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.