(A/N: Well, dear readers, this is it: I had hoped to have it ready yesterday, but events conspired against me. But here it is, with all my wishes for you to have a splendid 2007, full of good health, prosperity, happiness, and with any luck at all, the announcement that Peter Jackson will be allowed to do The Hobbit. I’ve enjoyed getting to know Fastred, and I hope you have too!

Blessings on you all!

Le Rouret)

It was spring, with all the wind and bloom and cloud-streaked blue the season had promised through the long white winter. Stiff cool breezes sped through the valleys and hills, ruffling the serene surface of the plains like the wind on the sea; grass undulated, brilliant and fresh, and the countryside burgeoned with new life –calves, kits, fawns and foals, wheeling birds and lowing kine. Violets and crocus peeped coyly through the grass in sunny dells, showing their bright faces to passers-by, and the willows’ drooping tendrils softened into green. Yoke of oxen pulled black troughs in the fresh wet earth and folk in wooden shoes scattered seed thereupon, singing hopefully of a fine harvest. When the sun was high the still ponds and shallows dimpled with bugs and the trout snapped them up – snip splash! – so that the farmers and merchants and herdsmen dawdled alongside the streams and over bridges, thinking longingly of their fishing-poles.

Two fine gray horses cantered down the roadway, clattering past waggon and wain; their riders were laughing as they rode, their hair streaming out behind them, black and gold together, tossed and torn in the wind. They gained the crest of the hill and pulled up to let their mounts rest; the horses snorted and pawed at the ground with their hooves, eager to go on. Fastred laughed and said:

“O Lassah, see how impatient they are to run! Mine uncle was correct; these are good steeds and very swift.”

“They are!” said Lassah, patting his horse on its sweat-soaked neck; it tossed its head and looked back reproachfully at him. “Patience, Voronda! We shall run again soon; first Prince Fastred and I must needs admire the view, so do not be cross with me!” Voronda stamped and whickered, and Fastred’s horse, Falda, champed at his bit; he did not see why Voronda should stay so unfettered of bit and bridle, and found it unfair. Legolas ran his long fingers through his tangled flossy hair, smiling up at the sun, and stretched his arms out wide. “Ah! How good it is to be about, my Fastred; what a long winter it has been! But spring follows snow and life awakens as always, and all too soon I shall be complaining it is too hot in the olive groves.”

Fastred’s face fell; he did not like to be reminded that soon his Lassah must return to Ithilien. “O do not speak of it now, Lassah!” he begged. “Almost had I forgotten it as we rode; my heart is light when I do not think of your departure, and I wish to delay the day as long as possible.”

“Do not be so sad, my Fastred!” said Legolas tenderly. “For it is less than a week’s ride to Osgiliath, and we shall see each other quite often.”

“It will not be the same as having you here though,” said Fastred sadly. “What a jolly winter we did have! You are such a cheery playmate, and Dúrfinwen is so pretty, and my poor aunt loves her so; why even Himbaláth has been full of fun, hunting and fishing with Éothain and Gálef and the others. What troublesome things titles are, to be sure, Lassah! For were you not Lord of Dol Galenehtar and I not Fastred Prince of the Mark we should not be constrained to go anywhere or do anything that we liked not, and would not have to wear embroidered doublets beside – how I hate those scratchy collars!”

“For your thirteen years you are become quite jaded,” said Legolas with a laugh. “Though ‘tis true; to shed one’s titles is to lighten the burden upon one’s shoulders immeasurably – betimes I pine for those dark days of the Ring War, when I was but Legolas the Elf and required to do nothing save fight, or sing amusing songs when my companions’ spirits were low. And as I recall I did not change clothes but once! No doublets for me that year, and well pleased was I to abjure them. But nobility confers unto us privilege as well as duty; had we no titles we should have no tithes either, and be obliged to work for our living as do most men.”

Fastred grinned. “We could be bandits,” he suggested innocently. “Then we should not have to work much at all, but rest upon the labors of others.” Legolas pretended to consider this, pursing his lips.

“Well so we could,” he admitted, a mischievous gleam in his pale eyes. “Though we should have to promise to rob none but evil men who oppress other citizens, to balance our predations.”

“I do not think I would object to that,” said Fastred thoughtfully. “They would deserve it after all, would they not, Lassah?”

“Very well!” said Legolas clapping his hands. “When you achieve your majority we shall be bandits, us two!”

“Capital!” cried Fastred. “Come, let us tell mine uncle – he will be so pleased to know we will pilfer hard-earned tax money from his constituents.”

“Let us bring Himbaláth with us though,” said Legolas pointing down the road; he could descry his lieutenant, though to Fastred the rider was but a small dot swift approaching. “He may carry the loot so that we do not quarrel over it.”

“And Bandobras shall cook for us,” said Fastred.

“Also an excellent idea, my Fastred,” smiled Legolas. Fastred frowned as a thought occurred to him, and he said:

“Lassah, you do not call me Little One anymore; why do you not call me Little One but My Fastred?”

Legolas smiled again, but it was a sad smile, crooked and filled with bittersweet regret. “You are no longer little, Fastred,” he said with a sigh. “Have you not seen how much you have grown this winter? Already the top of your head is higher than my collar! In a year’s time will you be as tall as your Lord Father; you might even reach to my height some day.”

“O, very well, then,” said Fastred, a little disappointed. For several years had he been in an agony of mortification when Lassah called him Little One, especially before such fine Elven ladies as Seimiel and Dúrfinwen; it was so childish a nickname and he had thought on many occasions he would be relieved when his friend dispensed of it. But knowing Lassah would no longer call him by that name made him feel very strange; he knew he was more grown-up this spring than the last, but having Lassah acknowledge it in such fashion was a little depressing. But before he could speak again Legolas straightened and shaded his eyes with his hand, staring down at the road hard; he said:

“Look! Himbaláth rides Utuë hard; what news does he bring to us? Perhaps we ought to let our steeds run; we shall learn the faster in that manner.”

Reflecting that being grown-up would mean acting in like fashion Fastred bowed in his saddle, and swept his arm out before him as he had seen Lord Mardil do on occasion. “An it please you,” said he politely. Legolas laughed, and bowed mockingly back, and the two urged their horses into a canter. Soon Fastred could see Himbaláth himself; his bright golden hair swirled like a morning cloud round his head; but there was no smile upon his merry face; rather he looked troubled.

“What news, my child?” asked Legolas as his Voronda trotted up to the lieutenant; Fastred reined Falda in, wondering at what point Himbaláth would be big enough in Lassah’s eyes to regain his proper name. “I hope it is nothing pressing; Prince Fastred and I have been planning for our future – plotting, rather; we have decided to become bandits and rob from evil rich men. You shall hold the loot-sack for us if you like, and we shall give you fifteen per cent – twenty, if you behave.”

“How tempting!” smiled Himbaláth. “But another time, perhaps. You go from bandit to leech today, I fear, my lord.”

“Why; is someone hurt?” asked Fastred in surprise, wondering if Éothain had fallen again. Himbaláth gave him a careful look and said:

“Nay – it is the queen. She is in some pain, Dúrfinwen said.”

Fastred’s heart went cold as the fear gripped him, and his pleasant thoughts sped away. “What, already?” he exclaimed. “But it is too soon!”

“Far from it!” said Legolas rubbing his hands together in a businesslike manner. “Turn about, Himbaláth! A good thing it is we ride the steeds of the Mark; they are faster than our own though less tractable – Ho, Voronda! To Meduseld! The lady has need of your swiftness now.” And so saying he and Himbaláth rode away, with Fastred trailing worriedly behind them.

They passed through the gate unchallenged; the porter knew them and their business, and Hirdáf ran behind them crying the news that the Green Knight rode to the queen’s aid. They rattled and banged up the cobbled streets and thus clattered into the square before the Hall; Dúrfinwen stood there with sundry ladies of the court, looking perfectly composed, though the other women wrung their hands and gazed anxiously at the Green Knight. Dúrfinwen made Fastred feel very funny at times, which puzzled him; she was not so lovely as Hirilcúllas or Seimiel, and possessed of finer temperament, for she was jolly and amusing and quite good at putting men at ease; but there was a piquant snap to her that set his blood racing, and her dimples were very distracting. She smiled at them as they dismounted, splendid in her yellow dress, rich chestnut hair falling in waves and curls round her fair face, her brown eyes roguish. “Why is it that whenever I wish to find you, you are truant, my lord?” she asked with disarming sweetness. “And yet when I attempt to accomplish some task you are continually underfoot, teasing and distracting! Queen Lothíriel has been begging you to let her be through the winter, and when at last she cries out for you, you have run off! Why if I did not know any better I should have said you did it a-purpose to provoke me.”

“If that is so I fail,” laughed Legolas, mounting the steps toward her. “Are you ever provoked, O Little One? I have yet to see it.”

She cocked her head prettily to one side, pressing a finger to her curving red mouth as she considered the question; after considering his query she said: “Ah, yes, my lord; the silk-merchant; he provoked me over that green cloth of his; though to be sure ‘twas more his odor than his demeanor. Give me your cloak, and quickly now! Wash your hands and face and join me at the bedside; Lothíriel is become quite agitated.” Legolas chuckled as he passed her and she added acerbically: “You smell like the stables! Very well, my lord, I am provoked indeed; some midwife you are become, returning to your post in this fashion! And do bring in the laver and soap when you are finished so I may wash as well; your cloak is filthy and quite soils my hands. What would your dear mother say were she to see you approach your work this way! I declare I shall dress your bed in lavender and orris-root just to make you palatable again.” She looked over at Himbaláth and Fastred waiting upon the steps and said as an after thought: “O, and take you Fastred to the Hall, Himbaláth; the king wishes to see him.”

Himbaláth raised his eyebrows at her; she threw to them a sunny smile which made Fastred feel rather overheated. “What, saucy maid; no pretty words for me?” Himbaláth asked her, fighting back a grin. “Do I smell so fine then?” Dúrfinwen rolled her eyes to heaven, and tossed her curly head, following her lord into the living quarters, but giving the Elf a roguish backward glance over her shoulder.

Fastred watched this exchange, half bewildered and half offended; how could they treat with such carelessness so weighty an event? And as he followed the chuckling lieutenant into the long dark Hall he pondered why Legolas had let Himbaláth stay behind in Rohan at all. He had overheard two of his aunt’s lady’s maids speaking on the matter; one of them had said: “O no doubt his lord wishes him to be separate from that chilly red-haired maid; his heart will mend the faster this way.” “Not at all!” had replied the other, her voice wicked. “I heard the Green Knight myself: No lady is the worse for missing her lover, Himbaláth; your absence shall make you loom the larger in her eyes. He is sly, that one!” But Fastred wondered at Dúrfinwen’s presence; Hirilcúllas would have done as well, and was sympathetic to Himbaláth’s heart; Dúrfinwen was arch and teased her companions unmercifully, which did not in Fastred’s mind make her a very good confidant to the lovelorn. Yet Lassah had sent not for Hirilcúllas but for Dúrfinwen and that maid had come, bright-faced, bright-voiced, good-natured and laughing, sweet but with enough tang in her that she did not cloy on the palate. She was so distracting and pretty, with her skin like new cream and her rosy curving mouth, her ready laugh and the chestnut curls so unusual in an Elven lady; there were rumors she had mortal blood in her. The ladies of the court loved her, and most of the young men did too; she was a coquette and a flirt, but harmless and tender and full of fun. Did Lassah think Himbaláth would amend his attentions to Dúrfinwen, and disdain the cold huntsmistress in Ithilien? Fastred did not believe Himbaláth would be so false; Lassah must have had some other plot in mind, though what it might be he could not guess.

Éomer was in the Hall, pacing before his throne; he looked very white and unhappy. Éothain, Éodor and Fenwine were there too, Éothain upon a stool with his leg propped up; he was feeling his age, and held his hands out to the warm peat fire. He looked up as Himbaláth and Fastred approached and said: “Ah! Here they are O King; your heir and his standard-bearer approach.”

“That is hardly fitting title for one such as Himbaláth,” thought Fastred; “a good thing it is he is not easily offended!” He trotted up to his uncle and was surprised when Éomer gave him a fierce strong hug; he wrapped his arms round his uncle’s thick waist and embraced him in turn. “It will be all right, O mother-brother,” said Fastred soothingly. “Lass- Lord Legolas is very good at this sort of thing; I am sure the queen will be well soon.”

“Not soon enough, O sister-son!” sighed Éomer, releasing him and ruffling his wind-tossed hair. “Well distract me then, that I might not think of what occurs in the back chambers; talk to me of other things – any things – any thing to keep my mind from wandering away!”

“We may speak of horses then,” suggested Himbaláth cheerfully, throwing himself upon the fur rug by the fire and propping his chin up on his hands; a hunting dog snuffed at his hair, and he gave the beast an absent caress. “Tell your uncle how you fared upon your new mount, Fastred Prince!”

So Fastred and his uncle spoke of horses, of the many differences between the fine gray stallion of the Mark and the thick-limbed destriers of Dale. Fastred would always love Karakse but he was forced to admit to the king that Falda was the superior steed. They discussed breeding, and the superiority of frog and hock and withers, and how best to train a horse to battle, and Éomer soon lost himself in the conversation. This issue occupied them for an hour or so, but when conversation waned and Éomer remembered to be agitated Fenwine said ingenuously: “O Éomer King! The post from Gondor has arrived and there wait for you and for your heir several letters; why do you not read them to each other, to so pass the time?”

Himbaláth glanced at the sachel in Fenwine’s hand and said with forced nonchalance: “Aught for me, good Fenwine?”

“Indeed there is,” said Fenwine with a sly smile, removing a long yellow envelope. “A nice fat packet – though I do not expect you to read it aloud!” Himbaláth’s cheeks flushed but he took the letter with shining eyes; Fastred recognized the writing on the paper as Andunië’s, and hid his smile, happy in the knowledge Dúrfinwen had not turned Himbaláth’s head overmuch. But he blushed in turn when Fenwine said: “It must be something in the air in Ithilien – all these pretty maids writing to our folk! Look; here is a letter for our prince, and in a dainty hand too!” And when he took it Fastred realized he had got a letter from Léodwyn, and cheeks flaming at the men’s laughter he broke the seal and read it.

She told of punting and fishing, of waiting attendance upon Fastred’s Lady Mother, and how her feet would hurt from standing round so long, and Hísimë’s quarrel with Halgond and how she had resolved it, and the new mare Lord Faramir had given her for her thirteenth birthday. “O she is perfect Fastred,” Léodwyn wrote; “she is piebald like your Karakse but not so big, and with lovely brown eyes and such a sweet temper! Your Hísimë and I ride all over the east bank together, so that some call us sisters, and it is so gratifying you know, for one who has no family to be so loved.” Fastred’s heart swelled to know she had found a home with his folk, but it hurt him too, to know it would be many months ere he would see them again. He found himself comparing Dúrfinwen’s chestnut curls, and Andunië’s smooth ruddy locks, with Léodwyn’s honey-colored tresses, and decided fair-haired maids were prettier. “How glad I am all these Elvish ladies have not spoilt me for mortal maids!” he thought with a sly inward smile. “And how pretty Léodwyn looks in blue! I wonder what her new gown will look like?” Léodwyn ended the letter by saying: “There is to be a great ball and feast when Lord Legolas comes back to Dol Galenehtar, and everyone is invited, from Cair Andros to Lossarnach and beyond; even I received an invitation! Hirilcúllas is altering a gown to fit me, since Andunië will not let her finish the new one for her; it is a very pretty dress, but there is too much lace, and too many ribbons – I will ask her if she will take them off; I do not care for such frippery. But I wish you could be there too, Fastred! For then I could say I had filled my dances already for you, and we could go hide in the stables with Karakse and my new mare Léona; but now I will be forced to dance with Baldor, who always treads on my slippers.” Fastred laughed at that, and read the letter to Éomer, who laughed too; Himbaláth though after he had finished his letter merely folded it and slipped it into his pocket, and sat for some time gazing into the fire, his grey eyes thoughtful. “I wager he likes red hair best,” thought Fastred. “I wonder what Andunië thinks of Dúrfinwen anyway?”

“Listen!” said Éomer. “It is from Cirien of Langstrand; he is organizing a tournament, and has opened the lists to all nobly-born knights of Gondor and Rohan. You ought to enter, Éodor; you are the best jouster we have, now that Brytta has decided to settle down.”

“I am not a patch on Brytta,” said Éodor wagging his head; “what a fighter he was; like a hammer upon an anvil when the coronel struck! But he has other tilts to charge now I guess. Is it true his wife will produce for him a child?”

“So rumor has it,” said Éothain with a smile. “The good little widow! They are wasting no time about it, but then neither of them is in their youth; ‘twere best to rush things a bit at their age.”

“I am glad for him,” declared Fastred stoutly. “He deserves to be happy; he was a very faithful companion to us, and so adamant! We would never have found Lassah otherwise.”

Talk lapsed then, and Éomer began to pace again. Himbaláth called for wine and bread and cheese, which everyone partook of save the king; and when Fastred pressed food on him he said: “I cannot eat; my stomach is in knots. Why, O why must it take so long!”

“Do you wish me to explain it to you?” asked Éothain with a smile. “I can, you know, O king; I have five children of my own!”

“No thank you!” shuddered Éomer. “It is not so bad when applied to horses and cattle, but when it is mine own lady so beleaguered I can scarce think of it!”

They fell silent as the shadows grew longer and swallowed the sunlight; a servant lit the torches which hissed and sputtered in their sconces. Fastred lay on the floor with Himbaláth and the dogs, scratching the beasts’ silky heads absently and letting them lick the crumbs off his fingers. Betimes one of the men would attempt to speak, but the king’s silent agitation drowned them all out, and soon all they could hear was the flick and crack of fire, and the clack of Éomer’s boot-heels as he paced back and forth, back and forth, his anxious eyes on the floor.

Midnight came and went, and Fastred’s eyes grew sandy; he dozed a little on the rug, listening bemusedly to Himbaláth hum under his breath; he recognized the tune as an Elvish love-song, and hoped it was Andunië whom the Elf contemplated so tenderly. But then there was a commotion in the back of the hall, jerking him awake; he could hear servants rushing about, and excited speech, and the clatter and bang of doors opening and shutting. Éomer stopped and looked over, his hands in fists; the other men stood, and Himbaláth after giving the king a sympathetic glance ran back to the lintel and peered through. He came up to them, biting his lip. “My lord is coming down the hall, your majesty,” he said, his voice flat and expressionless. Éomer went white.

“Alone?” he asked.

“Yes, your majesty, and empty-handed,” said Himbaláth.

Éomer took a deep breath, and turned to face the lintel, his chin held high. Fastred went to stand beside him, wanting very much to hold his uncle’s hand; he was not sure which one of them needed it most, but did not know if such a gesture would be welcomed. They stood together, watching the dark lintel; soon a white figure appeared, striding toward them; it was Lassah. He was wearing a white shirt smeared with blood; his sleeves were rolled up, and he was drying his hands on a clean towel. He looked very strange, with his hair pulled back from his face, his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes downcast. He approached them soberly, fixing his grey eyes upon Éomer; the king could not await him but said agitatedly:

“Legolas – O my friend, my wife the queen – “

“She is well, Éomer,” said Legolas gently. He came up to them then, and smiling down at Fastred lay his hand upon the boy’s head. “Fastred,” he said gravely, and turned to Éomer again, who had gone white.

“But – Legolas – the child – “

“Ah,” said Legolas with a sigh, glancing over his shoulder to the dark lintel; still they could hear feet running to and fro, and many women’s voices. “So happy is she, and so disbelieving she has brought you forth a son, she would not let me bear him out to you – “

Fastred gasped, and Éomer went even paler than before; he swayed upon his feet and whispered: “A – a son – “

“Yes,” said Legolas, smoothing his stained shirt. “A great red brute of a boy, who did not want to come forth at all, and squalls to wake the dead. Really, Éomer; you ought to have chosen a wife with wider hips.”

“A son!” cried Éodor and Fenwine; and Éothain began to laugh and shout: “Ale! Ale for the king and for his retainers! The queen has given to us a son!” And Himbaláth clapped his hands and laughed. But Éomer stood still as death, and when Fastred grasped his hand he shook it off impatiently, still staring at Legolas as though the Elf had grown an extra set of ears.

“A son?” he whispered, hardly daring to hope. Legolas smiled, and taking him by the shoulder turned him to the lintel.

“A son,” he said gently. “Go you to your wife to meet him. She has named him Elfwine.”

“A son!” Éomer looked down at Fastred then, his face beaming; then he broke into a run and disappeared beneath the dark lintel crying: “A son, a son! O get out of my way, you – “

Legolas watched him go, smiling; Fastred looked up at him with great relief. “So my aunt and the babe are both living!” he exclaimed with a laugh. “O I am so glad! I so feared ‘twould be like all the other times, Lassah, or even worse, for she was so weak and thin! But now she is well, and my little cousin is well – is he truly a big boy, Lassah? When may I see him?”

”In a little while, Fastred my dear,” said Legolas, fetching a great sigh and stretching. “Let me clean up, and we shall go in and make his acquaintance.” He glanced over at the hearth, where the men and Himbaláth were making merry. “Wait not here however,” he said with a smile, “lest Éothain think again to give unto you mead – come rather to my rooms, my Fastred; you and I have much to discuss, and I am weary; it has been a long night.”

“Yes, Lassah!” said Fastred happily, and followed Lassah out.

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

It was morning ere Legolas was able to properly introduce Fastred to his new little cousin. Elfwine was dozing, wrinkling up his small red face and opening and shutting his funny wee hands; all over his distended head was a quantity of pale fuzz, and there was a red mark on his forehead where Lassah had grasped the babe to pull him out. Fastred held the child reverently, filled with a sort of astonished awe; it was wonderful to him how this small person had come forth, and he tried to imagine what Elfwine would be like, how his little voice would sound, and if he would be like Théodred, funny and fair-haired and earnest. Every now and again he would touch the tiny soft face, and the child would make an odd grunting noise and pucker his lips, reminding Fastred of Dúrfinwen, and the way her pretty red mouth would pout and smile. That lady bustled in and out of the solar, businesslike and preoccupied, her skirts rustling and her big white apron crisp and clean; she brought in to the queen’s chamber food and drink, and retreated with empty trays, a satisfied smile upon her roseleaf face. “She has kept down her breakfast,” she announced to Lassah, handing the trays to a maid. “And the king has fallen asleep in his chair. She will not stop talking though! I instructed her to sleep a little, for you had the babe well in hand; but she chatters on, about his many little perfections, and the color of his hair, and if he will resemble his lord father.” The door of the solar opened again, and Himbaláth came in; he brightened when he saw the baby. “And what do you want?” demanded Dúrfinwen, putting her hands on her hips and giving the lieutenant an arch look. “I should have thought humble husbandry to be beneath such a mighty warrior as you!” Himbaláth grinned.

“May I not admire the little miracle too, Dúrfinwen?” he asked innocently.

“I suppose you may,” said Dúrfinwen fighting a smile. “Did you do as I asked?”

“Of course!” he laughed. “I never argue with a lady in an apron. You are quite fetching in it you know! You ought to wear them more often; perhaps they shall become a fad and all the ladies sport them about the place.”

“Idiot,” said Dúrfinwen affectionately, striking him lightly on his arm as she passed out of the room; Himbaláth bent over Fastred and looked smiling down at little Elfwine, his golden hair shimmering round about his shoulders.

“I am forever confounded by how tiny they are!” he said, laying one long brown hand on the small head. “It is amazing to me how a person might be so tiny.”

“This one was not quite tiny enough,” said Legolas dryly from his perch by the window; he had a glass of wine in one hand, and a pastry in the other; he stretched his long legs out on the window-seat, and his hair gleamed like a sheet of ice with the pale yellow light behind it. “Should Éomer decide to put his lady wife through this a second time I shall ask him to adjust the size a bit.”

Himbaláth laughed again; Fastred saw in his gray eyes an eager look as he gazed upon the babe, and was reminded of his dream many months hence, of Legolas holding a small red-haired babe. “There is a great assembly upon the front stairs of the Hall,” Himbaláth said, straightening. “The people wish to meet their young prince, and anxiously await the appearance of the king to present him.”

“The king is asleep,” said Legolas taking a deep drink. “But I suppose Fastred might be his deputy, if he is willing.”

“I?” said Fastred in surprise, looking up. “Do you think I ought, Lassah?”

“I do indeed,” said Legolas seriously. “And if you think about it, O Fastred Prince, you will know why you ought to do the presenting of this little babe to his people.”

Fastred looked down at the tiny child in his arms. Had it been less than a year’s time he had wished for this very thing, that Lothíriel should give unto his uncle an heir of his own? Little Elfwine represented Fastred’s greatest wish of the summer last; freedom from the tyranny of his birth, of the necessity of going to the Mark. But had not the fall and winter been sweet with friendship and laughter and triumph? Had not Meduseld become to Fastred a home and his uncle like unto a father? He thought upon the great sweeping fields, sere beneath a leaden sky promising snow; he thought upon the sleds and skates, the sleighs hung with bells, and snowball fights with Hímalf and Hirdáf and Wálma; he thought of the kitchens, warm and dark, and the laughing cooks and bakers, turning spits and folding dough and thanking Fastred Prince for his gift of pike and grayling from the ice-choked lake. He thought of the rich blustery fall, brilliant golds and greens and reds and yellows that put him in mind of Andunië; he remembered the anxious and delightful day Lassah stood on his own and walked without crutch or cane; he remembered riding Karakse through the willow-woods by the river with Brytta speaking of the man’s holdings and horses; he thought of hunting with Éomer and Éodor, of bringing back the spoils of their arrows and lances, little deer with striped flanks and evil-looking boar, yellow-tusked and bristle-backed. He thought of the harvest dance, turning round about upon the rush-strewn floor of the Hall, the feel of the girls’ waists in his arms, and Lassah dancing with Dúrfinwen, gay in gold and yellow and green, and Lassah laughing in his brilliant white doublet. And he thought also of the advent of spring, the black ice-choked streams, the melting snow, the cold wet wind that rushed round through the city, stepping shivering into Wálma’s house to sit with the family round the inglenook and drink warm goat’s milk while Wálma’s two sisters made eyes at him, and giggled whenever he spoke to them. And he remembered the feel of the circlet upon his brow, seated on Éomer King’s great carven throne with scepter in hand, the heavy ermine robe cast round about him, dispensing judgment and amercement for his uncle who was in the West Emnet; Éothain and Walda stood respectfully by, flanked by Fastred’s men-at-arms, splendidly arrayed with helm and spear; his nervousness fled during the trials and pleas and he heard later that all present found his pronouncements just and pleasing. When he walked round the squares and streets all bowed or did him some obeisance; all knew him and called him Fastred Prince; he was sent gifts from strange foreign ambassadors, and gold and gems from Lord Gimli of Aglarond; even the Elves visiting from Imladris had bowed politely to him and called him “Your Highness” when presented before him and his uncle in the Hall. But the birth of little Elfwine removed Fastred from his especial rung on the ladder to kingship, displacing him, and taking that privilege away.

He cuddled the babe in his arms, smiling when Elfwine made a little grunting noise and squirmed in his blankets; he pressed a kiss to the child’s downy forehead and looked up at Lassah, who was watching him soberly. Lassah was well and hale and strong and pink-cheeked again, and he and Himbaláth were pining for Dol Galenehtar, the steep slopes, the fragrant pine woods, the towering oaks, the blushing vineyards and hoary olive trees, the white dancing fountains and smooth green lawns, the graceful statues and sun-dappled rooms. In Fastred’s mind he saw also the great crown of Osgiliath, shining white in the spring sunlight, the river cloven on either side, gleaming and dark; he saw the arced bridges springing from gate to shore, the wide meads of the Pelennor, the bustling villages and prosperous farms. He remembered the cool dark streets, shadowed and blue in the height of summer, the crooked cobblestones and ancient pitted walls, the piercing call of the bells in their campaniles, the fairy-jangle of the answering peals from Dol Galenehtar and Minas Tirith; he remembered standing upon the high walls of his city, looking down the Anduin past the seven-walled City of Kings, watching the river wind away to Langstrand, the warm breeze filled with the scents of fish and lavender and rose gardens and stone, and the baker who made such excellent sticky-rolls peddling his wares in the cool of the morning; he remembered the open balcony upon which his family would dine on warm evenings, the sound of boatmen talking and working below, the croak and clack of water-fowl, the taste of hot buttered trout and roasted marrow. He saw also his little brother Théodred, fair-haired and giggling, Hísimë proper and prim and polite, his Lady Mother all in blue with her golden hair wound about her head, and his dark Lord Father, smiling and gentle. He rose to his feet, and the two Elves stood with him.

“Come,” said Fastred. “Let us introduce Elfwine to his people.”

He walked from the solar through the Hall, milling with soldiers and courtiers; Legolas and Himbaláth gestured to them all, and they followed Fastred as well, down the long march, beneath the gazes of all the kings of the Mark, frozen in time upon the tapestries and mosaics. The guards at the doors stood respectfully by, and the doorward opened the great carven entry for Fastred to pass through.

The morning sunlight was bright, and Elfwine began to squall. But laid out at Fastred’s feet in the great courtyard were scores of people, peasantry and gentry alike, crowding the steps eagerly and looking up at him with new hope. Fastred looked out over the fair-haired crowd, murmuring in their sonorous tongue, and stepped to the edge of the stairs. Legolas stood beside him, and Himbaláth had managed to secure a small standard and stood behind them both, bearing the green pennant with the white horse; Fastred could feel it fluttering over his head in the breeze. The people fell silent then, watching Fastred; some murmured behind their hands, and others looked darkly at him, wondering what he would say about the little supplanter in his arms. But Fastred smiled at them, and holding up the squirming bundle he called in a loud voice:

“People of the Mark! Your queen has brought forth a son. I, Fastred, Prince of the Mark and of Ithilien, do declare this day that this child is Éomer King’s true heir, of his blood more than I, and to be given just due of honor and power. I do confer upon my small cousin all the rights, titles, duties, and privileges of the rank of Prince of the Mark and accept full willing his entitlement as Éomer King’s rightful heir. And as the son of Éowyn Daughter of Éomund I demand you welcome Elfwine, son of Éomer, as your Prince and Sovereign, and pledge retribution upon any head that vilifies him.” He unswathed the babe and presented him to the people saying: “Behold Elfwine son of Éomer, the Heir of Meduseld! Westu Elfwine hal!”

“Westu Elfwine hal!” cried the people as one, their faces bright with relief and joy. “Welcome, welcome the Heir of Meduseld!”

Amid the clamor and uproar Fastred felt Legolas’ hand upon his shoulder, and the Elf whispered in his ear: “Well done, O Fastred Prince!” Fastred turned to him and was surprised to see tears in his beloved Lassah’s eyes, though the Elf was smiling, and Himbaláth beaming from ear to ear. “I am proud of you; you do not run after accolade or power but are willing to bestow it rightly at need. It is as your father and Éomer have always said; you are a good boy, and shall grow to be a fine man.”

“Thank you, Lassah!” said Fastred smiling. “Perhaps I shall, with help such as yours!” He looked out over the people cheering below. He remembered his dream then, of Tamin in black armor, and of the winged helm of the Tower beneath his own arm. “Lassah,” he said in a low voice, “may we go home now?”

Himbaláth laughed, and even Legolas chuckled; he squeezed Fastred’s shoulder, and led him and Elfwine back inside the Hall. “Wait you until the welcoming-feast,” said Lassah gently, taking the wailing baby from his arms. “And then we shall bid our good-byes and go home again.”

“I’ll start packing tonight!” said Fastred excitedly, and Legolas laughed, kissing him on the crown of his head.

“At your good whim, Little One!” he said with a smile, and went to bring the Heir back to the king.