These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema .This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

Grin and bare it

Aragorn looked more closely at the goats and suddenly realised what they were eating. “You are not having these too!” he yelled, as a bearded Billy goat made a grab for the leg of his drawers. The animal retreated, carrying a piece of the fabric in his mouth.

“What is happening?” Faramir asked anxiously, scrambling out of the water.

“The goats appear to have eaten our clothes and towels.” the King replied grimly. ”It even took my white tree!” He gestured towards the torn leg of his drawers, where there had been an embroidered White Tree of Gondor, one of his few vanities.

“No!” Legolas cried, scampering after a goat, which had a piece of his tunic hanging from its mouth. By the time he had reached the animal it had devoured the cloth completely.

“They have bitten through the ropes and the horses have strayed! ” Faramir announced, unable to conceal the rising panic in his voice.

“They cannot have gone far.” Aragorn replied, trying to sound calmer than he felt.

Legolas returned from his futile chase, looking totally dejected. ” Whatever am I going to do? ” he groaned. ”I suppose one of you wouldn’t lend me… ”

Faramir blanched. He had a great admiration and respect for the Eldar, but the prospect of walking back to Minas Tirith stark naked was the stuff of his worse nightmares.

“The King and the Steward of Gondor have their dignity to maintain. Maybe the goatherd will return and be able to help us.” Aragorn said firmly, placing a protective hand on Faramir’s shoulder.

Despite the warmth of the late afternoon, the Steward’s skin felt icy to the touch. He felt irked with Legolas, for making such a request. The Elf could have kept some of his own clothing on instead of boasting Elven perfection.

“Very well,” Legolas sighed. He wandered back to the bank to look for something to cover himself with and alighted upon some gigantic leaves, which he started to gather.

“Do not touch those!” Aragorn warned. ”They are poisonous and cause a painful rash.”

“For mortals maybe, but surely not for Elves?” Legolas dismissed the concerns airily. 

”I have not seen an Elf affected, but then these plants do not grow in the Elven realms.” Aragorn conceded.

Legolas walked back up the bank, clutching a bouquet of the giant leaves around his waist. He brushed his long golden hair back from his face with his free hand.

“You worry too much, Aragorn.” he said. ”These leaves will serve as covering until we find something better.”  

“Bad goats come back!” A shout heralded the belated appearance of the goatherd, a young boy of about eleven summers. He was roughly but more than adequately clad in rough breeches, a tunic and a cloak

The boy stopped when he saw them and stared with eyes wide as saucers.

“Please could you help us? ” Aragorn asked politely.” We need some of your clothes from you, we will pay of course!”

The boy looked him up and down for a mere second them with a piercing scream fled.

Aragorn sighed with dismay.” I fear he misunderstood our predicament and takes us for thieves or lunatics. Either that, or he took some of the clothing himself. It was a great deal for goats to devour,” he said. “Come, we had better try and find our horses and some clothing.”

The three started to run across the Pelennor. The meadows were green again after the carnage of the battle fought there; maybe made even lusher, now they were nourished with the blood of so many. The only reminder of what had occurred was a bare patch where the remains of the fell beast had been burned where nothing would grow.

Aragorn and Faramir soon found themselves tiring, for although both had spent many years wandering in the wilds, they had little such exercise since Aragorn had become King. Their pace slackened and they walked in dejected silence with Legolas bringing up the rear.  Although the Elf was tireless, he preferred to stay close to his human companions in his current predicament.

Much to their relief, they eventually reached a farmhouse where a plump young woman was hanging some washing out on a clothesline. Their eyes brightened at the sight of several shirts, a pair of breeches, and some bed sheets.

“Stay behind us! ” Aragorn instructed Legolas as they approached the woman. He was blushing scarlet at the prospect of letting a lady see him so inadequately clad. Faramir’s expression suggested, that were he not so loyal to Aragorn, he would have turned and fled. He stood huddled miserably, trying to cover himself with his arms.

“Your pardon, my lady, we wondered if you could help us, we are in dire need of your clothing. “ Aragorn said politely, gesturing towards the washing line.

The woman’s only reply was to deal him a resounding slap across the face. “How dare you, you impudent knave!” she shrieked. “Be gone, or I’ll set the dogs on you! I hoped now the King has returned that things would get better, but we never had lunatics wandering around like this in Lord Denethor’s day!“

“I am the King.” Aragorn replied with as much dignity as he could muster, He rubbed his reddening cheek before crossing his arms defensively across his bare chest.

“King indeed, a madman more like!” she snapped. “ Obviously the three of you have escaped from the asylum. You need locking up forever!”

Much to their dismay, she snatched her washing from the line and hurried inside, slamming the door behind her.

“We should have waited and helped ourselves to the washing once she had gone. “ Faramir said sadly. “We could have paid for it later. Has she injured you?”

Aragorn rubbed his face ruefully. “It could have been worse, she could have punched me in the eye! Whatever did I say to upset her so?”

“You asked for her clothes,” Faramir answered with a mirthless laugh, I think she thought you meant what she wore, not the washing!”

Aragorn flushed slightly at the implication.

“What can we do now?” asked Legolas.

Aragorn looked around him and espied a mill a short distance away. “Let us try that mill.“ He suggested.

They set off at a fair pace, Legolas having to slow down to keep up with the two men. He had now positioned himself between Aragorn and Faramir, as the leaves were starting to wilt and he had lost several of them on the way. Both men were wary and did their best not to get close enough for the leaves to touch their skin.

The mill door was open. Much to Aragorn and Faramir’s delight, a pile of flour sacks were neatly folded behind the door. They picked them up and started tearing holes in them to make makeshift clothing.

“Just what we need!” Faramir sighed with relief. He was cold as well as miserable and discomfited by their plight.

“What use are flour sacks? ” asked Legolas. “We need clothing!”

“We can wear them.“ Aragorn was already pulling one over his head. Like Faramir, he was starting to feel cold and his flesh was covered with goose bumps.

“These?” the Elf was horrified. “But the material is so coarse!”

Aragorn had already torn a strip off a second sack. He then made a hole in the bottom of it, stepped into it, and secured it round his waist. The outfit was far from being either elegant or comfortable, but it was at least decent.

Faramir had likewise fashioned similar rough attire for himself.

“Will one of you let me borrow your drawers now?” Legolas pleaded.

“We itch as much as you, maybe more so, being mere mortals! “ Aragorn retorted. “You had better put on a sack or remain naked and treat the citizens of Minas Tirith to a glimpse of your Elven perfection! ”

“Mortals would be unable to appreciate Elven beauty! ” Legolas retorted, reluctantly following the others’ example. “It itches,” he complained, when the sackcloth irritated his fair flesh.

“And just what do you think you are doing! ” A middle-aged man, with greying hair and beard entered the mill, his face flushed with anger. “Stealing my flour sacks, I’ll report you to the King’s justices!”

TBC