(A/N: After several questions regarding my use of "mine" instead of "my" preceding nouns beginning with vowels, I refer you to http://home.earthlink.net/~jmarbysprint02/STT/Much%20Ado/primer.html. I am, in my flawed and amateurish way, attempting to make this story sound at least a tad old-fashioned, and I apologize for any confusion! Again, can you tell I haven't got a beta?)

Fastred sat in the darkest corner of Piukka's empty loose-box, curled up into a tight ball, his knees pulled up to his chin, and his face buried in his arms. He had given up all pretense of being a prince, and therefore too proud to cry; he had wept for hours, and now being weary of weeping – and, he was certain, completely out of tears anyway – he sat in the gloom, comfortable enough in his decision to spend the rest of his life in the stall and never, ever leave again. He would not be king of Rohan. He would not go back to Osgiliath. He would not even run away to lead a life elsewhere. He could not – ever. And now he could not even run to Dol Galenehtar, as he had done at the beginning of the summer – O how long ago that seemed! And O how little he had then to trouble him, if he had only known! – Dol Galenehtar would be a cold and empty place to him ever after, for his Lassah was gone . . . gone forever.

Fastred had stood with Léodwyn in the crowded Hall, hugging the shadows fearfully while Éomer interrogated the rider, Brytta. The man was horribly dirty, covered with the worst sort of filth, and so terribly bruised and bloodied one could hardly descry the proper color of his skin. His hair, which in his youth must have been yellow, was liberally streaked with gray, and very long and tangled, and several of his teeth had been kicked out, making him look even older. All the grown-ups appeared to know who he was, including Gimli and Bandobras, and none of them seemed particularly fond of him, or inclined to believe his tale; Fram of the village however took his part saying: "O no, Éomer King; this is the one who told us of Bréawine's men coming to burn our village! Have mercy on him, for he had mercy on us!" Éomer did not look as if he were inclined to trust the man though; he spoke sharply to him, and demanded explanations for his movements the past year. Brytta for his part did not display hubris, or offensiveness at all; he seemed bone-weary and very discouraged, though betimes his answers were couched in anger, when he saw he was disbelieved.

Fastred had tried to follow the interrogation as it went; it appeared Brytta had after insulting his aunt fled to the north to nurse his wounded vanity, for Éomer had dispossessed him; it was there he had met Bréawine, and learned the man aspired to split Rohan north-to-south, and take the northern half for his own. Brytta claimed he had joined Bréawine to spy on him, and had never meant to support him, but the information he had sent to Éomer had been intercepted, and the messenger killed, and Brytta had run to try to warn all round Bréawine to go to Edoras; however when the village was attacked he had been captured and imprisoned, and unable to send news to the King. To Fastred's view it did not appear the king believed this explanation, but instead pressed Brytta saying: "So you did not mean to swear allegiance to a traitor, did you? You still felt you could hold to your oaths to me as your sovereign then? You did never intend to uphold Bréawine's cause at all?" And Brytta would answer tiredly, his head in his battered hands: "Yes, O Éomer King. I am your servant. I told you; I joined him as a spy, to try to protect your lands. I do not serve Bréawine." Éothain and several others questioned him as well, and got no other answer of him, so that even Éomer appeared to consider his words; then however Meivel asked leave of the court to question him too, and that was when the hammer had fallen.

Brytta made no secret of the fact that Lassah and Lirlindil had gone into Bréawine's keep to rescue him; he spoke of it resentfully though, for he was a proud man still and hated the Green Knight with all the passion he had brought back with him from that first Tournament. And he told the assembly how the Elves had placed him upon Legolas' great black horse – "Naught but a farm-horse, big and stupid," Brytta had muttered, though he wiped tears from his eyes as he spoke – and how they had been pursued, and then ambushed, and Lirlindil's horse shot from underneath the two Elves, casting them to the earth, and breaking Lirlindil's neck. At this there were cries of grief from the Elves there, but Meivel pressed Brytta further, his face of stone, his eyes hard. "And what happened then? What became of Prince Legolas?" he had demanded, standing over Brytta's seated form, tall and dark and dangerous; Brytta had dropped his head wearily then, and spoke the words that rang still in Fastred's head:

"Then the Green Knight did gain his feet, and seeing his companion had fallen, and that Bréawine was almost upon us, he did draw his bow, and fired back into the fray, and called out to the horse upon which I sat to run 'til he brought me safely to Meduseld. Then did the damned horse start to run, though I endeavored to stop it; 'twould fain listen or pause, but galloped as though a host of demons were behind it. And as I turned, for I wished to go back to the Green Knight's aid, I saw Bréawine's men swarm over him, and many arrows pierce him, and many swordsmen strike at him, and he gave a terrible cry, and then I saw him fall."

Fastred's memories of what had happened next were very blurry. He saw Meivel go dreadfully white, and heard Bandobras give a strangled shriek. Éomer too swayed on his feet, and there were wails of grief from the assembled Elves, and from Gimli and Frera too. But most shocking of all was Himbaláth, of habit so merry and gentle, springing upon the unfortunate Brytta with his hands round the man's neck, shaking and throttling him and crying out in a broken voice: "Murderer! Coward! Liar!" Brytta could not fight the Elf off in his fury, and it had taken Meivel, Malinadulin, and Fenwine to subdue Himbaláth, dragging him off Brytta's body, struggling and cursing. It had been at that point Fastred realized what had happened – Lassah was dead – and the burning grief that pierced him had visited upon him such agony he had fled retching from the Hall, unmarked in the chaos.

He had gone immediately to the stables, heading straight to Piukka's stall, half in hopes the horse would still be there, large, dark, placid, thoughtfully chewing hay and regarding the boy with his liquid brown eyes. Fastred's thoughts had been in such a whirl – it was not true – could not be true – O please tell me it is not true – it cannot be – But sure enough the loose-box was empty, clean and filled with fresh straw awaiting the destrier that would never return to it; instead the big black body would be interred outside the city, and placed beneath a mound, and all that people would know was that a black horse had been buried there, for he had been run to death. Fastred had thought about that mound, thought perhaps he would build a stone cairn upon it; then with the suddenness of a piercing arrow he realized that no cairn would ever be raised for Legolas – he was gone, and they would never find him.

He had wept and wept and wept, sunk in deepest misery, wishing desperately for his mother to comfort him, and dreading having to inform her of her champion's demise. His thoughts went round and round in his grief, thinking of Galás ruling sadly over Dol Galenehtar, and of Hísimë breaking her little heart with sorrow, and of brave King Thranduil and lovely Queen Edlothiel grieved and childless, and of Lord Gimli and Bandobras bowed with misery, and of Lassah's beautiful green tourney armor displayed in a dark corner someplace, unused and dusty and full of cobwebs. He sobbed until his chest hurt, but the heartache was greater than his pain, and he could not seem to stop for some time. But after a while the first flood of sorrow abated, and he curled up, exhausted and drained, wishing he would simply die.

He did not hear anyone come into the stables, heard no step nor swish nor tap; he did not hear anyone come into Piukka's stall either. But he smelled something that reminded him of sunshine on fresh grass, and felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and realized Andunië had found him. For some reason that hard, cold woman's presence broke something anew in Fastred, and with a low cry he threw himself upon her bosom and began to sob afresh. She held him close, her arms tight round him, and let him weep some more, stroking his hair and rocking him as one would a babe. And Fastred even in the midst of his woe was comforted knowing she had come to seek him out, and care for him, even though the lord who had ordered her to watch over him was now gone from them both.

They sat in the hay for some time, not speaking; Fastred had naught to say, and so he said naught, and as for Andunië she was not given to careless speech anyway. Fastred's sobs gave way to hiccoughs and sniffles, and to his dismay he discovered he had mislaid his handkerchief; however Andunië stilled his groping round in his pockets by pressing a large square of linen into his hands, and saying simply, "Here."

Fastred wiped his face and nose, and sat in the circle of her arms taking shuddering gulps of air, his head resting upon her shoulder. In the hopes that perhaps the Elves knew something he did not, he asked in a small and quavering voice:

"Lassah is dead, isn't he?"

"So it would appear," Andunië replied; her voice was as flat and cold as it had ever been.

"And Piukka is dead too."

"Obviously."

"And Lirlindil."

"Do you think, Fastred, that by asking I shall say 'No' and they be brought to life again?" asked Andunië; she sounded irritated. Fastred sighed; she was so unsympathetic. But then again, she had come to him.

"I hate Brytta," he said, suddenly filled with venom. To his mind Brytta was the reason Lassah had died; had the tiresome man not got himself captured then Lord Legolas should not have been constrained to go find him.

"It is not his fault," said Andunië. "My lord would have followed anyone to save him. And Brytta says he did try to go back to help him."

Fastred did not want to hear this; he needed to be angry at someone, and Brytta was as good as anyone. "He could not have tried very hard," he complained.

"Piukka would not turn," said Andunië.

"And he ran Piukka to death. He ought not to have done that. He is a man of Rohan. He should know better how to care for a horse." He remembered Piukka's horrid racking gasps, and the death-gurgle from the destrier's throat, and shivered.

"He could not stop Piukka," said Andunië. "My lord had ordered him to run, so Piukka ran. Nothing would stop him, not even a man of Rohan." Fastred did not reply, and Andunië went on: "Tyarmayél and I see to it that every beast brought into Dol Galenehtar learns to obey our lord over any other. Had anyone save Prince Legolas sat upon Piukka's back the beast should have halted not, but run and run, in spite of his rider. Once the order was given, no one could have stopped Piukka, not even I."

"I want to build a cairn for Piukka," he said. He hoped she would approve; after all she seemed to care for beasts more than people.

"And I wish to build a tomb for my lord and for his faithful servant," said Andunië, very evenly. Fastred sat up a bit, and turned to stare at her. She looked to him as she ever did; composed, disinterested, a little bored. "What is it?" she asked. "Do you think I will do it alone? I tell you every Elf in Dol Galenehtar shall take a hand; it shall not be simply Hwindiö and Gimli to do it."

"But," stammered Fastred, "but we have nothing to put in a tomb."

"No," agreed Andunië. "Not yet."

Fastred stared at her; she looked blandly back. He sat back again against her shoulder, looking at the far wall of the loose-box, thinking hard. After a moment he began to tremble. But he spoke not, nor moved, and Andunië was still as death.

When the sun's yellow rays had finally moved round to the west, and pierced the window above the loose-box filling it with dust-motes and buzzing flies, Andunië rose to her feet, leaving Fastred seated upon the hay. She regarded the boy with her cold green eyes, her lips thinned.

"You look awful," she said.

Fastred gave a shaky smile. "I feel awful," he said with a sigh. He tipped his head to one side, looking gravely at her. "But you look all right. You always do, really." Andunië did not deign to reply to this, so Fastred said slowly, "You are going after his body."

She raised her eyebrows, but did not answer. "Are you not?" Fastred said. "You seem to me to be thinking of it."

"The king and my brother have forbidden anyone leaving Edoras," said Andunië carelessly. "They are mustering troops, and wish to ride to Bréawine's destruction with no forewarning; they do not want to take the risk of a scout or party being captured and questioned, and giving the attack away. Lord Gimli and Bandobras both begged leave to go fetch my lord's body, but they have been told to stay. Aglarond is a fiefdom of Rohan so Gimli is compelled to obey; and Bandobras as my lord's esquire also must do as Meivel says in Galás' absence."

"But you will not obey," said Fastred confidently. "You are going."

Her green eyes glittered a little, and she seemed to be clenching her jaw; with a gulp of fear Fastred blurted: "I did not mean to insult you."

"Nor did you," said Andunië. "You will have to work harder at it than that, if someday it becomes your intention."

"Why would I wish to insult you?" asked Fastred, bewildered.

"I should have thought I had given you ample reason by now," Andunië said.

"But," said the boy, thinking so hard his eyebrows creased, "you did naught but what Lassah told you to do. It is not that you hate me; what you did was for my benefit, and I have no cause to think ill of you." Andunië said nothing, but only watched him with her glittering agate eyes. Fastred realized then that trying to coax gentle words from her was a useless endeavor; he had never even seen her smile before, and it was silly of him to hope she would speak kindly to him; she had come to him, seeking him out to comfort him, and that was about as much as he could hope for of her. He looked up at her, tall and slim and strong, her face composed and expressionless, her bright hair streaming down her shoulders, and wondered if she had loved Lassah, too. "She must have," he thought; "she is willing to disobey mine uncle and her brother both to bring him back." Yet Fastred had never heard her speak in a friendly fashion to Lassah, or even to smile at him or laugh at his gentle teasing; perhaps she was simply incapable of expressing anything save boredom, or disapproval. And he had certainly had his share of sharp words of her; it had not slain him yet, so he felt confident he could speak his mind at least, and get an honest answer. "You are going to find Lassah's body and bring it back," he said.

"Yes," said Andunië, and Fastred was warmed by her confidence he would not give her away.

"Then I am going with you," he blurted, and held his breath, awaiting her biting reply, or icy retort. But she studied him in silence, eyes cool and calculating; she was considering his offer. Fastred watched her, heart hammering in his chest, and wondered how much trouble she would get into, and if he would be punished as severely as she when they were caught.

"You are passing fair at running away," she said at length, "and are not bad company when you hold your tongue. Go to your room, and gather together what you think you might need for our journey. Lie down and rest, and I shall fetch you after the moon sets." Then turning upon her heel she left the stall, her riding-skirt brushing the fresh dry hay, her coppery hair fanning out behind her.

Fastred sat for a moment, bewildered and unhappy; but he was less unhappy than he had been ere she had come to him, for though Lassah was gone he at least was going to be able to do something besides sit in Piukka's stall, mewling like a baby. Biting his lip he began to go over the list of things he had brought with him, when first he had run away from Osgiliath: knife, extra food, money. But then he heard the sound of heavy boots upon the stable floor, and a man's voice calling: "Fastred? Sister-son?" and he realized the king was searching for him, disdaining his servants and taking the menial chore upon himself. Heart swelling within him, but still filled with deep sorrow and secret shame for their plans, he crawled to the stall door, and peeking out saw his uncle coming down the aisle, peering into each stable. He looked a bit disheveled himself; he had removed his crown and robe, and his face was pale and tear-streaked. "Here I am," said Fastred, his voice breaking; but he did not care; he was too sad to care. He struggled to his feet, his knees stiff; he realized he was still holding Andunië's handkerchief, so he stuffed it in his pocket, and ran a quivering hand through his disarranged hair, thinking resignedly to himself he did not look much like a prince. But Éomer did not seem to care; he came up to him, and put his great arms round him and pulled him close, so that Fastred's face was pressed up against Éomer's chest, the embroidery of his doublet digging into the boy's cheek. Fastred was struck anew by his uncle's great height and girth, and returned the embrace, reassured by the feel of that strong heart thudding in his ear, and reflecting how much bigger his uncle was than his Lord Father, for when Faramir embraced his son Fastred's head reached his father's collarbone, and the boy could join his hands behind his father's back; embracing Éomer however was akin to hugging a huge oak tree. Then he remembered how it had felt to be embraced by his Lord Lassah, the tall slim form and long limbs, wrapped about with hard muscle, the tickle of the silky pale hair and the subtle scent of pine. His breath caught in his throat, and he struggled to keep from weeping again; he felt his uncle's hand on his head, ruffling his hair roughly.

"I know, sister-son," said Éomer, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. "I have wept too, for Legolas also was my friend, and I loved him."

"Why did he have to die?" Fastred snuffled into his uncle's doublet. "Why did this have to happen? What did he do, that this horrible Bréawine would slay him thus?"

"He had discovered Bréawine's keep; he had freed the man who knew where Bréawine's troops and treasures were; he had slain five guards round the oubliette where Brytta lay awaiting his execution; he had discovered Bréawine impeded the King's post and replaced rider and message with spurious documents of his own hand; and he was coming back to tell me all these things, so that I could stop Bréawine," said Éomer softly. "He had done all of that, and for me, O sister-son; he was far from his lands and his people, yet he was willing, as he has ever been willing, to put life and limb to risk, simply for love of his friends, and the good of his neighbors. I know you must be angry at Brytta, and blame him for Legolas' death; but if you are to blame someone, blame me, Fastred; for I sent him to his fate, as my men and I were unwilling to go where he so fearlessly trod."

Fastred stilled then, listening to the low broken voice, and realized with a pang that his uncle held himself to account for his friend's death, and carried within him a terrible load of guilt because of it. He tightened his arms round Éomer's waist and said into the fine cloth: "I blame you not, O mother-brother; my Lord Lassah was reckless and brave, and oftimes went where folk told him not to go; my Lady Mother said he was even more stubborn than she, and many's the time I did hear Lord Gimli say how rash Lassah was, and that he leapt first and thought second. So I think, uncle, that he should have gone and got himself killed anyhow, whether you sent him or no."

Éomer gave a breathy chuckle then, and his big hands tightened round Fastred's shoulders. "Well, O mine heir, I thank you for your words of comfort, pale though they be in our time of sorrow! And give to you this, O Fastred sister-son; I have sent Arúlf and his éored to the Deep, to gather together those faithful who dwell therein; and they shall meet us upon the road to the Westfold, and we shall march against Bréawine, for now I know where his secret keep is, and how many men he has; we are evenly matched, and from what I have gleaned these past hours of Brytta we might well be able to quell this rebellion and regain those lands I have lost. I have no especial love for Brytta, you know, O Fastred; he is mulish and intractable, and has caused me some small trouble in the past; but he is willing to give Bréawine away, for he says he is loyal to me, and does not wish for the Green Knight to have died in vain. He well knows Legolas gave his life so that these tidings should come to me, and though he hated your Lord Lassah with a bitterness born of public mortification, he is eager to see Bréawine fall, for he longs to have Rohan restored to its former glory."

Fastred pondered these things, tucked in the king's mighty embrace; he wondered what his Lord Father would think, had he known Fastred planned to run away from his uncle yet again. "But I am going to return," he said to himself; "I shall go and then come back, so it is not as bad as it was before, when I ran away so I would not be king." However he still felt the stirrings of shame, knowing he and Andunië would disobey the king's orders; his consolation was that with Andunië by his side to help him they would certainly not be captured, and perhaps in a week's time they would return to Edoras with Legolas' and Lirlindil's bodies. "I hope he will not be too angry with me," Fastred thought with a sigh, letting his uncle turn and lead him from the stables; Éomer's hand was very heavy on his shoulder. "I will make it up to him though. I will ride with him to the keep, and fight by his side; and I swear that even should we run into ghosts I will falter not but hold firm, for I am a prince after all, and I suppose it is about time I began to act as one." The thought that perhaps disobeying his uncle and running off with an Elf lady was not very princely crossed his mind; he pressed it back though, saying to himself: "Later. I shall be a prince later. For now, until Andunië and I return, I am not the Heir of Meduseld; I am just Fastred."

**********

He gathered together his knife, bow and quiver, a wool blanket, and a skein of rope, and tucked them in a small satchel; this he secreted beneath his bed, and once more lay upon the counterpane full-clothed, saying to himself: "Why did I not think of this earlier? I see no reason to even own a night-shirt!" Despite his sorrow and excitement he fell at once into a deep slumber, for he was weary; his dreams though disturbed him, for he seemed to be walking round in the dark, and all beneath his feet were deep pits into which he would stumble; the yawning blackness breathed forth sickening vapors and cold smoking fumes, and he would see therein the pale staring eyes of the Dead, their white fingers beckoning him down. He would wake, heart thumping, then his eyes feeling sandy would close once more, and he return to the same tortured dreamscape he had just left.

At last he woke to hear a light scratching at his door; leaping to his feet he rushed through the dark chamber and opened it. He had no candle, and Andunië no light; he could however descry the pale light of her skin in the dim passageway, and saw her jerk her head, gesturing him forward. He dragged out his satchel from beneath the bed and followed her.

She made no sound upon the stone and dirt floors, and Fastred attempted to mimic her, though he knew that to Elven ears he must sound very loud; she paused at each corner, listening for any movement, then lead him down the hallways, flitting past guards, until they exited the Hall. Then they passed beneath a low hedge, and thus to the back door of the stables, and in. Fastred paused to give Falafód a caress upon his whiskery nose, and followed Andunië to the end of the passageway, where she paused, one hand raised to arrest him. She turned to him, frowning, her thin brows puckered, and gestured him to stay; then she slipped quietly round the corner, and as Fastred strained to listen he heard movement – shuffling, and a low mutter. Holding his breath, Fastred waited; then he jumped when he heard Andunië's voice sharply say:

"Well, and what is this?"

There was a startled cry, then Fastred heard Bandobras say indignantly: "Goodness gracious, Andunië, don't creep up on us so! You gave me quite a turn."

"Hush!" That was Gimli's voice; he sounded angry. "Well, what are you doing skulking about in here, Andunië? Did not your brother tell you to stay with Hirilcúllas?"

"I grew weary of being fitted for a new gown," said Andunië dryly. "And for what reason do a Hobbit and a Dwarf saddle two ponies in the middle of the night? Are you going to look for moon-flowers? Surely you would not defy the king's interdiction upon travel."

Gimli made a sheepish noise, but Bandobras retorted: "O I like that! And what about yourself, young lady? Don't you go trying to make us feel bad for sneaking round, when you and Fastred are planning to run off yourselves."

"Fastred?" exclaimed Gimli.

"Yes, Fastred," snapped the Hobbit. "Can't you smell him? He's worn the same tunic three days running and he smells right awful."

Fastred gulped, but recognizing he had no more need of stealth stepped round the corner. Andunië stood, hands on her hips, glaring down at the Dwarf and the Hobbit, and the two glared right back. Bandobras espied Fastred coming and said: "There! You see, Gimli? We're not the only ones thinking of going after my Master."

"You will not make it far on such small ponies however," said Andunië; she reached down and began unbuckling Bumblebee's bridle. "They would not cover as much ground as a larger steed."

"We'll do fine, thank you just the same," said Bandobras angrily, jerking the bridle from her hands. "You and Fastred do as you please, and let us do for ourselves; we'll see who gets to Fangorn first!"

"Please," said Fastred, "there is no reason to quarrel! O Bandobras, and O Lord Gimli, please do not speak so loud; I am sure someone shall hear you! Andunië," he begged, "do you not think we four could go together? For Bandobras and Lord Gimli loved Lassah too, and if we leave them behind the king might find out – or worse, Meivel."

"What do you suggest then?" growled the Dwarf. "You and Andunië ride ahead, and let us jog along on our ponies behind you? Nay; Andunië is right; our ponies will not cover the kind of ground your steeds shall; they are too small."

"Ride with us then," said Andunië to Fastred's surprise. "Four are better than two, and our horses of sufficient girth to bear us all. Bandobras shall ride with Fastred, and you, O Gimli of Aglarond, shall once again dangle at an Elf's back."

Gimli grumbled a bit at this, but Bandobras seemed pleased; he hastily removed Bumblebee's saddle, and handed Fastred two sacks. "Dried beans and smoked bacon," he said with a shaky smile; "and a pot and a spoon and some bowls. Only two, but we can share; beggars can't be choosers." Fastred felt relieved; he was glad Gimli and Bandobras would go with them, for though he trusted Andunië implicitly she was short-tempered, and her words were inclined to cut rather than heal; besides which he knew Gimli and Bandobras to have loved his Lord Lassah more than even their own kind, and his heart ached on their account. He and Andunië helped Gimli and Bandobras gather up all the supplies, and then they went down the passageway again to where the horses of Dale had been stabled; suddenly Andunië stopped, and put her parcels down; she turned to them and whispered: "Hush!" and went forward, silent, slipping along the shadows. Fastred, Gimli, and Bandobras waited; then they could hear a man's voice, grumbling, and the nervous whicker of a horse; then there was the jingling sound of tack being dropped, and a muttered curse. Then as before Andunië demanded: "What is this?" and the man cried out in surprise. Gimli rushed forward, Fastred and Bandobras at his heels, and when they came round the corner they halted, amazed. There stood Brytta, tattered and filthy still, but holding a saddle; he had opened Alfirin's stable door, and the mare had backed away from the stranger, unwilling to let him put a saddle upon her back. Brytta when he descried Elf, Dwarf, Hobbit and boy sneered, and rounding on them said:

"Impede me not, O you foreign folk! I am on the Mark's business and shall not be gainsaid." He turned back to Alfirin, who snorted and lifted her head, and he cursed at her.

"The Mark's business is it?" asked Gimli. "In the middle of the night, and stealing Hirilcúllas' horse? I hardly believe Éomer instructed you to do this."

"Let me go," said Brytta angrily. "Lest I shall call in the guards and they take us all. I have a blood-debt to pay and I shall fain turn aside."

"Go if you like, but do you please leave my friend's horse!" said Andunië, stepping forward, and placing herself betwixt Brytta and Alfirin. "Hirilcúllas is bowed with grief, and considering how you treat our steeds she should be most distressed to know Brytta of Rohan rode off upon her beloved palfrey. Have you not taken enough of us?" Fastred stared at her; for she had told him Brytta was not at fault for Piukka's death. But then he saw she had played upon his feelings, for he dropped his head, and looked very grieved. "If you are to steal a horse, steal Taruku here; he is of sufficient girth to bear you, and of a fierce temperament, so that should you find yourself in difficulties he will be a staunch ally."

"You're telling him to steal your brother's horse?" asked Bandobras in amazement. Andunië turned her cold eyes upon the Hobbit, and so missed the look of startled gratification upon the man's face.

"Taruku is a fine horse," she said. She looked back at Brytta who was regarding her with suspicion and admiration mingled. "That one, over there. I think this saddle will fit." As she and Brytta exited the stall she said: "Have you brought food? A sword?"

"As much as I could take," he replied, and showed her a rather battered scabbard, and a bag with some cheese.

"Wait a moment," Gimli said. "You do not mean to take him with us?"

"Why not?" asked Andunië. "He knows better than we Bréawine's whereabouts, and can lead us to my lord's body the quicker. Then we might make it back to Edoras before the troops head out, and then we shall not miss anything."

Brytta gave a hoarse laugh. "Not miss anything! What, O pretty maid; would you march to battle with the men?"

"Again, why not?" asked Andunië. "Did not the Heir's mother do the selfsame thing?"

Fastred, who had lurked in the shadows hoping to be ignored, blushed; Brytta turned to him, his pale eyes hard as stone, and said: "Yes – the half-blood heir of Rohan. Well we are a sad crew; a decrepit warrior, a boy, a Dwarf, a Halfling and a woman! What hope have we of retrieving the Green Knight's body?"

Gimli and Bandobras looked angry, and Andunië turned away; Fastred however felt his chest tighten with resentment. He did not want Brytta to come with them; he was rude, and loud, and had caused Lassah's death; besides which he seemed the type that would try to take charge, and order them about, and disdain Fastred and his companions. Fastred had heard quite enough, and straightening his shoulders he stepped up to the man, lifted his chin, and said, his voice steady:

"Brytta of the Mark, do you know who I am?"

Brytta started, and looked down at the boy; he faltered and said: "You are Fastred, son of Faramir."

"Then you do not know who I am," Fastred retorted, thinking of his previous resolution to be "just Fastred" and rejecting it whole. "I am Fastred son of Éowyn, heir of Éomer King of the Mark. You have sworn your allegiance to my mother-brother, and thus you owe me your duty as well. By your own admission you have caused the deaths of the Lord of Dol Galenehtar, his warrior Lirlindil, and his destrier Piukka, and are under a blood-debt to Dol Galenehtar and the Elves that live therein, also to the Green Knight's family, King Thranduil and Queen Edlothiel of Eryn Lasgalen, and to his friends, the King of Gondor, the Prince of Ithilien my father, and the sundry lords and vassals between the mouth of the Anduin and the Ered Nimrais, all the way up to the sunny Shire, where dwell the holbytla. Also you owe blood-debt to those who love him, Elf, Dwarf, Hobbit, and Man, who are represented here before you. If you are to clear your name of this debt then you must come with us in poverty of spirit, speaking no ill of your companions nor of the lives you cost; you shall give unto my friends no impertinence, and hold your tongue when I so bid you. Do you understand, Brytta of the Mark, or shall I ask Lord Gimli to hit you on the head, so we might bind you and leave you behind, and your blood-debt go unpaid?"

"O, well-said!" murmured Bandobras under his breath; Brytta had gone first very red, then quite white, and Fastred wondered what this stubborn and rather stupid man would do, faced with such an ultimatum. Andunië and Gimli both fixed the man with steely gazes, and Brytta looked from one to the other of them, as though seeing them for the first time. Then, to Fastred's immense surprise, he dropped to his knees; he was so tall though that his head was still over Fastred's, but upon his face was a look of reluctant acquiescence.

"I shall do as you say, Fastred Prince," he mumbled, his eyes downcast. Fastred took a deep breath, not sure whether to be glad the man had decided to show deference to him, or disappointed Gimli would not be allowed to hit him over the head. He forced his voice to sound as imperious as possible, drawing upon memories of his mother declaiming judgments from her seat in Osgiliath: "Rise then, O knight of the Mark; should you accomplish your tasks to my satisfaction I shall take your plaint unto the King, to restore to you the lands removed. If however you fail us, or show yourself traitorous or otherwise obnoxious to us, the throne of the Mark shall ever be against you, and you shall wander landless the rest of your days."

"Again, well-said," grinned Bandobras, giving Fastred a wink. He watched the man struggle to his feet, rubbed his hands, and said to Andunië: "So! Taruku, then?"

"Yes," said Andunië, and led Brytta to Taruku's loose-box. The enormous beast bared his teeth at Brytta, though he ceased at Andunië's sharp command; he let the huntsmistress tack him up, and she gave the reins to Brytta, who took them with a gruff, "Thank you." He did not seem to know what to think of Andunië; he kept looking at her from the corners of his eyes and scowling, and Fastred wondered if he would be as rude to her as had been Théalof. "He had better not be," Fastred thought, clenching his fists. "I might have to stand on a chair to reach him, but I shall hit him if he say anything like that to her!"

Fastred and Andunië got their horses; Fastred was glad to see Karakse, and his steed seemed quite happy to see him too; he put his arms round the piebald horse's big neck and stroked him, turning his eyes away from the empty stall where Piukka had stayed. He tacked up Karakse, very aware of Brytta's eyes upon him, and wondering if he disapproved of the prince riding a half-bred horse of Dale; Fastred determined to not let it bother him if he did, for he was proud of his gelding and would not trade him for three horses of Rohan. At last they were ready, and Andunië led them out the back of the stables; Karakse whickered at Falafód as they passed, and Falafód snorted, thrusting his nose out at his friend and nipping him playfully on the shoulder. Andunië left them there, to make sure the road was secure; they stood huddled together with the three big horses. Ronyo swished her tail and pulled at the grass by her feet; Taruku snapped at Karakse and made the gelding shy. Brytta shook the horse's head by the bit and said: "Peace! That is no way to act."

"I still can't believe Andunië's letting you steal her brother's horse," said Bandobras in a low voice. "Honestly; what's Meivel going to say when he finds out?"

"Nothing." Andunië had returned, and overhearing Bandobras' comment had answered him. She gestured them forward, and Bandobras trotted beside her, looking puzzled.

" 'Nothing'?" he said. "How on earth can you believe Meivel won't say anything when he finds out?"

"Because he cannot speak when he is angry," said Andunië simply.

Fastred smiled; this surprised him, because he had not thought he would ever be able to smile again. Then the realization of their task struck him, and his heart hurt again; he blinked back tears, and taking up Karakse's reins followed Andunië down the hill away from the Hall. He looked back; the Hall was dark, and Fastred could see the corner where he knew his aunt and uncle stayed. "I am sorry," he thought, looking back and thinking of them. "I will be back. I promise." Then they mounted, and Bandobras scrambled up behind him, and they rode down the hill and round past the gates to the breach in the hedge, and so out to the fields of Rohan on their sad errand.