A/N: This was quite possibly the most difficult chapter I have ever had to deal with. Ever. It simply would not behave. In the end I had to scrap the whole thing and start over. Needless to say, between the breast-beating, beer-drinking and re-writing it took much longer than I had anticipated.

My Muse hates me.

Anyway, here it is; and I thank all of you for your willingness to read! I'm getting it set to finish, I swear ... now, if the plot-bunnies regarding Mardil's unmarried state would only leave me alone!!!

Fastred dreamt he stood upon the ramparts of Minas Tirith, looking down on an army. It stood in ranks upon the fields of Pelennor, gleaming with steel-tipped lance and shining shield, and he could see the captains moving about the squares of men, like ants from that distance. Upon the glimmering Anduin below him were war-ships, white-sailed and brilliant; he knew not how, but felt in his heart it was time to depart, to board a ship and sail south. He held something beneath his arm, large and bulky; he looked down on it, and saw that he bore a high-crowned, winged helm, such as they wore in the Tower. He raised his face to the Ephel Dúath, sampling the clean warm wind; rooks and crows wheeled about them, and the day was fine.

“Are you ready, O Fastred my friend?” asked a voice by his side; he turned, and beheld Tamin, though he was no longer a lad but full-grown, and clad in black armor. His golden hair shone bright in the sunlight, and his smile as always dazzled him. Upon Tamin’s other side was Legolas, arrayed in his splendid green cuirass, and he held his own frogmouth helm, winged and glaring, beneath his stout verdigrised manifers. Upon his fair face was a look of deep longing surmounted by sorrow, and his gray eyes were glazed with tears as he looked down at the ships. He sighed, and said sadly to Tamin and Fastred: “O my dear Little Ones, how my soul is torn within me! For we go to the Ethir Anduin again, to smell the salt in the air, and hear the hiss of the waves upon the sand. Alas for me, for the oaks and pines of my home comfort me not! How I feel the pull of the Sea, surely as the tide drags at one’s feet! I pity you, Tamin of Dol Galenehtar; for in two days’ time will your heart surely break, as does mine whenever I hear the gulls cry.” Then Fastred moved his legs, and he woke up.

He was lying in the crook of Lassah’s arm, and could see over the curve of his friend’s chest the form of the Hobbit also slumbering, wrapped in a blanket with his hands twined in his master’s golden hair. It was still dark, but when Fastred looked up he could see the stars fading; he smelled the fire burning out, and heard from the other side of the clearing one of the horses shift and nicker.

There was the sound of movement near him, and Fastred raised his head to see what it was. He beheld Andunië squatting by the fire, poking it with a blackened stick; she was feeding it with kindling, and there was a pile of wood by her feet. She glanced over at him, her emerald eyes cool, and nodded once; Fastred sat up carefully so as not to disturb Lassah and whispered: “Do you ever sleep?”

“On occasion,” she replied carelessly. Holding aside her coppery hair she blew steadily on the wood till it kindled, then sat back on her heels, brushing the dirt from her slim brown hands. “Since you are up, do you wish to hunt with me?”

“Of course!” whispered Fastred, delighted; it was so rare she willingly suffered his company, and he felt it a high compliment she had asked. He carefully unwound himself from the cocoon of Lassah’s arms and hair and blankets, and got to his feet. He looked down at his sleeping friend; Lassah did not look so bad as he had the night before, though he was still very dirty, and his smooth cheeks were sunken. “When we get back to Edoras I shall do nothing but feed him and Léodwyn pastries and meats with gravy and strong red wine,” he thought; “they need fattening. What a shame it is they do not have olive oil here – it is so efficacious!” He rummaged around in his pack for his bow and arrow, and hearing a faint noise beside him turned; Lassah’s eyes had opened, and the Elf was watching him, smiling.

“Good morning!” said Fastred softly, and dropped a kiss on Lassah’s forehead. “Andunië and I are going out to get breakfast.”

“Excellent!” said Legolas, stretching his arms up indolently, like a cat in the sunshine. His eyes twinkled at the boy, and he grinned. “Be you sure to bring back eggs and rashers and quickbread then.”

“Think you’re cute, don’t you, Master?” came Bandobras’ sleepy voice from his tangle of blankets. “Why not ask for porridge and tea and toast with butter, while you’re at it?”

“Grilled steak and cheese and hot mead,” said Brytta from the other side of the fire, rubbing his eyes and sitting up; Gimli beside him grumbled something about too much chatter and not enough sleep, but finished it off by muttering, “Fried ham and raspberry preserve.”

“You must be content with what we bring you, I fear,” said Fastred, slinging his quiver over his shoulder and following Andunië to the pickets. “Though I wouldn’t turn up my nose at seed-cake and strawberries and cream!”

“You are as bad as they,” chided Andunië, mounting; and laughing Fastred agreed.

Fastred suspected Andunië would have had more luck without him along, and wondered why she had invited him; it was certainly not for talk, because she said nothing, and Fastred could not fool himself he was good company for such a dour lady. But when they had bagged up a brace of coneys and headed back to their camp he was delighted to hear her sing as they rode along; the sun was rising over the tree-tops and the birds were chattering and bickering in the branches, and he could catch the chuckle and cluck of the water over the stones. Andunië sang of Thorondor and his brothers hunting evil beasts in dark fells, and though her lay was grim her voice was clear and pure and lovely, and Fastred’s heart rose in spite of her bleak words. “Even if we are delayed somewhat by injuries we might make it back to Edoras ere mine uncle departs,” he thought cheerfully. “And then I shall ride into battle with him as his prince; and I shall know that Lassah will be safe for he will stay behind to heal.” Then with a qualm he remembered the tale Halgond and Baldor had proudly recounted concerning their father Hallas of Lossarnach, how he had ridden into the Battle of Amon Din lashed to his horse’s back, even scaling the heights of the mountain in that fashion, and Fastred wondered if Lassah would be easily persuaded to remain at Edoras. He rather thought not.

Bandobras skinned and roasted the rabbits and they ate until they were satisfied (“Though I’d still rather have eggs,” Legolas had said innocently, winking at Gimli, who chucked when Bandobras glared), then broke camp. Between Brytta and Fastred they managed to strap Lassah to the back of the poor horse Andunië had rescued; Lassah had fussed a bit about the saddle, for he did not like to use tack; but Brytta pointed out quite correctly that it made it easier to affix him to the horse’s back if the saddle were still there. The steed for his part seemed better already; the cut on his cheek had begun to heal thanks to Brytta’s skill, and he would oftimes flick his ears back, or glance over his shoulder at his strange rider, and become so delighted with his change in fortune he would interrupt his gait to skip a little. Fastred thought perhaps he were simply glad to dispense with bit and bridle; Lassah might have been resigned to the saddle but had stubbornly refused to use anything else. Andunië chided the horse for his high spirits, but Legolas forestalled her with a laugh, saying, “We are both poor broken beasts; let him have his jest if he will; I do not grudge him this.” He called the horse Voronda, because he had been faithful to his last master.

They gained the ford at noontide, and their horses splashed through the icy water and sent up bright sprays like fountains. Brytta led them down through a stand of fir and pine and spruce, fragrant in the sun, and the land descended; soon they passed through oaks and lindens and maples. They crossed into a deep vale, where they could hear the cataract but not see it; it thundered and boomed, and the air was fresh and moist. The sun westered behind the rising cliffs to their right, and cool blue shadows were cast all round them; they were in the canyon now, and on the other side of the rushing river rose high rock walls; to their left the walls fell away into a deep decline, covered in loose stone.

Legolas and Andunië shot three geese out of the air, which they roasted once more over their evening fire; Fastred was pleased to note that Lassah looked stronger, and his lips and cheeks no longer blanched; though he did grunt with pain when forced to dismount upon his broken legs. He tumbled into Gimli’s and Brytta’s arms with a laugh though, and made jest of his weakness, which was heartening. He was as merry as Andunië was stern, and ere they banked the fire he convinced Bandobras to sing for them a droll little song, all about a Hobbit named Mad Baggins who could disappear with a wink and a finger laid aside his nose, which made Fastred and Brytta laugh; for the vanishing Hobbit committed such comical depredations, and got out of his scrapes at the last possible moment. And when they sought their blankets Fastred once again slept by his Lassah’s side, curled up with his cheek pressed to the Elf’s breast, delighting more in the steady thump of his heartbeat than in many lullabies.

The next morning dawned warm and overcast, and by the time they had eaten the rest of the cold goose it had begun to rain. Their horses’ hooves slipped on the loose rock and gravel by the river, and every time Karakse shook his head Fastred was spattered with water. He was very tired of travel, and thought longingly of his thick down tick in Meduseld, and of his clean linen night-shirt, which he had so recently disdained. “And perhaps when we get back Tamin will be there,” he thought, bemused in his weariness; “and I will introduce him to the bakers and we will eat hot pastries.” He did not like riding through the canyon; the constant murmur of the river fretted at him, and the walls and cliffs round them made him feel cornered. He could see eastern Rohan to his left, rutted and rumpled like a cast-off cloak; he was glad Brytta had chosen to follow the river, for it would be far too easy to lose oneself in the creases and folds of the earth down there. Because of the rain there were no birds or raptors about, which Fastred also did not like much; he had grown accustomed to eagles and hawks and falcons circling above them, calling down to Andunië; their absence was disconcerting.

The canyon narrowed after noon, and they were constrained to ride in file. Fastred rode behind Lassah and Bandobras; the Hobbit was chattering comfortably to his master, though Fastred could not mark what he said; Lassah at least seemed amused, and sat straight and tall upon his horse’s back, and now and again he laughed. Before Lassah rode Brytta, and Fastred knew that if he turned round he would see Andunië behind him, with Gimli perched at her back. And still the rain drizzled down, gray and cool; it dimpled the shallows, and spattered on the rocks, and ran down the canyon walls, and soaked their hoods so that the water dripped on the tips of their noses. Fastred was just thinking gloomily to himself of the wet wood they would encounter that eve, and wishing for a fishing-pole, when as one Andunië and Legolas drew up their steeds; Andunië said sharply: “Did you hear that?” and Legolas replied: “Hush!”

Everyone stopped, and even Bandobras ceased his chatter; Legolas and Andunië peered forward into the misty gloom, eyes bright and piercing. The others were silent, watching the Elves, and Fastred’s heart began to race. “O I hope it is only beasts, or at least people friendly to the crown!” he thought anxiously. But then Legolas turned round to Andunië; his face was grim.

“Men’s voices,” he said, his eyes glittering. “Many of them too, from what I can hear! Curses upon the man who broke my legs – Andunië, Little One, do you dismount and go quickly forward; be you silent, and return to tell us if this is aught to fear.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Andunië, sliding off her horse; she fitted arrow to string, and flitted silently round the canyon wall and out of their sight.

Deep silence fell around them, broken only by the mutter of water, and the clatter of rain on shingle. Soon Fastred could hear hoof-beats, though to be sure they seemed a good ways off, for there were many echoes in the canyon, and it was difficult to determine distance. Then Andunië came running round the corner, her eyes flashing and her mouth set in a grim line.

“Fifty horsemen, beneath Bréawine’s standard,” she barked, leaping upon Ronyo’s back.

Bandobras went white, and Gimli said something in Dwarvish which sounded like a very bad word. Brytta turned Taruku and said grimly, “Well, then, back up the river we go!”

“And quickly!” said Legolas, turning Voronda; “I have had quite enough of Bréawine’s hospitality; I am not anxious to be invited back again!”

They urged their tired steeds into a noisy canter, and Fastred wiped the rain out of his face. “We’re trapped!” he thought, his heart thumping. “We cannot cross the river – we cannot descend the cliffs – we cannot run fast enough – “ For he knew the horses of Rohan could out-run their own steeds; even Voronda, wounded and weary, pressed impatiently at Karakse’s hindquarters, eager to outstrip his larger companions, and Legolas in his quiet voice was exhorting him to slack his pace. And over the rattle and clank of hooves and rocks and jingling tack he heard the voices of men; they were gaining, and there was nowhere to go.

He could see Andunië and Gimli ahead of him, the Dwarf hanging on to the Elf’s waist for dear life; the misty rain obscured his vision, and he was glad she with her keen eyes was in front. But then when they rounded a corner she gave a cry of “Stop, stop!” and they reined in, their horses puffing and blowing, though Voronda snorted and pawed, eager to go on.

Fastred peered forward, and saw what impeded them; the rain had loosened the rocks round the river, and they had broken free, rushing in a small torrent across the path and cutting a rut down the side of the cliff; the water was swift and brown, and there was no way to tell how deep it was. Rocks and boulders had tumbled down from the canyon walls, and there was a barrier of rock upon the other side of the water, mud-slicked and uneven. Andunië leapt from Ronyo’s back and stepped forward carefully; however even under her light step the earth rushed away beneath her feet, and she jumped back ere she was swept away. She turned to them, her eyes hard.

“Trapped,” she said.

“Indeed,” said Legolas; he did not look pleased. “And we cannot wait for the rain to slacken to ford this little river – “

There was then a great cry behind them, and they turned; the men had caught up with them and espied them, and they were shouting and pointing, and one of them blew a blast on his horn; it echoed amongst the rocks, sounding like many horns. Brytta drew his sword, and shook it at them.

“They will be upon us in a moment,” said Andunië. She climbed back onto Ronyo before Gimli, took her bow and fitted an arrow to the string. Fastred, wishing he were as indifferent as she, followed suit; he was afraid, but pleased to note his hands were steady. “I must be getting used to this,” he thought. Legolas also took the bow of Rohan and aimed it through the mist into the crowd of men which pressed upon them, and as one they formed a line, facing their enemies. Fastred looked round at them as they waited for the men to reach them. Lassah sat proudly, his bruised face composed and his grey eyes sharp; Andunië looked almost bored, the fletching pressed to her cheek. Bandobras had drawn his own small sword, and Gimli his halberd, and they both looked very grim and dangerous; and of course Brytta was tall and hale yet, and his sword was long and sharp and bright. As though he felt the boy’s eyes upon him Brytta looked over at Fastred and his companions; in his eyes were pride and grief and fierce joy mingled upon his battered face.

“I weep not for myself, for I have lived long enough,” he said; “and I weep not for you my friends, for you are brave and honorable, and shall die well. I regret however that you shall be constrained to die in my land, for you are far from your own homes.”

Gimli nodded, and Bandobras smiled; neither Legolas nor Andunië replied, but Fastred said firmly: “I do beg your pardon, Brytta of Rohan … this is my home as much as it is yours, and I have every right to die here as have you.”

“Ah, my Fastred!” sighed Legolas with a smile. “What a good king you would have made!”

They all fell silent. They could see the vanguard now, fierce men on horseback brandishing their weapons, shouting at them, and approaching swiftly despite the loose wet shingle. Fastred drew his bow taut, and heard the creak of the string as Legolas also pulled his own bow. They waited, for the men were not quite close enough, and Fastred’s mouth went dry. Two hundred yards … the men were almost upon them. He determined to shoot as many arrows into the fray as he could, and then draw his sword; he refused to die without taking as many men with him as possible. “How I wish I could have seen Tamin again!” he thought, “and my family, and Léodwyn, and Halgond! And O how vexing it is to die, when one is cold and hungry and wet!”

The first line of men was a hundred yards off; Fastred could see their bright eyes beneath their helms, and the yellow hair on their shoulders. “Wait for it, Little Ones,” murmured Legolas softly; his eyes gleamed, and there was a smile on his lips. Fastred took a deep breath. The bow string cut into his fingers, and the fletching tickled. A drop of water trickled down his forehead, and he blinked it away.

At fifty yards Legolas shouted, “Now!” and three arrows flew into the air. Fastred did not even wait to see what he had hit; he reached back for another arrow as quickly as he could, for the line was advancing, and the shouts of the men were deafening. “Again!” he heard Legolas say, and there were two more twangs; even as Fastred fit his second arrow he saw two men fall.

Then – zip, zip! Four arrows – five – ten! Andunië cried out, and Brytta grabbed Fastred roughly by the shoulder and pulled him down, so that he was crouched over Karakse’s neck. Their horses were snorting and shying, and Fastred could hear Legolas crying out joyfully: “Lórien, Lórien!” He realized to his astonishment the arrows were coming from behind them, and not from their enemies; there were arrows flying all round, and the forefront of Bréawine’s men melted beneath the onslaught. He turned as best he could, and saw, rising over the mound of dislodged earth and rock behind them, four lines of gray-clad elves, nearly obscured against the stone, firing arrows past them each in turn, and at their head he saw Tamin’s father, calling his orders in a loud voice.

“Fastred!” someone cried, and then Fastred saw Tamin, beaming happily by Tathardil, his own bow and arrows put to good use; with a glad shout Fastred turned back to the fray. The men of Rohan were in disarray; they were dismayed by the rain of darts, and many of them had been slain; Fastred drew his bow and fired as well, and another man fell.

Despite the arrows the line of men advanced, and Fastred drew his sword; he could see Lassah draw his as well. Brytta turned to Lassah then, his eyes bright and happy. “Together, then!” said the man, and with a glad laugh Legolas crossed swords with him; then as one they surged into the fray, and Fastred could hear Legolas singing. He was only mildly surprised to realize that the song was neither Elvish nor Westron, but of Rohan.

“Bandobras!” he exclaimed, even as a man approached, sword swinging. “Where is Bandobras?” But he did not have the time to contemplate it overmuch; the man was upon him, his horse snorting and rearing; Karakse flinched at first, but then as though taking stock of himself, with an angry bellow rose up on his hind legs and lashed out with his huge feathered hooves. Fastred gripped the saddle-horn in astonishment; Karakse had never reared before; he was of habit such a good-tempered beast. But his attack made good measure, for he struck the smaller horse hard in the head several times and it fearfully retreated; the rider cursed his mount and tried to turn him, only to find the big piebald gelding’s teeth at his shoulder. He gave a yelp of surprise, and Fastred wrenched Karakse’s head round so as to get a good angle; he and the man bashed at each other a few moments, but the rider was distracted by his mount, who was now desperately afraid of Fastred’s destrier; with a wrench and a slash Fastred dispatched the man, hot with anger. “So die all who oppose Éomer King!” he shouted, and turning Karakse into the fray he cried out, swinging his sword: “Eorlingas! Westu Éomer hal!”

The men were confounded at his words, and turned to him amazed; they were greatly diminished in number, and had grown to fear the hot wrath of the Elf and Man who had charged them; they could not see the Elves hidden in their cloaks behind the rocks raining darts upon their heads. But their captain shook his sword at Fastred and cried: “To me, to me, Eorlingas! Westu Bréawine hal!” He charged at Fastred, his great gray horse snorting dreadfully; upon his face was a look of hatred, and his sword swung. Fastred met his charge, and they came together with a terrible clash; it was very noisy, and Fastred banged and slashed as best he could, and tried desperately to remember everything his father and Himbaláth had ever taught him, for this man was a large man, and a tried warrior, and he but a boy. The captain grinned evilly, knowing Fastred was hard-pressed, but soon his smile disappeared, for Fastred became angry, and was filled with hot fire, wishing to dispatch this man and have done with it; he did not care for being laughed at, and was indignant for his uncle’s sake. But then the captain turned and saw behind him a new group of men running up the path to the fray, and he smiled at Fastred, a dreadful smile: “Now you are truly outnumbered, Fastred Prince!” he spat, swinging his sword; Fastred blocked it, his eyes wide with alarm. “Here come our brothers to give unto us aid!”

Fastred looked and beheld a great crowd of Dunlendings on foot, shouting and bearing short swords and spears; they were ragged and dark, and their faces were fierce. He saw that Lassah and Brytta were in the midst of the battle, and surrounded by Rohirrim, who with the Dunlendings’ arrival had found new strength in hope, and many of the men had broken through and fought against Andunië and Gimli, and not fearing the rushing torrent attacked Rúmil’s people as well, though some were swept away in the churning water, and tumbled screaming down the side of the cliff. But Legolas looked over the heads of his enemies to the Dunlendings and gave a great shout:

“Errakh-Hem!”

Then Fastred beheld the Dunlendings’ chief; he was taller than the others, though still rough and dark, and his clothes were dirty and tattered. But his black eyes flashed when he saw Legolas, and he laughed; and raising his notched sword cried out in a glad voice: “To the Dwimmerlaik; to the Ghost-Lord! Disdain these mortal men, for Elves defy death! The Green Knight! Dunland for Dol Galenehtar!” And he sent his men into the battle against their erstwhile allies the Rohirrim, though they were on foot and the men of the Mark mounted; the Wildmen were fierce though, and so confounded the Rohirrim, who cursed them as traitors.

“Traitor yourself!” snarled Fastred to the captain, and with a mighty blow struck the man down even as he sat amazed upon his mount. “Westu Bréawine hal, indeed!”

The Men were pressed between the Dunlendings and the Elves of Lórien, and were quickly slain; those that were told to surrender fell upon their swords cursing the Heir of Meduseld. Fastred in the noise and confusion of battle had lost sight of everyone, and as he sat upon Karakse staring round anxiously, his heart hammering, he saw that some Elves had fallen as well, and some were wounded; even Andunië had not escaped injury, and was holding her cloak to her cheek; it was soaked in blood. But her eyes were bright and angry, and she snapped at Bandobras, who scurried up to her with his sword in his hand to politely inquire after her health. Bandobras shook his head at her as she stalked away; he caught Fastred’s eye then, and with a wry smile said:

“Well! She’s bad nor her brother, ain’t she? Them two! Seem to take it a personal affront if they’re hurt.” He wiped his sword upon a fallen man’s cloak and said briskly, “Well, hop to it, you; my Master’s in the thick of things as usual, and I think as you’re to be king of Rohan you’d best make acquaintance with our allies, though they did come upon us unexpected-like!”

Fastred slid off Karakse’s back. He felt very shaky, and his head was spinning; he wondered if he were going to vomit again, as he had done his first battle. He hoped not; he was hungered enough, and had no desire to empty his stomach when there was little chance of soon refilling it. His destrier was breathing hard, and showed the whites of his eyes; however he held his head proudly, and bellowed with convincing menace at the horses of Rohan, who shied and whickered nervously. The Elves of Lórien were wandering round them, seeing to their hurts and removing their tack, and the horses trod upon the bodies of their slain masters. Karakse shook his head and snorted, then pawed at the wet shingle with one great hoof. Fastred patted the thick piebald neck.

“Why you were splendid, Karakse!” he said to his horse, who nibbled his ear. “I have never seen you so fierce before; you were like unto a real war-horse. How pleased Tyarmayél shall be!” And taking Karakse by the bridle he started to follow Bandobras and Gimli from the rock-slide into the middle of the battlefield, littered with corpses and debris.

But then something struck him suddenly and with terrible force between his shoulder-blades, knocking out his breath, and he staggered, gasping for breath. He felt strong arms about him, and golden silky hair round his face, and he heard Tamin’s excited voice at his ear as the boy embraced him: “Fastred, Fastred! O you are here, and you are well! I am so glad you are well, because it was such a noisy battle, and I lost sight of you, and could not see you to make sure you were well, and I was so afraid to shoot the men for fear I should shoot you by mistake, but then I saw your great beautiful horse all black-and-white, and I saw you slay that captain, and O you were so brave to so do, and I was so proud of you I almost cheered, but then Eleardil and Tathardil rolled boulders into the water and Adar told us to climb over them and help you so I drew my sword and started to fight as well – I have never fought in a battle before, it is so noisy, is it not? – and a man nearly had my head but I blocked him just in time and then I slew him and he fell on top of me and bled on me, and a horse trod on my foot and it hurt but not too terribly and then I saw the Halfling fighting so I went to his aid, and I saw Andunië get slashed by a big ugly brute and Tathardil became angry and he and Handas rushed over and the horses tried to knock them down but Andunië began to sing and they threw their riders, and then Tathardil and Handas and Andunië killed them and I looked over and I saw the dark men coming and O Fastred, is that truly Prince Legolas, for I thought he was dead; how splendid that he is alive – “

“Peace, peace!” someone laughed, and Fastred looked up through the web of Tamin’s arms and hair and quiver and bow to see Rúmil standing tall above them, smiling down at them. “Tamin my son, I beg of you that you do not injure Fastred Faramirion in your joy; that he has survived this battle is gratifying and I would not care to tell his father his son was slain by my son’s enthusiasm.”

“I won’t Adar!” said Tamin, and pulling Fastred into a rough embrace kissed the boy on the forehead. “O but it is so good to see you!”

“What are you doing here?” gasped Fastred, struggling to catch his breath. “I am glad to see you too my friend, but I thought you would have been on the other side of the river, upon the ridge of the canyon to the west heading to Edoras.”

“We ought to have been,” said Tamin, putting his arm round Fastred’s waist and walking with him behind his father to where Legolas, Brytta, and Errakh-Hem were in the midst of the field of battle speaking together. “But when we got Naneth and the others all rounded up and started down to the plains there were many men there, a whole army Adar said, and ‘twas not Éomer’s men but the other one’s, and they were in the way; so Adar sent out scouts, Handas and Veryadil and Selendor, and we picked up your trail north of us, and began to follow you down the other side of the canyon, but you being on horseback and we on foot you were too swift for us, and it began to rain, and then Veryadil who was scouting ahead came back and said that he had heard many many horses and that you might be in danger, so we crept along very quietly and saw your horses and then we saw their horses and Adar set up four lines of archers and – O, I am so glad to see you!” And Tamin embraced him again. Fastred’s heart swelled within him; he had not known how much he had yearned after a boy his own age ‘til he had left Tamin and his father, and simply to be with him made the horrors of the battle to fade, for Tamin was so ebullient he could likely have made the most tightly twisted morning glory to open as he passed. So he looped his arm round Tamin’s waist and they walked together, with Karakse behind them thrusting his great muzzle between their heads and lipping at their hair; Tamin laughed and reached back to caress the steed’s muzzle, and Karakse snorted into his ear, so that he laughed again. “O I like your horse Fastred!” exclaimed Tamin happily. “He is so big, and his whiskers tickle so!”

Legolas sat lashed to Voronda’s back, and the others stood round him speaking of the battle; Brytta and Errakh-Hem were regarding each other with suspicion and approbation mingled, and Errakh-Hem was stroking Taruku’s neck. Gimli and Bandobras stood by Legolas’ stirrups, and all round them were the Elves of Lórien, and the men of Dunland, mingled yet unable to speak, for their tongues were separate; the Elves held themselves aloof, and the Dunlendings looked askance at them from beneath lowered brows. As Fastred and Tamin approached Fastred espied Andunië; she too stood by her lord’s stirrups, though she hung back a bit, holding her cloak to her face; her eyes were flashing with annoyance, but she seemed very white to Fastred, and he wondered if she were very badly hurt. “Even if she is she will own it not,” he thought resignedly; “she is so stubborn!”

Legolas turned to them as they approached, and smiled; he looked so different from the Elf they had rescued mere days before, and Fastred was happy, for his Lassah was hale and strong and beautiful, and all the men and Elves were looking up at him with deference and admiration, though the Dunlendings seemed not a little afraid of him. His hair though slicked by rain ran glimmering down his back, and his eyes shone like gems. “O my dear Fastred Prince!” he cried, and Fastred was struck by the thought he had nearly said my dear Little One; if so he was very glad Legolas had changed his mind. “Come and make acquaintance with Errakh-Hem, called Chief of Dunlendings of Onodló; he is anxious to convene with you, for you are kin to one he feels has wronged him.”

Tamin released Fastred then, and when Fastred looked at him wondering saw that Rúmil had held his son back, for it was not Tamin’s place to stand by the prince at this time. Feeling very uneasy Fastred stepped into the circle of men; Errakh-Hem and his Dunlendings regarded him with deep mistrust, and Fastred reminded himself that to the eyes of the Rohirrim these Wildmen were naught but brigands and beggars and treated as such. They certainly did not inspire him to confidence, being ragged and looking quite uncouth; however Errakh-Hem did approach him in deference, his hand upon his breast, and said politely:

“Fastred, son of Faramir, heir of Meduseld.”

“Errakh-Hem, Chief of the Dunlendings of Onodló,” said Fastred, hoping he had got the title right; apparently he had, for the Wildmen glanced round at each other nodding, and Errakh-Hem smiled.

“Rarely do the Rohirrim speak with such fittingness to us!” he said. “I deem you are well-raised, though that may have something to do with your homeland, which is not Rohan but Ithilien.”

“As my Lady Mother is a princess of the Mark I do not see that it would make a difference,” said Fastred. He paused, then said tentatively: “I thank you, O Errakh-Hem, Chief of the Dunlendings, for your timely and beneficial aid in our hour of need. For certes it is we should have been hard-pressed, even with our friends the Elves to help us.”

“I am a dice-thrower,” said Errakh-Hem, his black eyes twinkling. “I feel which way the numbers turn. To ally oneself with the friends of the Dwimmerlaik seemed to me to be the more prudent course.” He looked up at Legolas with a smile. “And to see this one, brought back from the halls of his ancestors! No; ‘twould be a fool to deny the Green Knight makes a fitter friend than Bréawine, or that oily fellow Théalof.”

“Thank you!” said Legolas dryly. “It is gratifying to know I am so exalted in your eyes.” Errakh-Hem laughed at this, and turned back to Fastred, his eyes thoughtful.

“You fight as do a full-grown warrior, though you are but a boy!” he said. “I wonder if you treat as one.”

“I have been known to so do,” said Fastred carefully. “What is your plaint, O Chief?”

“Well,” said Errakh-Hem, glancing at Legolas again who was smiling; “I have been told by sundry folk, who have assured me of their felicity, that your royal uncle, Éomer King of the Mark, has reversed his cession of lands unto us, giving of them to foreign lords.”

“Then I do assure you these men speak falsely,” said Fastred angrily. “Whether by trick or half-truth or lie, mine uncle has promised no such thing, either to Aldamir of Amon Din, or to Legolas of Dol Galenehtar.”

“Truly then?” asked Errakh-Hem, looking keenly at the boy. “Your uncle has no intentions of displacing my people once more?”

“None!” said Fastred. “And why, O Chief, would he cede those lands unto Lord Aldamir or Lass – Lord Legolas? They are far from both demesnes, and in truth I have been told the land is boggy and damp, and unsuitable for crop or kine.”

“Even so,” said Errakh-Hem doubtfully, “my people are accustomed to being run off, and to hear we should be harried from our lands yet again, when we have only just begun to settle, is easier perchance to believe, than to be told the king regards us with clemency and would have us live at peace.”

“Even if my royal uncle should make move to displace you would I oppose him, for you have shown yourselves canny warriors,” said Fastred earnestly. “You did hear and consider my friend’s wise words, and cast your lot with the right side; such actions deserve praise not condemnation. So I swear unto you, O Chief of Dunlendings, that as heir of Meduseld shall I uphold your cause to mine uncle, and as king shall you forever have the lands ceded you, so long as you hold to oaths championing the house of Éomer.”

Errakh-Hem was silent for a moment considering Fastred’s words; at last he looked upon the boy and said: “It is too soon, O Prince, for me to make such oaths; we have been so ill-used in the past, and are more accustomed to lies than oaths. But if you take me to your uncle, and he assures me of his mercy toward my people, then I shall make oaths to you, O Heir, to assure our women and children of peace.”

Fastred thought about this a moment. He was not offended by Errakh-Hem’s reluctance, for he could well believe the man to be chary of such offers; however the chief appeared to at least hold Lassah in honor, and for Fastred that would be enough for a start. “I think that is fair,” he said to Errakh-Hem, and to the Dunlending’s surprise held out his hand. “Peace between us both for now, then, O Chief.”

Errakh-Hem stared down at Fastred’s hand; then slowly placed his own round it, and they shook on it. “I am confounded,” the man admitted with a crooked smile. “In truth, O Heir, I came to Lord Legolas’ aid and not yours; I did not expect to be treated with such courtesy.”

“The good deed done pays double the interest,” said Fastred, smiling up at the man. “ ‘Tis a noble thing you and your men have accomplished today, O Errakh-Hem Chief of the Dunlendings, and wise were they who chose you to lead them.”

“Wise was your uncle, who chose you to succeed him,” said Errakh-Hem, releasing Fastred’s hand. Then Fastred saw the man glance behind him, and upon Errakh-Hem’s face was fear and doubt and mistrust; Fastred turned, wondering what had apprehended the Dunlending’s attention, and who could have sparked such a chary response. Tamin stood there, smiling hesitantly, looking up at Errakh-Hem through the untidy curtain of golden hair which streamed down his shoulders. Behind him was his father Rúmil, cautious, but letting his son approach, though Fastred could tell that should the man make one false move Rúmil would have no compulsion to protect either his progeny, or his future lord’s allies. Fastred knew neither the Elves of Lórien, nor the Wildmen of Dunland, suffered strangers, and that accords and truces were rare; however he knew as well that to be friends with Elves should elevate the Dunlendings’ status in his uncle’s eyes, and Tamin’s willingness to step forward ought to be rather auspicious than suspicious. Determined to foster friendship betwixt the Dunlendings and Rúmil’s folk, Fastred took Tamin by the hand and drew him forward, putting his own arm round the Elf-boy’s shoulders. Errakh-Hem blinked, uncertain, his black eyes doubtful, but Tamin Rúmilion’s eyes sparkled, and upon his lips was a hopeful smile.

“You have cast your lot with me, and with my friend the Green Knight,” said Fastred as Tamin held out his hand to Errakh-Hem. “You must become acquainted with the Dwimmerlaik now.”

Errakh-Hem did not reply, but studied Tamin; in his face was a look akin to fear, but mingled with it was hope, overlaid with the desire to know beauty, when before he had known but privation. Slowly, as though he feared to startle the boy, Errakh-Hem also came forward, and very tentatively took Tamin’s hand in his own.