething upon the dais, and smiled; in his lined face was an expression of tender affection.  "I love you well, Legolas Thranduilion, but well do I know you also; you are long-suffering in many ways, especially concerning your own person and position, but when the helpless are harassed does a flame burn within you, and you stop at naught to pursue justice and vengeance, betimes assuming in your wrath the strength and might of many men, thus destroying utterly and laying waste, leaving nothing for those who might follow you attempting to garner knowledge of the perpetrators of the vile acts."  To Fastred's confusion Cirien glanced pointedly at the Halfling Bandobras then, who looked a trifle foolish and was intently studying his own toes; the Green Knight seeing this groaned and blushed bright pink; he turned, seeking his throne, and dropped upon it wearily, resting his forehead in his hands.

"You have made your point, I think, O my friend," he said, his voice rich with chagrin; he even smiled a little.  "Yes, of course, you are right; when motives are uncertain it is best to not slay every single enemy in sight – " Meivel looked to protest, but Legolas stayed him with a wave of his hand.  "No, dear child, not even in the interests of justice.  The Yellow Knight is right – again – is he not always right, Little Ones?  Until we know what Théalof wants it were prudent to let him run a bit; we have hooked him, and it will do little harm to allow him to think he has got free of us."

"But your highness, still he might affect some mischief in this freedom," said Meivel stubbornly, his jaw set.  "We know not his motives behind this, nor how many men he might have at his disposal, nor what armaments he might have accrued; how can we be certain he will not repeat this endeavor, when there is more chance of success?  Foolish though this Man may have been, had his goal been assassination and not abduction he might have succeeded despite my sister's intervention."

"And would have rightly had his throat torn out by way of retribution," smiled Legolas, looking into the shadows to his huntsmistress, who stood quietly with her dogs, her arms folded, her face serene.  "That would have been the way of it, would it not, Andunië?  I cannot deem what Théalof was thinking, that he could succeed in such a thing."  He turned to Fastred then, and his face softened.  "Fastred, Fastred!  Had he achieved his goal, whether it were to abscond with you, or to slay you, know you well I should not have rested ere his head graced the walls of your city!"

"I know, Lord Lassah," said Fastred, deeply embarrassed; he felt quite foolish, and wondered what the assembly thought of him, that he had been taken so unawares, and was in need of such protection.  He did not feel much like the son of a Prince, nor the son of a Shieldmaiden, and hotly resented the Elves' pity.

"Well he did not succeed," said Legolas firmly, holding out his arms.  "Come sit with me, Little One!  There is no need to stand so awkwardly before the dais – you are not on trial here, you know.  I am sorry; I was angry, though not at you.  From what Andunië says you handled yourself quite well – " Legolas turned to Andunië and laughed ruefully.  "Though he is too nice-minded to catch an insult right away, he is to be commended for his reaction, is he not, my child?"

There was some laughter at this, and Fastred blushed; he sat upon Legolas' right and wished he could go instead to his rooms, for he did not like to be looked at so, like a small and weak boy who could not even watch out for himself much less an Elven lady; however Andunië called over the court in her cool clear voice:  "Highly commended.  And he is good with dogs, you know."

Bandobras gave a surprised snort of laughter, quickly disguised as a cough when Andunië turned her green eyes upon him; he shuffled his feet upon the pavers and piped, "Well he's gone, Master, and the halls are shed of him; seems Araval was right and you oughtn't to've let him in at all.  But I don't know as you ought to just let him up and go – seems he's got a mort of mischief he might stir up, you know."

"Even so," said Legolas.  "What say you to that, O Yellow Knight?"

"I say," said Cirien, "give him his head, and he shall noose himself."

"He has had head aplenty, and shows no sign of being noosed yet," said Meivel disapprovingly, but Legolas appeared to consider this and said:

"Aye, it as you say … he must know by now I suspect him deeply, else he is a great fool, and he does not seem to me to be that bold.  Ever has he slipped and smiled and insinuated and this last brazen effrontery is far unlike him; methinks his plot has stumbled a bit and he felt need to hasten his strategy.  And if that is the case, what intrigues burgeon in Rohan?  For it is clear, O Yellow Knight, Théalof has some idea in mind for our Little One here, and I doubt me very much it is philanthropy guides him."

"I am one with you in this," said Cirien gravely.  "Something of import has occurred, or shall occur forthwith, in King Éomer's land, and this has forced Théalof's hand, though what it could be I am unsure.  Seeks he to hold Fastred hostage, or to slay him?  Either would throw the surrounding lands into confusion; for had Théalof slain Fastred blame should have been shed upon you and your people, and relations betwixt your house and his strained, and had he abducted Fastred he could have done with him as he would – held him for ransom, or sent him away, or killed him at leisure in some out-of-the-way spot."

"Perhaps; I shall inquire of him when next we meet, which I hope shall involve his groveling at sword-point," said Legolas with a small smile.  He sighed and looked at Fastred, who sat silent as he had naught to say; he had learned that trick from Karakse.  "Well my Fastred," said Legolas, his gray eyes serious, "what think you of this?  Something is happening in Rohan; that we suspect, and I fear it is not good.  Your uncle the king is in danger, and so are you, O my child, for you figure not only as Éomer's heir but are entrenched somehow in the plot of one of your uncle's enemies.  To go to Rohan will be perilous; to stay here restrictive, for you are menaced, and it is no longer safe for you to go about as you had before, riding and hunting and fishing and wandering; even in Osgiliath and Minas Tirith shall the shadow of this man haunt you, for he is not yet discovered as a traitor and is given full rein in Gondor.  Even when we tell your noble parents what has occurred, it is unlikely they shall be able to do aught but confine and guard you as shall we.  We have come to a crossroads and a decision must needs be made.  You are, I think, of an age that your thoughts in this ought be taken into consideration.  What is it that you think you should do?"

Fastred stared at Legolas a moment; did his friend mean to let him decide his own future?  In an instant Fastred's heart leaped – he could go home – he could rejoin his family!  Legolas had implied the choice were his – and that his odds were as bad in Dol Galenehtar as anywhere else – he might as well go back to Osgiliath – he could live with his mother and father again – surely they would not send him to Rohan, as it was so perilous – he would be surrounded by guards – perhaps even at playtime – and his brother and sister too, they would have to be guarded, for if Fastred were around them they would be in danger too …

It was like the slap of someone's hand upon his cheek; no, he could not go home.  He could not put his brother and sister into such peril.  And besides to be at home and not be allowed to go out, not even with Halgond, well, that would be no fun at all, and rather useless beside; what good would he be his uncle, if he stayed in Osgiliath?  He could of course stay in Dol Galenehtar – now that Meivel and the others were alerted to Théalof's plots he would be safe enough here.  But again … to what end would he come, and what would his uncle do?  He had no heir, and if this Théalof managed somehow to slay Éomer then Rohan would be kingless.  Fastred made up his mind then.  He was afraid, but the fear did not seem to matter to him; he would do what he had to despite his fears, for he was no weak boy after all; he was the Prince of Osgiliath and of Rohan and he could no longer hide in the nursery like a small child.  He took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and spoke not only to Legolas who sat beside him but to the entire assembly.

"I will go to Rohan," he said, his voice sounding very small and unsure; but it did not matter much then, for he turned to Lassah, and saw upon that fair face a look of pride, which comforted him, for Fastred then knew then that though he went to Rohan he would not go alone.

*****

They stopped for three days in Osgiliath, where Fastred's reception was joyous yet restrained; the people knew he went on to his inheritance and mourned the loss of one of their small princes, though their pride in his public elevation was apparent.  The folk on the eastern side of the city ran beside the great horses of the Elves of Dol Galenehtar, cheering and waving and calling out their felicitations; Fastred was delighted to see his old friend Beraen there too, no longer dirty nor thin; Legolas had as he had promised broached her plight to Faramir and she and her family were now well-cared-for, as her mother had been taken on in the sculleries of the house of the Lord and Lady of Ithilien.  Indeed Beraen as she ran beside Karakse did wave and smile, and Fastred smiled back; Beraen cried as he rode off: "Blessings on you, Prince of Rohan!  Go with strength to your next great task!"  Fastred had blushed then, but when he glanced over at Bandobras and saw his look of approbation, decided munificence rewarded not only the recipient but the giver as well.

His welcome at home was no less rousing; Hísimë had especially robed and gowned not only herself for the reception, but poor Théodred as well, who fidgeted and fussed in his fancy yellow doublet.  Their Lady Mother was there of course, flanked by her men-at-arms, clad in a gown of splendid blue with a pale circlet about her golden hair.  And though Fastred when they embraced repeated over and over to himself – "I am a prince – I am near grown-up – see all the people watching – this is a solemn occasion – ", he had to blink hard to keep the stinging tears away, and his voice when he greeted his Lady Mother wobbled a bit despite his fierce determination to keep it even. 

It was lovely to leave Lord Lassah and Lord Cirien and his Lady Mother in the solar over a carafe of wine, and run into the old nursery to be with his brother and sister, though Fastred discovered to his dismay that he had grown so tall he no longer fit into any of his old clothes.  Later after dinner, when he made this plaint to his Lady Mother, she but smiled and said:  "It is of no import, O my son; the tailors in Meduseld shall robe you more appropriately for your station."  Hísimë had looked envious, but Fastred was unhappy; he did not like doublets and robes and such, and preferred to dress more plainly; he glanced at Legolas then, who he knew also disliked the grand vestments he was obliged to don betimes, and they shared a private jest in silence, rolling their eyes, and tugging at their collars, which always felt tight and stiff no matter how loosely they affixed the buttons.  After dinner Legolas went back into the nursery with the children and Lady Éowyn, and let Hísimë brush his hair, and played hide-and-seek with the boys.  Théodred was happy to see Legolas again, though he made no secret of his indignation toward the Elf Lord, for not only had Lord Lassah let Fastred live with him all this time, Lord Lassah was taking his Fastred away from him again.  "It is not fair," Théodred said, stamping one small foot and scowling.  "You had him for days and days and days, Lord Lassah, and we have him only for three."  And he held up three fingers to Legolas, though he had to hold his thumb and small finger down with his other hand.

"Hush, hush, Théodred!" Hísimë said soothingly, giving Legolas an apologetic look.  "We have Fastred for three days, yes, and then Lord Lassah shall come back and we shall go to stay with him."

Théodred appeared to consider this favorably.  "To play with the dogs too?" he asked hopefully, some of the mulishness on his face fading.  "And the birds and the horses?"

Legolas only sighed, and let Théodred climb into his arms; he held the child whilst the boy clambered over his lap, playing with the buttons of his doublet.  "Andunië will never forgive me," Legolas said, giving the Lady of Ithilien a plaintive look, and Éowyn laughed; though Fastred noted when his Lady Mother watched Lord Lassah play with her children, her face acquired a pained look, as though Lassah were hurting himself somehow, and by proxy hurting her too.

Fastred's pleasure at being home faded quickly the following days, when he realized anew how restricted his movements were become, because of the man of Rohan who had endeavored to do him ill; he and Halgond could not go out on the boat but Halgond was constrained to come to him instead, and they discovered it was not nearly so much fun to wander about the citadel than to boat and fish and swim, and excellent playmates though Hísimë and Théodred were, when Halgond came calling Fastred did not care to be about them, for Théodred did naught but tag along after them and ask, "What shall we do now?  Where are you going?  What are you talking about?  I want to come too!" and Hísimë – well, that puzzled Fastred some; though she haunted their steps she would not speak to Halgond, and if he chanced to make some comment to her, she but blushed and giggled.  It was very irritating.

His last night there he lay awake for some time, listening to his brother and sister breathe beside him; the moon shone in through the open window, blurring and flickering with the movement of the curtains in the warm breeze, and the room was full of blue-gray shadows and milky light, and smelt of orris-root, and the bread-and-milk they had eaten ere bidding their Lady Mother good-night.  He was sad, for he was leaving the following morning, on a way that perchance might bring danger and hardship; however deep in his heart he felt a thrill of pleasure that he was now grown-up enough to be a proper prince, and travel in the company of the Lord of Dol Galenehtar and his retainers on the journey.  He might not be happy about inheriting the throne of Rohan, but at least he was resigned to it, and could look upon it with some degree of anticipation.  "At least Uncle Éomer's courts are not very formal," he thought to himself, and thinking of plain tunics and comfortable flannel trousers he fell asleep.

The fourth morning the Elves of Dol Galenehtar set out from Osgiliath by the West Bridge, which spanned the western half of the Anduin in a graceful white arch, springing from the ancient stones of the old city and resting upon the green sward of the bank, where it was flanked with tall graceful birches girt about with holly.  The bridge was lined with the denizens of the city in their bright clothing, like jewels set upon a circlet, and the people waved the white flag of the Stewards, and the silver tree of Gondor, and the green pennant of Dol Galenehtar and cried:  "Fastred for Rohan!  The Prince of Osgiliath goes to Éomer King!"  All the Elves were on horseback, their mighty destriers clad in but cloth trappers and braided manes, for they rode as always without tack; Cirien Lord of Langstrand was there, stately in his yellow doublet, and Fastred upon his Karakse, and of course the esquire Bandobras on the little hill-pony that had been a gift from Glóin of the Lonely Mountain.  Lady Éowyn rode proudly at the head of the vanguard beside the Green Knight, forswearing her tears of the night before; she and Fastred had said their good-byes in private, far from the eyes of any others.  But Bandobras, where he rode bearing the standard of Dol Galenehtar behind his Master, watched the Lady of Osgiliath with pity, for he knew better than Fastred how a mother's heart longs for a son dwelling far off, and his own poor mother's farewells rang still in his ears.

When they reached the Rammas Echor they met there Faramir, who had come down to the Causeway Forts from Minas Tirith where he ruled in the King's stead; he was accompanied by his Privy Council and the black-clad guards of the Citadel, and wore white, and held his Steward's staff.  He and his son embraced, and the Steward spoke at length to the young prince, giving to him what words of comfort and courage he might impart.  Fastred had dreaded meeting his Lord Father for he had feared censure for his prior actions, or worse maudlin reminiscings; however to his relief and pleasure his father wept not nor reproached, but instead declared himself satisfied with his son's choice, and confident in his abilities to overcome the obstacles before him.  Together father and mother commended their friend the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, praising his wisdom and thanking him for his hospitality; and afterward both the Prince of Ithilien and the Green Knight shared a stirrup cup, and swore friendship to each other anew, observed by all the citizenry of Osgiliath, and by the company out of Minas Tirith, who cheered and waved their pennants; this formality had been suggested by Cirien the Wise, who desirous of good relations betwixt Mortal and Immortal proposed a public reaffirmation of good-will, in order that Théalof would at least in that area be thwarted.  So after this ceremony, attended by nobility, gentry, and peasantry alike, had been properly observed the company got on their way, leaving the crowds behind.  Fastred turned a few times, seeing how his noble parents got smaller and smaller until at last the gleaming brooch upon his mother's breast no longer caught the sun's light to throw it back; then they descended into a fold in the earth, and his parents disappeared from sight altogether.

They rode in silence for a while, the only sounds the whisk of the wind through the tall brown grass, or the whistle of a bird hid amongst the thatches, or the stray clear song of one of their retainers.  The horses crunched and clattered their way down the Great West Road, flicking flies from their ears and swishing their tails upon their broad muscular flanks.  Karakse seemed content; he was riding beside his sire, the black destrier that bore Lord Legolas, and was in company with his most favored companion, the Halfling's pony Bumblebee, who though less than half his size more than rivaled the piebald gelding in cheek and hubris.  Betimes Fastred spoke to his horse, and patted his neck, reassuring him he would love his new home – "There is much grass there, Karakse, and O so many more horses, I am certain you shall find it much to your liking" – when Lord Lassah turned to him with a smile and said:

"Well, my Fastred!  Now we are on our way; now is our great adventure beginning!"  And he laughed, a lighthearted, jolly sound, one that Fastred had not heard from him in many months.  He regarded Lord Lassah with wonder, for the Elf's countenance was bright and cheerful, and his carriage upon his great dark horse springy and relaxed.  "We shall if we tarry not be in Amon Din by nightfall," Legolas continued confidently.  "Then shall we stay some nights there with my good friend Aldamir, the Red Knight – Ah, my Lord of Langstrand!  Shall it not be pleasant for you and I to foregather with him?  A pity it is Araval returned to his home; he should have taken much pleasure in such a jaunt as this."

The Yellow Knight regarded his friend with fond indulgence.  "So he should," he said dryly; "Aldamir is known for the bounty of his table, and the strength of his wine after all."  As Legolas laughed Fastred piped up:

"Lord Lassah – I mean, Legolas – " he had glanced back then and espied Andunië where she rode upon her bay Yavieba; the mare did not seem to mind his slip but Andunië had given him a warning look from beneath lowered brow.  Legolas smiled kindly at him and Fastred asked, "Why are you so happy?  We are leaving your land and bring but a remnant of your folk with you; we ride into danger, and my uncle your friend is in trouble; I have almost been kidnapped or slain and still a pall of trouble hangs over us.  Yet you laugh and speak as though we had naught but feasts and parties and hunts to come!  There is danger ahead; you said so, you know, and we shall be riding for some days, and staying in places that are not our homes.  Yet you seem to me to be acting as though it were the time of festivals."

"Ah!" laughed Legolas.  He turned his fair face to the sky, where the larks wheeled and cried, and the white clouds hurried across the blue dome to their roost in the northern downs.  His pale hair flew about his head like tossed flax, and his eyes shone.  "Behind me are home and bed and table to be sure," he said, glancing down at his esquire, who beamed up at him.  "But behind also are desk and pen, parchment and chart, obligation and engagement.  Ahead are dangers, that I know full well; what journey begins without the promise of some ferment?  But ahead also lie riding into the dusk, and sleeping beneath the stars, and listening to the beat of the hoof upon the tussock – freedom, my Fastred," he said, with satisfaction.  He stretched his long arms above his head and flexed his hands.  "These fingers have caressed the quill far too long," he said; his voice was thick with pleasure.  "But for now, the bow, the sword, the trencher – "  Cirien chuckled, and Bandobras laughed aloud.  "Yes, my children!" declared Legolas, laughing again.  "Begone dull duty!  This is the blessing of the nobly-born, Little Ones!"  And so speaking he urged Piukka into a canter, and together the company thundered up the slope to the crest of the hill where they looked down upon the yellow fields of Anduin Valley, and thence westward to Amon Din.

(A/N: I've gotten a couple of questions about a line in Ch. 10 -- "Fastred noted when his Lady Mother watched Lord Lassah play with her children, her face acquired a pained look, as though Lassah were hurting himself somehow, and by proxy hurting her too."  This was an obviously over-subtle nod to My Dear Bandobras, in which Eowyn and Arwen commiserate that Legolas will never have children of his own.  Sorry for the confusion!  -- Le Rouret)

The vast bulk of Amon Din blocked out the darkling sky and loomed black and knobbly against the opalescent, star-speckled dome hung above them; it was spiky with trees, with high narrow pines and ashes and firs, and hulking ungainly outcroppings of rock that jutted like the prows of so many monstrous ships from the jagged slopes, and at its crest was the great watchtower and beacon, a low squat turret.  Yet nestled in the arms of this fearsome hill was the sprawling town of Amon Din, sparkling with homelights and surmounted by the great Keep, which had brooded over the fertile valley below since time immemorial; it was a squat half-circle growing out of the side of the hill topped with drum-towers and turrets, and pierced with arrow-loops.  They could see the guards upon the crenellated battlements looking down at their company; their armor gleamed in the light of the torches they bore.  The pennants snapping from the poles upon the high towers were black in the darkness but they knew what they would see upon them in any case:  The red of Amon Din, and the fierce boar that was the sigil of Aldamir son of Castamir's house, gold and rampant and menacing.

The Elves and their companions jogged on the dark road, the horses eager to arrive for they knew within those walls were hay and warmth and rest.  All about them lay the fields and barns and meadows, thick with grain, and the orchards; one could not descry the fruit hanging darkly from the heavy boughs, but could smell apples and peaches, ripening in the warm late summer; here and there one could see the twinkling lights of some farm-house set back from the road.  The city walls rose above them as they approached, dark though topped with bright torches and lanterns, their harsh angles softened by the large hollies that grew all round the walls.  Then the great oaken gates groaned open, and a horn sounded within the wall; a company of twenty soldiers came out, all on horseback, in gleaming armor with red surcoats; at their head rode Aldamir of Amon Din, tall and dark, splendidly arrayed in his tourney armor; his snorting destrier pawed at the ground, its shaffron sparkling with carven metal and ruddy engraved runes.  The blood-red pennants stirred in the warm evening breeze and Legolas and Bandobras broke away from the vanguard, meeting Aldamir and his standard-bearer in the center of the road before the gates.  Green and Red came together, dismounted and embraced; then Cirien also approached, beneath a flag of yellow borne by the scout Lirlindil, and Meivel nudged Karakse with the butt of his spear, so that Fastred came forward as well, and behind him rode Himbaláth, bearing the flag of Rohan, a white horse upon a green field.  Aldamir turned from Legolas with a smile.

"O Cirien the Wise, Yellow Knight of Edhellond!" he cried, waiting respectfully for Cirien to dismount, which the old man did slowly, as his limbs did not move as briskly as they used.  The Red and Yellow Knights embraced, and Fastred clambered down from Karakse's back, feeling very small.  "And Fastred son of Faramir, Prince of Osgiliath and of Rohan!" said Aldamir, taking him by the shoulder and kissing the crown of his head.  "Welcome to Amon Din!  Many years has it been since you sojourned within my keep.  Happy is the day that I welcome knights of such honor and renown, but twice-blessed am I to house the heir of Meduseld, who goes forth from his land to succor his distaff peoples, and take up his royal duty as the future king of Rohan."  He turned then to his soldiers, and to the crowd of people who had come out of their homes to see what was happening, and proclaimed in a loud voice: "Amon Din bids the Green Knight welcome!"

"Hail the Green Knight, champion of Amon Din!" cried the people as one.  "Hail the Green Knight on his midnight destrier!"

"Amon Din bids the Yellow Knight welcome!" said Aldamir again.

"Hail the Yellow Knight, Cirien the Wise!" cried the people.

"And Amon Din bids Lord Fastred the Heir of Meduseld welcome!"

"Hail Fastred of Rohan!  Hail the Lord of Osgiliath!"

"There," said Aldamir quietly, turning back from the din to his friends with a twinkle in his dark eyes.  "That ought to satisfy them; they love pageantry, but I have yet to organize a private tourney for their benefit – harvest is late this year, you know."  And mounting their steeds the company entered the gates.  The people cheered and the women all fluttered their handkerchiefs and dish-towels and aprons and poseys, especially the young maids, for whom the arrival of all these beautiful Elven warriors was an occasion of great pleasure; a fruitless hope, but attractive nonetheless.  Legolas was an obvious favorite, and he acknowledged their cries with a sly smile and a wave of his hand; to Fastred's surprise Meivel and Himbaláth also came in for their just due of admiration; Himbaláth seemed sheepish and somewhat embarrassed by the accolades, but his dark superior simply gave the girls coolly disinterested glances, and then ignored them.  Hirilcúllas and Andunië who rode together were gazed upon with great interest and approbation by the young men; Hirilcúllas smiled down upon them from her golden mare, but Andunië like her brother marked them not, fixing her sober gaze instead upon the battlements above.

They passed beneath the barbican and thus into the keep, winding round the narrow cobbled streets into which were built the homes that housed the hardy folk of Amon Din.  They crossed into the bailey and thus to the palace; at its stout low gate stood a man in full armor, and a tall slender woman with two small boys.  The littlest of the boys was hopping up and down in his excitement and clapping his hands; as they approached they could hear him chattering breathlessly:  "O here they come, Mother!  Look, look, there is Lord Lassah now!  And there is his Bandy!  O look, look!  Look at all the pretty Elves with him, Mother!  And look at Lord Lassah's big black horse!  I want a big black horse too, Mother; if I am good do you think he will give me one?"  To this his brother replied scornfully:  "O be not so stupid, Túrgil; that horse is too big for you.  You will have to wait until you are very old to ride a horse like that."

"Hush!" said their mother mildly, smiling upon them with tender affection; then Aldamir dismounted and they embraced, and the Red Knight turned unto his guests.

"Noble friends!" he cried.  "Welcome to my house!  Enter and be glad, for though the world be not a perfect place it does achieve it close when such good friends draw near."

Everyone dismounted, and Legolas bowed to Aldamir's wife.  "My Lady Lalanath," he said, "it is with joy I look upon your fair countenance once more."

"Dear friend," smiled Lalanath as he kissed her hand.  "The children have been desolate in your absence."  They looked down at the two small boys, who were squabbling round their mother's skirts; when they saw Legolas was near them they both launched themselves at his knees, speaking at once.

"Look, look!" cried Túrgil.  "I have lost two teeth already, Lord Lassah!  See the holes in my mouth?  Now I can spit seeds twice as far!"

"I shot three arrows into the target today, Lord Lassah!" said Galen, tugging at the Elf's doublet.  "One of them even hit the second ring!  If the sun were up I could show you but because it is dark Mother says I must wait until tomorrow."

"May I have a black horse, Lord Lassah? Galen says I am too small but I should dearly love to have a black horse like yours."

"If Túrgil gets a black horse I want one too!" cried Galen indignantly.  Then he espied Fastred standing beside Karakse, and his eyes lit up.  "No, Lord Lassah; I have changed my mind; may I have a piebald horse like Lord Fastred?  Only I want one brown-and-white, not black-and-white."

"I want a piebald horse too!" shouted Túrgil.

"Yes," said Legolas wryly to Lalanath; "I can see their desolation writ large in their features."  The Lady smiled, and said to her sons:

"Do you not remember, O my sons, what I said unto you concerning our guests?  You are hosts too; do you please fulfill your duties in our house."

"Yes, Mother!" they both said, and ran toward Fastred.  "Fastred, Fastred!" they said, embracing him madly; Fastred laughed and hugged them back.  "It has been very long since you were here last," said Galen.  "Look; I am near tall as you now!  Or at least near tall as your chest.  I have a new catapult; would you like to see me use it?"

"Is it true you are going to be a king?" asked Túrgil.  "I think it would be very fine to be a king, for you will be able to sit and order people about and eat whatever you like.  What will your crown look like?  Do you think it will be heavy?"

"Mother and Father say you may come and stay with us," said Galen, tugging at Fastred's hand.  "We are eating in the nursery tonight, and we are going to have boar pie and stewed pears and sweetbread and blood sausage and bread and milk, and if we are good Nurse says we might have pudding.  You may eat with the grown-ups if you rather," he added in a low voice, "but I think it will be gayer with us, for grown-ups are so tedious, you know."

Fastred hesitated and glanced back at Legolas, who smiled and nodded.  "You shall be constrained to formality all too soon," he said.  "Go, foregather with your small friends; it may be long ere you are able to play again."  With a glad smile then Fastred let Galen and Túrgil take him by the hand, and together the three boys ran into the house.  Then Legolas turned to the knight, clasping his manifered hand with a glad cry.  "Mardil!" he said.  "This is a delightful surprise!  I did not know you had sojourned so far north."

The Silver Knight removed his helm, and he and Legolas embraced.  "I am actually further south, O my friend, than I have been these past six months," he said smiling.  "I arrived from Celduin two days ago, and our good friend the Red Knight implored me stay a while; as my seneschal has things well in hand in Ethring I allowed myself to be persuaded, especially as our Lord Aldamir did inform me you should be here as well, on your way to Rohan."

"Come; let us go inside!" said Aldamir, taking his wife's arm.  "The feast is prepared and I am sure you are all travel-weary."

"Not so weary as we shall be, I'll wager," sighed Bandobras, giving Bumblebee's reins to a waiting groom, and followed his Master inside.

**************

The feast was everything even a Hobbit could have hoped for.  There were three kinds of soup and five of fish; the venison haunches were cooked to a turn, and the roasted boar so tender the meat dropped rich and wet from the bone; the skin was crackled and salty and dripping in fat.  The breads and pies and rolls were hot and fresh, and there were whole flocks of quail swimming in thick gravy.  Great yellow wheels of cheese were set out, and steaming boiled chestnuts, and hot aromatic herbs in heavy wooden bowls.  Aldamir had broached the best casks of wine in his cellars and it flowed purple and sparkling into the goblets and cups of his guests, loosening their tongues and brightening their faces; some of the Elves began to sing even as they ate, and the courtiers of Amon Din watched and listened to their fair neighbors with delight. After some hours the cooks came to the buttery hatches with shouts of acclamation, and all watched with pleasurable excitement as the subtleties were brought in.  There was one shaped like an armored warrior, covered all over with pale green leaves; from beneath the hard-sugar helm flowed yellow icing like hair; the Lord of Dol Galenehtar laughed when he saw it, and proclaimed any Elf eating of that subtlety would be guilty of cannibalism.  Several more came out, wonderfully crafted; a ship with spun-sugar sails, and a pitcher painted in bright gay colors and filled with sweet stewed cherries, and a great sunny mound set in a cloud of clotted cream dotted with tiny berry birds.  Most amusing of them all was the silvery castle, complete with tiny pennants and the figures of people looking out the oriels; the drawbridge was cunningly made, and when a small candy crank was turned it raised and lowered itself over a moat of rich spicy custard, in which were suspended little ducks and geese and grebes.  Legolas, to whom the subtlety was presented, protested it were far too clever to eat; Aldamir though broke off the upper turret himself and put it upon his friend's platter, and bit by bit the little castle was dismantled, until the outer walls were all broken away, revealing within candied fruit rolled in sparkling sugar, and fried nuts, and crisp white divinity coins.

After the feast there was a pageant, depicting the Green Knight upon his Midnight Destrier (actually the chandler, perched precariously upon the draped back of one of the cooper's assistants) charging to the aid of the people of a small village, who were being harassed by a terrible and very strangely-armed group of orcs, mostly the servants' children with fantastically painted faces, who shook candle sticks and pokers and other humble tools.  The chandler kept his seat admirably during the battle, but when the cooper was whacked by a particularly enthusiastic child wielding a chamber-pot the whole lot of them tumbled to the rushes with a great clatter and clank; the orc-army stared aghast, then bolted for the buttery hatches.  Though chagrined the mummers bowed and grinned when applauded, and accepted their payment of bone and trencher happily enough; after the servants had gathered the stray household implements scattered about the floor the minstrels took up a lively air, and everyone began a reel.

The merry Elves all joined the fray, circling and stamping and clapping with their mortal friends, and even the Lord of Dol Galenehtar enjoyed a turn or two, first with the lady of the castle and then with the wife of a visiting vassal; his white bejeweled doublet flashed and glittered in the lamplight, and his long pale hair swung round his shoulders like a golden curtain.  But after some time he returned to the high table where sat the Red and Silver Knights, speaking solemnly with Cirien.  Under cover of the noise Legolas drew near to them, and Cirien said:

"We are tardy, O Green Knight my friend; Théalof passed through here not two days hence."

Aldamir's kindly face was pained, and he said: "Alas that I knew not his latest perfidy!  I did welcome the miscreant within my halls, and gave unto him such hospitality as I saw fit for an emissary; had I known the depths of his vice I should have held him here awaiting your hand, O my friend."

"Had you done so you should surely have evoked violence from Rohan," said Legolas.  "It is as well you knew not his intrigues.  After all even Éomer withholds the hand of justice from him.  And your honest countenance would bring him hope and security; perhaps thinking himself safe he shall stumble the more."

Aldamir shook his head.  "That I have housed such a vile malefactor within my very halls!" he said.  "He even sat to table here, and with smooth and flattering words complimented my cooks, my house, even my family."

"You did well though," said Mardil.  "You did not set your seal upon the documents he presented unto you; you are under no constraint to ally yourself with him at least."

"Have you still these documents?" asked Cirien.

"I have not," said Aldamir.  "Théalof took them with him; he said he would set the scribes to altering those passages to which I took offense, so that our treaty might be made the better all round.  Yet it is the same as I have said unto you, my lords all; he requests I present myself and my army at his bequest – not Éomer's – and he offers a portion of the lands by the Onodló unto me, and treats that the roads be made the more open and safe, so that trade betwixt Amon Din and Rohan be increased – 'To the mutual benefit of our kingdoms,' he did say unto me, smiling his smooth smile.  And he did ask me, O my friends, if I were to be present at the coronation of the young heir of Meduseld; when I said I had not yet decided – for I could not tell whether or no he approved of such a plan, and did not want to show my hand to him, fearing his retribution – he congratulated me on my foresight, and said unto me the passing of the throne on to a son of Gondor would be greatly opposed by his people, and if I wished to maintain good relations betwixt Amon Din and Rohan I should abstain, for my presence would indicate tacit approval, and hurt the trade-houses."

"I do confess me I comprehend not his schemings," said Mardil frowning.  "To what end seeks he to garner support of my brother knights and vassals in the South, and persuade alliance from those neighbors closest to him?"

"It is Aldamir's proximity – not physical only, but political as well – that concerns him, I deem," said Cirien.  "After all the Red Knight is close not only to Anórien and the Eastfold, but to the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, who is in turn within the confidences of two great kings."

"Three," piped Bandobras, who had just joined them upon the dais, clutching a cup of ale in one hand, and a chicken wing in the other.  "Don't you go forgetting his dad, now."

"Three kings, then," conceded Cirien, smiling down at the Hobbit, who had clambered upon a chair beside his Master and sat, swinging his small feet in time to the music and starting in on the wing.  "Anyway should Aldamir be made to hold neutral, and Legolas as well, by the draining of these fens that shall strengthen his position in Rohan, and also in south Gondor where he has also managed to insinuate some control."

"I do not see the southern vassals dancing to Théalof's tune though," said Mardil.  "Misguided though my brethren might be I do not believe they shall do any harm to Rohan, treaties or no."

"I hope not," said Legolas; "that would be grave indeed, to set Gondor against Éomer.  And the vassals look to Faramir and to me for guidance in Elessar's absence, seated as we are upon the gateway of the northern kingdoms, yet as Fastred is Faramir's son I do not think he shall be able to hold sway should they march when asked to fulfill their oaths."

"And you shall not be there in any case," said Mardil; "you shall be in Rohan, and what shall your seneschal do in your absence?"

"O do not concern yourself with Galás," laughed Legolas.  "Blithe and light-hearted he may seem to you, my friends, but do you please recall he fought at my grandsire's side ere I was born or thought of."

"He is your elder?" asked Aldamir in surprise.  "I knew not that; I had thought you to be the older of the two."

"Nay!  Galás is old even as we reckon it," said Legolas smiling.  "Deep and merry and fierce is that son of Doriath; he and Kaimelas shall hold my tower safe, and guard the pass betwixt the two Ithiliens, should occasion arise.  But I hope it shall not so do.  Yet if the lords of southern Gondor answer Théalof's call, and pass through to the Druadan, you, Aldamir, shall be the last corridor to Rohan; will you hold it firm?  Combat I hope you might avoid, for though they disdain the words of the Steward and my seneschal, you are a vassal of Elessar and their brother knight, and they shall hear you when you speak."

"I am not known for my wisdom but my wealth," objected Aldamir looking pained.  "Why should they hear me?  I have no need to pander to foreign lords promising fiscal remuneration, but they do."

"As do I," said Mardil stoutly.  "By your leave I shall remain here, to treat with them should they come."

"I also," said Cirien.  "They know I withhold allegiance from Théalof; some already question their treaties.  Betwixt us three we ought to have sufficient argument to delay them at least."

"And forget not merry Araval!" said Mardil.  "He will come with them and chivvy them, so that when they arrive they shall already be harassed, and eager to listen to our message."

"I hope it shall not come to that," said Legolas.  "If fortune smiles upon us, I shall deliver Fastred unto Éomer, and unwind the plots of Théalof and Bréawine, and return home ere more trouble might arise."

"I'll drink to that!" said Bandobras, standing upon his chair and refilling the knights' goblets.  "I want to be home before it gets cold.  Mother worries so, you know, Master."

The knights smiled, and took their wine; after a moment Legolas' face changed, and he studied Mardil with growing concern; then he put down his goblet with some force, leaned forward with hand outstretched, and exclaimed, "Mardil!  What is that?"

"What?" cried Mardil, disconcerted, and the others stared at Legolas in surprise.

"That!" said Legolas, taking a strand of Mardil's curly hair in his long white fingers and giving a sharp tug.  Mardil grunted as the hair snapped free, and he rubbed his scalp indignantly; Cirien and Aldamir looked with consternation at Legolas, who was holding the hair before his eyes; the look upon his face was horrified.  "White!" cried Legolas in dismay; the hair trembled in his hand.  "What has happened, O my friend?  What terrible deeds were visited upon you, that has turned your hair untimely white?  What persons or events conspire to distress you so?"

"It is not so untimely, O Legolas; I have achieved thirty-nine winters," said Mardil wryly, as the Elf leaned forward again, touching the silvery strands tangled in with the black tendrils above his ears.  Legolas drew back, alarmed.

"Thirty-nine!" he cried disbelievingly.  "O no, Mardil; that cannot be – you are so young yet, a child still – "

"Thirty-nine," repeated Mardil with a smile.

"But you, you were so young when we met – " began Legolas, his fair face filled with anguish; Cirien chuckled and plucked the white hair from between the Elf's fingertips.

" 'Tis thirteen years ere you established your fiefdom, O Green Knight," he said, rolling the hair round in his bony wrinkled hands.  "Make the sum yourself, Prince of Mirkwood; we are none of us so young – save Master Bandobras of course."

"Not for long," protested Bandobras; "I shall achieve my majority in five years you know."

"But, but you have not yet wed nor had children," remonstrated Legolas; "you cannot possibly have white hair – "

"Ah!" said Mardil sadly, and took a deep draught of wine.  "Yes, 'twas for that selfsame reason I did take me to Celduin; a maiden there was, who through letters written betwixt her father and me ought to have accompanied me back to be my bride; however when I arrived I found the situation not so secure as I had been led to believe, nor the contract fast, and so I return with one horse empty-saddled, when before I had hoped for a full contingent."  He looked so despondent that Cirien and Bandobras turned away from his sorrow; Aldamir regarded his friend with deep sympathy, and Legolas, mercurial being he was, cast aside thoughts of white hair and gave a great leap, his face alert and calculating.

"Why Mardil, I did not know you were so intent upon finding for yourself a lady!" he said.  "Thirty-nine!  Aye, of course; it is past time for you to be wed; why have I not thought of it ere now?  And think you upon the many children you might sire, that I should dandle upon my knees!  Yes, O my dear friend, it is time you were joined with a suitable lady – "

"But that is the conundrum, O Legolas," said Mardil, now quite red about the face, and speaking very quietly, so that none in the hall might overhear.  "I have attempted for these past ten years to find for me a lady of suitable temperament and station, but have failed; there are none to be had in Ethring now, and I am unable to go far abroad much, for I have my own fiefdom to run.  I cannot run round looking for a lady, and matchmakers are too dear."

"I cannot believe there are no maidens who would not be overwhelmed with joy to be wed to such a brave and loyal knight as you," said Legolas waving one hand.  "Why you are quite good-looking you know, and there are maids a-plenty; I am sure once my current engagement resolves itself I shall be able to find you three or four unobjectionable maidens – "

"I require but one," said Mardil, embarrassed.

"Well, to choose from.  Let me think; I believe within the courts of Minas Tirith the Queen might have secreted a few – "

"Now, Master," said Bandobras, giving the mortified Silver Knight a sympathetic grin.  "Let's not go playing matchmaker; you know how hot under the collar you get when anyone tries it on you."

"O but I do not wish to wed, and Mardil does," said Legolas offhandedly. "This is very different, Little One.  Cirien my friend, does not Araval have a brood of daughters all unwed?  Surely he might spare one for a fellow knight – "

"Legolas – " began Cirien patiently, but Aldamir had been caught up in the excitement and he said:  "O but they are too young, and Mardil must needs have a good dowry to go along with her – Lalanath has a sister; she is not so young as she used to be, and a widow, but a good manager, and carries with her her late husband's estate, though to be sure the lands are round Cair Andros and would have to be sold for a profit."

"O he does not want a widow; he needs a young girl who will bear him many sons," said Legolas standing and looking round the room.  "Let me see – there is a girl over there, the one in the blue dress – "

"Married," said Aldamir apologetically.

"Master – " protested Bandobras, much exasperated.

"Wait a moment, my Bandobras, I am thinking – O what about that one, Aldamir, in the red with the roses in her hair?  She is stout and healthy-looking."

"Ah!  That is the marshall's daughter; I believe she has been walking out with one of the smith's sons."

"A smith's son!  What is a smith's son, compared to such a handsome and mighty knight as our friend here?  Come, Mardil; I shall secure a dance for you."  And grasping the reluctant Mardil by the hand he dragged his friend down upon the rushes; Cirien, Aldamir and Bandobras watched as the Elf flitted light-footed round the reels, bright eyes alight with interest; poor Mardil trailed behind him disconsolately, though Legolas did as promised get him to dance with the stout girl in red.  Cirien sighed and refilled his goblet.

"Poor Mardil!" he said shaking his head.  "Well do I know Legolas Thranduilion; he might soon become distracted from this current fad by our upcoming conflicts, but I do fear me the Silver Knight is in for a bad time of it."

"Perhaps," smiled Aldamir.  "But do you recall, O Cirien, 'twas Legolas' doing my Lalanath and I are wed; without his hand in the affair I should never have had courage to so speak."

"So long's he don't import any Hobbit-lasses for me I'm well satisfied," grunted Bandobras, and sliding off his chair went in search of a fresh cup of ale.

Much to Legolas' disappointment he was unable to procure a bride for his friend Mardil ere their departure two mornings later, though whether Mardil were relieved or saddened by this not even Cirien could tell.  They said their farewells to the three great knights, and to Lady Lalanath and her two sons, at the gates of the wall of Amon Din; all round them were courtiers, and merchants, and housewives, and children, and farmhands upon their shaggy drafts, cheering and waving, and some of the more adventurous cast flower petals beneath the hooves of the destriers.  Fastred was sad to go, for the sons of Aldamir were dear to him, and in their nursery he had found fleeting but joyful his return to childhood; Bandobras also regretted their departure, for the table of the Red Knight was well-known for its bounty, though he lamented the lack of dishes containing mushrooms.  But the Lord of Dol Galenehtar and his people were eager to depart; wide fields and rolling meads, dark woods and high hills awaited them and they would fain let the adventure wait.  So the Red Knight kissed them all in turn, promising to hold steady against Théalof and his machinations, and upon this affirmation they turned and followed the road out of the valley, and thence round the hill.

In deference to their horses and to their mortal friends, the Elves camped that night in Minrimmon Wood beneath the looming oaks which cast their hoary arms about them; the trunks and gnarled upthrust roots were cloaked in thick green moss, and the leaves were lush and dark, and rustled soothingly over Fastred's head while he drowsed beside Bandobras (who snored, and muttered in his sleep).  He could hear the soft murmur of the Elves' voices above him, and see the slight glimmer of pale light as they moved about the trees' heavy branches, and now and again he heard the snatch of song, or of light laughter.  The horses in their pickets whickered and shifted, and now and again Fastred heard the low hoot of an owl, or the warbling of a nightingale; sleep eluded him for a time, and he shifted upon the hard ground, wrapped in his wool blankets, and stretching his feet out toward the warmth of the fire.  The stars peeped coyly round the dark shifting leaves, or sparkled in some immortal downturned eye; it seemed to Fastred that the heavens and his Elvish friends alike watched over him, and thus reassured Fastred slept.

Thus they made their way through Anórien, trotting down the rocky track between Rohan and Gondor; at times they stopped at post-houses to catch up on the news, or saw the couriers on their swift steeds fly past with the wave of an arm, intent upon their destination. After the third day however Meivel, who had been riding point, turned his great cast-eyed warhorse and cantered back to his lord.  Taruku bared his teeth at Piukka and Karakse; Fastred's horse shied back, but Piukka knew full well he bore the Lord of Dol Galenehtar and snapped at the younger destrier.  Meivel swatted Taruku's ear and the horse rolled his mismatched eyes, but desisted.  Legolas clucked his tongue.

"I do think me, O Meivel, your new destrier to be as fierce a beast as my old Hatchet," he said, stroking Piukka's dark neck.  "If he mend but a little he shall be a fine horse indeed."

"He is too strong-willed," said Meivel sullenly, glaring at the back of his destrier's shaggy head.  "Rather should I have a gelding like unto Lord Fastred's here; Karakse is a good beast."

Legolas smiled, and looked to the west; then as his smile faded he said:  "Have you noticed, O my Meivel, how the post goes west but not east?  It is a curious thing, is it not, that letters travel only out of Gondor, and not to it?"

"I had noticed, my lord," admitted Meivel; "in fact it was that selfsame thought brought me back from point."

"Hm."  Legolas gazed westward, to the rolling hills flanking the long winding road, speckled with the dark bushy stands of trees.  The clouds roiled overhead in the turquoise dome, and far above them a falcon screamed, high and distant and lonely.  Taruku snorted and pawed at the ground; his huge feathered hooves dug up a great black furrow in the rich earth; Piukka, not to be outdone, let out a low bellow and tossed his great black head.  Legolas patted his horse's neck again, but absently.

"Meivel," he said at last; "go you to the end of the file, and instruct Himbaláth that the next courier attempting to overtake us shall be obstructed, and sent back to the last post-house, to inform the master there that the way is no longer secure, and further couriers ought to be arrested for their own safety." He looked seriously at his captain; his face was grave, and there was no sparkle of mirth in his gray eyes.  "Someone is waylaying the King's post."  Meivel regarded his lord with a piercing look, then soberly nodded and cantered to the end of the van.  Legolas urged Piukka into a trot, and Karakse eagerly complied, drawing close to his sire, his head proudly lifted; his black and white mane flowed from his great thick neck, and Fastred could see the muscles bunching and stretching beneath the glossy hair.  Piukka beside him was as of ebony, shining and dark and heavy, two hands his colt's height and though older equally as hale, and tried in battle; his brown eyes rolled and his black ears twitched, alert to any sound.  Fastred watched his rider; Legolas sat straight upon the black steed's bare back; his dark green tunic rippled in the stiff breeze and his flaxen hair floated back from his face, twining and flickering gold in the sunlight.  His expression was sober, and his eyes preoccupied, and now and again he worried with his teeth at his lower lip, as though deep in thought.  After a moment Fastred said tentatively:

"Lord Lassah – why are there no couriers coming down the Great West Road? And why do you want to stop any going to my uncle?"

Legolas looked down at him; his mouth twitched.  "Well," he said, "why do you think, my Fastred?"

Fastred applied himself to the question, digging round in his memory for some concept of equal gravity; all that came to mind was a rather disagreeable incident involving the sewers in Osgiliath, and his father's engineers' solution, unorthodox but efficacious. He asked slowly:  "Is it because the post is stopped up on the west end, and no letters are coming out of Rohan?"  When Legolas smiled encouragingly he added, "And you are stopping more couriers because you do not wish for whoever is apprehending the couriers to get any more letters, and you do not want the King's messengers to come to any harm."

"You will make a good king," said Legolas with satisfaction, and Fastred blushed.

Himbaláth turned four couriers back in the next two days.  They argued at first with him, but between Meivel's harsh words, and Legolas' undeniable authority, they relented and returned to their last posts, promising to pass the word along that all communication had stopped out of Rohan.  "Mark you well, though, O Green Knight and Rohan's champion," said one courier ere he left, calling back over his shoulder; "Gondor will not sanction such arbitrary action; the Steward in the King's absence will send soldiers forthwith."

"Tell Faramir to have patience," said Legolas offhandedly.  "There is no call to start a war with our closest neighbors and allies."  When the courier hesitated Legolas added with a laugh:  "Wish you to raise the ire of the Princess of Ithilien?  You are brave indeed, Post-Rider!"

The man flushed and said sullenly:  "I have never turned back from a task before; I am unused to failure."

"You live, and you bear tidings with you," Himbaláth pointed out cheerfully.  "That sounds not like failure to me. But then I am an Elf; perchance my standards are higher."  Thus consoled the courier turned back, but he did not appear sanguine about it.

They crossed the Mering Stream the fifth day out of Amon Din, their horses splashing noisily across the rocky ford.  The sunlight slanted through the dark trees, rough pines with spindly branches and low fragrant firs thick with glossy green needles.  The floor of the wood was carpeted in warm brown needles and their fragrance drifted up in the heavy moist air, pungent and spicy, and mingled with the scent of cold dirt and wet stone.  Hirilcúllas' palfrey Alfirin stirred up a handful of quail and they burst trilling from their hiding place in the thicket.  Andunië made an impatient noise behind them, and Legolas turned, his face split by a jolly smile.

"Fear not, O my huntsmistress!" he said cheerfully, laughing.  "You shall have your raptors in hand soon enough."

"It is the waste," grumbled Andunië; "all those good quail going free.  They were nice and fat too."

Hirilcúllas laughed, a musical sound, and several other Elves called out to Andunië, teasing her; Bandobras shook his head and said:  "O it is no use, Andunië; these fellows think of naught but the ride, and not of the meal at the end of it."

The Elves laughed at this, but Fastred thought to himself: "It is not the meal Andunië thinks of; it is the sight of the raptor stooping: That is what she misses."  And he thought of his goshawk then, and knew a portion of the sense of loss she felt.

They climbed up out of the stream bed and up the hill; the sun was westering and they were cloaked in blue shadow, though the sky overhead was brilliant and cloudless.  A strong wind blew from behind them, throwing their hair about their faces, and casting their cloaks about their hands.  The horses' hooves slipped on the steep wet slope, and all round them the Elves murmured their encouragement; one of them started to sing, a gay and lighthearted tune designed to cheer any who heard.  To Fastred's left one of the scouts, Romastáldë, laughed and began to sing along; behind him Tathársul took up the counterpoint and their voices twined together, soaring over the whistle of the wind, echoing round the rocks that hemmed them in and rising up over the shadows into the sunshine.  The top of the hill was just ahead, bathed in sunshine; it was so bright after the dim shadowy rocky hill that it made Fastred squint and turn his head.  Just as Meivel urged Taruku into the sunlight Fastred heard again the sound of a falcon calling out, far above them.

Everything seemed to happen at once.  Legolas and Andunië both cried out; Legolas shouted:  "Down!  Back!  Ware, Meivel!" and Andunië cried:  "Meivel! Come back, come back!"  Then Karakse shied, his eyes rolling; he leapt sideways and knocked against Romastáldë's steed; there was a whistle and thunk, and Himbaláth's horse went down with a squeal, thrashing; a black-feathered arrow protruded from its foreleg.  Himbaláth leapt from his destrier's back as it fell, and rolled to his feet with his halberd at ready; more whistles, and to Fastred's surprise Romastáldë raised his shield over Fastred's face so that he could see naught but the Elf's arm in its straps.  The arm shuddered and bucked as two loud thunks battered it, and Fastred heard Meivel give a terrible cry just as the sound of many men shouting filled the rocky valley.

Legolas gave a great shout, and ten Elves galloped behind him to the top of the hill, arrows strung and swords flashing. Fastred could see Meivel surrounded by men on horseback; his sword was drawn, and he was cursing, striking right and left with violent fury.  Bandobras pulled his pony up close to Fastred and drew his small sword; his face was grim.  "Ambushed!" he spat, as though he were disgusted; then the men charging down the hill clashed upon Legolas and his party, and things became very confusing.  Fastred saw Legolas swinging a halberd, striking one of the men; his opponent fell heavily, and the horse bolted; arrows whistled in all directions, from the men poised upon the ridge, and from Hirilcúllas and several other Elves arranged beside him; Andunië raised her hands above her head, and to Fastred's surprise began to sing, though just as he started to listen he heard Bandobras say:

"Draw your sword, you little fool!  Do you want them to kill you?"

Fastred was very frightened, but he drew his sword and held with his other hand to Karakse's saddle horn; his horse was snorting and shying, unused to the clamor of battle.  An arrow skidded off Romastáldë's escutcheon, held before the young prince, and Fastred could see Himbaláth standing before his writhing horse, raising aloft his halberd as the second wave of men came upon them.  The Elf looked very small and vulnerable standing there as the horses charged; his brilliant hair was dimmed in the shadows, and he stood alone.  However Andunië's song seemed to have had an unsettling effect upon their opponents, for their enemies' steeds were balking and slowing despite the riders' commands; it was an odd song, and made Karakse's ears twitch; Fastred could not tell but it seemed to him it told of rebellion and oppression and the desire to rid oneself of a heavy burden.  The man at the head of the charge slapped his reluctant horse's flank with the flat of his sword, and terrified it surged forward upon Himbaláth and within reach of his great halberd.  Fastred could see the muscles in the Elf's shoulders surge as he swung the mighty weapon.  With the curved edge the Elf hooked the horse beneath its jowl, slitting its throat and casting it to one side; as the dead horse fell its weight threw the man at Himbaláth, who on his backswing caught his enemy also at the throat, beheading him with a clean sweep so that the man's head flew several yards away.

"Fore!" crowed Bandobras, and kicking his pony's flanks galloped up to the Elf's aid; Himbaláth turned back to him, startled, his pale eyes confused, then the men dismounting charged, and Fastred was suddenly required for the first time to actively defend his own life.

It was horrible, and loud, and very hot; he parried a man's first blow clumsily, looking with terror into his enemy's eyes; the man's sword battered at him, but Himbaláth's training held true.  There was a horrible minute when Fastred felt he would fall from Karakse's back, for his destrier was frightened and kept trying to shy away; then at last Fastred gave a great heave and leant forward, striking as hard as he could, and to his surprise he looked down and saw his man fall, bloody and groaning.  Karakse let out a horrible bellow, and trod on the man's head, and then the man went still.

Through the noise Fastred heard Bandobras shout again:  "Don't kill them all, you silly Elves!  We need a few for questioning!"  Then another man came up to him, shouting, his face red with rage and blood, and Fastred ducked his first swipe and blocked the next; the man grasped him by the tunic and made to drag him from Karakse's back.  Fastred struggled, flailing with his sword; Karakse shied again, and Fastred lost his balance, falling upon the man.  Fortunately for Fastred, and quite unfortunately for his enemy, he fell sword-point-down, and to his great surprise Fastred discovered he had slain his second man.

He pushed himself off the body of the man upon his hands and knees, and looked around wildly; he saw his Lord Lassah upon the hill, wielding his halberd with terrible efficiency; the blood of his enemies ran down his legs and Piukka stood in a veritable pile of dead; he trampled and bit, slashing with hoof and tooth at the men who fain tried to kill him.  All round Legolas were Elves fighting, striking down the men who had attacked them.  Then he saw the men crying aloud with fright, and calling to retreat; they tried to scramble up the hill but the loose wet shingle impeded them, and the implacable Elves picked them off one by one.  As they fought to escape Legolas cried:  "Capture them!  Hold them back!"  And Romastáldë, Tathársul, and several others galloped off in pursuit.  Legolas glared round, his bloody halberd at the ready and his grey eyes flashing; he looked quite dangerous then, and Fastred was very glad he and Lord Lassah were on the same side.  Lassah dismounted and strode through the wreckage of bodies to him, and Fastred rose to his feet; he was surprised to find his knees were weak, and he was trembling; his stomach felt sick.

"Fastred!  Are you injured, Little One?" asked Legolas, dropping to one knee and subjecting Fastred to such an examination as he had thus far experienced only at the hands of his nurse, after falling from a tree upon his head and knocking himself unconscious; Legolas peered into his eyes, and felt round his head for lumps, and poked and prodded him to see if he had broken anything.  Fastred looked down at his tunic; it was splashed with blood, and the scent of it filled his nostrils.  He wanted to tell Lord Lassah that he was well, and that the men had not harmed him, but then his eyes fell on the face of the man Karakse had trod upon, and he turned away and became violently ill.

Through his mortification he heard Bandobras clucking his tongue and offering to make some tea if someone would be so good as to get a fire going; Lassah answered with dry humor:  "My Bandobras, do you be so good as to allow poor Fastred to empty his stomach first, ere you attempt to refill it."  There was some muted laughter at this from the Elves standing round, but then Fastred felt a woman's arm go round his shoulder.  He was sure at first it was Hirilcúllas, but to his surprise he heard Andunië's voice instead, close to his ear.

"Let him be, and get this mess up rather than tease him so.  He has had two men and deserves praise not taunting."

"My pardon, O Huntsmistress!" said Lassah, and Fastred looked up; Legolas was bowing politely to Andunië, in whose eyes burned hot indignation.  "You are right of course; I humbly ask your forgiveness, O my Fastred."

"That is well, Lord Lassah," said Fastred shakily; "I ought not to have gotten sick."

"Well, why should you not?" asked Himbaláth coming up to them; he too was spattered with gore, but seemed not a whit bothered by it; his horse limped disconsolately behind him.  "It is many years hence but I too reacted that selfsame way, when I slew my first orc."

"Ah, so you did!" said Lirlindil beside him cleaning his sword.  "I felt none too hungry after my first battle as well.  'Tis a natural reaction, Lord Fastred, and naught for which to feel shame.  Look!  Two men and by your own hand, and woundless beside; that is quite good for your first time."

"Aye; I am quite proud of you, Lord Fastred," said Himbaláth smiling.  "My training held in good stead, did it not, my Lord?"  He looked down at his prince, who knelt still upon the bloodied earth with Bandobras his esquire beside him.

"Yes; two men and no injuries; he may vomit all he likes," said Legolas with a grin.  "Andunië, O Little One, have you no sympathy left to spare your poor brother?  For he languishes upon the hill above us, and has no one but Taruku to fawn over him, and as we both know Taruku is a fine steed but not very compassionate."

"He is injured?" said Andunië sharply, rising; Legolas stood too and they both turned toward the hill.  Many men lay there dead, and their horses milled about nervously; the Elves were there, gleaning arrows and turning the dead men over, and at the top of the hill stood the huge form of Taruku, proud against the brilliant sky, but riderless.  Andunië broke away from her lord then and ran up the hill, and Himbaláth followed her.  Legolas held his hand out to Fastred and Fastred took it, letting Legolas pull him to his feet; he was still trembling but felt a little better knowing Himbaláth had vomited too.

"Is Meivel all right?" he asked.

"He has broken his arm, and sustained sundry cuts and bruises," said Legolas.  "It is naught but surface wounds however; he is more angry than hurt; he is not used to being ambushed and considers it a personal affront.  Do not forget to clean your sword, O Little One; it would not do to draw it before your uncle dirty and rusted."

Fastred looked down at his sword, still clutched in one hand, and wished he hadn't.  "Why did those Dunlendings attack us, Lord Lassah?" 

"Ah!"  Legolas went to one of the men Fastred had slain; he turned the body over with his foot and squatted beside it, fingering the clothing, which was rough and dirty.  "Why indeed," he murmured, and tearing a scrap of the man's tattered cloak he handed it to Fastred to clean his sword.  "How quickly the thoughts turn to Dunlendings, when travelers are waylaid upon the Great West Road!  And why should they not?  Tattered and dirty clothes; mindless violence – is that not how all think of them?  The unhappy Dunlendings have ever been a thorn in the side of the Mark; time out of mind has Éomer desired to rid himself of their presence once and for all, but compassion forestalled him.  But to have them attack his own heir, and a party of nobles and warriors from a neighboring land – that would spark his ire, would it not, Little One?  Éomer might perchance have desired to attack in turn and avenge our deaths.  Happily however we proved the fiercer warriors – though they attacked downhill and outnumbered us we fought well and fiercely and turned them back.  What was it, I wonder, that prompted them to spring their trap?  They had but Meivel within their clutches; had they only waited they could have inflicted far more damage."  Legolas pondered this a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line; Fastred cleaned his sword and Bandobras watched his master silently.  Legolas turned over the fastenings of the dead man's tunic, untied them, and slipped the hood from the battered head; it was dark with blood.  "Dressed as Dunlendings they most certainly may be," said Legolas, "but Dunlendings are dark, O Fastred; this man is fair – fair enough to be your uncle's own son.  Look at him!"

Fastred glanced at the dead man's face and looked quickly away.  Bandobras however leant over the body, twisting his face into a thoughtful scowl.  "Sure enough, Master; you've hit the target whang in the middle," he said.  "Dunlendings I've seen, but this man's of the Mark or I'm a donkey."  He nudged the body with his toe and said doubtfully, "If these men are Rohirrim, and they're dressed as Dunlendings, well, then …"

"Then we were meant to think we were attacked by Dunlendings," supplied Fastred, suddenly understanding.  "And then someone would tell mine uncle, and he would think – "

"He'd say," said Bandobras excitedly, " 'Why, here's them dratted Dunlendings at it again; they've killed my nephew and my friend Legolas and by thunder that's going too far.'  And he'd round up all the men in the Mark and plough 'em down.  That's what he'd do, Fastred, true's you live, and if I'm wrong I'll pay you a penny."

"And if the Dunlendings all were slain the lands above the Onodló should be cleared," said Legolas, frowning; "then would the pathway be open to bribe Aldamir with land … "  He looked down at his two charges; Fastred was puzzled, but Bandobras' face lit up with understanding.

"That's it, Master!" he exclaimed.  "Though," he added, his face darkening, "we still don't know if 'twas Théalof or Bréawine did it – both have a stake in getting Aldamir and you out of their hair."

"Indeed," said Legolas with a smile.  "And whichever of those men plotted this attack, had it succeeded he should have had double the victory – Éomer's vengeance upon the Dunlendings, and me removed from causing any further difficulty."

"If it were Théalof he should have had triple, not double, the victory," said Hirilcúllas coming over; she had refilled her quiver and collected about her three trembling horses that had belonged to their enemies.  They stood at her shoulder rolling their eyes, shifting uncomfortably upon the bloodied ground, and though she had bit nor bridle they shadowed her as though she were their sole protection.  "After all he has threatened Fastred already; with the heir's death he should have no need to abduct him."

"True," said Legolas rising.  He spoke softly to the horses clustered at Hirilcúllas' shoulder; hesitating they snuffled at his hand.  "Ah, poor friends!" he murmured to them; one hearing his soft voice nuzzled his breast, and he stroked the horse's nose.  "Noble are the steeds of the Rohirrim, and rarely used for such perfidy; have no fear, O children of Rohan; we shall turn your purposes to good once more!"  The other two horses crowded round him, one lipping at his pale hair, another nibbling at the buttons of his tunic.  "Hush, hush!" he chuckled, pushing the horse's mouth away.  "These are buttons not sugar-lumps."  He turned to Hirilcúllas, who was absent-mindedly untangling their long manes.  "Are any others hurt?"

"Horses, or Elves, my Lord?" she asked pertly.  Legolas attempted to frown and failed.

"Elves, of course, Little One."

"I know not; let me hobble these three and I shall ascertain."

"Do so."

The blue shadows of the hill deepened as the hours passed; the Elves stripped the spurious Dunlendings of armor and weapon and trinket to perchance identify them at Edoras, and dragged the bodies deep into the wood, digging a pit and casting them in, and covering them with dirt and rocks.  Fastred though a prince was not exempt from this distressing labor, and found to his surprise that searching the broken and bloodied bodies became easier the more often he did it; he was not so certain he approved of this adjustment.  While he was in the woods with the main body of Elves he heard hoofbeats; at first he was fearful, but then Malinadulin raised his head, listened, and said:

"It is Tathársul – he has returned."  He turned to Fastred and said, "Go you to our lord and see what they have brought with them; this is hot work and you are young yet."

Thankful to leave his distasteful task behind him Fastred ran through the cool woods to the clearing by the stream.  There he saw Lord Lassah standing by Bandobras and Meivel, whose arm was in a sling, and upon whose face was an expression of great affront; Himbaláth and several others waited near, watching as Tathársul and Romastáldë dismounted.  With their great destriers were other smaller horses, saddled and bridled but riderless; they were streaked with sweat and foam and trembling with fear.  Hirilcúllas and Andunië moved among them, removing their tack and speaking to them softly.

"They would not surrender, my Lord," Tathársul was saying to Legolas.  "We did ride them down, and Romastáldë and Kainendulin sent arrows over their heads in an effort to turn their horses; when we called unto their steeds the horses halted, though the men in their fear and fury did beat them; we came upon the men then, and in place of fighting or yielding they fell upon their swords, and did die."

"There; what did I tell you?" said Bandobras to Lassah; he looked irritated.  "I told you not to kill them all; I told you to leave some for questioning, but as usual no one listens to me."

"Did you not, O Bandobras, kill two men yourself?" asked Lassah mildly.  "I do not recall your granting clemency to either of them, nor ere slaying them inquiring of them whence they came, and who was their master."

"Well, I could scarcely let old Himbaláth here get it in the backside, now, could I?" demanded Bandobras huffily.  "And that second fellow would not let me be.  Frankly I thought it'd be better to get him out of the way – unintelligent looking anyway; not sure he would've been much help to us, even if he'd been inclined to talk, which really I don't think he would've been – not that it matters now, seeing as he's dead, but still."

They gathered up the surviving horses, and under Andunië's direction removed their saddles and bridles and tethered them near the stream.  "We will bring them to Éomer," declared Legolas, surveying the line; the steeds were fine and hale but showed signs of recent hard usage.  "Naught but a month in good pasture wouldn't cure," Bandobras said with satisfaction, and it seemed to Fastred the horses agreed; they drank from the Mering thirstily, and tore at the sparse grass upon the bank.  Himbaláth's horse had been shot in the foreleg and limped badly.  After conferring with Andunië he chose from the captured steeds a sturdy gray to bear him.  "I would not so misuse my Moina, riding him while he is hurt," he said, stroking his large chestnut destrier upon the nose as Andunië brought the new horse up to make acquaintance.  "I shall name you Utuë," he said to the gray; "for you were lost but I have found you."

They camped by the stream, building for themselves a large fire to warm and comfort those who had sustained injuries in the battle.  Fortunately these were few, and the injuries not great; only Meivel and one of his subordinates, Belegtilion, were incapacitated, and even then they were able to sit and eat with their companions.  Fastred was surprised to find in himself a great hunger and he ate ravenously despite the day's deeds; Bandobras but laughed and told him it was his stomach's response to how vigorously he'd emptied it before.  After the bread and bacon had been consumed, and all were sitting round the fire warm and full and content, Himbaláth turned to his lord's esquire and said, his fair face puzzled:  "What did you mean, O Bandobras, by shouting that word 'fore' to me, when I had slain that first man?"

"O!" laughed Bandobras, leaning back on his hands and smiling into the fire.  "That is nothing but a game we play in the Shire."  He grinned at Himbaláth, who still looked perplexed, and added, "Your form was perfect, by the way."

"Well," said Himbaláth slowly, "should I sojourn to your lands perchance you might show me this game, since I show some proclivity for it."

"I'll do that," promised the Hobbit.

 "What did you do, Bandy, when you had your first man?" Fastred asked later, as they set out their blankets beneath the trees, and the Elves set up a perimeter watch.  If slaying a man in such a fashion was considered to be a game in the Shire, he decided the periannath were fiercer than he had thought, and was certain Bandobras had done nothing like vomit after his first battle.  Had he been given a prize perhaps, or celebrated in some fashion?  But the Hobbit laughed and blushed.

 "Fell over and konked my head," said he with a grin; "clumsy little lout I was."

Next morning there was talk of pushing to Edoras, but after examining Moina's foreleg, and Meivel and Belegtilion's wounds, Lord Lassah shook his head and declared, "We shall wait one day more, to allow our injured to recover; I will not limp in to Edoras like a defeated battalion – that is no way to present a king's heir.  Besides which," he added with a laugh, "I should rather ride with all appearance of strength and victory; I have a reputation to maintain after all."  So all that day Fastred and Bandobras played in the stream, paddling in the shallows with their trousers rolled up, trying to catch crayfish and striders.  Several times dark, shining fish with luxurious fins flickered by, too quick to catch by hand; Bandobras exclaimed:  "Graylings! O for a hook and a pole!" and he and Fastred gazed longingly after them.

Next morning both Moina and Meivel were deemed fit to travel, though Moina limped badly and their pace was slowed, and Meivel was waspish for his lord would not let him ride point, but sent Kainendulin instead.  Himbaláth had begged for the privilege but Legolas forestalled him, saying:  "Nay, O my friend; we enter the Mark today, and as my lieutenant you shall bear the heir's standard, as you did in Amon Din."  So they rode four abreast, Legolas with his esquire and Fastred with Himbaláth beside him; the green pennants whistled and snapped in the high wind, and the grass upon the furrowed plain shimmered and danced like a pale green tide.  The clouds scurried overhead, thickening as the morning waned to afternoon, so that a roiling mass of pearly gray obscured sun and sky.  They passed over the Fenmarch into the Eastfold by evening, and camped beneath the leaden sky; it was dark, and their fire pit had to be dug deep to keep the wind from scattering sparks amongst the grass.  Fastred huddled in his blankets, cold and uncomfortable; he was tired of traveling and adventures, and missed his bed.  He stared up at the dark sky, hoping to see the stars; but all round him was obscured, and even the soft merry voices of his traveling companions were muted in the groan of the wind.  "I wish we were back in Amon Din," he thought discontentedly to himself, and with a sigh consigned himself to sleep.

Dawn was an affair of pink and scarlet and gray, heralded by a chattering group of larks quarreling amongst the grasses; the clouds had lowered and the wind stilled, and it was not so cold.  By noontime Fastred could see the peaks of the Ered Nimrais retreating from the road, and Bandobras where he rode upon his small pony said:  "Finally!  I was beginning to think we'd never get here.  But this is the beginning of the end, isn't it, Master?  For when the mountains move off to the left that means we'll be at Edoras by nightfall."

"Barring any further misfortunes, yes," said Lassah.  "See you that high peak, my Fastred?  That is Starkhorn; it broods over Meduseld as Mindolluin does over Minas Tirith, and as the Ephel Dúath over mine own demesne. When you are older we shall climb it; it is a harsh ascent, but can be done, though with care; it is very much worth it, for from its heights one can see from Edoras to Helm's Deep, and north through the Westemnet towards Fangorn."

"Look, my Lord!" said Himbaláth from beside Fastred.  "Here is Kainendulin; I wonder what he has found?"

The scout was galloping back, his destrier's thick legs veiled in grass; the Elf's bow was out.  "Men coming, my Lord!" he said as he approached; "they did not see me, for we were in a fold of the earth, but they are scarce two leagues off – fifty men, of Rohan; heavily armed, and riding of purpose toward us."

Fastred was afraid, but Lord Lassah did not seem overly concerned.  "Fly they the flag of Éomer King?" he asked.

"They do, my Lord," said Kainendulin; "the selfsame flag as Lord Fastred's, and from a shining spear."

Legolas glanced back at Meivel, who stewed fretfully with his arm in a sling, and Belegtilion with his bandaged head, and said, "Well we cannot outrun them, so we must needs meet them as they come.  Himbaláth!  Go you to the middle of the file with Lord Fastred, and place him betwixt you and Romastáldë.  Should these men prove treacherous it were prudent to protect him as best we may.  And tell all to have arrow to string, and loosen their swords."  As Himbaláth and Fastred turned their steeds Legolas said:  "Meivel!  Come you up here beside me – you too Fionim; you are grim-looking enough to bolster me adequately I deem.  Steady the standard, O my Bandobras!  And be you sure to hold your tongue if you can; it is possible these men know naught of the attack upon the Mering."

"I'll try, Master," piped Bandobras; "it's not so hard for me to be quiet as when I was young – guess I'm getting used to holding my tongue, like."

They rode forward not speaking nor singing; the only sounds round them were the whistle of the breeze in the grasses, and the crunch of their horses' hooves.  They rose up out of a fold in the earth and Fastred, peering round the heads of the Elves in front of him, could see approaching a group of men on horseback, cantering toward them; he could not make out the design on the pennant that flew from the standard-bearer but descried the glint of green beneath the spearhead.  "I am in Rohan now," he thought, his chest tight; "good or ill I must think and speak as my mother's people."  The men rode in formation, and swiftly; when they saw Legolas and his party they cried aloud and spread out in a great half-circle, and several drew their swords.  But Legolas rode forward confidently, with Bandobras bearing his standard; by his side were Meivel and Fionim.  Meivel had bound his escutcheon upon his broken arm, and held his sword, and Fionim had fitted an arrow to his string.  The men slowed then stopped; there seemed to be some hurried discussion, then four horsemen broke away from the formation and came forward to meet Legolas.

"Well-met, men of Rohan!" cried Legolas.  "I bring you greetings from Dol Galenehtar in Ithilien to Éomer King of the Mark."

"Your name and purpose, if you please, O Elf!" said the foremost man imperiously, lowering his spear so that it pointed to Legolas' chest.  "And tell your bodyguard to put down his bow."

"See you not the image upon my standard?" asked Legolas in mild surprise.  "Think you any but the Green Knight durst ride beneath this ensign?  Or are there so many Elf-lords about you must needs interrogate each one ere he passes through the gates of Edoras?"

"Easy it is to claim lordship when one's face is as strange as yours," retorted the man.  "Yet were you indeed the Green Knight of Dol Galenehtar your men should not threaten us so."  He gestured with his spear to Fionim, who scowled at him.

"O Fionim is harmless … mostly," said Legolas shrugging.  "With but one arrow fitted to his string he shall kill but one of you ere you charge.  It is the twelve other archers behind him whom you should fear."

The line of men bristled visibly at that, and their captain urged his horse forward despite Fionim's bow.  "If you are truly Legolas of Dol Galenehtar why do you ride thus?" he asked suspiciously.  "Armed and in file as though to battle, with bows strung and swords unsheathed?  What quarrel have you with the Mark?"

"None whatsoever!" said Legolas.  "What quarrel have you with Dol Galenehtar, or with the Green Knight's business?"

"These are troubled times in the Eastfold," growled the man; "the Dunlendings are restless; our men and horses go missing, and villages are burned.  We have had no word of Dol Galenehtar or of Ithilien or even from Southern Gondor – no letters or missives coming from the East have arrived at Edoras, and some say that our allies has turned against us.  Also there are rumors – " he hesitated then and his eyes were troubled; he lowered his voice.  "Strange beings walk about the edges of our lands; they lurk in the darkness with evil intent, and it is said they eat the dead from the ruined settlements."

"Indeed?" said Legolas; his eyes were wary.  "Grim as your words sound to me, that is no concern of mine at the moment; my path took me through Anórien, and toward Meduseld alone.  Will you let me pass, or no?  We go to Edoras yea or nay; you may ride with us if you like."

"If we like?" sneered the man next to the captain.  "O we shall ride with you, Elf; stay this impertinent manner before my Marshall, or you shall make your entrance into the Golden Hall in chains.  You show great effrontery by traveling through the Mark with such belligerence about you."  He looked round at the Green Knight's party, his eyes narrowed.  "And do not think we cannot recognize our own steeds!  These are horses of our own lands; they are nothing like the farm-nags you ride."

"That is so," said the captain.  "Whence came those horses which trail along behind you?  Stolen no doubt; and I am certain their riders you have slain yourself."

"I should rethink that accusation were I you," said Meivel softly, urging Taruku forward so that he and his lord stood together.  "These beasts are the spoils of battle – battle with Rohirrim such as yourself, who waylaid us at Mering." 

"You lie," said the captain angrily; "no man of the Mark would assail a traveling party."

"Yet we were assailed," said Legolas, giving Meivel a warning glance.  "Come!  There is no need to quarrel; we are all allies here.  I go to Meduseld; will you ride with me?"

"You go nowhere until we are satisfied," said the captain grimly; he gestured and the rest of his men came up behind him, spears lowered and swords drawn.  "Tell us where you got those horses!"

"We did tell you!" exclaimed Bandobras, exasperated past obedience to his Master's interdiction.  "Don't you see we have injured in our party?  Goodness gracious; the hospitality of the Mark's not what it used to be, and that's the truth.  First we're attacked, and then threatened; all we're trying to do is get to King Éomer, for goodness' sake!"

"I will not let so large an armed party travel at will through the Eastfold," said the captain stubbornly.  "Give up your weapons and we will escort you there."

"Give up our weapons!"  Meivel gave a short bark of laughter.  "After your brethren attempted to cut us down?  Nay; we are the injured party; you give unto my lord your weapons, and we shall travel at peace."

"And who are you, who makes such grand accusations, and perverse demands?" said the captain.  "Throw down your weapons, all of you Elves; we are prepared to do battle, and I do not think you shall be so successful against us as against our brethren whom you slaughtered upon the Mering."

Fastred who had been listening with increased agitation to this exchange turned to Himbaláth, upon whose fair face, of habit so merry, was an expression of angry gravity.  "Come," he whispered to the Elf, and urged Karakse forward; Himbaláth upon Utuë followed, raising Fastred's banner high over his head.  Gathering his courage about himself, the boy pushed past Romastáldë and Belegtilion and rode up to where Legolas sat upon his black destrier, facing the stubborn captain of the Mark.  Fastred looked hard at that captain; as things stood this man would one day be his subordinate and those in the éored his own men, and to cower in the midst of warriors was no place for a future king.  His heart was in his mouth and his head felt very light, but he knew he must speak out or admit defeat ere he joined in battle.  He drew up between Legolas and Meivel; he could see from the corner of his eye Legolas watching him, but his own eyes were fixed upon the Rohirrim, who stared at him with suspicion.

"Desist!" said Fastred loudly; he was very thankful his voice had not cracked or wobbled; he knew he needed to sound as though he spoke with authority and confidence, despite the fact he was trembling head to foot, and clutched at Karakse's reins so tightly his fingers were numb.  The captain and his standard-bearer gazed at him with wonder and anger commingled, and Fastred remembering his mother's ferocity stared back, lifting his chin as she was wont, and scowling.  But his next words were worthy more of his Lord Father's diplomacy than his mother's, for he spoke gently yet firmly, bearing in mind these men were of his own moreso than the Elves, though far less dear.  "I commend you, good Marshall, for your vigilance and care, yet do assure you in this instance it is excessive; this is indeed Legolas Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, called by our people the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, and friend and advisor to your king.  He journeys in this land far from his own demesne on matters of state, and he and his people have shown themselves worthy of your honor and vilification, not suspicion."

"And who are you, little master?" demanded the captain lowering his sword and staring hard at Fastred.  "A youngling you are yet you speak as a lord.  Upon whose authority do you demand our compliance?"

"Upon mine own and that of my mother-brother's," said Fastred firmly.  "Lower your weapons, men of the Mark!  For I am your prince and your sovereign's chosen heir, and I come to reign in Meduseld succored by the strength of Elves and in their protection."

The men lowered their swords and spears, staring at him in amazement, but the captain still looked doubtful.  "And how do we know, O Heir of Meduseld," he asked, "that you speak the truth, and that these Elves have come upon our horses honestly?"

"You know for I myself have said so," said Fastred growing angry.  "Are you blind, Marshall of the Mark?  Have you not eyes to see?  Or do you choose to disregard the standard beneath which I ride?  I am Fastred son of Faramir and I shall be your king.  So sheathe your swords; set your spears; quiver your arrows!  Part your company and we shall ride on; you may ride your patrol as you will, but the Heir of Meduseld has an appointment to keep with his mother-brother, and the chary skepticism of a minor captain will avail nothing to keep him from his duty and privilege."

"Well said!" murmured Legolas under his breath; Fastred glanced up at him and saw his face was grave, but there was a twinkle in his gray eyes that belied that gravity.  "At first I heard you speak as your Lord Father; but there was in that last speech more of your dear mother's fire."  Fastred flushed but held his ground; the captain was looking at him with dawning comprehension, at last lowering his gaze and saying:

"Put your weapons away!"

There was the sound of swords being returned to their sheaths, and arrows slipping into their quivers; Legolas nodded to Meivel, whose face was dark with wrath; but Meivel turned as well and spoke to his Elves in his own tongue to do likewise, and they did, though Fionim had the selfsame look about him as had Andunië before, when she watched the quail fly away.  Legolas turned to Fastred with a smile and said:

"How proud of you I am, Little One!  And how proud your Lord Father and Lady Mother would be!  Now come and make acquaintance proper of this captain; he is your man, and good relations 'twixt you two shall be essential."

So Fastred and Legolas rode forward, closing the gap between them and the men; the captain hesitated, looking uncertain; then he dismounted and bowed.

"Your Highness," he said, his eyes on the earth.  "I am Arúlf son of Brégund, a Marshall of Riddermark and your servant."

"Well-met, Arúlf son of Brégund," said Fastred carefully.  "I am pleased to meet with so valiant a warrior and I trust in future we shall be instead on the same side of the line, and not facing."

Arúlf did not seem to know what to make of this; he was staring round at the Elves who surrounded his prince, and looked very disapproving.  "We will see you safe to Edoras," he said; "I am certain Éomer King and his queen Lothíriel shall be gratified to hear of your arrival."

"An it please you, remount, son of Brégund," said Fastred, feeling very embarrassed and attempting to hide it.  "I do not like to see a man of the Mark off his horse; it is unnatural."  The captain looked at him in surprise, but smiled a little; he swung back up on his horse, and stared hard at the boy.

"My apologies," he said slowly.  "I did not know – no one knew you were coming so early."

"Culpability is colored with intent," said Legolas with a smile.  "You guard your king's lands well, O captain."

The Marshall looked at him with grudging respect.  "And you guard our king's heir well, O Green Knight."  He glanced distrustfully at Himbaláth then, who sat behind Fastred, holding aloft the banner of Rohan.  "But there is no need for such guard now; we are here and provide all the escort our prince will require.  I will get you a proper standard-bearer, your Highness," he said to Fastred, turning away from the Elf; "the ensign of the Mark ought rather to be borne by a man of the Mark; it is unseemly to have that fellow there to bear it, for he is not of our land; he is not even a man."

Meivel's face darkened again, and Himbaláth looked hurt; Fastred fought back a stab of anger, remembering Himbaláth's good humor and bravery, and attempted to mirror the dignity he had seen his own parents exude.  "That will be unnecessary, Arúlf Marshall of the Mark," he said, making his voice as cold as possible.  "Himbaláth is a mighty warrior and my good friend, and the ensign of my house is elevated not only by his hands but also by his proximity."  Then because he could not decide what to say should this decision be challenged, and because he was uncomfortable with the captain staring at him thus, he touched Karakse's side with his heels and they moved forward into the midst of the éored. The men parted before him as he rode, with Himbaláth by his side; Fastred did not dare look at the Elf, for either he would be offended by Fastred's insistence upon keeping him as standard-bearer, or immeasurably amused, which would be worse.  He heard all round him the men muttering, though he did not look at them but kept his head high; had he looked he would have seen them bow their heads to him as he passed.  He could hear Legolas behind him, speaking to the captain and to Meivel, and after he had passed through the éored knew Lord Lassah and his people were following, and the éored turned as well, and flanked them as they rode.  His heart still beat unnaturally fast, and he was finding it hard to breathe; he had to keep reminding himself to exhale.  After some time he heard Himbaláth give a ghostly chuckle and whisper:

"And do I, O Fastred son of Faramir, elevate your standard high enough?"

Fastred glanced quickly at Himbaláth, who looked upon the verge of laughter; he swallowed hard and said: "O do not tease me, Himbaláth; I was so frightened and angry!"

"But you showed it not," smiled the Elf; "you are your mother's son, of a certainty!"  They fell silent then, for several men were riding close; Himbaláth watched them carefully, for they were far ahead of the rest of their own party.  When one of the men drew up alongside them Himbaláth said to him: 

"Look!  I ride upon one of your own steeds; do you perceive it?  Mine own was injured in the skirmish at Mering so I took for myself one of these.  He is a beautiful horse is he not?  I quite like him; his action is loose and springy, and he is so agreeable.  Yours is the same I deem; I have never seen such well-set forelegs, and his coat is so glossy!  Is it true, O Man of Rohan, that the horses of this land may trace their ancestry back to Felaróf himself?"

He spoke such with the man for some time, cheerful and undeterred by the man's uncertainty; Fastred listened fascinated as Himbaláth at last beat down the man's defenses, though with smile and laughter not with halberd; and they and sundry other men spoke of horses, and swords, and whetstones, and oats, whilst he quieted his thundering heart and slowed his breathing.  After a while Lord Lassah and his party surrounded them once more, though Legolas was careful to keep Fastred at the head of the file; he did not speak to Fastred as they rode, but whenever Fastred glanced back at him Legolas was smiling, and upon his fair face was an expression of proud satisfaction.

They did as Bandobras had promised arrive at Edoras by sunset.  The wind picked up as the evening wound down and blew the clouds away; the sun westering in the roiling sky gleamed red-orange like a hot fire, settled upon her foamy blue coal-bed; the cedars flanking the meandering stream beside the road reached up to brush at the sky like great inverted brooms, sweeping at the clouds and casting them all aside.  The willow branches swung and waved, thick and green, over the winding watercourse, and the dark water chuckled and splashed, swollen to the tops of its banks by the summer flow.

They passed through the hedge and over the dyke and so on to the city.  There were soldiers at the gates, clad in bright mail and armed with sword and spear; several carts trundled in and out, filled with the bounty of the fields, and the common folk looked with surprise at the Elves in the midst of the éored.  Arúlf led them to the guard house, and a man in a green tunic came out and stared at them.

"What is this, Arúlf?" he asked in his own tongue; Fastred had need to think hard to catch the words, for he was unused to his mother's language.

"This is Éomer King's friend and ally the Green Knight," replied Arúlf; "with him he brings our new prince."

"Ah!"  The porter turned to Fastred and bowed low.  "Westu Fastred hál!" And turning to Legolas he said: "Welcome, O Green Knight!  We thank you for your kindness in bringing our heir safely to the gates of our city."  He turned to a boy sitting by the guard house and said:  "Hirdáf!  Run through the streets of Edoras; cry abroad the news that our heir is come to Éomer King."  The boy after a keen glance at Fastred nodded and ran out; they could hear him calling:  "The heir of Meduseld is here!  Come, all you people; come out to greet Fastred Prince of the Mark!"  And the porter waved them through the gates.

As they rode up the rocky track to the top of the hill they passed many stout wooden houses, with windows lit by lamp and fire; people came out of them to watch as they went by.  Fastred had never noticed the common folk of Edoras before, and found himself surprised to see them much the same as those of Ithilien and Osgiliath; the housewives wore homespun and aprons, and stood upon their doorsteps wiping work-hardened hands upon dishcloths; the children shouted and ran on their dirty bare feet beside the horses, and the menfolk stood about in heavy tunics, some with farm implements, others with weapons, some with their steeds, standing proudly by as they passed.  The Elves were hailed as benefactors and given high praise, for the people knew Lord Legolas to be a friend of their king, and remembered well his generosity during want in the past; Fastred however was stared at, and people spoke behind their hands as he rode by, looking sidelong at him.  He knew his face was scarlet, but he held his head high, hoping they were speaking of him and not of Karakse or Himbaláth.  The thought that his new subjects would think poorly of his choice of steed or standard-bearer sat ill upon his heart, and he desired to prove their opinions mattered little to him.

It had been some years ere Fastred had sojourned in Rohan, and he could hardly remember the road from the gates to Meduseld; it seemed though to be taking much longer than his memory served, and it was with great relief Fastred saw the gold-thatched roof of his uncle's home.  "My mother-brother's," he corrected himself once more; he would have to be careful now to speak as the Rohirrim did, so he would not stand out overmuch.  "I stand out enough, even with the difference in tongue and expression," he thought ruefully, looking at a couple of boys his own age pass by; they were tall and fair, with blue eyes, and looked very self-assured.  Fastred wondered if he would make any friends like unto Halgond, and wished he could have brought the boy with him.  "But Halgond would cause trouble here," he thought, smothering a smile; "he would insult the Rohirrim boys, and tease them, and make fun of their horses and their city; perhaps it is as well he is home."  He imagined what it was like in Osgiliath just then, and thought longingly of the cool blue shadows upon the white walls, the warm glow of the setting sun upon the rough stone, and the wide belt of silver as the river flowed round his city, cloven in two by the high white crown of the jewel of Ithilien, and of the tall campaniles ringing the evening hour, graceful white spikes circled about by wheeling swallows, rocking with the swing of the bells.  He thought of what his family were doing, of his Lord Father and Lady Mother sitting to table with Hísimë and Théodred, perhaps eating a haunch of venison taken by his father's own bow; he thought of Hísimë genteelly cutting her meat, back straight, chin high, lifting it to her mouth with her fork held properly, and of Théodred, growing tired of sawing at the cut with his knife and simply picking it up in his fingers to bite at it.  And he thought of how his parents would look at each other, secret sidelong glances and warm smiles, and perhaps his Lord Father would reach for his Lady Mother's hand beneath the table.  He felt a terrible pang in his breast then, and his eyes stung; he blinked rapidly, not wanting to show any weakness before those proud boys who stared at him so.

They gained the entrance of the Golden Hall, and dismounted; as they did a boy perhaps two or three years Fastred's elder ran up to where Hirilcúllas and Andunië rode together.  The two Elven women had garnered a goodly bit of attention from their escorts and were obviously much admired; Andunië had as always ignored the men about her, but Hirilcúllas had been quite friendly, smiling and laughing with the men as they strove to speak with her.  So Andunië was quite obviously not prepared for the boy's offering; he had somehow found a clump of late violets, and as she dismounted presented them to her stammering and blushing; it was the first time Fastred had ever seen Andunië look nonplussed, and he was so pleased by her perplexity he did not notice Meivel's black glare.

Standing upon the portico flanked by a full guard was Éomer, King of Rohan.  Tall he was, broad-shouldered, proud and stalwart and straight.  He held before him the great sword of the Kings of the Mark, that his own uncle had borne; it was bejeweled and ancient, point-down upon the pavers, and he leant upon its huge hilt; the pommel just reached his chin.  Beside him, the crown of his head no higher than the king's gold belt, stood a beaming Dwarf, richly dressed in red and gold, with a thick gold chain around his neck, and a gleaming circlet about his brow.  Legolas descrying him gave a glad laugh, and as he ascended the steps to the portico the king stepped forward, smiling.

"Welcome, my friend!" he said, extending his hand to the Elf.  "The King of the Golden Hall welcomes his ally and counselor, the Lord of Dol Galenehtar.  Westu Legolas hál!"

"Westu Éomer hál!" Legolas replied, and the two embraced.  Then Legolas turned to the Dwarf and said in a merry voice:  "Gimli, Lord of Aglarond, Elf-friend and staunch ally!"

"Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen, and Green Knight yet, despite your dearth of armor," grinned the Dwarf, letting the Elf embrace him.  "And hello to you too, Bandobras Took!  Not causing any trouble are you?"

"Not any more so than usual," piped Bandobras cheerfully, throwing his arms about the Dwarf's neck.  "But I'm sure if I think hard enough I'll come up with something."

"I am certain you shall," grunted Gimli.  He surveyed the rest of the Elves as they ascended.  "Ho, Meivel!" he said with surprise, looking the captain up and down.  "What have you done to yourself?  Not fallen off your horse I hope!"

Several Elves laughed, but Meivel looked annoyed.  "No, Lord Gimli," he said shortly.

Éomer had laughed with the rest; he knew Meivel of old.  "Welcome all of you," he said to the Elves as they assembled before the doors.  Then he turned to Fastred, who had been hoping to slip in unnoticed.  His eyes lit up then, and his smile illuminated the dark porch.  "Westu Fastred hál! Behold the son of my sister Éowyn daughter of Éomund; behold Fastred of Ithilien, my chosen inheritor!"  He took Fastred by his shoulder and brought him to the edge of the porch, turning him so that all assembled upon the platform by the fountain could see him clearly; he held his sword above Fastred's head and shouted:  "Hail the heir of Meduseld!"

"Hail the heir of Meduseld!  Westu Fastred hál!" cried the people.  Fastred blushed crimson; he did not care to be the center of attention, and wished he had at least had time for a wash-and-brush first; but he glanced sideways then, at Lord Lassah as he stood by Éomer upon the porch, and his friend looked down at him, and smiled gently. 

"Westu Fastred hál!" Legolas whispered, so that only Fastred could hear.

*************************************

Fastred was given a room in the royal quarters behind the Hall.  A servant brought in a bath, and another his things; then they both left him alone in the room.  Fastred stood for a moment looking round.  "So this shall be my room," he thought, turning round about and peering into the dark corners.  "It is not like my room at home – the walls are of wood, and there are no windows, and the bed is very big, near big as Mother and Father's.  I hope it is a down tick – straw is so musty."  He went to the bed, tying the curtains aside, and sat upon it, bouncing a little; the ropes squeaked but were firm, and the mattress gave squishily beneath his bottom.  "Feather," he sighed, somewhat consoled, and stroked the bed sheets; they were linen, very old and soft.  "At least I shall sleep well," he said to himself, and quickly stripping stepped into the bath.

He washed as best he could in the dim light of the single candle that illuminated the windowless room.  When he arose out of the water and toweled off he hunted round for his good clothes, scattering his belongings over the bed; a dark-green bottle rolled out of a corner of his rucksack and he caught it ere it fell.

"Mother's olive oil!" he thought.  "I had forgotten; she entrusted it to me to give unto my aunt – what shall I call her; my sister-brother-wife?  That is awkward; perhaps I should simply call her 'my lady' instead."  He lifted the bottle, holding it to the candle light; he saw bay leaves and rosemary branches moving sluggishly round in it.  "I shall give it unto her before the banquet," he decided; " 'twould look silly to present it publicly; people should think it an odd offering."

He found his good shirt and doublet, and shrugged into them; he located the hose with some difficulty – they had been rolled into a tight ball, and secreted in a little pocket – and, unable to track down his shoes, upended the sack upon the bed and they tumbled out.  He put them on and laced them up, then, because he was a tidy boy, refolded his clothes and put them in the chest, hanging his cloak upon a hook near the door.  He found a small shelf for his books and those few mementoes he had brought along with him and stood for a moment, feeling a little lost.  His tooth collection and shiny rocks looked very out of place upon the rough wood shelf; fortunately his dagger, with its intricately carven horse's head, fit in better.  He thought of Théalof then, and picked up the dagger, affixing it to his belt.  "Just in case Uncle Éomer has had no word of his misdeeds," he said to himself; "this time I shall be prepared."  And taking up the bottle of oil he went out to the hallway.

Meduseld was far smaller than his parents' home in Osgiliath, and made of wood; it was warm for there were few windows to let in the cold winds that whipped across the plains of Rohan; it was also dark, and smoky, for the torches upon the walls were lit with pitch.  He came to the corner of the hall leading to the royal chambers, then paused; he heard muffled shouting, and the buzz of anxious voices ahead; wondering if he were going to intrude upon some private scene of domestic predicament, but afire with curiosity, he trotted round the corner.

There was a small group of people crowded before the doors of the bedchamber, huddled together; they appeared to be servants and soldiers for the most part, though there were several girls in pretty dresses standing round in the shadows, craning their necks to see over the shoulders of the adults.  In front of the door stood Andunië, looking bored, and Gimli, looking disgusted, and Bandobras, looking extremely put out.  Fastred could hear now that the shouting was occurring within the bedchamber, and that it were his uncle who spoke so; as he opened his mouth to call to Bandobras for explanation the door opened, and Lord Lassah came out in naught but breeches and a linen shirt, rolled up at the sleeves; he was drying his hands on a rough brown towel, and looked very grim.  Hirilcúllas came out behind him, her dark eyes flashing and lips pressed into a thin line.  Gimli turned to Legolas and said:  "Well?"

"Well, naught so far," said Legolas with a sigh, handing the towel to a servant who stood anxiously by.  "But the queen will not be at the presentation tonight; in fact if I have my way she shall be abed 'til spring."  He turned to an older woman and two maidservants and said in a voice that brooked no argument:  "Flat upon her back, feet upon the pillows.  Broth and milk and bread and fruit; no mead nor wine nor ale.  She is not to get up; should she desire something it is up to you, O maidservants of the Mark, to so procure it.  Keep a fire lit in her room, but the windows open as well.  And remember for this is of prime importance:  She is not to walk.  Keep her abed; bind her there with ropes if need be.  Should she give unto you some contrary order you may refer the charge to me, and I shall put her in her place."

The servants murmured: "Yes, my lord," and looked round uneasily.  Just then the door opened and Éomer burst out, very red in the face, and looking very angry.  His servants shrank back from him, but Legolas turned to him and fixed the young king with a level gaze; his expression was stiff, and Fastred could see a fire simmering behind his gray eyes.

"And have you finished yet, O King of the Mark, reducing your beleaguered wife to tears?" he asked coolly.  "Does her health mean so little to you, that you should wear her down thus by accusing her of keeping secrets from you?"

"She ought to have told me immediately," growled Éomer, glaring at Legolas.  "She ought not to have kept this from me; I deserved to know.  And now her very life is in danger!  What was she thinking, to keep silent about this?"

Gimli snorted, and Legolas raised his eyebrows.  "Well if your response to her collapse is any indication I reproach her not for her silence," he said.  "Besides which you act as though this were her doing and hers alone; I have lived for many centuries, my friend, and have yet to run across such a situation in which the woman got into this condition without her husband's willing, if not fervent, contribution; in fact more often than not it is the man's impetus, and not the wife's."

Éomer flushed deeper still, but he wavered, and glanced uncomfortably at the servants, some of whom were smiling in spite of themselves.  "Contribution be damned, Legolas," he muttered; "you are not supposed to know anything of that."

"I beg you, Éomer, do not confuse purity with naïveté," said Legolas wryly, unrolling his shirt sleeves and letting Bandobras button them up for him.  He glanced into the shadows then, and saw Fastred standing there staring; Éomer followed his look and started.

"Fastred!" he said, and striding from the door he approached his nephew.  He put one heavy hand upon Fastred's shoulder; Fastred could feel him trembling.  "You have come at a bad time I fear, O sister-son; do you please go unto your room, or at least to the ante-chamber; these doings do not concern you."

"I should have thought they concerned him rather deeply," said Gimli; "Lothíriel is his kinswoman after all."

"Is she ill?" blurted Fastred; he had seen the look of fear upon his uncle's face, and felt a cold sharp blade pierce his own heart.  He did not want to live at Meduseld at all, but to be constrained to dwell therein lacking Lothíriel's tender presence would be harsh indeed.  He looked up at Éomer and swallowed heavily.  "Is – is she going to die?"

"Hush, hush, O Fastred!" said Legolas soothingly, coming up and laying a gentle hand upon the boy's head.  "She is not well, that is true; but I hope I have come in time, and your lord uncle spared this deep sorrow."  He looked at the green glass bottle clutched tight in Fastred's hand and said:  "What is that you have there, Little One?"

"Olive oil," said Fastred, glancing at the attentive servants and blushing.  "From Moth—my Lady Mother.  She did charge me with giving it unto my Lady Lothíriel."

"Ah, yes; she will like that," said Éomer, his shoulders slumping a little; he looked a little foolishly at Legolas.  "Can he – ought he to – that is – I should rather – "  He stammered a little, then fell silent.  Legolas smiled, his eyes warming.

"Aye, good Éomer; he can, and ought, and so ought you."  He turned them both then toward the door and said:  "Go you both unto the queen; she languishes, and you might brighten her face by your offerings of unguents."  Éomer gave him a sharp look, then looked sheepish; tightening his grip upon Fastred's shoulder he led the boy into the royal bedchamber.  As Bandobras shut the door behind them Fastred caught the expression upon the Hobbit's face; he was frowning up at the king, and looked murderous.  The great oak door swung to with a bang, and Fastred and his uncle stepped into the room.

It was very dark, for the lamps upon the tables were turned down; there was a wide low window upon the eastern wall, through which Fastred could glimpse stars peeping out from behind the rushing clouds; the great dark bulk of the Ered Nimrais loomed blackly upon the south.  The room was full of flickering shadow, lying deepest upon the great canopied bed in the center; the tapestried curtains were drawn, and from behind them Fastred heard a woman weakly weeping.  He paused, unsure; but Éomer gave him a gentle push forward, so he came to the bed, and twitched aside the curtain and looked within.

His aunt lay there, with a pallor rivaling the white sheets which dressed the bed; her large brown eyes were sunk in dark blue circles and her cheekbones jutted; her throat as it emerged from the lace collar of her gown was thin and sunken, and the hands upon the coverlet mere bone.  Fastred was hard-put not to gasp, for it had been but three years ere he had seen Lothíriel, and though she had certainly been thin had not looked quite so bad as this.  All of a sudden he realized what a terrible toll heir-making had taken upon her, and in that instant knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had done the right thing to come to Rohan.

She turned her head slowly to him, the tears running in silver tracks down her hollow cheeks; when she recognized him she took a sharp breath, her eyes lighting with hope, and whispered:  "Fastred!"

Fastred felt as though someone had wadded up a great lump of cloth and stuck it in his throat.  He could not swallow it away, because for some reason it was squeezing tears out his own eyes, and her face blurred; he groped for her hand, which was cold and gaunt.  "My Lady," he said, though it came out in a croak.  He took a deep breath, and dashed the tears away upon his sleeve.  "Look," he said, forcing his voice to sound cheerful; "I have brought you a present, O Queen."  He held up the bottle so she could see it.  "It is from my Lady Mother; it is olive oil, your majesty, flavored with rosemary and bay."  He stammered to a halt, wondering if she had heard him, and if she were offended by the titles, but in truth he knew not what to say, nor how to address her; he could scarcely call her "Dear Aunt" anymore.  But she smiled up at him and said:

"Fastred, O Fastred; son of Osgiliath, son of Rohan!  You have come to us in our hour of need; you succor us and hold us up.  O look at him, Éomer; look at him, O mine husband; do you not see Faramir's face as he looks upon you?  See you the grandchild of Denethor, born of the line of Ecthelion of the Tower!"  She closed her eyes then, her hand gripping Fastred's tight; she murmured:  "He shall be of Rohan and of Gondor; strength shall be in his sword-arm and truth in his words; his eyes shall pierce the hearts of men and his dreams show forth mysteries from afar."  Her voice faltered and broke, and her hand loosed its grip; Fastred's heart swelled with fear thinking she had failed, but he looked then and saw her heart beating slowly in the hollow of her collarbone.  Then his uncle took him gently aside, his face full of sorrow.

"Go you now, O Fastred mine heir; I shall meet with you anon."  And turning from the boy he sat by his wife's side, taking her hand in his and watching over her; Fastred trembling crossed the dark room to the door and went out.  He shut the heavy door behind him and stood, filled with grief and hardly knowing what to do next; to his relief the hallway had cleared, though when he looked round he saw in the shadows a slim shape hidden in the darkness; it hesitated, and moved into the light, and Fastred saw it was one of the young girls who had stood by whilst Legolas had spoken to his uncle.  She regarded him warily, and Fastred was reminded of a lost dog looking for a new home; she had that same look about her, of fear and uncertainty mingled with faint hope.

"The queen," she whispered; her voice was so soft Fastred could scarcely hear it.  "She is not – she has not - ?"

"No," said Fastred straightening up; he realized he was still clutching the bottle of oil.  "She is ill but Lord Lass – Legolas will make her well again."

She watched him, hanging back in the shadows; her eyes were dark and it seemed to Fastred her hair was not so fair as her fellow maids', though that might have been the torch light.  He wondered if he ought to introduce himself, even though she was certain to know who he was; and that being the case, how he should inquire of her own name.  Just as he had decided upon a course of action however she bobbed a quick curtsey, and ran down the dark hall.  Fastred took a deep breath.  He was tempted to use a word he'd heard in the armory once, when his father's Rangers had not known he was listening; it would have made him feel better, but then he thought perhaps more girls were lurking in the shadows and he might offend them; so much trammeled in his heart he returned to his rooms.  He did not feel like going to the presentation feast at all.

Fastred stood in the dim antechamber with Legolas, Bandobras, and Himbaláth, awaiting the porter's signal.  From without they could descry the muffled voices of people gathered in the Hall, and now and again heard someone walk by the closed door of the antechamber, speaking excitedly.  Fastred felt sick.  His stomach was roiled and racked with knots, and a sour taste tickled the back of his throat; he felt by turns hot and cold, and the collar of his good doublet was unbearably tight; even his hose felt itchy.  He fidgeted and twitched, straightening his shirt and doublet, buffing the tops of his shoes against the backs of his calves, patting his hair, and looking with ill-disguised impatience at the door.  Bandobras was fussing about his Master, brushing down his splendid silver robes and standing upon a stool to smooth the flaxen fall of hair beneath the bristly circlet; the opals and gems upon the mithril leaves and branches sparkled in the lamplight.  Himbaláth stood quietly by holding Fastred's standard; he was clad in a simple mail tunic covered over with a green cape, and bore upon his golden head a low iron cap.  Now and again he would look at Fastred and smile with sympathy; however neither Elf nor Hobbit spoke, and Fastred did not trust his own voice to break the silence.

At last there was a rap on the door, causing Fastred to jump; and the porter's voice spoke through the lock: "It is time, gentles all!  The King awaits his heir upon the dais."  Then Legolas turned to Fastred, and smiled; it was however a sad smile, as though he did this out of duty and not desire.  "Remember, O Little One," he said, laying one long white hand upon Fastred's shoulder; the boy's heart beat unnaturally fast, and he was quite pale.  "Wait behind me 'til I have greeted the king, then step forward when I beckon."

Fastred swallowed hard.  "I shall, Lord Lassah," he said shakily, and smiling at Fastred Legolas opened the door.

They stepped through the portico and thus up to the great carven doors of Meduseld.  Standing before them were the two royal guards, tall and marvelously arrayed; they opened wide the doors and stood to attention, their bejeweled swords held high above Legolas' head.  Legolas glanced down at Bandobras who bore his standard; the crossed oak leaves glittering with metal threads in the rich velvet ensign, and the crest gleamed with gems.  Bandobras grinned up at his Master and took his place.  Then walking with measured grace and studied step Legolas entered the Hall.

He walked through the throng, which parted to let him by; the people bowed or curtseyed or saluted as he passed, and some of the children in the assembly reached out their small hands to touch the gems upon his robe.  But the Green Knight looked to right nor left, keeping his shining eyes upon the King of the Mark, who sat upon his great throne.  Éomer watched his friend approach, and when Legolas reached the edge of the dais he rose to his feet, his hand upon his breast. 

"Legolas of Dol Galenehtar," he said, inclining his head; the heavy gold crown glinted dully in the lamplight.

"Éomer of Rohan," Legolas answered, returning the gesture, and ascended the steps.  He stood beside Éomer, radiant as the sun newly risen, and Bandobras his esquire stood behind him, holding aloft the standard; Legolas turned and cast his eye upon the crowd.  All watched him, silent and expectant; after waiting a few heartbeats Legolas proclaimed in a clear voice that rang to the rafters:

"From the sun-drenched valley of the Anduin, the verdant hills of Ithilien, and the river-girt city of Osgiliath, I bring to you Fastred son of Faramir, of the line of Éomund of the Mark; he comes in answer to the call of his mother-brother, Éomer King, to fill his house and supply the security of his line upon the most venerable and sovereign throne in this land.  Will you take him as your heir?"

"I so take him!"  Éomer's voice boomed throughout the Hall, and his knights drew their swords with the hiss of steel.  "Let all present know that Fastred sister-son is my chosen heir and the right and proper Prince of the Mark."

"An it please you, O Fastred Faramir's son," said Legolas, his eyes fixed upon the dark entryway at the far end of the Hall, where Fastred waited in the shadows.  "Come forth so that your people may know you, and give you the honor and veneration that is your just due as their lord, protector, and prince."

His heart in his throat, Fastred walked the gloomy length of the Hall.  He kept his eyes fixed upon Lassah, who amongst the men and warriors at the dais looked more like unto a tall white birch tree crowned with snow and gleaming in the sunshine; the lamplight reflected off the gems upon his robe, and on the jewels on his torc and circlet, and cast light all round him.  In fact it seemed to Fastred then that he was surrounded by darkness; the peat fires set up murky smoke, and the shadows brooded and lurked in corners and doorways, and even the people in their bright raiment were cloaked in shade.  But Lord Lassah's fair face gleamed as abalone, and his eyes like the light of the moon; frosty gems sparkled upon his epaulettes and lapels, and the satiny white cloth of his garment shimmered and shone.  Feeling very light-headed, and reassured not only by Lassah's tender face but by Himbaláth's stout presence at his heels, Fastred approached the dais, and taking Lassah's proffered hand ascended.  The Elf kissed him upon each cheek, then set him before Éomer and said:  "Here, O Éomer King, is your promised heir; give unto him the pledge of his inheritance, and take him as your own son, and you his father, for the furtherance of your house, and the well-being of your kingdom."

Fastred turned to his uncle; Éomer looked very dim indeed standing beside Legolas, for he was clad in dark raiment, and though fair was muted by the Elf's splendor.  But when Fastred looked up into Éomer's eyes he saw tears there, and perceived the king was filled with joy to have him, despite his deep griefs; this so turned his heart that when Éomer leant to kiss him in greeting Fastred put his arms about his uncle's neck, and embraced him; surprised by this Éomer stared down at him, his careworn face soft, and he smiled. 

"Fastred sister-son of Éomer," he said, his great voice hushed and husky; "all I have is yours, and you shall possess everything in due time.  Be you a good herdsman to our people; valiant, and wise, and gentle, and just.  Be you first to draw sword, first to battle, first to raise a goblet, and first to dance.  Be impartial and loyal, deliberate and steadfast, generous and careful, strong and courageous.  Take unto yourself the staff of kingship over our people and guide them well."

Fastred felt very small then, and quite beneath the superlatives his uncle had asked of him; however he glanced at Legolas, shining and white and gazing tenderly down upon him, and he said in a clear voice that despite his fears did not crack at all:  "I will, my Lord."  And he drew his sword, turning the hilt to his uncle; Éomer took it and raised it aloft; the fuller gleamed, and the braided wire upon the guard threw back the light upon the tapestries around them.  Then the king touched Fastred's head with the flat of the blade and said:  "Now you are a man of the Mark; now you fulfill your oaths to our people."  He gave Fastred back his sword, and turned the boy so that he faced the assembly.  "Behold Fastred Prince of the Mark!  Westu Fastred hál!"

"Westu Fastred hál!" cried the people as one, and the guards and knights shook their swords and shields; the clatter and ring of it filled Fastred's ears so that he was near deafened.  He looked out at the assembly all bemused, and saw near the foot of the dais the Elves with whom he had traveled, arrayed in their finery; even Andunië had donned her dependable green dress, and regarded him with sober approval.  Gimli and several other Dwarves were also there, richly garbed and shining with gold and gem; there were even Dwarf-women, bearded and no less fearsome than their menfolk.  And filling the Hall were the people of Edoras, all who could fit within the building; the merchants and farmers and members of the minor nobility, knights and esquires and warriors and servants; all strangers to him, yet he was now their prince.  He looked round for someone like unto his own age but saw no one; he felt quite alone despite the crowd, and not for the first time that evening wished he could simply go to his room, shut the curtains round his bed, and hide beneath the coverlets.  But he looked back at Éomer then, standing proudly before the assembly, his hand heavy upon Fastred's shoulder, and thought of Lothíriel languishing sonless in her room; it was a heavier burden than Fastred had expected, but he knew he was strong enough to bear it.

************************************

The banquet-hall was lit by great swinging chandeliers filled with tallow candles which smoked and dripped, and the trestle-tables were rough-hewn and possessed an irascible tendency to rock.  The floor was of wood and not the stone pavers to which Fastred had become accustomed, not only in his own home but in Dol Galenehtar and Minas Tirith both; and the high table though filled with the visiting dignitaries was every bit as noisy and boisterous as the tables used by the rest of the folk.  But the food was not the elaborate, fanciful stuff he was used to picking his way through at grown-up functions; there were sizzling sausages, and big smoking joints of meat, and great platters of hot brown bread, and huge wheels of yellow cheese; there were even plates of steamed graylings in butter, which seemed to Fastred near as nice as the trout from the Anduin, though that thought felt traitorous to him.  He sat amongst his uncle's own men, advisors the king called them though to the boy's eyes they were more like unto warriors and not the smooth, well-read men who surrounded his father and Elessar.  The men for the most part laughed and sang and spoke amongst themselves, but at one point as Fastred took a second helping of sausages Éothain thumped him on the back and said in a loud cheerful voice:  "So the new Prince of the Mark does not turn up his nose at our fare!  How do you find it, O Fastred Prince, compared to the lavishly appointed tables of the King of Gondor?"

"O this is much better," said Fastred, surprised into honesty; "I do not care for such fancy trifles; I should rather a chop and a potato than all the grand subtleties in Minas Tirith."

This answer seemed to please Éothain and his companions, for they laughed, and pressed upon him a glass of sweet mead; Fastred had never tasted mead before and he was finding it rather richer than he had expected, and certainly far stouter than the ales he had sampled at his Lord Father's table.  He glanced down the table to Lassah, who was turned away from him, carrying on a merry conversation with Gimli's Lady Mother Frera; the halfling however caught his eye, and seeing Fastred held in his hands a cup of mead his eyes widened, and the Hobbit shook his head slightly.  Feeling disappointed but trusting Bandobras' judgment implicitly Fastred set the cup down and drank no more.

He looked longingly over at Lassah again, wishing he could have been sat beside the Elf Lord; the men were talking over his head, of border disputes and grazing rights, and he sighed.  He let his gaze wander over the assembly and it rested upon a gathering of young folk, about like to his own age – clustered together, chattering and laughing and dressed in their finest; they seemed supremely disinterested in the fate of the newest member of their monarchy.  Only one sat apart; it was the dark girl he had spoken to in the hallway outside the royal bedchamber: her gaze was fixed upon her trencher, and she pushed the food round discontentedly with one finger.  Unlike her companions she wore dull black, which made her pale skin to look sallow; she took no part in conversation, but sat a little apart from the boys and girls round her.  It reminded Fastred somewhat of Andunië, though that lady were more rigid and cold; perhaps that was cultivated merely through practice.  He looked down the other end of the high table to where Andunië sat between Himbaláth and Romastáldë.  Her copper hair shone brilliantly in the lamplight, and her eyes glittered green; to Fastred's surprise she was speaking earnestly to Himbaláth, whose face was turned away from Fastred so that he could not see it.  Fastred wondered what topic could have so enflamed her that she would speak at a public function; to his knowledge he had never seen her do so.  His eyes sought the girl in black again, but whilst he had watched Andunië the girl had apparently gotten up; her place was empty, and her trencher gone.  None of her compatriots seemed to have even noticed.  He wished she were still there; she had been the only person in the Hall who had looked as out of place as he felt.

"Fastred!" boomed Éomer's voice; Fastred jumped, startled, and turned to the king.  Éomer had leant forward, his pewter goblet in one hand.  He looked a little red in the face.  "Tell me – Arúlf, Marshall of the Mark – he performed his function well, in bringing you here?  You have no complaints against him?"

Fastred's heart started to beat very fast.  No, Arúlf had been rather insulting – yet – what would happen to the man, should he say that very thing unto his uncle?  Censure, surely; demotion, possibly.  And anyway Arúlf had been doing only what he thought was best in these troubled times; with all the treachery surrounding Rohan it was not to be wondered at, if its men regarded strangers with suspicion.  Firmly fixing his smile in place Fastred said:  "O no, Lord King!  The Marshall executed his duties with perfect comportment, as I should have expected from one who serves the Mark so faithfully.  I have no complaints at all."

Éomer regarded him suspiciously; he had apparently heard otherwise.  Several of the men, Éothain included, had ceased their conversation, and were attending to their words; Fastred determined he should protect Arúlf from disgrace if he could.  "No?" asked the king, cocking his head at Fastred; "for he is a stern man and given to brusqueness; offense is a by-product of that betimes.  You are certain; he gave no cause for affront?"  And he fixed Fastred with a cunning eye.  But Fastred was used to this from his Lady Mother, who frequently would ask her eldest for information on certain upsets in the nursery or the buttery; now as then Fastred was an adamant advocate.

"Certainly not, my Lord!" he said drawing himself up.  "I commend Arúlf to you most highly; he is a fortunate king who possesses so steadfast a Marshall to patrol his lands."

Éomer did obviously disbelieve the boy, and stared hard at him; Fastred however was equal to this, and did gaze ingenuously back; at last Éomer smiled and said:  "Very well!  Then I shall dismiss other reports as mere rumor, gleaned in error, as my prince has taken Arúlf's welfare upon his shoulders."  And he turned back to Lassah who sat upon his right; the Elf met Fastred's eye, and he winked.  Taking a deep breath Fastred returned to his trencher; upon his other side a man leant low and muttered to him:

"Well done – and my thanks.  Arúlf is my cousin."

Fastred turned to the man; his face was far friendlier than it had been before.  Fastred smiled and said simply:

"Thanks are unnecessary – " O what was his name … ah yes, Éodor … "Éodor; Arúlf as Marshall of the Mark is now under mine authority and therefore my protection, and I shall bear no ill spoken of him, for he performed his duties well."

The men round him seemed to be pleased by this, and spoke to him in a pleasant fashion then of horses and tack and fishing (there was apparently a prime spot north of Edoras, where stream met pond and the pike were ferocious) which carried Fastred comfortably through the end of the meal; then when the trenchers were gathered up for the dogs the minstrels came out, and Fastred, with a wholesome dread of having to ask one of those strange girls for a turn about the floor, slipped quietly from his seat, and hugging the shadows escaped unnoticed into the back passageway.

It was cooler there and far more pleasant, and the tumultuous voices did not press at him so; taking a deep breath he determined to visit Karakse, before whom he had no need to hold his tongue, nor to feign equanimity in the face of close scrutiny.  At that moment he felt more sympathy for Andunië than he ever had before; she at least understood the company of beasts to be far less trying than that of her fellow men.  So he pattered down the hallway and out the door, turning the corner past the outer wall of the armory, ducking beneath the opened windows so he would not be seen; then he gained the entrance of the stables, and slipped inside.

He smelled sweet hay and dusty straw, and the indefinable scent of warm contented horses; one raised its head over the nearest stable door and whuffed at him.  He stroked its velvety nose absently, and went in search of his Karakse. 

The stables were long, and very full; he went down the first corridor admiring the sleek pale horses of the Mark, and turned the corner to the next; then he heard Taruku bellow up ahead, and he smiled.  Meivel's horse was not used to being kept in a loose-box, and it sounded to Fastred that he protested his confinement; however Fastred knew that to loose that stallion would be to invite more trouble than he was worth.  He started down the dark corridor, then stopped suddenly; someone was standing in the shadows before him.  The figure gasped and leapt back.

"Who's there?" they both cried at once, and then Fastred with relief realized it was the dark girl from the feast.  "O it is you," he said, stepping into a square of light so she could see him; she shrank back further into the shadows.  "Fear not!  I shall not give you away, if you in turn promise to keep my presence here a secret as well!"

The girl paused, then in the dimness Fastred thought he could see her relax; when she spoke her voice was wary:  "You … you have escaped the feast too?"

"Yes; it is tiresome, is it not, to celebrate when one feels no joy, and knows no companion?" said Fastred, thinking to himself:  "Surely she is a stranger here too; surely she is as lonely as I."  The girl paused, then answered softly:  "Yes."

"I am Fastred," said Fastred, holding out his hand; he realized this were foolish of him, for surely she knew him, and he was glad the darkness hid his blush.  But she only gave a breathless giggle, and placed one thin cold hand in his own.

"I know," she whispered; "I saw you ride in – and I was at the presentation."

"Well I did not know how else to continue our conversation," admitted Fastred with a laugh; "nor did I know the rules of courtly behavior hereabouts, if it were unseemly or no to speak to one to whom one has not been formally introduced."

"I know not," she said; "I am unused to the court."

There was a pause, during which Fastred realized he was still holding her hand; he let it go quickly, and said, "Well I have told you my name, though you knew it already; will you not give to me your name, so that we may be the properly acquainted?"

She hesitated, and Fastred saw her shift uneasily upon the straw floor.  Behind her Alfirin raised her golden-white head over the stable door and snuffled into the girl's hair; she reached up with practiced hands to the mare's head and stroked her gently.

"That is Alfirin; she is Hirilcúllas' palfrey," supplied Fastred; "and beside her is Ronyo – she belongs to Andunië.  There; you know two more of my friends; will you not tell me your name?  For I am a stranger here and know no one; I desire greatly to become acquainted with someone, especially one mine own age; I get so weary of speaking with grown-ups."

"I am Léodwyn," said the girl; she turned away from Fastred and hid her face in Alfirin's neck.  "I am a stranger here too; I have been here but one week and know no one."

"A week!" exclaimed Fastred.  "Why have you not made friends with the other children then?  Seven days would seem to me time aplenty."

She was silent again, and when she spoke her voice was muffled by Alfirin's neck.  "I shall not stay here; I am only here for a short while."

"A visitor then," thought Fastred, a little disappointed.  "And then you return home?" he asked.

In the darkness it was hard to see, but Fastred thought perhaps she was wiping at her face with her hands; his heart turned, wondering what it was he had said that hurt her so, and wishing he had not spoken.  "Please, do not answer if you like it not," he begged; "I am churlish to hammer at you so – there is no need to reply to mine impertinence."

"It is no impertinence, my Lord," she said; her voice was sad.  "I came here from the Westfold.  My mother died when I was very young, and I was raised by my father; he was killed last year by the Dunlendings, and so I went to live with my mother-sister and her family.  But they have many children, and not much money, and so I am being sent into the service of your own Lady Mother, Éowyn of Osgiliath, who is a distant relation of mine, and who had enquired of Éodild my mother-sister of a suitable girl to be companion to her own daughter, and a lady-in-waiting in her court."

Fastred felt disappointed that she would be quitting Edoras so soon, but her disaffection pricked at him, and forcing his voice to sound cheerful he said:  "O but that is good news!  Good news for you I mean; it is not so good for me, because now I see I shall have little time with which to become the better acquainted with you."  She turned to him, and her face fell into a shaft of light; Fastred could see her looking at him, puzzled, though her cheeks were still streaked by tears.  "You are going to Osgiliath, mine own city," he said smiling.  "You are fortunate indeed; it is wonderful there … "  He sighed.  "Wonderful," he repeated sadly.

They were silent a moment; Fastred stood ruminating over his old city, and how much he missed it; and she watched him, stroking Alfirin's nose.  After a moment she said, her voice a little bolder: "Tell me of it."

Fastred asked no better; it was as though a floodgate had been opened, and all the things he loved about Ithilien came pouring out.  He told her about his home and the nursery where he had grown up; he told her about his nurse, and his brother and sister, and the toys they had, and the games they played; he told her about the citadel, the winding passageways and secret doors and hidden courtyards to be explored; he told her about Halgond and their skiff and fishing in the estuaries; he told her about his Lord Father and Lady Mother, of their nobility and wisdom and love; he told her about Minas Tirith and King Elessar and Queen Undómiel and the Tower of Ecthelion; he told her about Dol Galenehtar and the Elves and Lord Legolas and how lovely it was to visit there.  And Léodwyn stood, holding Alfirin's head and listening silently, now and again posing a simple question when it seemed the flow of Fastred's narrative began to go dry.  Soon Fastred realized he had been speaking nearly half an hour, and stammered to a halt, abashed.

"Forgive me, Léodwyn," he said; "I have spoken overmuch, and given you no room to reply!  Again that is ill-bred of me – O how Bandobras should scold me for my manners!"

"I mark it not," smiled the girl; "it is well simply to have someone speak to me.  I have been so lonely here."

"Well you need not be now," said Fastred.  "For you know me passing fair, and I hope that I shall know you too; besides you go to mine own sister Hísimë, and I know she shall love you, so you have that hope at least."

"Think you so, that she shall love me?" asked Léodwyn wistfully, reaching back to play with Ronyo's ears.  The palfrey whickered and nuzzled her neck, and she smiled.  "I should like to be loved; I have not been since my poor sire died."

"O Hísimë will love you," said Fastred confidently; "also Théodred too; and you shall love them I am certain, for they are so lovable.  Why Hísimë is the most tender-hearted creature who lived, and Théodred is so funny and so loyal.  Even Halgond shall love you I think."  He thought then of his friend Halgond, taking Léodwyn out upon their little skiff, of them drifting lazily through the reeds and feeding the ducks, and suddenly he hoped Halgond didn't like Léodwyn quite so much as that.  It was a strange feeling and it puzzled him, for he had never wished ill upon Halgond before.  But Léodwyn was considering his words, and looked more hopeful.  "And of course you shall have my Lord Father and Lady Mother, and shall also become well-known in Dol Galenehtar; why Elves love you even when you are not lovable you know; that is why I enjoy their company so."

"Do they?" she asked; she looked comforted.  Fastred smiled.

"Yes, they do," he said.  "Would you like to see my horse?"

"I have seen him," she said, "but I should like to meet him."

"He is here," said Fastred, and led her to the loose-box where Karakse shifted impatiently upon the hay.  He snorted and tossed his head when Fastred opened the gate, and the boy laughed and threw his arms about his horse's great neck.  "Hello, my friend!" he said, looking up into Karakse's bright brown eyes.  "I have missed you; I am so sorry I cannot bring horses into the Hall, for you should have been a better companion at table than many of the others."

"Aye; I wished for mine own horse too," said Léodwyn, stroking the piebald neck.  "He is so big!  Are all the horses in Osgiliath so big?"

"Nay!  There are few horses in Osgiliath, save those of my Lord Father's household," said Fastred; when he saw her face fall he assured her:  "Do not fear!  You may bring your horse; my Lady Mother will be glad you have it."  He and Léodwyn petted Karakse a few moments more, then Léodwyn stepped out of the stable and said:  "Now I shall show you my horse."

Fastred followed her to the back of the stables.  He had not been there yet; the stalls were smaller, and some held donkeys or even goats; at last Léodwyn came to a little stall in a dark corner and called out.  A grizzled muzzle thrust itself through the bars, and Léodwyn with a glad laugh ran forward, and opened the gate.

"This is Falafód," she said, stepping into the narrow stall.  "He was my father's horse, and he is very old; it is for that reason I am allowed to keep him."  She kissed the whiskery nose.  "Save this dress he is all I have."

Fastred ran his hands over the curved neck and broad withers; he said, "He is old but a fine steed still.  How wide is his poll, and how straight his forelegs!  How is his action?  With such pasterns I am sure it is quite springy."

Léodwyn seemed pleased with his praise, and spoke of Falafód with far more animation than Fastred had seen her yet display; he smiled and nodded, and watched how her dark eyes glowed with eagerness, and how her hair caught the torchlight, spilling round her high white forehead in honey-brown waves.  Her black dress was plain and unadorned, and she wore no jewels nor lace to so ornament her, but he liked the way her slender neck met the stiff collar, and how her long hair shifted upon her shoulders.  He knew he was not marking her conversation, and that he was displaying the worst of manners in this; he could not pinpoint however the cause of his sudden dearth of comportment, and thought perhaps he were simply fatigued.  He had just promised himself he would atone for this by attending her words when he heard voices behind them; he turned, and Léodwyn faltered to a halt.

"Ah!  And there is the miscreant!" cried a merry voice; a light illuminated the dark corridor, and several Elves came toward them; Hirilcúllas was first, smiling, her splendid lilac gown afire with embroidered silver, and purple gems sparkling in her black hair.  Behind her were Malinadulin and Fionim; Malinadulin held a jug, and Fionim two wood cups; both were laughing and singing.  Fastred blushed, but was immeasurably relieved it were Hirilcúllas who had found him; he did not dare think what Andunië might have said.  "My Lord sent us in pursuit of you, Prince Fastred; he told us to seek you in the stables, and so we have found you!"  She came up to them, her great sleeves sweeping the straw and her skirts rustling stiffly.  She kissed Fastred upon the crown of his head, and his cheeks flamed; but Hirilcúllas turned from him then and smiled upon Léodwyn, who shrank back into the shadows, her eyes downcast.  "And I do think me I might put a name to this face," she said, gently taking Léodwyn's chin in her fingers, and tipping the girl's face to the light.  "You are Léodwyn daughter of Fengel, and you go back to Gondor with us.  Why do you skulk about in the stables here, when there is wine to drink and music to dance to?  Come and make merry with us, O children; on the morrow shall we take to horse and gallop through the grasses, but now is the time to celebrate in more homely fashion, for this is the will of the King of Rohan."

"O do not press them Hirilcúllas," said Fionim with a laugh.  "After all dances can be awkward affairs, especially when one knows few to partner.  And certain it is that Prince Fastred here shall be much sought-after, for the girls with whom he dances shall vie to be his favorites."

"Ah, ah!" said Malinadulin wagging his head; "but see you here he has his solution; he has naught but to return to the Hall with Léodwyn upon his arm and he has a partner ready-made."

"But he cannot dance with one girl the whole night," protested Fionim, refilling Malinadulin's goblet.  "That smacks of permanence."

"No need," said Malinadulin.  "He keeps her for the first dance, and the gavotte, and the final reel, and can beg out the other dances if he desires.  And mark this, little maid – " The Elf grinned at Léodwyn, whose cheeks were scarlet.  "Once it is seen that Fastred Prince has chosen you for a partner all the other boys shall contend for your hand in the reels; it is royalty by association."  The two scouts laughed, and Hirilcúllas shook her head at them.  Turning back to the two children she said:

"Ignore them, dear children, I beg of you; they are deep in their cups, and care not for the insults they might fling about.  Let us leave them here in the stables – the horses speak a far more rustic tongue, and I hope shall not be so offended as we."

"Besides which," laughed Fionim, smiling at Léodwyn, "should you take them to the Hall they shall see our Lord dance the Bariz-Sigin; the Dwarves are all excited, and have taken over for the King's minstrels – 'tis a sight worthy to behold, little maid!"

Fastred brightened.  "Lord Lassah will dance the Bariz-Sigin?" he said, growing excited.  "But that is fine news indeed!  O with whom shall he dance?"

"Andunië, of course," said Malinadulin taking a deep draught.  "Who else gives unto him such stiff competition?  For certes it is with a face set as hers none might cause it to crack!  He has not won against her yet, and he has challenged her every Mereth en’Ehtelé since he first made acquaintance of Gimli of Aglarond, bless his beard."

"O let us go Léodwyn," said Fastred excitedly, taking her hand.  "The Bariz-Sigin is a marvelous Dwarvish dance and Lord Lassah dances it so well.  I cannot dance it myself for I am a poor student of mathematics, but I can follow the numbers in my head.  Come, come!"  He tugged at her hand, but she hesitated; she glanced down at her plain gown, and over to Hirilcúllas; she looked wistfully upon the Elf's marvelous vestments, in particular the bejeweled silver belt about the slim waist.  But that lady laughed and brushed the girl's hair back and said:

"It is naught but fine feathers upon a very simple bird!  The crow can fly better than the peacock, and is far more useful beside."  She smiled at Léodwyn and Fastred and said gently:  "Go; go.  Dance what dances you like, and when you are weary of that sport sit you upon a bench and laugh at the men who drink too much.  Go!"  So Fastred took Léodwyn and they ran off to the Hall; Hirilcúllas shut Falafód's door, murmuring softly to the horse; and turning to her two brothers said:

"For shame you two foxes!  I had in mind to let them sit upon the high wall and look at the stars; there is no reason to tease them so."

"No, Hirilcúllas, there is not," laughed Fionim; "save for our own entertainment."

"Well if that is your object I pity all children who cross your path," said Hirilcúllas shaking her shining head.  "Keep you here tonight, villains!  I do not wish to see what havoc you might wreak in the hall."  She turned to go and Malinadulin called after her:

"Where are you going?"

"To look through my baggage for a dress fitting that poor child," Hirilcúllas said.  "It is only feathers perhaps, but the finer the plumage the happier the birdsong."  So saying she quit her brothers and went to her chambers, thinking of a plain blue gown of hers that might be sufficiently altered.

(A/N: My apologies to those of you who were puzzled by my misuse of the word "vilification" in Ch. 14 – I had meant to type "veneration" but apparently my brain was tired.  Oh well, that's what I get for trying to write fanfic after going to a Flogging Molly concert … Many thanks to Rivergirl, Lyn, and Lamiel for pointing it out to me!  Can you tell I haven't had a beta since Ch. 12 of The Green Knight? 

I also apologize for how long it's taken me to complete this chapter.  My muse died, or fell asleep, or something.  I think I need to put an ad in the classifieds for a new one.  "MWF ISO fanfic muse, spelling skills helpful, must like plot twists and char. dev., canon/AU OK, no smokers."

-- Le Rouret)

The Dwarves standing round the Hall cheered as the Lord of Dol Galenehtar swung his huntsmistress about in the complicated steps of the Bariz-Sigin.  It was a Dwarvish dance not an Elvish one, which perhaps contributed to their pleasure at its performance, and by a race historically opposed to them at that; and of course to see it done well, and by two such fair folk, accompanied by Dwarvish minstrels, made the event all that much more enjoyable.  Some clapped along, marking the counter-point, and others muttered into their beards the formulae and equations the two Elves set against each other.  Now and again Legolas or Andunië would put up a new challenge, and the Dwarves would chuckle and exchange knowing looks; yet the dancers faltered not, their eyes fixed upon the other's, testing, trying, calculating, stamping and clapping and stepping lightly amongst the rushes, green and white skirts swirling, golden and copper hair floating.  The tallow candles and oil lamps smoked and flickered, and the torches crackled and popped; the Rohirrim watching though comprehending not the method of the dance caught well the meaning, and watched the dancers' feet to see if one or the other would falter.  They laughed, and shouted loudly to each other, or banged their ale-cups upon the trestles, and stamped their feet in time to the music.

The Elves of Dol Galenehtar were cheering too, and were evenly divided; some shouted encouragement to their lord, saying:  "Again, again!  Try a new one!  Do not let her beat you again!" and some to Andunië:  "Hold firm, hold fast!  You have won against him these many years; do not let him trip you up!"  At Tathársul's merry suggestion the Dwarves increased the tempo, and the crowd roared with delight; Legolas and Andunië were perspiring in the heat of the hall, and from their concentration too; their faces were set and determined.  But after a few moments Gimli shouted, "O ho!" and Bandobras' small voice piped over the tumult:  "Look!  O bother; he almost had her there!"  The adversaries' faces changed; Legolas was grinning openly, but Andunië had scowled, her green eyes flashing with annoyance; then after a particularly convoluted turn she hesitated but a moment, and it was enough to finish her; with a triumphant shout Legolas declaimed:  "Sixteen, four hundred forty-one and thirty-seven over one thousand three!" and the two dancers stopped, letting the minstrels wind up the reel with a crescendo.  Legolas was laughing, but Andunië looked angry, and very abashed.

" 'Twas the formula for the speed of a twenty-pound stone thrown by sixteen-foot mangonel from the top balcony and the time taken for it to strike the front gates," said Legolas to Andunië, who shook her head in disgust.

"I had thought me 'twas the calculation of the outer curve of the laver in the western olintala," she muttered, discontented; "you near trounced me last Mereth en'Ehtelé with it, and was only my remembrance of the angle betwixt the sun at noontide and Alkarinque at midsummer that saved me."  She hesitated, then asked grudgingly, "Best two of three, my Lord?"

"Hardly!" laughed Legolas.  "Nay, Little One, I hold you to your oath, to do my bidding in regards to your dress, even as you should have held me to mine, to enlarge the mews to rival the Lord of Dale's.  Remember you have but three weeks, so get you to the fitters!  And do you please remember Hirilcúllas; she will help you I am sure, if you but ask."  Andunië gave him a brief curtsey, her face dark with anger, and swept from the hall; Legolas stood watching after her, his eyes twinkling mischievously.  While the minstrels changed places, and emptied their instruments into the hearth and set about tuning and adjusting them, people drifted back to the floor, choosing partners to set a reel.  Gimli came out then, leading Fríma, and Frera his mother accompanied them.

"For shame, Prince Legolas!" Frera chided him, shaking her head; "you well know Andunië has no especial love of finery or pageant, yet you tease her so about her poor green gown.  Why it is a pleasing color on her, and if she disdains lace and button 'tis no shame to her."

"Andunië has worn the selfsame green gown for time out of mind," laughed Legolas, bowing over the Dwarf lady's hand.  "And before this gown 'twas yet another green one – all her gowns are green, and all cut along the same unvarying line; even my Lady Mother could fain change her in this.  But I have done so," he said proudly; "I knew in my heart she could not bear to spurn my challenge, especially as my half of the bargain should have been so dear to her."

"And let me pose a conjecture," said Gimli with a grin; "you had already planned to enlarge the mews – had you not, my friend? – so that if she won you should be out no especial price save vanity, which to you is a worthless commodity; yet if you won she should be constrained to do your bidding, yet be consoled by the new mews.  Am I correct, Legolas?"  To this Legolas did not reply, but winked instead, and taking Frera's hand led her into the reel.  Gimli watched them as they linked hands, his friend sketching a lighthearted jig while the minstrels played a practice measure, his lady mother laughing at him, and shook his head.  "The sly scamp!" he grumbled, but Fríma heard the affection in his voice.  "Setting up his poor huntsmistress in such a fashion.  As though we could ever think of Andunië in any color but green!"

"It will be good for her," said Fríma, who was well-known for her love of bright colors; "she is too set in her ways."

"Yes, but to trick her thus; it was not fair.  I like Andunië, and her brother Meivel as well; there is no nonsense to them."

Fríma looked over at the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, who was bandying words with the king and one of the ladies of the court; he was obviously in high spirits, his gray eyes sparkling, his voice light and careless.  Then the reel began, and with a flourish Legolas took Frera down the middle of the line.  His white robes sparkled and the spiky mithril crown flashed; his hair like flax floated out behind him, and he was laughing gaily.  "There is certainly plenty of nonsense in him," she said disapprovingly.

"Well, yes," agreed Gimli, starting the jig and smiling over at Legolas and his Lady Mother, who approached tripping lightly beneath everyone's upstretched arms.  "But it is such delightful nonsense."

After several reels and gavottes, Éomer sent round his seneschal to collect sundry members of the festivities: Legolas and Bandobras, and Meivel and Himbaláth, Gimli and Nórin his cousin and Frera his mother, Éothain and Éodor and diverse others of his own men.  They met in a dark courtyard by a fountain, and Éomer set guards about it so they would not be approached, and the noise and chatter of the water in the fountain obscured their words so none hanging round the periphery might overhear them.  Frera was given a chair, and the other men found stools or stones to sit upon; the Green Knight however sat upon the pavers at Frera's side, and lay his head in her lap; both Meivel and Gimli stood behind them, and looked upon the two with fond indulgence, though the Green Knight's esquire looked askance, and seemed concerned about the condition of his master's robes.  Himbaláth sat on the edge of the fountain with Bandobras, his head in his hands and eyes downcast; he looked weary, and the hobbit betimes glanced up at him, eyebrows puckering worriedly, swinging his small feet above the cobblestones.  Éomer sat upon another chair, and his men stood round him, though Éothain being advanced in years had secured a small wooden stool and stretched his long legs out stiffly, grimacing.

"I am too old to dance," he muttered discontentedly, rubbing his knee.  "O why do I let my wife chivy me into it each time?  You are cruel to me, O King; you know my knee is painful, so why do you tempt my Thólawyn thus, to drag me away from my cups and out upon the rushes?"

"Well the ladies like it," said Frera with a chuckle, stroking Legolas' pale hair which spilled like liquid silver across her lap.  "And the exercise is good for you, Éothain; when you are dancing you cannot drink mead, and the less mead you drink the better your head shall feel when the sun rises tomorrow."

"Yes, and speaking of mead," said Bandobras, his brown eyes flashing indignantly, "what were you thinking, Éothain, giving Fastred a cup like that?  He is only twelve you know, and he oughtn't to be drinking that stuff."

Éomer looked at Éothain in surprise, and Éothain coughed.  "It was only a little sweet mead," he said; "it was not enough to do anyone any harm, and he shall be a man soon, and shall have need to be well-prepared to drink it at all times; besides which as I said it was but a small cup."

"But he is not a man yet," said Éomer, smiling in spite of himself.  "Do you please remember, O Éothain, that setting the heir drunk his first night at Meduseld is no good way to endear yourself to your king."

"It was but a small cup," the man mumbled blushing, and Legolas laughed.

"Even I, who am known for my permissiveness and leniency with Fastred, have yet to give him mead," he said; "wine watered down perhaps, and I know on occasion a sip of ale, but that is all; he is a child still."

"Is it for that reason then, O Green Knight, he rides upon a gelding?" asked Féor who stood beside his king.  "It seems to us passing strange for a prince to ride a gelding, for in the Mark all boys of noble rank are given stallions to ride from a very young age."

"I had seen that," said Legolas; "for what reason are the boys of Rohan given such stiff duty?  For stallions can be difficult, and boys are not always strong enough to control them; in Gondor where Fastred has been raised the custom is to withhold the stallion until the boy achieves majority."

"Stallions are fiercer fighters," said Éomer; "when engaged in battle a stallion shall be more a weapon in the rider's hand than a gelding."

"Karakse did well in his first battle," said Himbaláth from where he sat, raising his head from his hands.  "He was afraid but he did not shy or bolt."

"True," said Bandobras, "but he's not up to Piukka's or Taruku's standards.  He ought to have helped Fastred out a bit, by stomping round, or kicking, or biting, or something like that, but he's too gentle and soft-hearted.  Now, if Tyarmayél hadn't gone and cut off his – "

"Bandy!" interrupted Gimli with a roar; the hobbit jumped, looked round at the assembly, especially at Gimli's lady mother who covered a smile with her fingers, and the king, who looked as though he wanted to laugh but didn't dare.  "You do not say such things in noble company," growled Gimli; "especially when there is a lady present!"

"I was only going to say his bits and pieces," Bandobras said crossly; "and anyway everyone here knows the difference between a stallion and a gelding is that the stallion still has his – "

Gimli gave an inarticulate cry, and the men laughed; even Meivel smiled.  Legolas reached over Frera's lap and touched his esquire's mouth with the tips of his fingers; he said gently:  "Now, O Little One, do you please hold your tongue; acquainted with husbandry we may be, but it is unseemly to speak of the gelding's mortification."

"But I wasn't going to say it then," said Bandobras looking injured.  "What I was going to say is, a stallion still has his confidence, you know, and a load of brass, and plenty of fight, and don't mind biting and kicking and such, but gelding's ain't like that because they don't have any – "

"BANDY!"

"Aggressiveness!  Good heavens!" cried the hobbit much beleaguered; "why do you always think the worst of me, Gimli?  I wasn't going to say testicles at all!"

Legolas burst out laughing then, and the others joined in, even Frera, though Gimli shook his head in disgust; Bandobras blushed scarlet and put his chin in his hands, grumbling to himself that Gimli had got him in trouble again.  As for the King of Rohan Éomer laughed heartily, glad for the chance of mirth in his dark hours; finally he wiped the tears from his eyes, and gathered the attention of his council together.

"Well, let us see what we might do, to lighten the mood of the Mark as our mood has been lightened here," he said, smiling round at them.  "Though I am pained to admit it there are those even within my city walls whom I cannot trust, so I have gathered you together, O my friends, you who have shown yourselves to be so faithful in the past.  Gimli Lord of Aglarond, you and your people have enriched us, and stood by us to help defend the Westfold; that your Lady Mother joins us is testament to our hope and friendship in the Children of Durin.  And you, O Nórin, have proved to be staunch and canny, keeping your ear to the ground, and your words well-guarded; your confidence has served us again and again, and I thank you for it."  Nórin bowed, and Lady Frera nodded and smiled.  "Legolas Prince of Mirkwood, O Green Knight; with our friend Gimli you have fought by my side and proved yourself a true and faithful ally; word of your munificence has run abroad and you are well-known as a defender and protector, from the Lord of Amon Din to the smallest babe taken untimely from her mother's womb."

"Do you present that latter point as a subtle inference, O Éomer King?" asked Legolas smiling and raising his eyebrows; Éomer coughed and continued quickly:  "Bandobras your esquire I trust implicitly, for he is one of the holbytla, and precious in my sight to all my house; he is cousin also to a knight of the Mark, and for that reason trustworthy.  And Meivel, you who guard so well and so resolutely your lord's lands and well-being; your bravery and singleness of thought is as well-known as your obedience to his commands, and 'twould be foolish to ever doubt your word or your honor.  You also, Himbaláth his first lieutenant, who are light-hearted yet a fierce warrior, swift to battle and a terror to your enemies; I am honored by your attendance here.

"And you, Éothain; you have been my faithful friend and brother-in-arms since we were small boys together; I have all confidence in you, that you shall support my kingship and preserve the house of Éomund.  And you men here – Éodor and Féor and Fenwine and Gálef – many years have you fought by my side, contending for peace and prosperity in this kingdom.  You are loyal not only to me, but to my queen, and to my allies; you have sworn to take as your allies mine own, and your friends my friends.   So sit you here with me, to give unto me your wisdom and stanchion, for I am troubled, and do not know what to do.

"You have heard, O Men of the Mark, the remarkable tales that the Lord of Dol Galenehtar has told; firstly, that Théalof mine ambassador has attempted to abduct mine heir from Dol Galenehtar's very halls, and after striving to spread further discord in Amon Din has summarily vanished, so that the miscreant runs abroad working through his machinations, which so far are unknown to us, but give sufficient evidence that he plots high treason against mine own house.  Indeed we have heard tell of him, but search for him in vain; some hope he has fled through the Gap and so north to the Greenway, but I am of differing estimation; I believe him in Rohan still, awaiting such time as he might further his plots, knowing I am displeased with him. And we have heard from Prince Legolas also that men of Rohan, now unknown but soon to be discovered, dressed in dissembling guise as Dunlendings, did set upon them and attack them at the Mering three days hence, seeking to slaughter not only these Elvish innocents but mine own heir Fastred son of Faramir; declining in desperation capture they did slay themselves, so that no speerings should reach our ear of their master.  Fenwine, O captain of the East Emnet, you have seen the trinkets and brooches and weapons of these men; can you say you recognize any of them, so that we might determine who was behind this nefarious attack?"

"Nay, O King," said Fenwine; "I and diverse others have examined the items in question, and they are strange to us; however Féor here thought perchance he might identify them another way."

"It is this, O King," said Féor stepping forward; in one hand he held a belt buckle, much stained and crusted with mud.  With one finger he worried off a dried chunk of it, sparkling and catching the light as he moved it, and held it upon his palm.  "I have spoken with Nórin," he said; "he is in accord with me; the flecks of stone in the mud here are feldspar and fool's gold, which are not found around the Mering, nor in this part of our lands.  However the dirt in the Westfold, particularly round the borders of Fangorn, is full of it; it flows down the streams and chokes the rivers, and it is for that reason some say the Isen and Onodló flow with stars."

"It is the rock in Hithaeglir," said Gimli; "the Misty Mountains are full of it, and those waters flow through Fangorn and into Rohan."

"So the men who attacked us were of the north Westfold," said Legolas, "or at least had been there of late, and spent enough of their time there to get satisfactorily dirty."

"So it would appear," said Féor.  "I know not how else the man who bore this belt could otherwise have had so great an encrustation of feldspar."

"Also I looked upon the devices brought to us by Lord Legolas," said Gálef; "there are designs upon some of the weaponry that suggests the bearers trace their ancestries back to Helm Hammerhand, and not to Edoras."

"Well you all know 'twould not be the first time the Kings of the Mark have had to contend with Hammerhand's heirs," said Éomer with a dour smile.  "It is odd however that those bearing his ensign should hail from so far north; however with our friends the Dwarves in Aglarond perchance they find the Deep too unfriendly."

"There is more," said Frera; her face was troubled.  "We traveled from Aglarond to foregather with you, O Éomer King, and to enjoy the hospitality of your house; also however we have grim news, for the folk about Helm's Deep are harassed and confused, and my son has closed his gates."

"Alas, yes!" said Gimli.  "From the fords of Isen to the north Westfold are men gathering together; some are Dunlendings it is true, forced from their holdings in Dunland below the Greenway, casting about and burning as they go; others though are your own men, O Éomer, who cry for justice and freedom but seem to me to be seeking it on their own terms.  There is a man called Bréawine who has promised it to them they say; he gathers men to himself south of the borders of Fangorn, and Nórin here has heard men speak of a fortress constructed there, and an amassing of numbers behind his walls; some of my folk have been approached concerning its formation, but have declined claiming loyalty to me alone; however we are troubled, O Éomer King, that this Bréawine should set your kingdom so upon its ear, and seek to divide it north-to-south."

"Him again!" exclaimed Bandobras.  "And I thought Théalof was bad."

"Bad enough," sighed Éomer.  "Mine own cousin too!  His mother was kin to Morwen's daughters.  And when you, O my friend, did tell me of his attempt to take Fastred for himself, my heart set to stone within me.  I have been suspicious of him and his sly deeds in Gondor for some time, yet did not wish to recall him, thinking he could cause less damage away from home than in it; however now that I know he has designs against my house I am eager to put him down."

"I shall gladly aid you in this, Éomer King," said Meivel bowing; "I have a score to settle with him."  And he gestured to his arm, bound with straps and set in a sling.

"Well perhaps you ought to let your arm heal first, friend Elf," said Féor kindly, but Himbaláth gave a short laugh and said:  "O have you no fear, man of Rohan!  My friend Meivel is fierce enough to slay a man, as it is said, with one arm tied behind his back."

"You flatter me, Himbaláth," said Meivel, his face bland, and Himbaláth's laugh sounded more genuine then.

"All the same," said Legolas firmly, "I shall risk no harm to my captain; you remain safely here, O Meivel, and lift neither sword nor spear save in defense of yourself or another, ere your wound is sufficiently healed."

"Yes, my Lord," said Meivel, though he looked discontented.

"Well, and what do we now?" asked Éothain.  "We have heard much to disturb and little about which to laugh, barring the holbytla's dissertation on gelding; do we go to Helm's Deep, and secure the lands there; do we go searching for Bréawine by Fangorn, and tear down his castle; do we search for Théalof, who has so strangely gone missing; do we look for the King of Gondor's messengers, who are also truant?  And what shall we do about the Dunlendings?"

Before Éomer could answer there was the sound of hoofbeats approaching from behind the Hall and up to the courtyard, clattering over the cobblestones, and the guards' voices expostulating; then a man's voice rose over the sound of the fountain:  "Bring me to Éomer King!  I have dire news for him!"

"Why it is Híldaf!" cried Legolas springing to his feet; all the others save Frera rose as well.  "Bring him here!  He is an old friend; surely we might trust to his counsel."

The guards brought Híldaf forward.  He was no longer the underfed and fearful esquire he had been when first he made acquaintance of the Green Knight and his strange retainers; he was a knight himself, and counted a brave man, though his wealth was reckoned in children not gold.  He was tall, and very quick and strong, though when he drew near to their torchlight all could see he was very much agitated, and dirty and weary from hard riding.

"Hail, Éomer King!" he cried striding forward, and presenting his sword to his sovereign.  He looked round the assembly and exclaimed with surprise:  "And hail, O Green Knight, and Gimli of Aglarond, and Bandobras of the Shire!  Happy am I to see you here at Edoras; perhaps with your help we might be victorious."

"What is it, O Híldaf?" asked Éomer.  "What news from the Westfold?"

"Fire and smoke, O King!" said Híldaf wearily, sheathing his sword and removing his helm, letting his long yellow braids shake free.  "As you know I and sundry others have remained loyal to you in the arguments against your throne and authority, and now we are harried from our lands; men flock northward to Bréawine, and some are speaking of treaties with other lords, to so divide Rohan and make of one kingdom two.  Indeed they have claimed a capital already, and gather there; they are confident you will cede these lands to them, though I know not for what reason."

"What of Helm's Deep?" asked Éothain.  "What of the peoples who live south in the West Emnet?"

"Most of the men have left," said Híldaf; "the women and children are in the Deep.  Some go to join with Bréawine, but most I know go reluctantly, and hide their families within the deep for protection, knowing the Lord of Aglarond is yet friendly to our king.  And there are some, as you know, O King, that have gone simply to spy out the lay of the land; we are never certain who is loyal and who is a traitor though, so we must sift through the messages as they come, and determine who to trust, and who to reject."

"At least the Deep is secure," said Gimli; "I will send Nórin back with word to my people to hold it for you, O Éomer.  That way the women and children will be safe."

"My thanks," said Híldaf.  "Éodild and my little brood are there.  At least I know Léodwyn my sister-daughter is safe here in Meduseld."

"Yes," said Legolas with a smile; "safe, and making a goodly impression upon Éomer's sister-son; at least in this fashion we might keep it in the family"

Híldaf laughed, but Bandobras exclaimed, "O Master!  Can't anyone here think nothing of this?  So he's made a little friend; that don't mean nothing will come of it."

"There is more, O King," said Híldaf to Éomer.  "There have been reports of villages razed and folk slain by the Dunlendings, north by the borders of Fangorn.  But when I try to send men to gather information none will go."

"Why not?" asked Meivel.  "Are they disloyal too?"

"Nay, good Elf, not at all," said Híldaf.  "They fear Bréawine, and they fear – " he hesitated, then said, his voice low:  "the ghosts."

"Ghosts!" cried Legolas.  "There; first Arúlf tells us there are ghosts, and now you, dear Híldaf.  What is this talk of ghosts?  Do the spirits of the ones slain upon the northern plains of the Westfold walk about beneath the eves of Fangorn?  I should not have thought the Ents would allow it, though to be sure it complements the brooding feel of the forest, which I am sure suits their purposes well."

"It is no jest, Legolas," said Éomer.  "Rumors of the dead walking through the ruins of the villages and towns have run round this entire summer; as early as spring have folk reported the shades lurking about the tall grasses, or slinking about the boles of trees, or ducking in the ruins of houses.  And of late the rumors have increased; people descry these shades in the daytime now, though they report the ghosts appear to be pale and insubstantial, and leery of being seen."

"But surely you do not believe there are ghosts in the West Emnet," scoffed Bandobras.

"I do," said Féor; his face was gray.  "I have seen them – pale and silent, with great staring eyes; they drift soundless through the trees and flicker and vanish."  And he shivered as though with cold.

"Yes," Gálef said, "I have spoken with men – brave men – who have heard and seen things they understand not; laughter, and low eerie voices, and eyes moving in the dark.  And one of mine own brothers did say to me, that when a village near him was attacked by Dunlendings, and the people slain, that in the morning the bodies of the children were gone – they had been taken and eaten by the ghosts that dwell there now."  He shook his head.  "If Bréawine wishes to have the lands so haunted he is welcome to them."

"I cannot believe that," cried Legolas.  "Why the lands belong to Éomer and not to Bréawine; haunted or no we must wrest them from this miscreant's grip!  Éomer, I have with me forty good and strong warriors, and you have within these walls several hundreds more.  Let us go up to the north West Emnet you and I; we shall find Bréawine ourselves and chastise him well, and settle the matter."

"I would gladly go but I should go alone," said Éomer.  "My men will not go up there; other men they will fight, though they be their own brothers, at my command; but I cannot lead them against ghosts."

"Piffle!" said Bandobras.  "There's no such thing as ghosts."

"O yes there is," said Legolas and Gimli said at the same time:  "There are; I have seen them!" Bandobras looked at them in surprise, and the assembly went silent.  "We have traveled through Dunharrow into dead lands and met with the dead," said Legolas to Bandobras; the hobbit's face went white.  "They were there; we were among them, and spoke to them."

"But – but," said Bandobras much alarmed, "if there are ghosts and the ghosts are up in the north of Rohan, what shall we do about Bréawine?"

"Let him have the ghosts, if he wants!" said Fenwine, but Éothain said:  "Nay!  We ought not concede these lands to that varlet; ghosts or no those lands belong to us, and we must needs wrest them back."

"That is all very well," said Éomer with a grim smile.  "Will you go then, and face both ghosts and Bréawine?"

"Well, I am old, my Lord," said Éothain stammering and blushing; "I have not the strength nor stamina I possessed in my youth, or surely I should go."  Gálef smirked at that, and Fenwine gave a humorless laugh.

"So I see!" said Éomer.  "What about you, Féor?  Gálef?  Fenwine?  No, not even you, Híldaf?  You see, my friends; twenty years ago this would not have been a problem; we did not believe in such supernatural things.  But then the King of Gondor returns, and we meet up with such creatures as the holbytla, and Dwarves, and Elves, and Ents, and the Dead come to the aid of the King of Gondor; now my people are chary, knowing the shades and monsters of faery-land are not so far off as we had thought before.  I will fight orcs and goblins and trolls; I will do battle against wildmen and Dunlendings and Haradrim and even fierce beasts in the wild, such as bears and lions and dragons.  Any of my men would gladly come with me, if I gave the call to fight them.  But ghosts?  You cannot kill ghosts; what can a man do against them?  Their weapons are madness and fear and confusion and darkness, and sword nor spear nor shield avail to conquer them.  We are helpless against such things, for we are but Men, and the shades of our mortality press close against us and against our families."

"Even Bréawine fears them, or so I have heard," said Híldaf; "he hangs mistletoe and bells and vials filled with absinthe and rue to ward off the ghosts, and will not go out riding lest he carries talismans of peridot, and knots of cats' hair with him."

"Well, if it works for Bréawine, can your men not use them?" asked Legolas.  "Surely if we tied vials of absinthe to your steeds' saddles – "

"I have no absinthe," said Éomer shortly; Éothain added:  "And I hope, O Green Knight, you do not suggest we bell our horses; we might then go charging into Bréawine's arms with trumpet blast proclaiming our coming, that he might assemble his own men and ride us down."

"Well then," said Legolas, "we consign your people to his predations if your men fear to tread haunted lands.  It is strange to me that you should fear the dead, but as you are mortals and I am not perchance I cannot see them through your eyes."

"Count yourself fortunate," said Gimli with a shudder; "I would go myself, for I have faced the dead, but I would go unwillingly, and I am not at all certain I should be much good, should they appear.  Men I will fight, but how does a Dwarf battle a ghost?"

"Well, why should you go at all?" asked Himbaláth.  "I fear not the shades of men, nor do any other Elves.  My lord, why do we not go in the men's stead?  To be sure we cannot drive off Bréawine, for we are few against his many, but at least we could go to see if there be any survivors and bring them back, and find out if there are truly ghosts, or if it be but a rumor to confound the king's men."

"We could indeed," said Legolas brightening; he turned to Éomer and said:  "Well, my friend?  Will you concede us this?  We will go, bring back the survivors, find out what we can, and return to you with all the news we can gather; also if there be some mystery attending these ghosts we will unravel it if we can, so your men may be assured in their minds that there is naught to fear."

Bandobras leapt to his feet, his small face white.  "Master," he said, his voice trembling, "I know what you're going to say, and so I'll just say this right now and have done with it.  I'll go with you.  I don't care if there's ghosts; I don't want to be left behind while all of you go a-charging off like this."

"My Bandobras," said Legolas kindly, kneeling and taking his esquire into his arms.  "How brave you are!  But there is no need for you to go, nor to make such startling speeches!  Beside poor Bumblebee should never keep up with us; his legs are far too short, and it is a hard three-day ride to Fangorn's edge."

"In addition I have not said whether or not I approve of this plan," said Éomer.  Legolas looked at him in surprise.

"Why, what is there to disapprove?" he asked.  "We go; we help; we come back.  People are saved, information is gathered, your position is strengthened, and we do not fear ghosts."  When Éomer hesitated Legolas pleaded:  "O Éomer!  Let not your pride be your undoing; have pity on your men, and on yourself as well! There are some things it is best to not have to face.  Wights, for example; ghosts do not bother me, but wights give me a terrible chill – woof!  They cannot hurt me but I still do not like to be round them; it is like a crinkly cold finger walking up one's spine."  The men and Dwarves shivered, though Legolas did not notice; he was saying thoughtfully:  "And black flies – I could never bear black flies – disgusting creatures."

"Bats," said Fenwine pulling a face; "I do not like bats."

"O I like bats," said Legolas cheerfully.  "They eat flies.  Well, Éomer?  What say you?  Shall I muster my warriors and head north?  It would be wise, my friend, for then you shall get your information yet keep the confidence of your Marshalls, who I am sure like ghosts no better than you do, and should falter beneath your orders to go."

"I am hesitant," said Éomer heavily; "your offer is generous, O Green Knight, and I recognize the wisdom of this, but it galls me to send you on such an errand, when mine own men fear to follow."

" 'Tis fear alone impedes them, not disloyalty," said Frera; "besides if the Elves fear not the dead, and offer their services willingly, why should you not use them so?  Tell them to go, and when they return we shall know better what to do."

Éomer thought for a moment, then at last he took a deep breath and said:  "Very well.  Nórin, go you to Aglarond and secure it against Bréawine or Théalof there; with your lord's permission stand firm and guard my people so that I shall not lose the entire West Emnet.  And Legolas … "  He sighed and shook his head.  "Take you a goodly number of your canniest warriors and go to the north; bring back what people you can, and see if you can find where Bréawine is hiding.  And if there are indeed ghosts tell me what we can do to drive them off!  The lands up there are fertile and I would fain lose that income, especially if all it would take is some incantation, or cairn, or spell to so free us of their influence."

"Excellent!" said Legolas, rubbing his long hands together. "Himbaláth, gather thirty warriors – "

"My lord – " began Meivel looking pained; Legolas frowned at him.

"Did I not tell you, O Meivel, stay here, ere your wound is healed?  Himbaláth as your lieutenant shall act in your stead; you shall remain at Meduseld and await our return."

"But – " said Meivel, however his lord frowned at him and said:

"My command, O captain."

Meivel dropped his eyes.  "Yes, my lord," he said.  He stood silently as Legolas took his leave of the assembly and of his esquire, but his face was mulish, for he wished also to go.

"Legolas," said Gimli; his face was pained.  "I wish to go with you, for I have faced the dead before; however if you turn Bandobras back because of his pony – "

"My dear Dwarf," said Legolas with a laugh, "are you asking to bounce at my backside like a piece of baggage, like you did many years ago?  I had thought your propriety would rise up in protest to that!  Nay, my friend; I know your heart is steadfast and true, but this is a long ride for you to dangle such; besides, why ought you face those fears unreasonably?  We will not be gone long; set your heart at ease, Gimli, and stay you here, at least to restrain Bandobras and Fastred from running after me."

"O very well," grumbled Gimli though he looked relieved.  "But do you please come back quickly.  And do nothing rash!  You are so reckless, Legolas; please do you remember Bréawine is a dangerous man, and Théalof has yet to raise his snakelike head; there could be anything waiting for you up there.  Promise me this, that you will do nothing foolish while you are gone."

"I promise," smiled Legolas embracing him; and Gimli and Meivel watched as Legolas and Himbaláth hurried off together, speaking of weapons and formations and food, and the captain glowered after them.  Bandobras stood by their side watching his Master depart, and when the last white glow from the two Elves' heads had vanished around a corner he said to Meivel:

"At least you only have a broken arm.  I can't go because I'm too short, and that won't never heal."

Meivel's face softened.  "Disparage not your height, O Bandobras of the Shire," he said.  "There are times when the small warrior has the greater advantage; think you Lord Gimli feels his combat impeded by his size?  Betimes I should rather have a battalion of Dwarves and Hobbits than Men by my side!"

"Really?" said Bandobras in surprise, and Gimli laughed and clapped Meivel on the back.

"Betimes said you, O Meivel?" he asked.  "Let me guess – underground, and on foot?"

"Well I should hardly think riding full-tilt across the plain would be the proper venue for either of you," said Meivel.  "But I can think of many things I should like less, than to have the two of you by my side in battle."

"Well then!" said Bandobras looking very pleased.  "Seeing as we don't know what the future will bring, I'd best be grinding the nicks out of my sword – that last man I killed, the dratted fellow had an iron collar round his neck."  And he trotted off in the direction of the Hall in the wake of his Master.

Before dawn broke over the grassy rumpled plain of the West Emnet the Green Knight had led his warriors far from Meduseld, far from the dark fields of Edoras, far from the Snowbourne, due north toward Fangorn.  They rode silently, with no song nor jingling of harness, and were clad in simple plated leather armor, for they were riding to munificence and not open battle.  Their great horses thundered across the furrowed fields, cresting hill and plunging into the mist-filled hollows, splashing through shallow streams and clattering over the rocks.  When they pulled up to rest their steaming mounts Legolas would send out fresh scouts, who zig-zagged back and forth through the lands about them, yet found no sign of spy nor watcher; indeed there seemed to be no one at all, and when they came across a huddle of farmsteads at dawn the place was deserted.  Lirlindil and Romastáldë made a swift survey of the buildings and returned to report that all had been packed and removed, down to the curtains hanging at the windows, and the bolsters on the bedframes.  There did not seem to be any reason save fear that drove the farmers out, and Romastáldë told them they had seen strange designs carven upon the lintels of the houses:  crudely drawn open eyes surrounded by twisted lines, and surmounted by a diamond-shape.  He and Lirlindil were puzzled by these signs, but Legolas said:

"Some believe ghosts and spirits are driven off by the sign of eyes, or by knots of lines or words; they think the ghosts shall be frightened or confused, and thus flee, leaving the living in peace. Hirilcúllas, did not Éomer say to you that many peasants and such rustic folk had fled to Edoras fearing both Bréawine and the ghosts?"

"He did," said that woman; she had unlaced the sleeves from her traveling gown and sat bare-armed upon her Alfirin; her bow and quiver were slung at her back.  "They did say to him and to his guards that their kinsmen to the north had seen ghosts in the fields and orchards, and as soon as harvest was in they brought their families to hide in the city."

Legolas sat still upon his great black destrier, gazing to and fro, and listening; after a moment he said, "I do not feel the presence of ghosts or wights; perhaps their fears were unfounded."

"Or perhaps their fears were increased by rumor," said Himbaláth at his side; it was the first he had spoken in some hours.  "'Twould be effortless to drive these poor folk into fright and alarm simply through some well-thought-out gossip, especially when dread and trepidation already dwell herein."

"Think you then this a deliberate attempt to empty King Éomer's fields?" asked Malinadulin.  Himbaláth shrugged.

"Perchance yes, perchance no," he said; "horror is contagious, and even a well-meaning warning might incite flight."

"Considering the convoluted plots hereabouts it would surprise me not," said his lord with a laugh.  "Come!  Let us go; these empty homes can tell us nothing further."

They rode through until nightfall, and bivouacked in a shallow dingle, tethering their steeds by a stream.  Some of the Elves rested, others sang softly to the stars which peeked down at them through the curtains of cloud which swept across the night sky; Legolas set up a perimeter guard, but though the scouts ranged to and fro round their camp the only living creatures they found were fox, badgers, and quail.  The following morning they set out again, their horses fresh and rested, pressing ever northward, finding naught but two more deserted farmsteads.  "Even the manure is dry," said Lirlindil after he and Romastáldë had investigated the buildings.  "No food nor clothing nor any other thing; the people have fled."

"It is an odd thing, though, is it not, my Lord, that they appear to flee from naught?" said Himbaláth to Legolas as they stood upon the crest of a hill, and looked north toward the forest of Fangorn, dark and misty in the distance.  Legolas looked at his lieutenant closely; Himbaláth seemed weary, and his countenance drooped; he reminded his lord of a wilting daffodil at the tag-end of spring.  He considered questioning Himbaláth concerning this, but refrained, thinking perhaps Himbaláth would broach the subject himself when he were prepared to speak; and anyway it did not seem to have affected his performance at all.  "I shall ask Meivel when we return to Edoras," he said to himself; "they are close as brothers might be, though they occupy opposite balances upon the scale; perchance it is for that reason they do love each other so, for as Gimli and I are as light and dark, so do Meivel and Himbaláth seem to me to be – Himbaláth as a bright and merry sun, and Meivel shadowed and silent.  If any should divine the reason for my lieutenant's sad countenance it shall be my captain."

"Despite the rocky ground traces yet remain of passing hoofprints," said Legolas aloud.  "Though 'tis difficult to ascertain it seems as though a host of men rode through here.  That could be enough to convince even the most stalwart of farmers to migrate elsewhere."

Himbaláth shook his head.  "I hope, my Lord, when we arrive at our destination we find but a deserted village and not a destroyed one," he said.  "Men can be cruel to other men, and crueler still to women and children."  He looked over his shoulder then; his bright hair was caught up in the wind and danced about his head in shining tendrils.  "I wish you had not brought Hirilcúllas and Andunië," he said in a low voice.

Legolas turned too and looked back at the two women; Hirilcúllas and Andunië sat together upon a low soft tussock, like two slim lilies in a field of dry grass.  Hirilcúllas' dark head was bent over her quiver; she was sharpening the iron points of her arrowheads, but Andunië's copper hair was spread over the tussock as she lay back on it gazing up into the sky, her green eyes abstracted, her hands folded upon her stomach in repose.  "Think you we shall find evidence of abuse amongst the denizens of this northern village?" he asked, softly so the women would not hear.  "It is for that reason I did bring with us these two; a woman mistreated will go for comfort more readily to another woman than to a male warrior, Elf though he might be.  And should we find children bereft of their mothers they shall be easier in mind with a lady than with us."

"Perhaps, my Lord," said Himbaláth turning back to the north.  "Still I wish you had not brought them."  And he spoke no more then, but turned to horse instead, to find the scouts and question them; Legolas stood for some moments upon the hillside pondering the meaning behind his words.  It was strange to him that his merry Himbaláth should have gone so grim, and it made him uneasy.  "That my Lady Mother were here!" he thought to himself, looking up into the cloud-spattered dome of blue, at the larks and kestrels wheeling about.  "None might hide from her their inmost thoughts; she should advise me wisely concerning my poor Himbaláth. I do not like to see him suffer so, when perchance I might aid him in some way."  And he too turned away, to gather up his people and press on.

The third dawn brought them in sight of the low dark line of Fangorn's trees.  They lay in shadow despite the mellow autumn sun, and the rays did not pierce them.  None of the Elves in the company save Legolas had seen Fangorn; some stood upon the crest of a hill and stared at it, striving to pierce the shadows with their bright eyes; others spoke in low excited voices to each other, desiring greatly to explore its eaves and dells.  To their left flowed a deep black stream choked in brambles; the banks were churned with hoofprints and the marks of heavy boots.  And as they looked to the right they saw a low blue pall of smoke, hovering close to the earth in the rich heavy air.  Legolas sniffed, and frowned.

"Wood, not ghosts!" he said.  "I do think me to be close on to the village Híldaf reported to us; that is to my mind far too much smoke to dismiss as mere cook-fires."

"I fear you speak truly, my Lord," said Himbaláth by his side.  He turned again and looked back, his brow furrowed; Legolas followed his gaze, and saw he once again bore his eyes upon Hirilcúllas and Andunië.  "Shall I send out Romastáldë and Lirlindil to investigate?" he asked his lord, though his gaze was elsewhere.

"Himbaláth," said Legolas firmly, taking his lieutenant by the chin with one gentle but adamant hand, and turning him so his face presented itself to his lord's.  Himbaláth looked up into Legolas' eyes, at the tenderness and resolve there, and lowered his gaze; his gray eyes were shadowed, and his cheeks pale; his golden hair fell across his fair face, obscuring him, and Legolas brushed it aside so he could better see his subordinate.  "What troubles you, Little One?" asked Legolas.  "Fear you the ladies' souls, should we discover evidence of some horrible injustice?  Your chivalry behooves you, but know you that neither Hirilcúllas nor Andunië would be flattered for it seems to me that you doubt their capacity for resilience; they are stronger than you think."

"It is not their strength worries me," said Himbaláth, his eyes on the earth at their feet; Legolas could feel the hum of the Elf's voice through his fingertips.  "It is – " he faltered, and closed his eyes; Legolas' heart turned and he cursed his elevation which separated him from Himbaláth's pain.  "That I were but a warrior myself!" he thought darkly; he released Himbaláth's chin from his grasp and took him by the shoulders.

"My child," he said carefully, "I know not the cause of your distress, nor would I wrest it of you for you hide it most assiduously, and it is not in me to force confidences of an unwilling confessor. But I must ask of you, O my Himbaláth, if this secret sorrow has aught to do with those ladies there, and if there be anything in my power to fix this hurt, for I would not have you to suffer thus, if I could cure your ache."

Himbaláth looked at his lord then, his eyes surprised and fearful; he said quickly:  "O no, my Lord!  There is naught to be done for me; I apologize, for I have allowed my inner thoughts to cloud my vision, and am failing you in my capacity as your lieutenant; please do you forgive me, my Lord, and I shall endeavor to hold to myself mine own thoughts, so I shall not endanger our mission."

"Dear Himbaláth!" exclaimed Legolas in surprise.  "I am not censuring you; you know that I love you, and that your life is precious to me, and your well-being also.  I do not mean to press you; I want only for you to be well and happy, and it pains me to see you languish! I beg of you, O my lieutenant, if you cannot disclose your mind to me, and so relieve your discomfort, that you find for yourself some confidant, for a burden shared is half as heavy."

"Well do I know that," said Himbaláth, though his answering smile was wry and crooked.  "I did disclose my mind unto Meivel ere we departed, and he but told me to keep my peace and not be so foolish.  So as I trust his judgment as yours, my Lord, I shall take me to task, and strive to improve my mind, and control my thoughts; I am sorry, for I have delayed us somewhat, and do swear to you I shall not let my mood impede us further."

"There is naught for which to apologize to me, Little One," said Legolas with a laugh, kissing him upon the forehead.  "Let us consider the matter mended."  But to himself he thought:  "Hold his peace and stop being foolish! What was Meivel thinking, to give him advice like that?  Perhaps I shall send Himbaláth to Frera when we return; she is pragmatic too but possesses far more sympathy."

"My thanks, Lord Legolas," said Himbaláth looking relieved; "I promise I shall not let it delay us again."  He took a deep breath, and running his hands through his great mane of gold said:  "I repeat what I had said to you before, then, O my Lord; shall I send scouts to determine the cause of that smoke?"

"Nay!" said Legolas with a smile.  "Send out Romastáldë and Lirlindil again?  Why should they keep for themselves all the amusement?  Let us go ourselves, you and I; you are scout enough to keep me from making too many mistakes."

Himbaláth laughed then, his usual merry peal, which lightened his lord's heart; he said:  "Mistakes, my Lord?  And who taught me to scout as I do?  I do not forget, my prince, that you are swift and silent as a shadow in wood and thicket, and not even the hare should mark your passing!  I shall go with you and with certainty, for I do trust you with my very life."

"Fair words!" laughed Legolas, relieved.  "Let us go then; we shall take us to horse as far as that dingle, and leave them there; then go on with care lest the king's enemies are still afoot."

So Legolas and Himbaláth rode Piukka and Utuë away from the rest of the company, and into a dark shallow valley; there they left their steeds, admonishing them to keep still and quiet, and crept up the steep gorse slope to the top of the hill.  They moved silently, with not so much as a crinkle upon the dry grass, or the rattle of a loosened pebble; and when they gained the crest and looked down into the depression in the plateau they indeed as Himbaláth had said startled a hare, who had not seen them coming; he bolted for cover, his brown eyes wide.  Legolas and Himbaláth peered through the brown grass and saw the ruins of the village below them.  The walls had been broken down, and the buildings burned; there was a dispirited huddle of small trees, burnt and blackened, about which was circled the remains of a fence, and within the ruins of the palisade there was also a good bit of debris, about which some people were milling, collecting what remained in the ruins.  The wind shifted toward them, and they could smell smoke and blood, and hear the thin querulous cry of a baby.

"Women, children, and some men," breathed Himbaláth from where he lay; "so not all have been slain."

"No horses," whispered Legolas.  "And look!  Their ricks are empty.  They have been looted."

Into their line of sight came a small child, foreshortened from above; the blond untidy head was dirty, and he poked about in the remains of a barrel, looking for something; when naught was to be found he sat upon the charred ground and began to cry.  "He is hungered, poor thing," said Himbaláth sadly.

"Yes," said Legolas.  "Come!  Let us draw nearer, and let ourselves be known; I do not think we have anything to fear from these poor folk."

"Shall we return for our steeds?" asked Himbaláth.  "They will not be so startled by us then."

"I think not," said Legolas.  "All evidence indicates 'twas horsemen did this; see you the trammeled ground, the scrapes and marks upon the earth?  The sight of two knights should unman them."

"As you wish, my Lord," said Himbaláth, and they rose slowly to their feet, and headed down the slope to the village.

Their feet made no sound as they walked through the tall grasses that swept at their shoulders, and the larks and towhees nesting therein found naught about the Elves to startle them, so Legolas and his lieutenant entered the burnt compound unmarked and unheralded.  The buildings had been of wood, and burned near to the ground; even the wooden palisade which circled the village had been torn down and set afire.  All that remained were the smoking hulks of homes and stables, some with naught but one wall standing, and that broken as well; they saw to their left a stone cairn, set about with spears and poles, where no doubt their dead had been laid.  Some of the ruins smoked still, though most had burnt out, black and gray and misshapen, and to their eyes it seemed some time ere the flames had been set.  They could see in the shadows figures moving about, shifting the wreckage, but no one came forward; they were yet unmarked.  Then from round a corner walked two young women sifting through the debris; both were clad in soot-stained and tattered clothes, and one was barefoot and limping; Legolas could see where the rocky soil had cut at her feet.  Their heads were down, their eyes upon the earth as they searched for something, and they did not see the two Elves standing there; and Legolas desiring not to alarm them overmuch scuffed his foot upon the earth to make a noise, and cleared his throat.  The two young women looked up, startled; when they perceived Legolas and Himbaláth they cried out in terror, taking up their skirts and fleeing toward the jumble of ruins within the burnt circle of earth.  Their screams and cries of, "Ghosts!  Ghosts!  Ai, the Dead are upon us!" rose up, and Legolas and Himbaláth could hear exclamations of dismay from the wreckage ahead.  Legolas turned to his subordinate with a wry smile upon his lips.

"What a welcome!  Am I so frightening, Himbaláth?"

Himbaláth regarded him gravely, but his eyes twinkled nonetheless.  "No more so than usual, my Lord," he said.  Legolas raised his eyebrows at him.

"'Twas an observation worthy of Galás, that one," he said, and they started in the direction of the ruined buildings, cautious for they knew not whether someone might take it upon themselves to try force against an ethereal enemy.  Within moments before them burst a group of men, armed with stained and notched swords, and pitchforks, and one with a rake; they too were cinder-smeared and dirty, and several bore injuries poorly tended.  They with their free hands made a symbol at the two Elves, pinching their thumbs betwixt their first and second fingers, and all stared wide-eyed and frightened.  "Back, back!" bellowed their leader, a thin grizzled man in a battered leather breastplate.  "Back, you foul ghosts!  Go to the grave where you belong!"  He shook his scored sword at them, and also made the sign against them.  "Back!  Begone!  Leave our poor people at peace!"

The men behind him shouted and shook their weaponry, and Himbaláth's hand groped round his side for his halberd, but Legolas said:  "No, my child," and stepped forward, palms spread out toward them.

"We are no ghosts," he said, smiling in a friendly fashion.  "We have been sent by Éomer King of the Mark.  We come to your aid not your ruin."

He moved toward the men, and Himbaláth watched anxiously his lord approach them empty-handed; the men drew back in alarm as he drew nearer, but for some the light of terror had left their eyes, and they looked bewildered.  The man with the breastplate stood his ground, sword held steady in his knotted old hands, regarding Legolas with deepest suspicion; when the Elf was but two paces away he turned his sword so that it pointed at the center of Legolas' chest.

"If you are no ghost," he said, "then you shall stay your march lest I slay you."

Legolas stopped, smiling.  "As I have said to you before, good father, I am no ghost."

The man stared at Legolas, his brows lowered, then he looked past him to Himbaláth.  "And your friend there?  He is no ghost either?"

"Himbaláth?"  Legolas turned and smiled at his lieutenant; Himbaláth carefully watched the men, before whom his lord so fearlessly exposed himself.  "Nay, he lives and breathes as surely as do you, good father, and the heart that beats within his chest is full of tenderness and good-will.  Do you please allow us to come forward, for we bring to you help, and have with the rest of our people food and drink, and unguents for the wounded."

The men began to lower their weapons, and looked with hope at Legolas, but the older man with the sword stood firm.  "And what is your name then?" he demanded.  "I am no fool, and know full well you are neither of you men of the Mark – indeed neither of you to me appear to be Men, at least how we would reckon it.  Tell me, if you are no ghost nor foe, your name, so that I might know what to do with you."

Himbaláth stepped forward so that he stood beside his lord, his eyes flashing, and said, "He who stands before you is my lord, Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen, the son of King Thranduil; he is also called Of the Nine Walkers, Of the Three Hunters, the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, and the Green Knight, and he is deep in the counsels of both King Elessar of Gondor and Éomer King of Rohan." 

The men looked at them in amazement, and their leader, frowning, lowered his sword so that its point was to the earth.  "Well, then, O you of many titles," he said slowly, "I am Fram son of Feldwine, and mine only claim is that of village elder, but as such I do what I can to protect them – "  His sword arm dropped, and his face fell; his voice was thick with disappointment.  "Naught, as you can see."

"Nay!" said Legolas gently, and he went forward and took the old man by the shoulder.  "You lead your people well.  Can you not see how they rally behind you?  Your bravery is affected not one whit by defeat at the hands of an enemy better-armed and better-prepared."

"It is so," said a man behind Fram.  "Were it not for him we should have all been slain, for he engaged their leader, and bartered for parley."

"Yet still they took all," said Fram bitterly.  "And we are left with naught – our harvest taken, our buildings and orchard burnt, our stock driven off."

"Yet you live," said Legolas.  "You, and your people, and I see by the size of your cairn that few were slain.  So take heart, Fram Feldwine's son!  Gather up your folk, and I shall send Himbaláth here to fetch mine own company; we shall feed you and your people, and tend to your wounds, and afterwards we shall take you to Edoras, where you may lay your plaint at the feet of your sovereign, who shall in mercy and munificence succor you.  You are not forgotten, though you live far to the north of your king, and some men might think you vulnerable.  The arm of your king is long, and wields a sword mighty for justice."

So Himbaláth went back to bring the Elves and their horses and supplies, and Legolas went with Fram into the ruins of the village.  There some of the men spread their cloaks upon the ground, and bid the Elf lord sit, and Fram sat before him.  The people gathered round, still afraid but with stirrings of hope, for they saw that the Elf was fair of face and of word, and gentle in tongue and deed, and some of the smaller children, forswearing their mothers' skirts, crept forward to gaze in wonder at him.  And Fram told Legolas all he could of the men who had come upon them.

"We were not taken unawares, my lord, when the horsemen came; a rider came to us, the evening ere they arrived, giving warning and saying: 'Flee!  Flee the wrath of Bréawine, who seeks to take these lands for his own!'  But we did not believe him, for he was crazed, and we had heard tell of that man before, how he had lost his holdings through ill-use, and had shamed himself by effrontery toward the queen, and bethought to ourselves he had at last lost his mind, for he raved at us, and seemed to us to have eaten nor slept in weeks.  'Go away!' we said to him; 'we will hear no more of your outlandish threats.  Next you will tell us the ghosts are upon us!'  And some of us laughed.  But he was adamant, and would not leave the gates, saying to us, 'Flee, ere your doom o'ertakes you!'  Some of the women brought to him food and drink, hoping that would sate him, but he would not leave, still begging us to take our families and go.

"Ten days shall it be on the morrow," Fram said, shaking his gray head.  "Ten days ere we saw the horsemen upon that hill, the very one, my lord, that you and your friend came down.  Bearing swords and spears they were, and lit torches, and the man at our gates said:  'Quickly, quickly!  Take your people and go, ere they slay you!'  But we had just brought in our grain, our wheat and our barley and our oats, and harvested the apples off our trees, and I was unwilling to abandon this bounty before I knew what the men wanted.  So I went forth from the palisade and enquired of them what they sought.  And the man who had come to us followed me, entreating me, saying I went to my death; when the horsemen saw him they knew him, and mocked him, and told him his fate was sealed, for he had betrayed them, and they would take him back to their lord, and torment him 'til he died.  And they took hold of him, and beat him, though he cursed them; the last I saw of him they had him bound, and two of the horsemen lead him away.  Then I saw that the men were evil, and I rebuked them, and demanded they let us be.  But they were greater in number than we, and they laughed at me, and their leader said to me: 'Out of the way, old graybeard!  We come to slay and burn, lest you swear your allegiance unto our lord!'  'And who is this lord,' asked I, 'who draws our duty from Éomer King?' 'Bréawine Lord of the West Emnet,' said they, 'and if you bow not before him we shall slay you all, man, woman and child, and take for ourselves what we like.'

"Now, my lord, I am an old man, and our village small; yet I saw no reason to swear fealty unto a man who had no hold on us save fear.  I am a king's man, and fought under Théoden ere he was enchanted by the wizard, and when I heard his sister-son Éomer had assumed the throne my heart swelled within me.  I knew naught of this Bréawine save he was but a petty lord with a head over-large for his heritage, and crowned with disloyalty and treason, and had so stirred up Errakh-Hem of the Dunlendings against us that it was all we could do to keep our holdings from being overrun.  And every man under me when examined said the same:  Éomer is our king, and we bow to no other; we have said our oaths and would fain discard them, even with fire and death at our gates.

"Well I knew we were outnumbered, and my people doomed, so I said to the horsemen: 'Take what you want and go, but let not our blood be upon your heads, for we are all of the Mark, and my people are your brothers.  Leave us instead to our empty winter and let the elements dispose of us, so that you shall be blameless at least of our deaths.'  For I thought, 'If they but take our goods and let us live, we might make it as far as Edoras and plead the king's justice.'  But not content to hold to our parley they threw their torches upon the roofs of our homes, and tore down our palisade and set fire to it, and some of their men did attempt to take upon their saddles our young girls to carry them off.  Then did my men take up arms to protect them, and some were slain, and many wounded, and the horsemen went at will then through the village, taking and burning and killing, until all was afire and we were constrained to flee to the riverbank.  There we stood and watched the men take our horses, and our herds, and all our goods, our waggons loaded with barrel and sheaf, while our village burned to the ground.  And ere the men departed their leader came to me and said: 'All loyal to King Éomer get what they deserve: Poverty, ruin, and death!'  And striking me upon the cheek he knocked me to the earth, and turned and mounted his horse, and they rode away, laughing at us and crying:  'Now consign us your fate not to the elements but to the ghosts!'

'I had hoped to begin our march to the south, to beg Éomer's benevolence, but with so many wounded and hurt I decided to wait; however there is no food, and no medicines either, so the wounded mortify, and we grow ever weaker, especially our children.  I had feared all should perish upon the journey, which as you know on foot is well nigh eight days, and so this morn had we counseled together, to send five men to Edoras, and we should await the king's troops.  But you, my lord, have forestalled us, and blessings be upon your fair head for it!  I am but a simple man and know not the lands whence you came, nor have I heard tell your father's name; but though Man you may not be I consign my fate and my people's wellbeing unto you, and not ghosts nor elements as the horsemen did say to me, for all can see you are as good as your face, and I should trust you though I know not your race nor realm."

Legolas during his tale had looked grieved, and angered as well, for the news of such pitiless devastation tore at his heart.  He said:  "O Fram son of Feldwine, how your forefathers would have praised you, had they seen with such wisdom and faithfulness you held to oath and undertaking!  I do swear this unto you, good father, that I shall rest not ere these men be found and chastised.  Yet I am puzzled most as to this man who came to you, who was not unknown to you, to warn you of the coming fire; who was he, and whence came he?"

"His name is, or was for I am certain he is by now dead, Brytta of the Westfold," said Fram, and taking note of Legolas' face he said:  "Ah!  I see you have heard tell of him too!"

"Indeed I have," said Legolas.  "Moreover I have tried myself against him, and it came to a draw, though it was but in tourney.  A hard man from all accounts, yet to his credit Éomer told me he was faithful to the throne, though he disdained all lands save Rohan."

"Yes," said Fram.  "We know little of him, for his holdings were far from ours; yet what we heard did not increase our confidence in him, for by all accounts he had let slip his reason."

"Well," said Legolas looking pained, "I have this from the king, that Brytta has driven three esquires from him, and was so intractable no man would let him have a daughter to wife; he publicly reproached Éomer for taking a foreign bride, and so lost his knighthood, for your king is not a man to be opposed so.  Since then he has been constrained to sell his lands, and wanders about, complaining that the borders are shrinking, and the Mark losing its might.  He disappeared several years ago and naught was heard of him, and Éomer did tell me he feared Brytta was dead.  'Twas a great pity, he said, for if one took not into account his disagreeable nature, Brytta was a devoted knight, and a fearsome one, and one well-worth having by one's side in a fight."  Legolas sighed then, and rested his chin in his hands.  "Poor Brytta!" he said, and looked sad.  "How he hated me, and how I desired to make peace with him!  Yet he has for himself this legacy at least, that his last act was an endeavor to save the lives of many people, and clear defiance against those who would take his king's rule."

"Yes," said Fram; "when I think of his death I am saddened, for had I but heeded him none of my people should have been slain."

"You do not know that," said Legolas comforting him.  "Bréawine's men acted in treachery and cruelty, and it is possible they should have pursued you, and done the more damage.  But hark!  Hear you the sound of hoof-beats upon the earth?  My people are come to you; I perceive their merry voices in the wind."

Sure enough the villagers when they ran to the ruined palisade saw descending the hill Himbaláth, bearing his lord's standard, and behind him the great destriers of Dale, upon whose backs rode Legolas' people singing a song of consolation.  Himbaláth had put by his side Andunië and Hirilcúllas, so that the women and children would feel no terror, and Legolas smiled to see the three of them at the head of the vanguard, for Himbaláth was golden and shining, and Andunië like polished copper, and Hirilcúllas dark and sleek as a raven's wing.  Fram welcomed them gratefully, and the Elves all dismounted and moved about the villagers, speaking kindly, and passing round food – smoked meats, and flat bread, and dried fruit and nuts.  Soon all the children were clustered round Hirilcúllas, who had secreted within her pockets many sweets, and these she gave unto them to distract them, while Andunië treated their hurts.  After the children did Andunië and Kainendulin tend to the others who had been injured, anointing their wounds with unguents, and binding them up with clean cloths.

During this time Legolas directed the pitching of tents, for it was coming toward evening, and he wanted the people well-rested ere they set out for Edoras in the morning.  And he also sent out Lirlindil and Romastáldë, to determine where the horsemen had gone, and if there was aught about to cause concern.  He stood with Himbaláth looking over the village as the sun set, watching his people go to and fro, succoring and helping, singing and laughing, and the villagers soon were singing as well.  Legolas turned to his lieutenant and said:  "Well!  Here is some good done, and some news garnered as well, though I am disappointed it is so little, and uneasy on Éomer's account.  This Bréawine is grown bold to so flout the royal law hereabouts."

"Yes," said Himbaláth.  "It becomes ever clearer that King Éomer must needs ride forth, and take this traitor to task."

"Even so, where shall he ride?" asked Legolas, turning his face to the north.  "We know Bréawine is up there, but where stays he; where is his keep, where are his troops?  Rather would I return to Éomer to say, Go you here and slay the turncoat, and not, Here are some refugees, and we think your enemy is somewhere to the north!  To date we have naught but suggestions as to where Bréawine's stronghold might be."

"Should Éomer march now, he might cast about in many directions, and spread his riders over-thin, ere he found the man," agreed Himbaláth.  "And then it should be made the more difficult to conquer, for his men shall be distributed over a great area, and not concentrated against the enemy."

"Well perhaps the scouts might tell us something," said Legolas.  "Look!  They are coming now."

Lirlindil and Romastáldë rode up then, their mounts blowing and foaming; they had run hard.  "My Lord!" said Romastáldë dismounting.  "We did track the miscreants as far as the stream to the west; they forded it not eight days hence and pushed so northward.  There is a track, my Lord, leading towards Fangorn and further west, but you did tell us to go but five leagues and return, and so here we are."

"And you saw naught else on the way?" asked Legolas.  "No men, no beasts?"

"No, nor ghosts," laughed Romastáldë.  "For myself I do not believe there are any out here; I think it is naught but rumor."

"A persistent one though," said Legolas.  He turned to Himbaláth.  "Now, Little One, shall I charge you with orders that shall be little to your liking!  I shall take me Lirlindil here upon a fresh horse, and me upon my Piukka, and go see what we might find to the north-west, and you shall take upon yourself the duty of squiring these folk to Edoras.  Should Lirlindil and I discover Bréawine's keep, or garner knowledge equally valuable, we shall come back; but your way shall be slower than ours, for many of you must walk, and we might meet you upon the plains ere you gain the door of Meduseld."

"My Lord," protested Himbaláth, "would it not be more prudent to send me?  Lirlindil and I might do the selfsame work that you place upon yourself; why should you risk your royal person, when I should do as well?"

"Dear Himbaláth!" said Legolas kindly.  "I doubt not your abilities or your courage, and know full well that you should accomplish this task as well as can I.  But I should like to do this for my friend Éomer, to find this man who so harries him and aid in bringing the traitor to justice; and also my heart burns on account of Brytta, who though he hated me deserves at least to have his fate discovered, and if he be not yet dead, perhaps I might save him.  I owe him that at least, to pay him back for his ignominy upon the lists, which I visited upon his poor head.  So do you not quarrel with me, Little One, but take up for yourself the staff of headship over these people, and bring them safely to their sovereign's steps."

"Very well, my Lord," said Himbaláth, though he looked unhappy.  "And what shall I do, should we arrive at Edoras, and you follow not?  For if you are delayed three days past that time, Meivel shall insist to send out a search-party for you."

"That decision I shall leave to Éomer," said Legolas, "for these are his lands and not ours, and should more of us be found wandering in the Wold it shall certainly signal to Bréawine that we are on his trail.  Nay, good lieutenant; wait you upon the will of the king of Rohan, for I would fain have it said we came to help and ended hindering."

"As you wish it!" said Himbaláth, and with a smile Legolas went to fetch his destrier.  And before the sun set fully the two Elves set off, pressing into the violet shadows of the west, disappearing at last even from Himbaláth's bright seeking eyes.

Fastred sat upon the walls of Meduseld, looking down past the city to the plains below. His chin was in his hand, and his fist upon his hip, for he was discontented, and still at an age that he was ignorant to hide it. Beside him sat several other children, who had in the past days become his friends; they were boys and girls both, and Léodwyn was among them. Despite her plain black dress and the brown eyes which set her so apart from the other girls she was in perpetual attendance upon the prince, for he insisted upon it, realizing the other children in the court looked down upon her in her lowly state, and wishing to give unto her some of the comfort he had received, by incurring his own status upon her. When she was not reminded to be melancholy she was quite a good playmate indeed, riding her horse with the rest, or sitting with the other girls upon the banks of the pond behind the city to watch the boys fish. She did not chatter, which was a relief, but let the other girls talk, and for that reason she was becoming quite popular. Fastred thought to himself that Hísimë and Théodred were very lucky, for she was to go to live in Osgiliath, and then they would be friends with her too.

At times Bandobras joined them; he was young enough still to enjoy the company of children, yet old enough to make sure they did not incur too much damage as they played, and sometimes he would regale them with tales of his own lands and people. The children grew to watch for the phrases which began, "You know, there was this neighbor of mine when I was little – " for then the stories would begin, and they be brought to laughter by the telling of them. And when Fastred begged him he would also tell tales of the Elves of Dol Galenehtar, in particular his Lord Lassah, whom Fastred missed greatly; and it was on this account he sat upon the wall that gray forenoon, hoping with all his might that the Elf lord would return.

He stared out into the fields, watching the winding river wend its way through the soft curves and creases of the earth, the empty brown fields dotted with crows and blackbirds, the riders who now and again came round the bend in the road to and from the city, stopping at the gates and moving on, tiny like toys in the distance. He wished he had Elven eyes, for though he stared and strained he could not see well past the fourth hill; it was misty and gray to him, and he could not distinguish much past a darkness here, or a movement there. And he well knew Meivel watched also, pacing to and fro upon the high walls, his dark hair tossed and tousled in the wind, glaring out at the emptiness; the past seven days had the Elf captain watched but in vain, for no word came from the north. In vain also had Meivel begged Fastred's uncle to let him go forth in foray; Éomer had but replied, "Wait you a few days longer, good Meivel, and have faith your lord will return to you anon." And then he would say to Gimli or to Bandobras, "Such impatience I have never seen from one of the fair folk! You are certain Meivel is indeed an Elf?" And Meivel would glower and return to his beat, watching with anxious eyes for his lord's return.

"A hard three-days' ride," muttered Fastred under his breath. Hímalf, one of his new friends, a big tow-haired boy that put him in mind of Halgond, turned to look at him and said: "What?"

"Three days' ride," said Fastred staring out at the fields. "That is what Híldaf did say, that it should take at least that long to reach the village. Three days out, and three to return; they should be back by now!"

"Not so, Fastred Prince," said another boy sitting beside him. "Why, if they are to bring tidings back, they must look around a bit, and that will take some time."

"And who knows what they have found!" added Hímalf. "Why they might have come across Dunlendings, or ghosts. That might delay them."

"I do not believe in ghosts," declared one girl bravely, and that sparked a debate amongst the children, whether ghosts indeed lurked about, or were naught but the fancies of over-fearful peasants. Fastred did not join in the conversation, for he trusted his Lord Lassah more than anyone – save perhaps his noble parents – and Lassah had insisted that ghosts did indeed walk the earth. Not always, he had said with a smile, and not everywhere. But Lassah had seen them with his own eyes, so Fastred was constrained to believe him.

He shivered. He did not want to see a ghost. He was possessed of a vivid imagination, and as a very small child had been terrified of what lurked in his wardrobe, or underneath the bed; and one nurse, with more fancy than sense, had told Fastred that the ghost of his grandsire, Denethor of the Tower, hovered about his pyre in the City of the Dead. Everafter Fastred went to Minas Tirith in dread of meeting Denethor's spirit, oftimes staying with the grown-ups in preference to playing in the streets, for fear of running across that shade. He did not disclose this secret terror, sure it would be laughed at; yet the thought of ghosts about sent a cold tremor up his back, and he told himself over and over that the ghosts of Fangorn were but rumor.

After a time the afternoon turned chilly, and the children dispersed to their several homes for dinner; Léodwyn and Fastred climbed down off the wall, and went to the back of the Hall to the buttery. "Do you believe in ghosts, Fastred?" Léodwyn asked, as they ducked beneath the low lintel, and waited by the table for the cooks to notice them.

Fastred hesitated before answering, for he did not want her to be frightened. "Yes," he said slowly, "but I am not convinced it is ghosts the folk of the West Emnet see."

Léodwyn considered this, tipping her pale, thin face to one side. Fastred was dissatisfied with how little she had got fat in the past week, and often chivvied her to eat more; he did not like to see a girl so thin, for he was certain it was very unhealthy, and that Mistress Pearl would disapprove. "I think there are ghosts to the north," she said at last, smiling at the cook, who had handed them fresh rolls and cold ham. "My mother-brother – rather, mine uncle – he says they are there, and I think I might trust him in that." As they took their repast to the Hall she asked curiously: "So it is true Elves do not fear the Dead? I would think that an Elf would fear death more than we mortals do, for it should be such an unnatural interruption of their state."

"I know not," confessed Fastred. He looked around the dark hall, about which milled folk drinking or talking, and espied his uncle sitting by the fire with Gimli, Frera, Fríma, and Belegtilion. "Let us sit at the hearth," he said; "then we might ask Belegtilion, and he should tell us if he wishes."

Léodwyn paused, biting at her rosy lip, and Fastred asked, "What is it? Surely you do not fear to sit with the king; after all I am a prince and you like me well enough."

"O it is not the king," said Léodwyn hurriedly. "It is the Elf – I am still uncomfortable round them. But," she said, lifting her little pointed chin, "if I am to live in Osgiliath with your noble parents, I must become accustomed to them, for they shall be my neighbors; so yes, let us sit by the hearth."

"Very well," said Fastred with a smile, and the two children went to the fireplace. The grown-ups did not seem to mind their presence; in fact Éomer welcomed them warmly, and bade Léodwyn take a more comfortable seat. Fastred noted she kept looking through her honey-colored hair at Belegtilion, who from his injuries sustained upon the Mering had remained in Meduseld. The Elf sat cross-legged upon the hearth, with a hunting-dog's glossy head in his lap. The strappings had been removed from his wound, and Fastred could see it was healing well, though he would have the crooked scar across his cheek and eye for some time. Unlike Meivel he did not seem discommoded by his inability to join his lord; he was laughing at something Fríma had said, and appeared very comfortable.

"Well, and how go the watchers today?" asked Frera with a smile at them. "Do you believe Legolas will return the faster, if you keep your eyes fixed upon the north?"

"If I believed that I should never come down, Lady Frera," said Fastred. "Do you not think this is taking an unconscionable time? I had hoped he should be back by now!"

"You are as impatient as Meivel, O mine heir!" laughed Éomer. "Tell me, Fastred sister-son, why is it you are so anxious for Legolas' return? He is a hale and canny warrior, and as shades vex him not I do not believe he should find himself in immediate danger. Do you miss your grown playmate so much?"

"Well, yes," admitted Fastred; "I am not used to sharing him you know, except with Hísimë and Théodred. In times past he would go away, and I would miss him, but know that he should return when he said he would; however he went to the north without saying good-bye, or telling me when he would return. So I am a little anxious, Uncle, and wish we at least had news of him."

"Well here is something at least," said Gimli from where he sat at his mother's feet. He threw a letter, seal broken, onto Fastred's lap. "Read this; it is from Nórin, and as you are prince here I believe the doings to the west concern you too. Though I beg you to indulge his careless manner; Nórin was never one to waste words on formality!"

Fastred unfolded the letter and read:

Gimli Lord of Aglarond, Son of Glóin

From Nórin son of Órin, his servant:

Greetings.

The new vein progresses nicely. Tell the King he shall receive approximately one hundred seventy three per cent more revenue from taxes incurred on gold production, and three hundred forty one per cent in silver. Also Fróga claims he has found rubies, which is gratifying. When you return we shall begin mining the twelfth chamber.

We were approached the day after my return here by a man claiming he speaks for Bréawine, who calls himself Lord of the West Emnet. According to his messenger, Bréawine says he shall leave the Dwarves of Aglarond be if they pay him danegeld of fifteen per cent of all annual takings in gold, silver, and gems. When we enquired why we should be constrained to pay danegeld to an upstart as well as the legitimate king of Rohan, he threatened us with war. But Bréawine's messenger experienced a surprising change of heart after Fróga, Bálor, and I spoke to him at length. Well, perhaps it is not so surprising, as our arguments involved heavy sticks. Now he sits in our dungeons complaining Rohan is on the brink of disaster. It is the only thing he has said so far to which I am in agreement.

We have secured oaths from the remaining men in the Deep to remain true to Éomer. As Híldaf told us, there are many wandering round out there, unsure where their loyalties lie. Híldaf, Hárma, and some others are rounding them up and convincing them their safest choice is the current king, and to give Bréawine a wide berth. The rumors about ghosts have helped. As Éomer is friends with Elves, and as Elves do not fear ghosts, some of the men who otherwise would remain indecisive have determined to take their chances with the man most likely to be able to protect them from the Dead. Mad, the lot of them.

Give my deepest and humblest respects to Lady Frera and Fríma her maidservant. I will let you know about the emerald cache, though it seems to me it has run out. But hope springs eternal, as they say.

Durin's blessings,

Nórin

"Uncle," said Fastred worriedly, "why is it so hard to keep men on our side? Why do they keep revolting against you? I do not recall discord like this from my history studies."

"I do not know," sighed Éomer. "When questioned, the men only say they are uneasy about mine ability to maintain the throne. Legolas has suggested, and I think I concur, that the disappearance of the King's post has to do with it; if we know not the letters passing to and from Gondor, and if Bréawine or Théalof have managed to replace those letters with spurious ones of their own, who knows what mischief might be accomplished! But if this Bréawine claims he is Lord of the West Emnet, my seat is at least secure here; I know not of any other claimant to my position."

"Besides Fastred," said Gimli.

"Well, yes. Besides Fastred, but I do not think he is planning mine assassination yet," said the king with a small smile. Fastred blushed; he could not imagine plotting to slay someone, least of all a relation, for a throne; he found it disheartening enough to realize the throne would be his eventually, for he was uncomfortable at the thought. "But I am encouraged; if the Dwarves report men renew their oaths to me, at least I have troops at the Deep loyal to my command. Though they will not bear to march against the ghosts, they recognize I have friends who will; that is enough so far."

"Léodwyn and I are curious about that," said Fastred, turning to the Elf, who was stroking the dog's head. "Belegtilion, why do Elves not fear the Dead? Why is it that ghosts fill mortals' hearts with dread and alarm, but hold no terror for the Firstborn? Is it that you do not fear death either?"

Belegtilion laughed. "Well, I would not say that," he said, smiling at the children. "We are brave, it is true, and perchance do not fear the afterlife as do some mortals, though to be sure certain modes of death may give us qualms."

"Drowning," said Fríma gruffly from her seat. "I have always feared drowning; I know not why."

"Yes," said Belegtilion. "And I have known Elves, brave fellows and fine warriors, who were unaccountably afraid of other ways to die – being shot by arrows, or crushed beneath stone, or other such like. But as to fearing the dead; well, I am not certain I can answer your query suitably, for I know not the reason one would feel fear when confronted with a ghost. I am as curious as you, for I might ask, Why do you fear the dead? What might a ghost do to ha