“You cannot be serious, Legolas,” said Faramir in surprise.

The Lord of Dol Galenehtar took a deep draught of rich red wine, and stretching his long legs out to the flickering flame he sighed, and set the goblet upon the little table next to his armchair. Outside in the dark the rain hammered down, gray and pewter and iron and cold, obscured by thick rich mist and heavy leaden cloud; the leaves bent beneath the weight of water, and the streams and estuaries choked and chuckled down to the west, to the heavy overburdened Anduin below, sluggish still, but swollen and brown and foamy, and the tailraces roared and boomed red-brown and weed-choked. To the East rumbled and grumbled thunder, half-hearted and heedless, and the bells of the campaniles were muffled in the mists and heavy downpour, stifled and insubstantial. But in the Green Knight’s offices the fire flickered warmly upon the hearth, and in the shivering shadows sat not only the Elf Lord himself, quiet and subdued, draining his heavy goblet, but his friend the Lord of Emyn Arnen, Prince of Ithilien, himself swathed in warm fur and imbibing the strong purple wine of the Green Knight’s vineyards, and Gimli of Aglarond, nodding and drowsing in the warmth of the cremiére.

“But I am serious, O Faramir son of Denethor my dear friend,” Legolas said; his voice was distant, his eyes hooded. “Elwen has loved – or been in love, rather – with Mardil these past three summers, sighing and pining after him in the best tradition of all those unctuous love-ballads despite her habitually commonsensical and curly little head. She did pour her heart out to me last winter, begging me to give unto her some trick, some secret, some Elven magic to induce love of the Silver Knight. She did also entreat of me a love-philter, saying Liquíseleé of a certainty could concoct a potion to make Mardil fall in love with her.” Legolas shook his head, his mouth quirking into a half-smile. “Love-philters!” he chuckled, refilling his goblet. “The poor silly child.”

“Court gossip set her eyes on you, my friend,” said Faramir disbelievingly. “Why even Araval did say to me not two seasons ago he feared his youngest would break her heart over ‘her Lassah,’ so enamored was she of the great Elf-Lord.”

“Pah!” Legolas took another drink. “She loves me it is true, but it is the love of a child for a being she sees as marvelous, wonderful, larger than life. To her I could do any thing to which I put my purposes; for that reason did she appeal to me to turn Mardil’s heart to hers. Besides which,” Legolas added with a smile, “it were better for her, for her reputation and social standing, to be seen as a maid with an unrequited yearning for an Elf-Lord, than to be known to pine for a forty-year-old knight with very little sense about his own attractions.”

“So she encouraged this deception!” exclaimed Faramir shaking his head. “Astounding!”

“More astounding than that was this plot of hers,” said Legolas. “O yes, my friend; I say of hers and not of mine; for did she not know full well how Deniel made calf’s eyes at Aldor of Erui? The tripe-server himself was full cognizant of this, though his sire lost the docks in a wager twenty years hence and he desperately needed a good dowry to regain them.”

“The docks – “ began Faramir in growing comprehension, and Legolas laughed.

“Yes indeed!” he said merrily. “The docks of Erui, that I purchased not six months ago! Dúrfinwen made certain they were written into Deniel’s dowry, and that, O my friend, did establish Aldor’s resolve.”

“But you have lost the docks then,” said Faramir, concerned. “You are rich I know, O Prince of Eryn Lasgalen; but your coffers are far from bottomless. How do you salvage such great losses? The docks, the peach orchards to Calima’s husband, the gowns and food and wine!”

“As match-maker I am accorded dock-fees,” said Legolas with a smile, refilling Faramir’s goblet. He glanced at Gimli, who was snoring, and decided against giving his Dwarvish friend any more to drink; it would be difficult enough to roll him to his rooms. “And as Ethring and Tarlang join together I shall be more than accorded ample reparation for dowry and gown.” He gave a sly smile. “Did you realize, Faramir, that Aldor of Erui’s cousin owns the finest silk-houses in Eryn Vorn?”

Faramir started, and laughed in amazement. “What; that fragrant fellow?” he exclaimed. He shook his head disapprovingly, though he smiled. “I had no idea the silk-merchant was Aldor’s cousin.”

“Well, why do you think he sold me all those cloths at such good price?” asked Legolas easily. “He knew it would be in his best interest to clothe both Araval’s and Mardil’s kin.”

“And Calima of Tarlang’s husband signed that trade accord – “

“To the benefit of his own and mine own demesnes,” said Legolas comfortably, draining his glass; it was his fourth and he was feeling very comfortable. “He was unsure to start, but when I offered to supplement Calima’s dowry to reflect that of her own sisters’ – “

Faramir shook his head, and took a deep draught of wine. “You are wicked, O my friend.”

“You are no less wicked,” said Legolas, winking naughtily. “Provoking Mardil like that – !”

“Well he does not get angered easily,” complained Faramir, taking a pastry. “He is so passionless, so clement – “

“Passionless! Ah, but you did not catch him with his knee between Elwen’s thighs,” said Legolas with a smirk, holding up his goblet. Faramir laughed despite himself, and touched the edge of his goblet to Legolas’ with a clink. “The look on his face - !”

Faramir shook his head and took a deep draught. “I must admit to you my friend,” he said, closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of the chair. “I did doubt me you should succeed in this venture, for you had both Araval and Mardil set against you. But once again you have proven to me to be capable of near anything.”

“Well I cannot be held responsible for all the success of this venture,” chuckled Legolas; “nor the inception of it! Little Elwen did the lion’s share of the work, including goading me into it.” He sighed again, and his smile went sideways. “Poor Elwen.”

Faramir opened his eyes and gazed upon Legolas in mild astonishment. “Why poor Elwen?” he asked. “She got what she wanted did she not?”

Legolas roused himself and said, “O I did not mean poor Elwen now – she has as you did say get what she wanted; indeed what she has wanted for three years now; likewise has Deniel gotten her wish and wed her beloved tripe-eating Lord Aldor. I was more thinking of Elwen two years ago, coming to me, sobbing, begging her Lassah to make Mardil love her.” He shook his head and refilled his goblet. “I told her I could not make a man fall in love with her – there are no love potions, no spells or inducements I know of that would cause the Silver Knight to see her as anything but Araval’s youngest child – yet she wept, and clung to me, and told me she should surely die, did she not win for herself Mardil, the best and handsomest knight in the realm.” Legolas paused, then chuckled and said: “I ought rather to say poor Deniel than poor Elwen; at least Mardil knows well enough to not serve tripe at breakfast!”

“What did Deniel and Elwen say, when Araval consented to wed Deniel to Mardil and not Elwen?” asked Faramir.

“O they went to their plotting,” said Legolas dismissively, picking up a pastry and looking absently at it before popping it into his mouth. “Deniel would tell her father this, and Elwen would write a letter to Aldor, and their Lassah should send an escort for Deniel to escape to Erui … now I am thinking, poor Dúrfinwen for I did rather send her and Meivel upon a fool’s errand did I not?”

“Dúrfinwen especially,” Faramir agreed, stretching his feet to the fire. “It is fortunate for you she is a maid of clement temper.”

Legolas snorted. “Clement! Well you have not known her as long as have I.”

“No more I have,” conceded Faramir, thinking again how strange it was he should be friendly with a being so old, who had seen the centuries rise and wane. He frowned thoughtfully, thinking of Dúrfinwen’s unlined cheerful face, and rich chestnut locks untouched by frost. “How old is she, anyway?”

“Ah, ah!” chided Legolas, wagging his finger at his friend. “A gentleman does not inquire after a lady’s age, Faramir; you well know that!”

Faramir laughed. “Speaking of aged ladies, Legolas, how did you manage to get Lady Aranath down that hallway? I had thought her a thorn in your side – “

“So she was – her, and her cheek-pinching!” Legolas laughed loudly. “And I shall not tell you what other cheeks she pinches … poor Lord Meril! But despite her assertions of true love I managed to provoke a proper moral response from her. I had need to suffer her hard, bony fingers upon my face and other districts of mine anatomy that ought rather to be held inaccessible, but the result was gratifying; her outrage at Mardil’s so blatantly taking advantage of so young and innocent a virgin – “

“Legolas,” chided Faramir. “Have a care, there, O my dear friend; you shall wake Gimli again.”

“Eh?” said the Dwarf stirring, and smacking his lips; Legolas patted him on the hand and said:

“There; there! No fear, O my good Gimli; I meant not to wake you – go back to sleep! Dúrfinwen has not yet returned.”

Faramir laughed, and Gimli, sluggish and nodding, muttered into his beard: “O very well – only let me know when it is bed-time.”

“I shall, my friend,” promised Legolas fondly, and muttering under his breath Gimli returned to slumber-land.

Legolas and Faramir fell silent for a while, listening to the steady downpour round the windows and oriels of Dol Galenehtar, and the fire flickered low and orange in the dimness. Faramir’s head felt very heavy; he had had overmuch wine the past few weeks, for the celebrations surrounding the joining of the House of Múrin to Araval’s kin had gone on far past the wedding itself, and though none had seen hide nor hair of the happy couple, lurking in their wedding-chambers with only the cooks to visit, all present resolved to celebrate the occasion with much food and wine and dancing, and when at last Osgiliath emptied and the festivities migrated to Dol Galenehtar Éowyn had flatly refused to come, exhausted and wanting only to sequester herself in the stables for at least five days, forswearing satins and laces for her comfortable riding-skirt. Faramir did not begrudge her this, but followed the parties to Dol Galenehtar; now his feet ached from dancing, and his head from much wine; but he was settled and comfortable in the dark shadowy chamber, and the sound of Gimli’s snoring was very soothing.

He had all but drifted off when he heard voices; he recognized his friend Legolas, and then after a moment’s rather muddled thought discovered Bandobras was standing between them, putting down a platter of bread and cheese. The tangy scent teased his nostrils and he wondered how he could possibly be hungry after all the feasting of the past few days; however that thought smacked of practicality and that had no place at a wedding-feast. So he sat up and stretched, and reaching for a piece of cheese listened to knight and esquire speak.

“Saw it meself, Master; she set about it hammer-and-tongs, with Dúrfinwen giving as good as she got, and Meivel glaring and glowering as always. How Himbaláth did laugh, to be sure! And then Dúrfinwen, she says to her: ‘Well if you will not take a good man as he is, seeking to mold him to your own fancies, how may you expect Meivel to like you despite your vile temper?’ And then, Master, Andunië laughed – Andunië, of all people, Master! Never heard her laugh before; didn’t think she knew how.”

“It does not happen often, Little One,” admitted Legolas; Faramir saw he was grinning, and his eyes gleamed in the firelight. “So what did Hirilcúllas do then, my Bandobras?”

“Well,” said the esquire with relish, rubbing his little hands. “Then Dúrfinwen says, she says, ‘I sicken of being the goose-berry; I shall wed to Galás and so take myself from this trick of badgering you stupid maids to leave your foolish whims behind you and take these poor good men to bed!’ And Galás, Master, he’s standing there with the others, and he gets this look on his face, all incredulous, and he says, Master, he says, ‘Heaven forbid!’ he says. ‘Why I had no idea you hated me so, Dúrfinwen!’ And Hwindiö, he says, Master, he says, ‘O Galás, how could that be so truly horrible?’ he says. And then he takes Dúrfinwen by the hand, mad as she is and all that, and says with a laugh: ‘Horrible for you I mean; we all know how horrible ‘twould be for her!’ And Galás, Master, he goes and says with his nasty grin: ‘If you must ask, does it truly matter? Horrible it is and horrible it shall remain; I am not Mardil and would not wed a maid as young as she.’ Everyone laughs then, Master, even Liquíseleé and Maelaëri, and Dúrfinwen, Master, she’s in a terrible stink of a temper, and she takes off her slipper, all dirty it is too from the trip, and chucks it at his head – “

Legolas gave a whoop of laughter, and Gimli came to with a snort. “What is this racket!” he growled, rubbing his eyes. He blinked at the Hobbit and said: “O! It is you Bandy; about time you have shown up! Well did Dúrfinwen make it home acceptably? And more important than that have you brought any more wine?”

“Yes, and yes, Gimli!” said Bandobras with a grin. “O listen to this Gimli, Lord Faramir; this is the best part yet: She throws her slipper at Galás, then, and it catches him right over the eye it does – “

“Serves him right for saying such a thing!” said Faramir with a smile. “And about Dúrfinwen too.”

“Got mud all over him it did,” said Bandobras, laughing. “And then Meivel, he turns to Hirilcúllas then, and looks right aggravated, and he says to her, he says, ‘How can you think, beloved, I should abjure you for she? At least you but strike me; she throws things.’ And Hirilcúllas, she’s got the look on her of a lady what don’t know which way to turn; then Andunië goes up to her and she says, Master: ‘Marry him quick, Hirilcúllas, ere your fellow eavesdropper loses his temper and patience both, and I be caught with a sister-in-law who casts crockery about the place.’ And then Meivel looks at Hirilcúllas, all challenging-like, and Hirilcúllas looks at him, and seems to all like she’s confused and don’t know which way to turn, Master, and then Meivel, he strides right up to her then, and takes her hand and says all angry: ‘I have asked you thrice and thrice have you rebuffed me,’ he says, Master; and then he says, ‘I shall ask you but once more and this fourth time I will take your answer as final and harass you no longer.’ And we all go quiet, Master, for he’s about to do it again, and this time we’re all standing round listening, even Galás who don’t even note he’s given the slipper back to Dúrfinwen, and Hirilcúllas goes so red it looks like someone’s painted her cheeks, it really does, Master, and then she says all quiet-like: ‘Ask me no more, Meivel my dearest; I shall but humbly entreat your pardon of you, and accept the first suit which you did lay at my feet, but I beg of you, let us do this in private!’” Bandobras took a deep breath, relishing the rapt faces round him, and said, “And then Meivel went red too, Master, and awful excited, and he hauls Hirilcúllas off, and everyone starts cheering, which makes them run the faster, and Himbaláth, he’s laughing fit to burst, indeed everyone was, Master, except Dúrfinwen who – “

The door banged open, and that maid indeed stood there beneath the lintel, dirty, wet, disheveled, and shod with but one slipper; the other one she hurled across the room where it struck her lord wetly on the forehead. Legolas yelped and dropped his goblet, and Faramir saw her reach for her other slipper; he ducked, not wishing to become a target of the woman’s wrath. “Peace, peace!” he heard Legolas cry, though beneath the plaintive words there was delighted laughter. “It has all ended well – “

“For whom?” demanded Dúrfinwen. She stood, arms akimbo, the one remaining slipper clutched firmly in a white-knuckled hand; her hair stood out round her head like a curly chestnut halo, and her brown eyes flashed. There was a smut of mud across the skirt of her pretty yellow dress, and the lace was drooping. “O certainly do Mardil and his little golden-haired chit sport themselves in the wedding-chamber, where likewise in Erui do damned Deniel and that tripe-eating bearded letch of her husband roll about together, and now Meivel and Hirilcúllas sigh and croon to one another upon the lower turret – “

“Do they really?” asked Legolas, brightening. “Sighing and crooning? Why how delicious; it is better than I dreamed!”

“You – you men!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with anger and her eyes flashing dangerously. “Blackguards, the lot of you! Why Meivel would not even break Araval’s legs, I had to do it myself – “

“You broke Araval’s legs?” exclaimed Faramir in disbelief. “How? All Meivel would say to us was that the bridge across which Araval walked collapsed!”

“I knocked out the keystone with a mallet,” said Dúrfinwen, a little wildly, and when Gimli chuckled with approval the barest hint of her dimple reappeared, creasing in her cream-colored cheek. She looked apologetically at Faramir and said, her cheeks coloring: “I – I did not expect both legs to break though.”

“I will make it up to him,” Legolas promised, rising bravely to his feet. “I will go to Tarlang and shower him with gifts and apologies – “

This time he caught the slipper ere it connected with his head, much to Dúrfinwen’s chagrin. “Ah, ah!” he chided, his eyes twinkling, wagging his finger at her. “Do you not let your temper get the best of you, Little One – “

“And do not Little One me, my lord!” she spat hotly. “I have toiled up the Anduin these past four days – in pouring rain – without a change of clothes – on a barge filled with half-drunk men – all to see the wedding we did plan – and you did not make them wait for me to see it!” She stamped her bare foot, though it made but little sound in the thick plush carpet. “And I am cold, and wet, and dirty, and hungry, and O so tired of tripe, and I do not wish to be the wedge betwixt courting couples any more, or even to see any more courting couples, they are all aggravating to me, and I hope never to see a pair of people in love again, they sicken me!”

“To be sure, to be sure!” said Legolas gently, and taking her by the hand he led her to his chair by the hearth, and set her in it; she glowered up at him, and he smiled at her, and ran his fingers through her disarranged curls. “Warm yourself here then, O Dúrfinwen, and eat some of this excellent cheese my Bandobras has brought – it is the hard white cheese you like so well, Dúrfinwen – and have some wine – “ He pressed a goblet in her hand and filled it, and though she looked with suspicion at him through the tangled mess of hair she drank it down. “Put your feet upon the fender and dry them, and I shall have Caïlamel take a hot bath to your chambers, where wait therein clean dry clothes; and Liquíseleé has made fir-scented bath oil for you – I remember well your affinity for the fir tree, O Dúrfinwen! – and you shall have naught to do the next moon-round save rest and eat and bathe and dance, for Hirilcúllas in reparation for her obduracy shall finish hers and Andunië’s trousseaus both, and now that summer has ended we shall but set our minds to merry-making and the winter following.” He took a handkerchief from Bandobras and set about mopping up the dripping curls while Dúrfinwen sulkily drank and picked at the cheese; his voice was placating and unctuous and Faramir wondered at this. “You have performed all your duties superlatively O Dúrfinwen,” said Legolas with a smile, patting the maid’s hand, and refilling her goblet. “I am deeply indebted to you you know; I could not have done what you have for I am but a man, and in this venture your skill and feminine nature were far more valuable than any skill of warrior or statesman I could bring to bear against it!”

“Flatterer,” sniffed Dúrfinwen, though Faramir could tell she fought back a smile; her dimple was dangerously close to reappearing. “May I have my slippers back?”

“Er,” said Legolas, glancing down at the offending articles; “no. I think not, at least ‘til you have lost that angry glint in your eyes, Dúrfinwen.”

“You are wiser than you appear,” she said, and at last sighed and settled back into the arm chair. Faramir, Gimli, and Bandobras relaxed too, seeing her ire had faded and they were in no more danger from slipper-missiles. “Heavens above, but I am weary! Do not I beg you my lord indulge in this match-making any more, for you have this maddening habit of dragging me along into it, and though I never thought I should hear myself admit to it I miss my quiet drudgery with my loom and spindle.” She extended one small arm to the fire, examining her long white fingers, and said wryly, “I have so many pin-pricks upon my fingers I more resemble a hedgehog-hunter than a woman.”

“I would hardly say that,” said Legolas with a smile, and tucking his long legs beneath him he sat at her feet, wrapping his arms round his knees and looking up at her fondly. “After all soon you shall be wed to Galás and you will labor in the fullery no more!”

“You did not mean it, did you, Dúrfinwen?” asked Faramir in surprise when the maid laughed. “You will not truly wed to Galás, will you?”

“Good gracious, no, my lord!” exclaimed Dúrfinwen, and to everyone’s relief her brown eyes sparkled merrily; she drained her goblet, and Bandobras refilled it. “He is too flippant, and pulls my curls and calls me little Laiquenda, the percilious beast; I am not yet so desperate as that.”

“Well, do you not give Legolas any fresh match-making ideas anyway,” growled Gimli, looking down at his friend before the fire, who glimmered white and gold in the gloaming. “If you start talking about marriage and weddings again he might take it into his foolish head to find a mate for you, Dúrfinwen.”

“I should have thought he would be weary of it now anyway,” said Faramir. “This debacle was convoluted enough! Legolas, promise us you will not meddle in any more love-affairs again!”

“I cannot promise that,” protested Legolas looking injured. He put his arm round Bandobras as the Hobbit passed and held him still. “After all I have mine esquire to see about. He achieves his majority in four years and I am sure his dear mother would like to see him well settled.”

Bandobras’ jaw dropped and he looked at the Elf in horror. “O Master, you cannot be serious!” he cried in dismay.

“No, my Bandobras!” laughed Legolas wickedly, kissing the top of his curly crown. “I am not!”

**fin**