(A/N: Yes, I'm back! NaNo played merry hell on my fanfic, but like I promised, Heir of Meduseld will be completed. It's such a relief to get back to Fastred and Legolas - I missed them! -- Le Rouret)

“Ah, there you are my friend!” cried Éomer as Legolas and his lieutenant approached. They did not seem to the king much worse for having charged the tor alone; the Green Knight wore both smile and black clothing with equanimity, but Himbaláth looked irritable and the hand that bore the standard was bloody. The great black destrier upon which they rode trod insouciantly upon the bodies of the slain, snorting and bellowing; the milling riderless horses balked and skittered away as he passed, shying from his bared teeth. Éomer urged his own steed up to the two Elves and said, “Your good Galás has done marvelous work upon the east flank; I do not think there is a traitor left living or unbound.”

“Alas; I have no such good news for you my friend,” said Legolas as Himbaláth dismounted and trotted off to find Meivel. “Well some of it is good I suppose; the black cloak was as effective against the men of arms upon the tor and they have fled with Théalof, but not ere that serpentine cousin of yours slew Bréawine.”

“A shame it was not the other way round,” said Éomer grimly. “Bréawine I could hang for treason, but Théalof as my cousin is granted by law clemency and given naught but exile.”

Legolas clucked his tongue. “Pity!” he said. “Ancient laws can be so inconvenient. Well perchance he shall run into some small accident upon gaining the ravine where he has fled. But not a small accident; for do not your heir and his father hold the western flank? For little though Fastred might be his sword arm has grown strong. Fear not O my friend; our boy I am sure shall exact no middling revenge upon the traitor.”

“I chose well, did I not?” asked Éomer with a smile. “How I have envied Faramir his sons! The only thing that makes this arrangement to seem less than satisfactory is that I must needs wound my sister-husband in order to gain an heir.”

“Well, perchance not,” said Legolas. “There is still that trifling issue of your Lady Wife, if you will excuse my play on words; it was unintentional. At any rate I have full confidence in Fastred and in his Lord Father, for should Théalof run across them I doubt not they shall be strong to impede him.”

“Let us hope so!” said Éomer. “But would that I could pursue him myself; he has done great injury to my people.”

“Hold here a while,” urged Legolas, and gestured with one black-clad arm across the smoking plain. Many men and Elves labored there, guarding prisoners and stripping the slain. The ground was littered with debris, bodies and weapons alike; they could see Andunië and Tyarmayél rounding up the wandering beasts. To the east spread along the rise were Galás’ troops still at work; sword and spear glinted in the sunlight, though the bulk of the traitors had been subdued. “There is work aplenty upon this front; allow your heir his little victory.” He shook back the black hood that obscured his bright pale hair; he removed his gauntlets and ran his fingers through it. “I want a bath,” he declared, setting his jaw. “A bath and a hot meal and a soft bed. Do not laugh at me, my friend! The older I get the more I find pleasure in the dichotomy of want and comforts, and I have been wanting for weeks! Besides my legs itch and are stiff in their bonds.” He let Éomer chuckle at him, and the two friends were silent a while, watching their people at work. Then Legolas turned his fair face to the sky and smiled. “Look!” he said, pointing at a clacking cloud of black. “The crows pass to the west; already they sense the battle shall persist and a fresher meal found elsewhere!”

“Let us hope so,” said Éomer; “I too grow weary and am missing my lady. I do not wish to pursue Théalof any further; he has discomforted me enough. Come, O Green Knight! For I perceive Galás approaches; let us see what your merry seneschal has to say for himself.” And with Legolas singing beside him he went to see to the prisoners and cairns.

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Fastred waited with his Lord Father and his friends on a slight rise in the rocky ravine. Behind them waited Cirien, Mardil, Araval and Aldamir who, to the other knights’ surprise, spoke quietly with Errakh-Hem. Fastred could not be certain of what they spoke, but betimes he overheard words like “concession” and “crop-rotation” and he smiled to himself. He did not notice for he was too harrowed up in mind concerning the battle, but Fastred’s Lord Father stood too and glanced over at him, watching his son and listening to Aldamir and Errakh-Hem speak peace to each other; his face was grave but his eyes shone with pride for he could see Fastred had grown in wisdom as well as stature, and his father’s heart though yearning for the little boy he had sired reveled also in the man he would become.

Halgond, who thanks to Fastred’s tutelage knew a little Elvish, was speaking with Tamin, smiling and beaming and illuminating the dark shadowy ravine with his very visage. Fastred was pleased Halgond had decided to like Tamin and not envy him; the youngest son of Hallas of Lossarnach was of jealous nature and oftimes Fastred had found himself working to overcome the boy’s little foibles. “But Tamin is so lovable I ought not to have worried,” thought Fastred. “How Hísimë and Théodred will love him!” He had the sudden uncomfortable thought that perhaps Hísimë might love him overmuch, but dismissed it as idle speculation and unfitting a girl of his sister’s rank. “Many mortals fall in love with Elves and it is inconsequential; they always break their hearts and return to their mortal loves in the end. And it does not do to borrow trouble against tomorrow, for the interest is too high, as Bandobras says,” he reminded himself. “O how I wish I knew what the future would bring!” He found himself thinking of Andunië then, of her long autumn hair and cool green eyes, her strong slim hands and dirty boots. “Poor Himbaláth!” he thought. “I do not envy him at all, nor Brytta.”

Against the pale sky burst a cloud of fluttering black; crows were croaking overhead. “Something is happening,” said Errakh-Hem with a frown, fingering the pommel of his battered sword. “We ought to send someone to the lip of the ravine to determine if anyone is approaching.”

“For stealth an Elf is required I deem,” said Cirien where he sat beneath his yellow standard. “O Lord Fastred, as my Elvish is insufficient would you ask your golden friend Tamin to go to the top of the ravine and see what is happening?”

“Certainly,” said Fastred. He turned to Tamin and said, “Tamin my friend, as you possess the craft of the Eldar will you see what has encouraged those birds to come to us?”

“Gladly O Fastred!” said Tamin cheerfully, and bidding his bay mare stand he dismounted, and quiet and swift as smoke blown in a breeze he scrambled up the slope. They saw his fair head, dark against the sky, peering round a rock; then just as softly he turned and ran back, face tight with excitement and apprehension.

“Riders coming!” he said, flinging himself upon his horse again. “Thirty all told, running swiftly and madly, as though frightened; before them rides a man wearing a gold collar and bearing a long bright sword.”

“Théalof!” spat Errakh-Hem when Fastred told the grown-ups what Tamin had said. Aldamir nodded portentously and added, “You and I are of like estimate O Errakh-Hem of the Dunlendings; the swifter we deal with this traitor the better.”

“Fastred my friend, we ought to move further up the riverbed,” said Tamin seriously, pointing north. “For the riders will be upon us and it is never wise to attack uphill.”

“An excellent idea, son of Lórien,” said Faramir smiling at Tamin. He turned to the men arrayed behind him and said, “North, and in silence if you may! And those upon horseback wait you on your neighbors; I will not have Théalof to attack our rearguard unmounted.”

It seemed to Fastred the horses made a horrible clatter upon the dry riverbed. He knew he ought to keep to the front of the file with his father and the other knights, but Tamin was hanging back, watching the top of the ravine anxiously, so he too hesitated. Halgond and Baldor also waited as the file proceeded past them; none of the warriors seemed to mark the four boys, to Fastred’s relief. They watched the column wind round a corner, and if several straggling Dunlendings gave them strange looks they said nothing, deciding the Prince of Rohan knew what he was about. Halgond shifted a bit on Speckle and said uncomfortably:

“Fastred, why wait we here? If these riders come down the ravine they shall meet us first.”

“What think you O Tamin?” asked Fastred of the Elf. “Will we receive the brunt of these riders?”

“I think not,” said Tamin with a frown, cocking his head and listening. “Now that the noise of our companions is fading I can hear the hoof-beats; they are passing north of us.”

“Ought we warn my Lord Father?” asked Fastred. Tamin shook his head.

“The riders are few and frightened,” he said. “They will be no match for this western flank. In fact I fear we shall see no combat at all!” He looked disappointed and Halgond laughed.

“How bloodthirsty you are!” he said. “I know I shall like you O Tamin Rúmilion.”

The boys waited for a while in silence; the noise of the company had quieted and all they could hear was the cawing of the crows, though they could not see the birds. Then there was great tumult to the north; they heard shouts and trumpet-blasts, and the high ping of arrows put to flight. Tamin set arrow to string, and the three other boys drew their swords. “Tamin, what do you hear?” asked Fastred. His heart was beating very fast and he wondered if they had made an error in judgment to stay so far behind.

Tamin’s pale eyes scanned the top of the ravine before them, and he bit his lip. “I hear men dying,” he said uncertainly. “And there are many voices, voices crying in your tongue, O Fastred, so that I do not mark what they say.”

“Well, perhaps we ought – “ began Baldor, but then Tamin cried: “Hush, hush!” and the friends fell silent. Fastred, Halgond and Baldor watched Tamin anxiously, for he had gone very still, and his hands though steady had tightened upon his bow until the knuckles went white. He turned to Fastred, eyes wide.

“Men approach,” he whispered.

Fastred considered saying a bad word. He did not feel he ought to offend Tamin and use one of his Elvish bad words, and he knew Baldor disapproved of rough language so a word in Westron would not do. “How I wish I knew how to swear in Dwarvish!” he thought darkly, rotating his sword-hand to loosen his arm. “Or perhaps later I might learn some bad words in the language of the Mark. I wonder if Éothain would teach me? But I must take care to not use them round Léodwyn!” The four sat still upon their steeds, waiting; soon even Fastred and the brothers could hear the clash and clatter of hoof-beats upon the loose shingle.

“O this was not a good idea,” whispered Halgond, earning a scathing look from his brother. Fastred gave a faint smile, remembering that so far Halgond alone of the four of them had not been tried in battle.

“Do not fear, Halgond,” he said comfortingly. “All will be well.” Then three horsemen burst round the corner of the ravine, and Tamin’s bow sang. The man to the right fell from his horse with a cry, and his horse bolted with fear; the man rolled to his feet, withdrawing the dart which had pierced his side. Tamin shot again, and the leader held up his shield, catching the second arrow with a thunk. “Back, back!” Fastred heard him shout, and he realized with a surge of fierce joy that it was Théalof. He was glad for he felt Théalof’s offenses dearly and wished to repay as much as he could, for the sake of his uncle and of his Lassah who had suffered so.

“No!” he bellowed, urging Karakse forward and swinging his sword. “Come forth, Deceiver of the Mark! You will pay dearly for your treachery toward my people!”

Théalof and his companions paused and looked at the boys; Fastred could see dawning comprehension in the man’s face. Théalof looked a bit worse for wear; he was blood-spattered and dusty and had a rather harried expression, which melted into smug satisfaction when he realized who it was standing between him and his escape.

“Well, boy!” he cried, and when he shook his sword Fastred realized Théalof bore Oropher’s blade. This caused his anger to flare hotter and he came toward Théalof at a jingling trot; he could hear his friends behind him. Tamin held his fire, awaiting the end of the formalities. “Do you dare pit yourself against me, youngling you are?” sneered Théalof. “I am elder and stronger and better tried and shall make quick work of you and your misguided friends. And why skulk you here? Did your father leave you behind fearing you could not defend yourself in full battle? Or are you running away yet again, like the coward you are?”

“How you talk!” retorted Fastred hotly. “Do you fear to engage a mere boy then? I deem your tongue is far nimbler than your sword-arm, though your sly speech is useless against me now; I have secured a tonic against your venom.”

Théalof’s face darkened with anger. “Stupid child!” he hissed. “I am your superior in battle and age alike and should you stand I shall slay you, as I desired in Dol Galenehtar!”

“Child I might be but slay me you shall not,” said Fastred. “Come against me if you are not afraid! For I perceive you are the one running away, and that is hardly conduct befitting one so bold and cunning as Théalof of the Mark.” Keeping his eyes fixed upon the men he said in a low voice to Tamin: “Do you not let him go; alive I would take him unto mine uncle, but he must not escape!”

“Have no fear O my friend!” murmured Tamin with a smile. “He will find it difficult to run when I am finished with him.”

Wanting above all else to protect Halgond from harm Fastred drove Karakse ahead of the other boys. Théalof hesitated but a moment, then turning to his companions he cried: “Kill the Elf-child and the other boys but leave the Heir to me!” And with a shout he surged forward, the long bright sword swinging.

It was detestable to Fastred to see Legolas’ ancient sword in the hands of such a fiend. He was filled with wrath and his head felt very light, and he could not believe Théalof even dared wield it. Brandishing his own blade he cried in Elvish: “Irmatenagar, Blood-thirsty Sword! O sword of Oropher slain in the darkness of ages, return to those rightful hands, the hands of Legolas Thranduilion his heir, for he is your master!” There was a shout beside him and Tamin’s bow twanged; the two men with Théalof fell with arrows in their throats, and Théalof faltered, then with a sharp cry flung the sword aside as though the hilt had burnt his skin through the gauntlet. He stared wild-eyed at Fastred a moment, pale as death and wringing his hands together in pain; then with a terrified cry he turned his horse and fled.

“After him!” cried Baldor, and the four boys shot off in pursuit. Théalof’s steed was far swifter than Karakse or the other Dale horses, but Tamin’s mare had been born upon the plains of the Mark and swiftly outpaced her friends. Fastred saw Tamin draw up behind Théalof, who looked back in panic; he saw Tamin draw his bow and speak but over the tumult of hooves upon the rock could not mark what his friend had said. With desperate recklessness Théalof attempted to drive his horse up the slope of the ravine but Tamin’s arrow was swifter, and with a great rattle and bang Théalof fell tumbling to the earth, an arrow in his shoulder. Though writhing in pain he reached to his hilt to draw his knife but Tamin had already loosed another dart, which struck Théalof in the crook of his arm; the knife fell with a clatter. Théalof scrambled to his feet, arms swinging uselessly, and tried to run, but with another hiss and thock found an arrow in the back of his knee. He fell again, twisting in his agony, his face white and set. Fastred rode up to him panting with excitement, his sword still drawn; Karakse’s great feathered hooves scattered pebbles and dirt over Théalof’s fine doublet and breeches, and the destrier snorted derisively at the man in the dust before him. Théalof looked up at Fastred seated high above him upon his piebald gelding, and in his eyes gleamed the heat of pure hatred. He spat ineffectually at the boy and said:

“Well, what will you now, O Fastred of Ithilien? Slay me? You had best do it and do it swiftly, for I am protected through right of distaff and should you be caught at it will lose your place here in the Mark!”

“Yes, you would like that would you not?” asked Fastred, sheathing his sword. “Nay, I shall slay you not O Théalof my cousin, for I am no longer Fastred of Ithilien but Fastred Prince of Rohan, and though I find you loathsome shall not countenance such breach of my laws. I shall take you to my royal uncle instead, to have such justice meted out to you as he sees fit.” He turned from the man to where Halgond stood beside Speckle, carefully holding Legolas’ sword. Halgond turned it hilt-first to Tamin, who took it reverently, and said in a low voice:

“But Fastred then he shall be loosed, for you well know King Éomer is not allowed to execute him for his deeds. Would it not be more prudent to slay him here and now, and save your uncle the effort?”

“Prudent, yes, but how could I deny my dear Lassah the fun of mocking his detractor?” asked Fastred lightly. “Come; I have rope: Let us bind this scoundrel and take him away, for I have much for which to repay my betters, and to present Théalof shall do much to lessen mine obligations.”

“Besides which,” said Baldor with a grim smile, “should we drag him to your uncle perhaps no trial will be necessary!” Théalof heard what the boy said and turned very pale. But Fastred shook his head.

“Nay!” he said. “Do you please attend to me O my friends; I am prince here and must needs uphold the laws. Bind his hands behind his back, and affix the end of the rope to his horse’s saddle; he will slither behind us in the dust, like the snake he is.”

So it was that Fastred led Théalof up the side of the ravine across the plain, east toward the bulk of Éomer’s army. He saw the royal standard of Rohan set upon the tor, with his uncle and Legolas there; Galás was there too with the standard of Dol Galenehtar, and Gimli and Bandobras stood beside him. All round were Elves and men, and a great earthworks begun to bury the dead; Éomer had declared both loyalists and traitors alike to be placed in the same cairn for they were all brothers. Faramir and Errakh-Hem were there too, having slain the remainder of Théalof’s men; when Faramir saw his son approach he came forward with a glad smile.

“So there you are!” he exclaimed, embracing Fastred as he dismounted. “How proud I am of you my son! Indeed you are worthy of many titles, not least of which Snake Slayer shall be added to you.”

“But he is not dead,” said Halgond discontentedly, looking back at Théalof who limped in the dust at their heels. “I wished to slay him but Fastred would not let me. He said we must follow the laws hereabouts.”

“Do not fear, Halgond!” said Fastred under his breath. “I have an idea.” And with his father the little party went up the tor to Éomer. Beside him upon his great black Hammer sat Legolas, still clad in Vorondil’s castoffs and looking very grim and dangerous and ghostly. He beheld Théalof bound and defeated and cocked his head at the man, smiling. Théalof sneered.

“What; no insults?” said Théalof, spitting at Hammer’s great black feet. “Come O Green Knight, now is your chance; you may repay me for every thing I did say to you, when you were the prisoner and I your captor!”

“I hardly need say anything,” said Legolas dryly. “Théalof the Great, who would rule from the Golden Hall, captured by four young boys?” He shook his head and clucked his tongue. “Dear me, Théalof; you are not the man I thought you to be.” Théalof glowered but said nothing.

“My lord!” cried Tamin coming forward and bowing low to Legolas. “Here is your sword my lord, your grandsire’s sword Irmatenagar, the bloodthirsty one.” He rose and held the great sword out to Legolas hilt-first, his face shining. “It leapt from the traitor’s hands,” he said with a laugh. “Fastred Faramirion called to it, and it so longed to return to you it did burn Théalof’s palm!”

“Irmatenagar?” said Legolas in surprise, taking the sword and holding it up. “That is not the name my Lord Father did tell me was given it at its forging; Tiriméar my grandsire Oropher did call it, Bright Blood.” He looked over at Fastred. “Must I rename it for you, O Little One, who returns such valuable objects to me? Why did you call it Irmatenagar?”

“I, I do not know,” stammered Fastred, embarrassed. “I did not know your sword had a name, but thought perhaps if I called it by a name it would answer. And it did, Lord Lass – Lord Legolas; it rejected Théalof and came to me.”

“Well, Tiriméar or Irmatenagar, I am glad to see it again!” said Legolas with satisfaction, holding up the blade and running his finger down the blood groove with a smile. “Thank you, Little Ones; I am greatly in your debt; I had visions of my Lord Father demanding ten times the sword’s weight in gold as payment!” He looked down at Théalof and laughed. “Oropher’s blade would not countenance a traitor, O Théalof of Rohan!” he said merrily. “Did it taste Bréawine’s blood? Did it? Ah, that explains it; treachery is a dangerous thing, Théalof; you cannot expect a good sword to support such perfidy. A blade used such betrays its user in turn.”

“Bréawine was a weak fool,” growled Théalof. “He was useless to me.”

“As useless to you as honor I suppose,” said Legolas, handing the sword back to Tamin. “Here, Little One; you and Bandobras fight over it now, as you are both mine esquires.”

“Such squabbling aside, let us take the moment in hand,” said Éomer. “A happy day for me, that sees two enemies united in treachery and at mercy of their own lies! The field is mine and it is time to dispense justice.” He stepped forward to Théalof, his cuirass gleaming; he rested one hand on his sword-hilt, and gave Théalof a small smile. “Well, cousin,” he said. Théalof glowered up at him.

“Cousin,” he said in a voice that dripped venom, and spat upon Éomer’s boots.

“On your knees, varlet!” bellowed Gimli, striking Théalof’s legs with a stick. “Bow before your sovereign.” Théalof tumbled to the earth, throwing Gimli a spiteful look. Gimli smiled grimly at him. “Better,” he growled. “You are in your proper place now.”

“And do you please keep your saliva to yourself,” added Galás. He gave Théalof a brilliant smile. “’ Galás the Fool’ was it? Well perhaps, but I suspect this fool’s life shall be longer than yours anyway.”

“Do you see, Théalof, what your machinations have brought?” asked Éomer, gesturing round the assembly with his hand. “All your lies and manipulations and treaties and deceptions, and yet Errakh-Hem mistrusted you, and the lords of Gondor renounced you, and your prisoners escaped you. You did attempt tear my land in twain but my people proved the stronger; your ally Bréawine slew and burned but by my hand shall my true people be repaid for their loyalty. What did you wish, O Théalof, once you had taken Meduseld for your own? Did you truly believe you had but to sit upon my throne and all people would bow before you?”

“I never wished to rule in Meduseld,” said Théalof angrily. “’Twas your gold I desired, the riches of your treasury. Had once I gained the back vaults I should have stripped it bare and gone up the Greenway. I am no fool as was Bréawine, who thought his blood sufficient to cow the Rohirrim; I knew that Helm and Aglarond would ever stand against me, and Elessar repay my acts. You have grown rich, O cousin; and yet you let your distaff blood struggle to maintain even the smallest stables and houses! I tell you I have as much right to that wealth as do you, and had Bréawine faltered not, it should be mine, and you and your heir slain.” He gave an evil smile. “And now, O cousin,” he said sweetly, “you must give the order to have me unbound and sent upon my way; friends I have in Dunland, friends truer than Errakh-Hem. I shall not live my life in idleness nor in such false agonies of guilt, for there is much yet for me to do, and many things I might accomplish outside the Mark. So let me go, Éomer son of Éomund! You are hampered by your own honor.”

Gimli glared down at Théalof. “O my friends,” he said to Legolas and Éomer. “Must we suffer his vile face so? It rankles within me that after all this Éomer must needs free him!”

“Exile from Rohan is ill enough,” said Cirien; “besides I doubt me he shall find succor elsewhere, when his friends in Dunland find his perfidy has been so repaid.”

“You misspeak as usual, O Cirien the Wise,” said Théalof smugly. “How far can your wisdom take you? Up through the fertile plains of Dunland? Nay; your eyes are short, and your vision tainted. Release me, cousin! Give to me my horse and my sword and I shall leave the Mark for the duration of your reign.” He gave Fastred a haughty smile. “Perhaps another King of the Golden Hall shall receive me.”

Théalof looked so arrogant that Fastred knew he must speak or burst. “O Éomer King, my sister-brother,” said Fastred with a bow. “I do humbly request your ear, for I have a boon to ask of you.”

“Ask then, O Fastred Prince, my sister-son!” said Éomer with a smile. “For runaways aside I see you have repaid your debt in full to me, and I welcome you back and grant full indulgence to mine Heir’s whims.”

“O this will be good!” chuckled Bandobras rubbing his hands. “Fastred’s getting right clever at politics isn’t he Gimli!”

Feeling the weight of the assembly’s eyes ought to have made Fastred nervous, but he held his head up and repeated to himself: “I am a prince. I am not afraid.” And he was not; he knew his plan to be a good one and was confident Éomer would accept it. “O Éomer King,” he said, raising his voice so all could hear. “I know full well Théalof is our royal cousin and exempt from the penalty of death for treason, and that you are constrained to grant him freedom in exile and not the beheading he deserves for his contemptible acts.” Éomer nodded and Fastred added: “However by the laws set up in Ithilien my homeland, treason is punishable by death regardless of the offender’s relation to the throne.”

“But we are not in Ithilien O mine Heir,” said Éomer carefully.

“We are not,” agreed Fastred; “nor has Théalof conspired against the Prince of Ithilien, my Lord Father, so that he might demand extradition in Gondor.”

“Your point, please, Fastred Prince” said Legolas patiently, though his gray eyes twinkled with comprehension. Fastred grinned, suddenly liking his Lassah very much.

“However under the laws established by Prince Legolas, Lord of Dol Galenehtar, conspiracy is worthy of death, for Théalof did knowingly connive to abduct me, your Heir, in stealth and for nefarious purpose from his halls, and according to verdict specified in the Hall of Dol Galenehtar before full assembly did Lord Legolas declare a sentence of death to be conferred.”

“Did I?” interrupted Legolas in surprise. “I suppose I must have, though I was so angered I can scarce remember.”

“O you did indeed, my lord!” said Galás. “Loudly, and with great enthusiasm. My ears ring yet.”

“And you’re not the only one neither!” added Bandobras with a grin.

“That is all very well,” said Théalof from where he knelt in the dust, sneering up at Fastred. “But we are not in Dol Galenehtar; we are not in Ithilien or in any of Gondor’s fiefdoms. This is the Mark and the Law of the Mark stands, O Éomer!”

Éomer looked gravely down at his cousin, then turned politely to Fastred. “And your boon, O mine Heir?” he asked.

“As Prince of the Mark I am granted certain distributory rights,” said Fastred, hoping he had got the terms right, and that no one would laugh at him. “I claim the privilege to entitle land to a foreign dignitary in gratitude for deeds done to protect the House of Éomund.”

“Indeed?” asked Éomer raising his eyebrows. “Which lands, O sister-son?”

“This tor,” said Fastred, gesturing with his arms. “Well,” he conceded, seeing it was a rather large tract and well-suited for a watchtower. “The top at least. About a ten-foot-square patch, starting there at Hammer’s bottom, and fetching up right behind Théalof over here. I request we the royal house of Éomund do entitle these lands unto Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, Lord of Dol Galenehtar, to reward and repay him for his labors to uphold our family, strengthening our position and protecting our holdings here in the Mark, and to compensate him for injuries sustained during said acts.”

Théalof’s face went gray with fear when he realized what Fastred had done. Éomer looked complacently down at his cousin and gave a cold smile. “Very well!” he said, his voice silky. “I do so proclaim it, that this tor belongs to Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, Lord of Dol Galenehtar, of the Nine Walkers, my friend and ally; all present shall know that from this day forth this tor is Dol Galenehtar indeed and subject to its laws and decrees – “

“O Éomer King!” cried Théalof in a terrible voice, but Éomer continued: “And commensurate with Legolas Thranduilion’s edicts and proclamations, to be carried out forthwith.”

“No!” sobbed Théalof. “No, O cousin, I beg of you – “

“Quiet!” roared Meivel stepping forward, sword drawn. “You are in Dol Galenehtar now and under my jurisdiction as Captain of the militia of Prince Legolas Thranduilion. Oh,” he said, his voice husky with anger. “How I have dreamed to put your tongue to my blade!” He glanced down at Fastred, and his hard face quirked into a twisted smile. “Well done, O Fastred Prince!” he murmured. Fastred started; he had never seen Meivel smile before and found it more unnerving than speaking in public had been.

“Now, now, Meivel,” said Legolas calmly, regarding the sobbing Théalof with clinical and detached interest. “Let us not be injudicious in our desire for reparation. In Dol Galenehtar as in my Lord Father’s courts I shall rule with parity and patience.” He turned round, studying the crowd around the tor, and called out: “Andunië of Dol Galenehtar, come forward!”

The huntsmistress came forth, cold-eyed and lovely even in her worn riding-kit, looking down with disdain upon Théalof groveling in the dust. She stood beside her brother and folded her hands demurely before her, though she would not meet her lord’s gaze. “Yes, my lord?” she said.

“You made complaint to me, O my Huntsmistress, that a man of Rohan did insult you, disparaging your rank within my halls and using language unfitting the ears of a lady of Dol Galenehtar,” said Legolas gravely. “Also you did corroborate Fastred son of Faramir’s allegations that a man of Rohan attempted to take hostage this boy whilst he was a protected guest and vassal within my house. Do you still hold to this complaint?”

“I do, my lord,” said Andunië calmly. From his position before Legolas Théalof gave a little sob. Legolas glanced down at him and said to Andunië, “Do you recall the name and visage of the man who perpetrated these acts?”

“I do, my lord,” repeated Andunië.

“Is that man present?”

“He is.”

“Identify him for the assembly, Andunië of Dol Galenehtar.”

“It is he, the one before you, O my lord,” said Andunië, pointing down at Théalof, who trembled before her cold face. “Théalof of Rohan.”

“Fastred son of Faramir, Prince of Rohan,” said Legolas gravely to Fastred, who was starting to feel a little sick. “You made complaint to me that a man of Rohan did attempt to abduct you from my halls, and gave offense to one of my ladies. Do you still uphold this complaint?”

Fastred swallowed heavily but kept his head up. “I do, Lord Legolas,” he said, profoundly thankful he had not slipped up and said Lord Lassah.

“Do you recall the name and visage of the man who perpetrated these acts?”

“I do, Lord Legolas,” said Fastred firmly, and pointed his finger at Théalof, who cringed back from him. “It is Théalof of Rohan.”

“Théalof of Rohan,” said Legolas. “Have you naught to say in your own defense?”

Théalof looked up. He was very frightened but still defiant. “Not to the likes of you,” he said, his face twisted into a look of hatred. “I will not beg mercy off one of the wild Dwimmerlaik!”

“Pity,” said Galás with a grim smile. “For Legolas of Dol Galenehtar is rich in mercy as well as valor. I know you think me a fool, but will you not beg for clemency? In service to Dol Galenehtar you might make reparation for your deeds and find absolution.”

Théalof’s response was to spit upon the seneschal’s feet; Galás muttered: “Yet more saliva! I suppose he has run out of words then.”

Legolas studied Théalof carefully for a moment, his gray eyes contemplative; then he sighed and said resignedly, “Then, O Théalof of Rohan, I declare you guilty of these acts by reason of the two witnesses here, and by prior knowledge of your deeds against my friends and fellow knights of Gondor. As Lord of Dol Galenehtar I sentence you to death, and as I am a compassionate lord, and rather in a hurry to have my supper, I proclaim this sentence shall be carried out by my headsman without delay.” Théalof sank his head into the dust. Legolas glanced round his people, at Galás who stood grimly satisfied, and said a little thoughtfully: “You know, Galás my friend, I have not yet had call to execute anyone under mine authority as Lord of Dol Galenehtar and do not have a headsman.”

“A grave oversight, my lord,” said Galás solemnly.

“Have you any suggestions, O my seneschal?”

“Well,” said Galás, “I had not given it much thought, my lord, as you have never yet condemned anyone to death and not carried out the sentence at your own whim – “

“Tempting,” grinned Legolas. “But rather inappropriate, considering the circumstances.”

“Meivel,” said Galás. “Were you not headsman under King Thranduil at Eryn Lasgalen for a time?”

“I was,” said Meivel. “Dethalion and I shared the privilege.”

“But as head of my militia it is an act incongruous with your rank,” said Legolas. “Have you given any consideration to the grade of headsman?”

Meivel thought a moment, still watching Théalof who shook as though with palsy before him. “Well, my lord, the headsman is traditionally a first or second lieutenant,” he said. “They must be men strong and of good repute, fierce in battle and tender in peace, not given to much wine or reckless behavior. Of my lieutenants present, Himbaláth and Nwalmä would be best suited I deem.” He turned into the crowd and called: “Himbaláth! Nwalmä! Come forward.”

The two Elves stepped into the circle. Himbaláth looked, Fastred thought, better than he had before; there was color in his cheeks, and though pale and thin still his eyes were alight, and his golden hair shone like liquid gold in the evening sun. Fastred looked over at Andunië, who stood quietly by her lord’s side; her green eyes were downcast, and the sheet of copper hair hid her visage from him. Nwalmä stood restlessly beside Himbaláth, his hand upon his sword hilt; he was sprightly and dark-haired with fierce black eyes and quick hands. Fastred had always been a bit in awe of him.

“Well!” said Legolas with a smile, glancing down at his huntsmistress and then turning to Fastred. “Which shall do the deed? Prince Fastred? Have you a preference?”

“None, Lord Legolas,” said Fastred, wondering what Lassah was up to.

“Andunië, my child,” said Legolas. His voice was firm but kind, and when Andunië looked up at him through her hair Fastred saw her cheeks were flushed. “The insult given you was not so grave as the danger to Lord Fastred’s life, but as he has conceded choice you may choose. Who shall be your champion today, O Andunië?”

There was silence while Andunië looked from Nwalmä, eagerly fingering his sword, to Himbaláth, whose cheeks flamed red though he did not drop his gaze from hers. The two, man and woman, regarded each other intently for a moment, and it seemed to Fastred as though Himbaláth’s eyes no longer pled, but Andunië’s faltered. She hesitated, and pressed her rosy lips together so that they turned white; then her expression cleared, and she lifted her chin, proud and lovely as before.

“Himbaláth shall champion me,” she said. Her voice though cold was very steady. Himbaláth let out a sharp breath, inhaled deeply, and bit his lip, his eyes blazing; and Fastred felt his heart leap, though he was not entirely sure why. He looked at Meivel, who further confounded the boy by smiling twice in one day.

“Very well,” said Legolas, giving the surprised Éomer a wink. “Nwalmä, fetch aught to be used as a block.” Nwalmä, looking disappointed, nodded and disappeared into the crowd, returning a moment later with an uprooted stump. He placed it before Hammer’s feet, and he and Himbaláth lifted Théalof and set his neck upon it. Théalof was sobbing convulsively, his eyes shut tight, but was limp as a rabbit caught in a snare. Fastred tried to feel sorry for him but all that came to mind was the handsome proud face, sneering at Andunië, and the image of his Lord Lassah emerging white and broken from his erstwhile grave. Théalof was his enemy, and the enemy of all those he held dear; it was right and just that he should be executed. He felt a hand slip into his and turned; it was Tamin, who looked with wide eyes at him. Fastred squeezed his hand and stood tall and straight. If he were to be king of the Mark, this would likely not be his last execution attended and he did not dare falter before all these people.

Himbaláth stood over Théalof, his thumb running down the blade of his halberd. “O condemned mortal,” he said coolly. “It is traditional to give to your executioner aught to induce him to keep his steel sharp. Otherwise it shall take several blows for him to do his job well.” He cocked his head, then bent over and lifted the hair from Théalof’s quivering neck. “Ah!” he said with satisfaction. “That is sufficient gold I deem.” And placing his foot on Théalof’s shoulders he wrenched the torc from the man’s neck. He held it up to his lord and said, “I believe, O my Prince, that you did promise this trifle to a friend?”

“I did,” said Legolas. “Thank you, Little One.” He took the torc and gave it to Errakh-Hem, who looked surprised. “It is the first of many remunerations for your distress,” Legolas promised him. “After all this tor is mine, and when I come to Rohan I shall sit here to pass judgment and amercement alike. Your fortunes are changing, Errakh-Hem, and for the better.”

“Thank you, O Green Knight!” said Errakh-Hem solemnly, affixing the torc round his throat. Fastred kept his eyes fixed upon the gleaming gold as Himbaláth raised his halberd, feeling Tamin’s cold hand tighten round his own. In the end he discovered he did not want to watch after all.