Fastred lay in a deep soft bed, with high canopy and tapestried hangings. At the foot of the bed, across a brightly-lit white room, he saw a window open to a luminous world, through which he could descry a lavender sky filled with tangerine-colored clouds; a heron black against the evening brightness flapped its ponderous way past, giving a guttural croak. He could smell salt-marshes and bread and something sweet like tarragon, and a fresh breeze stirred the curtains. Then before his eyes stepped Lassah, in his shirt-sleeves speckled with blood; his hair was pulled back from his face, and he was flushed and smiling and held out a small squalling bundle. “Look O Fastred!” he cried with delight. “Andunië has brought forth a son. Himbaláth says they shall name him Cuivanar, for he is ruddy as a sunrise!” And Fastred reached for the babe, but his hands were old and knobbly and his trembling arms too thin in their fine linen night-shirt.

He awoke with a start, looking round rather wildly. He lay wrapped in a rough wool blanket damp with dew and smelling of smoke; the gray morning was choked with mists and his ears filled with the sounds of horses and men and the clank of armor. Against reasonable thought he stretched out his arms to see if they had got so old; however they were as he remembered, young and strong, though rather dirty. He shivered; he did not like to think of getting old, like Cirien; he did not want to think that someday he would be constrained to stay abed, too weak to walk or to ride or to do the many other things he loved. He did not want to feel the weakness in the joints and bones, the aches and pains, the illness and shortness of breath. Yet he knew someday that would be his lot – were he fortunate enough to survive his own kingship, he thought with a wry inward smile. He heard deep sonorous breath and rolled over. Halgond slept to his right, his hair mussed and his mouth open; Fastred could see his brother Baldor past him, arm flung over his face and snoring. Fastred sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked around. It was early yet, but already many men and Elves were moving about, poking at fires and moving baggage and horses and tents. Fastred thought perhaps as prince he ought to be seeing to something rather than his own strange dreams, so he got up, brushed himself clean as best he could, and trotted off to find his uncle.

He found Éomer breaking fast with Lassah and his Lord Father at a fire near the center of the camp. Lassah was seated upon a large pile of blankets and packs, eating what looked like the wing of a large bird; behind him stood Bandobras, fussing with his Master’s hair. Kaimelas leant against a small tussock a little ways off, smiling at the Halfling and speaking in an undertone to Himbaláth, who was sharpening his halberd; it made a harsh grating noise beneath the whetstone. Several knights also sat round, looking homely and comfortable in their plain tunics; Cirien was there, old and wizened, reminding Fastred of his dream. He glanced over at Himbaláth again. There was no telling whether or no his dream would be true; it would be better to keep it to himself – who knew, after all, what Andunië would decide? Privately Fastred believed she should be happier with Himbaláth than with anyone else, but then he admitted to himself he had very little experience dealing with maids and their caprices. This got him to thinking of Léodwyn, and as he trotted up to the group round the fire he wondered if he could manage to have a bath before he saw her again. He was not certain, for all round him smelled so strong, of death and smoke and mud; but he suspected he did not smell quite so good as he ought.

Faramir saw his son approach and smiled. “Ah, Fastred!” he said, saluting the boy with his wooden cup. “The Hunter approaches. We were just speaking of you.”

“Were you, Lord Father?” asked Fastred in surprise; he wanted to curl up next to Lassah but thought perhaps that might be rude to his father and uncle; so giving Lassah a precursory embrace he settled in between the two men. Éomer ruffled his hair with one big hand and chuckled.

“We were indeed, O sister-son!” he said. “And you will be pleased to know we have taken the Yellow Knight’s wise and timely advice, and decided not to punish you for running away after all.”

“It is true,” smiled Cirien, taking a steaming cup from his esquire who waited upon him with tender solicitude. “You ran not from danger but into it, and for reasons noble and well-intentioned; that speaks not of rebellion but rather of good merit, and no prince should be whipped for such actions.”

“And by so doing you did accomplish many things that otherwise would have gone undone,” said Lassah, wincing when Bandobras tugged at a recalcitrant knot. “The discovery of the wandering Elves of Lórien; the turning of Errakh-Hem’s sympathies; the reconciliation betwixt the Dunlendings and Amon Din – “

“Not to mention bringing back for me my merry neighbor,” said Faramir, smiling at Lassah. “How sad Ithilien would have become in his absence! Nay, O my son; we are well pleased with you, and with the execution of your exploits; they are worthy of a song.”

Fastred blushed. He did not want a song writ about them; he should have found it more embarrassing than gratifying. “Most of it was Andunië’s doing,” he said; “Andunië, and Brytta, and Gimli and Bandobras too. I could not have done it by myself.”

“Well, maybe not,” conceded Bandobras, pulling his Master’s golden hair back away from his face and securing it with a leather thong. “But to be sure a lot of it wouldn’t of got done without you. You found Rúmil, after all; and because of that them Elves was able to help us out, which got them introduced to Errakh-Hem. That wouldn’t of happened without you, neither. And you got Aldamir and Errakh-Hem talking – at it now, they are, with Brytta overseeing the chat; talking trade agreements or summat like that – and speaking of Brytta, my lords,” said Bandobras, putting his brush away and sitting next to his Master, “what’s to be done with him? I’ll admit I was none too pleased with him at first – thought him a big ugly brute, and rude in the bargain! – but he’s not so bad, once you get to know him a bit, and get beneath the stings and prickles.” He winked at Fastred. “Though to be certain I think ‘twas Fastred here what got to him first. You’d best watch out for this one, King Éomer; he don’t look much like it but he’s got a bit o’ charm going, the quiet type what you don’t see coming, so you’re not expecting it, like.”

“Far from fearing it, good holbytla, I intend to exploit it to greatest advantage,” said Éomer while Fastred blushed again. “Indeed he has done great things, and I am content; there remain but few matters to realize here and then we shall get us to our home.” He put one great arm round Fastred’s shoulders and pulled him close. “You are a good boy, O Fastred Prince,” he said, his voice warm; he pressed a kiss to the crown of his nephew’s head. “And you shall be a great man. I am very proud of you.”

It felt strangely comfortable to Fastred to sit pressed close to his uncle, when Lassah and his Lord Father were so close by; but he supposed it were a good thing, for he should get used to it; and it would not be long ere he were too big for Éomer to embrace in this fashion. “And anyway he is become quite dear to me,” thought Fastred, settling in comfortably with a sigh. “He is great and funny and loud and strong. I shall be as good a son to him as I could to mine own father.” While the men talked of other things he thought of Edoras, of Meduseld and the Golden Hall; he thought of the low warm kitchens, and the dark twisty passages, and the splendid view to be had from the roof-tops and walls; he thought of horses, the vast stables and fields, the freedom to come and go as he pleased, the splendid fishing to be had, and was satisfied. “I saved Rohan,” he thought; “just like Brytta asked me to! And it is as he said a lovely place, and worthy of this regard.”

After breaking fast the marshals and captains gathered the people together upon the plain, and Éomer spoke to them. Before him stood his own people, the ones loyal to him and to his cause; those traitors captured had been granted clemency but were stripped of land and kine; they would be constrained to indenture themselves ere proving their trustworthiness again. Also standing there was Errakh-Hem with his Dunlendings; ragged and dark, but fierce and proud; beside them were Rúmil and his people, men and women alike; the Elven children and the little ones of the Onodló chattered and played together in the shallows, stirring up grebes and goslings and chasing each other round. And there were also before him the knights of Gondor, splendid in their armor, pennants snapping in the growing wind, a blossom of color upon the vast plain. Éomer took beside him Fastred, with stout Himbaláth as his standard-bearer again, and beneath the flag of Rohan did Éomer dispense his thanks. He gave unto Brytta his old lands back, with twenty good destriers and mares, declaring himself satisfied of Brytta’s fidelity. After Éomer spoke Fastred saw the man smile and hold himself taller than before, and was pleased; Brytta deserved to be reinstated to his former glory. “Now perhaps he shall find a maid to wed,” he thought; “if he does not compare them all to Andunië at least!” Then Éomer thanked Gimli and Bandobras for bringing the Lord of Dol Galenehtar back; Bandobras waved him off, saying, “Well, it’s what friends do you know,” and Gimli laughed and assured Éomer he had acted out of selfish reasons. “I couldn’t have Rohan in an uproar, my friend; what good would that have done the mines of Aglarond?” he asked, and Éomer laughed too. Then he turned to Andunië with a smile.

“And you, O Huntsmistress of Dol Galenehtar, I owe you recompense for your role in this; what shall I give you, to so express my thanks to you?”

Andunië sat upon Ronyo beside Hirilcúllas, her face still and composed; her green eyes were expressionless, and she looked very bored. “I have received my reward, O King,” she said simply; Éomer raised his eyebrows at her, but Hirilcúllas pressed her lips together and looked down. Fastred wondered if she were stifling a frown or a smile; it was hard to tell with Hirilcúllas sometimes.

Then Fastred stepped forward, and granted to Errakh-Hem and to his kin the lands round the Onodló, to be theirs ere the throne of Rohan failed, and to Errakh-Hem of the Dunlendings and Aldamir of Amon Din he declared himself the arbiter betwixt the two should attempts at peacekeeping fall short. And Rúmil came forward too, and with Errakh-Hem the two wandering leaders publicly affirmed their amity, to the gratification of the little ones clustered about; already Fastred could hear Elvish lispings from the Dunlending children’s lips, and he smiled to himself; Tamin stood beside his father, beaming like the noonday sun, and Fastred’s heart turned over. That he was constrained to release Tamin to Ithilien! But then he thought of his dream by the river, of Tamin in splendid black armor, and found he could not begrudge his friend such accomplishment. “And anyway he will have Halgond and Léodwyn to be friends with,” he thought, trying to cheer himself up. “What jolly times they shall have together!”

Errakh-Hem bid Fastred farewell upon the shores of the broad shallow Onodló. “Good journey to you, Fastred Prince!” he said, bowing low. “Many years did I spend hating your kind, but so valiant and gentle are you I find it no burden to befriend you. I do no longer begrudge Éomer his victory for I see he has chosen his Heir well, and we are well pleased to live beneath your rule.” And turning to his people he said: “Westu Fastred Hal! My people, all hail the Heir of Meduseld!” All the Dunlendings drew their swords and shouted: “Westu Fastred Hal!” And Errakh-Hem bid farewell also to Rúmil and his people, and to Aldamir his new ally, and to Legolas of the Dwimmerlaik who embraced him warmly; and as the people parted Fastred looked back; he could see Errakh-Hem standing tall and proud upon a low tor watching them, the golden torc upon his neck gleaming in the sun; then they drew away, and the man was lost from sight.

As he and his uncle headed the van back to Edoras he turned his thoughts to the friends he had made there, to Hímalf and Hirdáf and Wálma, and the men of the court, Éothain and Éodor and Gálef and the others, stout loyal boys and men, without pretensions or deceit. The wind whipped across the plain, setting the grass undulating and shimmering on the hillocks and dells; the willows and larches waved their branches and the birds wheeled and cried. High above him he heard the shrill whistle of a falcon and he looked up; he could descry the broad pale pinions, the fingered wings and flared tail; he glanced back to see if Andunië had called it, but in the crowd did not see her. Then the falcon stooped, falling like a thunder-bolt to the earth; he hoped it had got its hare. He turned forward to Starkhorn, to its high white spike, and the mountains surrounding it, and felt a thrill of satisfaction. How lovely was Edoras, set like a crown upon its high green hill! And how homely and comforting to see the cook-fires spiraling away, testament to the wealth and plenty of its fields! And how splendid was Meduseld, its golden roof throwing back the rays of the sun! By his side his uncle began to sing, one of the low sonorous songs of his people; Fastred knew the song for his Lady Mother often sang it to him, and so he joined in, and to his surprise he heard Lassah and Gimli behind him also singing, Lassah’s clear pure voice floating over Gimli’s rough baritone. He glanced over at his Lord Father, who rode quietly beside Éomer, clad in a black doublet, his face downcast. Why should his father be so low, when they were going back to Edoras in triumph? But then Faramir saw his son watched him, and smiled, and Fastred’s heart lifted once more.

There was a great crowd at the front gate of the city. Nórin and Frera were there with Fram of the West Emnet, and behind them all the people shouted, waving pennants and handkerchiefs and willow-branches. Éomer and Fastred dismounted to greet the Dwarves and men, and Fastred discovered for the first time that a Dwarf lady’s beard was no softer than any other variety. Then he heard children shouting, and his friends ran up; the boys, Hímalf in particular, were offended he had run off without them, and very envious on account of all the adventures he had had; they clamored for the tale, and demanded he foregather with them that very evening for the telling of it. Léodwyn and the girls were there too, and upon seeing all the splendid knights and lords many of the little maids grew distracted; Léodwyn however, disdaining her playmates’ conventions and curtseys, threw herself at Fastred. Her embrace startled him, and at first he knew not what to do with his hands, to put them round her waist, or upon her shoulders; then she withdrew making a face.

“Ugh!” she said. “I am very pleased to see you O Fastred, but phew! You need a bath.”

Fastred supposed he ought to have been offended, but he could not seem to work up the affront; he laughed heartily instead, and as Tamin drew shyly to his side he said:

“I know; I know! Have I not heard it from Andunië? But first we are going to the kitchens to get pastries!”

“Hurrah!” shouted the other children, and after securing an indulgent wink from his uncle Fastred and his friends ran off.

*************************************

There was no feast that evening; there were too many wounded, and too many guests to accommodate; so Kaimelas and Bandobras conferred with Éomer’s retainers and they began their plotting. Tents and pavilions began to blossom on the fields before the city like large spike-crowned flowers; several pits were dug and spits erected, and Gimli loaned some of his visiting Dwarves to oversee the building of temporary ovens. Great trestles were set up, with benches and stools, and a dais constructed upon which were placed a High Table surmounted with three great chairs, for the King, the Steward, and the Green Knight; their standards were hung above them, two green and one white, snapping and straining in the stiff cold breeze. The men dug huge fire pits and filled them with peat, so that everyone would be warm, and the Dwarves very cleverly set up screens to impede the wind. That night all slept soundly; the knights and visiting Elves in tents having their own impromptu celebration, with merry Galás presiding beside jolly Araval; in Meduseld though Fastred disdained such adult display and after securing a bath and clean clothing joined his small friends in Lassah’s chamber. Some of the girls were chary of sitting round the Elf-lord’s bed but he was so cheerful and bright, and Tamin so fair and friendly, that soon all custom fell aside and they found themselves laughing and chatting along with the boys. Lassah was a delightful host, and Bandobras and Gimli so accomplished in the pilfering of the buttery, that when Éomer glanced in later that night to see them holding high revel he smiled to himself, and with a warm heart went in to comfort his lady wife.

The fête the following night was one to rival even Éomer and Lothiriel’s wedding feast, and was eaten over in memory and conversation for years afterwards. There were roast suckling pigs with crispy skin; enormous wheels and blocks of cheese in hard red rinds; great dumplings swimming in herbed broth; venison pies with fat mushrooms in gravy; entire sides of beef dressed with onion and sage; tiny quail baked whole in their own bread trenchers; huge salty hams studded with cloves and dripping fat; cauldrons of rich savory stew made from coney and wild hen and potatoes; a whole flock of geese stuffed with nuts and herbs; roasted root vegetables and marrows with cream; subtleties and mead and wine and ale and dried fruit and stewed onions and rabbit, and to Tamin’s delight there were pastries – heaps of them, flaky and tender and sweet, filled with cream and fruit and glazed with sugar, so that the children’s mouths and fingers were sticky and they had to wash up before the dances. The poor folk of the West Emnet, the Elves of Lothlórien and the Elves of Dol Galenehtar, the knights of Gondor and the men of Rohan all foregathered with joy and thanksgiving to eat and drink beneath the black spangled banner of stars, and even the whistling haunted wind was drowned out in the revelry. After the feasting was over and the dogs were gnawing the bones the musicians came out, and there were dances, from which poor Legolas was barred; his legs were still far too weak to hold him, and so it was with a frustrate sigh he leant his cheek upon his hand, his elbow on the table, and toyed with his goblet, watching the spinning reels, and humming under his breath. His brilliant white doublet gleamed with stones and beading and silver thread, and upon his golden head sat the great spiky mithril crown studded with opals and other white gems, glistening and fracturing the light into a million miniature rainbows.

He watched Éothain dance with his wife, though he could hear the man complaining his knees ached; he watched Éomer turn to take Maelaëri in hand and pass her along to Aldamir, resplendent in his red doublet; he watched Léodwyn in a new lavender gown clap and jig, and laugh at something Tamin said to her, her honey-colored hair shining; he watched Brytta turn a stout Mark maiden round about, his silver and gold braids swinging across his back; he watched Fastred take Tyarmayél politely by the hand and lead her down the row. He smiled, for he was satisfied with how things had turned out; his friend Éomer had received Rohan intact, his enemies vanquished, and his allies strengthened; that Legolas himself was brought back as though from the Dead did not discommode him in the slightest, for he recognized his role had been more passive than not. “And I owe Bréawine a debt I suppose,” he thought with a smile; “had I not been struck down would Gimli and Fastred and Bandobras and Andunië not pursue me, nor find Rúmil nor Errakh-Hem. All is well, despite my wounds.” Cheerfully he refilled his goblet, and when Cirien sat beside him filled his as well; Cirien was much thinner than he ought to have been, and Legolas was disturbed on account of it; he wished to see his friend stout and hale again, and believed in the efficacy of strong red wine to cure all digestive ails. “Well, O my friend!” he cried as Cirien lowered himself gingerly into Éomer’s empty seat. “Much has happened ere we faced Théalof down in my throne room! The snake defeated, his allies subdued, and our Little Lord Fastred safely dancing with his subjects. Though I am discontented with Hirilcúllas; she has not finished Andunië’s new gown, so my huntsmistress yet dances in her old green dress.”

“That is as well; she has broken too many hearts already,” said Cirien. “Between Andunië, Maelaëri, and Hirilcúllas the men of Rohan are turned round backwards, and the maids all pine; though I think only Andunië begrudges this.” And taking his goblet and holding it aloft he said: “To the huntsmistress at bay!”

“A worthy toast,” agreed Legolas with a laugh, and they touched goblets and drank deeply. “If I can but convince Himbaláth to press his suit, and if Andunië will be persuaded to but give him a second look, perchance there shall be another wedding in Dol Galenehtar anon.”

Cirien grimaced. “Well I do not wish to discourage you but I think you are being overconfident,” he said. “Andunië is a hard maid and a stubborn one, and though I confer all good hope to Himbaláth I fear he has a hard row to hoe.”

“True,” said Legolas with perfect equanimity. “But then we have longer to wait than you, and do not fear the passage of time. Himbaláth is a fine fellow and far more worthy of Andunië’s regard than anyone else.”

“Yourself included?” asked Cirien guardedly. Legolas laughed again.

“Myself included of a certainty!” he said. “Why should I make busy finding a maid for myself, when there are others who have need of a matchmaker?” He glanced down into the crowd then and espied Araval approaching. “O Dun Knight!” he cried, holding his goblet high. “Join us!” Grinning did Araval stump heavily up the dais to them, sitting upon Legolas’ other side and grasping the jug for himself. “You look flushed with triumph,” said Legolas, pressing a plate of meat pasties upon him. “Have you danced all your rounds and now retire in glory?”

“I have danced but one round; I am too fat for this!” said Araval good-naturedly. “But see you our knightly friends Aldamir and Mardil; they are dancing with great vigor! I shall have to tease Lady Lalanath that she must needs keep closer eye upon her husband and not let him travel so much. There are far too many pretty maids about.”

“Ah!” Legolas sat up eagerly, his gray eyes searching the crowd. “Yes … Mardil! Tell me O Araval my friend, did you mark that he found a maid with whom to dance more than once? For I am anxious on his account, that he be settled; he is getting older you know, and desires to wed, which I find strange but then I am not of like temperament; also wishes he to procure an heir, so we must needs find for him a good maid and by preference a comely one.”

“I did not note he had a preference,” said Araval; “bear in mind he would not wish to take for himself a maid of Rohan, to remove her from her home; nor may he persuade one of the lovely Galadrim to follow him, for they disdain the doom of men.”

“Pity,” sighed Legolas sitting back, and stretching his bound legs in front of him. “I had hoped he might in this new place find a maid worthy of him.” Neither Yellow nor Dun Knight replied, enjoying the spectacle of the dance, and Legolas sipped at his wine, his face thoughtful; at last he said slowly: “Araval – you have yet three unwed daughters – “

“No, my friend,” said Araval with a chuckle.

“Do you not wish to see them wed and wed well?” asked Legolas plaintively.

“Legolas – “ protested Cirien, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“There is no great hurry to get them from my house,” said Araval, settling back in the chair and folding his hands over his great stomach. “They are young yet, and great pets of their mother’s; besides which I do not wish to press upon them a marriage lacking love.”

“O love will come eventually,” said Legolas waving one arm. “Is not Mardil lovable? And he is handsome enough to turn any maid’s head. I am sure he will not ask overmuch – “

“Mardil being lovable is hardly the hindrance,” said Cirien with an aggrieved sigh. “Why, had I daughters I should be shy of giving them away with no thought to their own hearts.”

“Besides which I have just married off the second,” said Araval, laughing and setting his great belly to jiggle. “It is a costly thing, a wedding, you know, Legolas; there is the wedding-dress, and the trousseau, and the prices of tailors these days – “

“Hirilcúllas and Dúrfinwen are fine seamstresses and would be happy to help,” said Legolas hopefully. Araval shook his head, his eyes twinkling in his ruddy face.

“I must needs wait a while ‘til my tithe increases lest there be no dowry for any of them,” he said, patting the Elf’s long white hand. “We have time; they are young.”

“But if it is the dowry that perturbs you, perhaps I could arrange something – “ pled Legolas; Cirien sighed.

“My friend,” he said patiently; “you may not ask our friend Araval to give of his seed simply to please your whim.”

“But ‘tis not my whim but Mardil’s,” protested Legolas; seeing the surprise in Araval’s face he said hurriedly: “Not one of your daughters my friend, but to wed – he has expressed little interest in them saying they are too young for him.”

“And so they are,” said Araval draining his cup. “Why Deniel is only sixteen – “

“She is far too serious; I was thinking more of Elwen – “

“Legolas – “ interrupted Cirien, but Araval had already answered with a laugh: “And she but fourteen! I know you are an Elf my friend, and do not mark the passing of years; but Elwen was born but one season ere you arrived in Gondor, to unseat me upon the lists! Indeed you must not press me so, for my daughters are dear to me, Elwen most of all; she is so jolly and fair; she is the joy of my house! Nay, Telinath, Deniel, and Elwen may wait; find another man’s maids to give unto the Silver Knight his heir. “

“Very well, very well!” said Legolas discontentedly, refilling his goblet. “I will speak no more of it since you are so stubborn! But if you will not give unto your poor friend Mardil the blessings of your house, then you must needs aid me in my search, so that his desires be fulfilled and his line secured.”

“I will do that,” chuckled Araval, “if you will but let my daughters be!”

Legolas gave a sly smile, and shot Cirien a wink. “Agreed,” he said; his voice was reasonable, and Araval soothed; the Yellow Knight however mistrusted the Green, and shook his head fondly, knowing it would be but a matter of time ere Araval conceded, for Legolas was deceptively composed, and crafty and stubborn; poor Mardil would be wed in spite of himself, whether to Araval’s child or to another’s. Cirien sat and listened to his friends discuss distaff and dowry, maids and marriages, watching the laughing men and women below, immeasurably glad they now had the leisure to devote to such a humble task, and thankful his king would return from the North to find peace and goodwill in his lands. He only hoped Mardil would find peacetime peaceful, yet allowed there would be no peace in Ethring ere Legolas procured a bride for the son of Múrin.