1. Tamin

Tamin Rúmilion was not, unlike his imminent patron, a mercurial being by nature. His primary character possessed a cheerful temperament that remained habitually undimmed by life’s unexpected bumps and twists, and despite his youth he maintained a sanguine stance when confronted with tribulations great and small. His constant cheer brought, so the ladies of Dol Galenehtar averred, a blessing upon the fiefdom, and though he was but a minor page in Lord Legolas’ court was oftime used to perform small but awkward tasks to soothe the ruffled feathers of some perturbed visiting diplomat roosting in the Green Knight’s splendid bower. Tamin’s bright and winsome face, and earnest buoyancy, when enhanced by little charities such as bringing a book, or providing a tray of wine and cheese, or producing his flute to play upon it, brought forth the softening of mortal aspects and a tenderness of heart that would benefit his lord not only in the court but the council-chambers. For did not King Elessar himself observe Tamin plying the peevish Lord of Ringló with effulgent smile and fervent wishes his lordship put his feet upon a cushion, and recline himself in the chair? And O was my Lord of Ringló comfortable enough, and would he like his servant to fetch for him a salver of crisp butter biscuits which his servant was fortunate enough to know had just emerged from the ovens of Dol Galenehtar, and had he enough wine, for his servant would be delighted to fetch him some more, for it was the good yellow wine from the lower east vineyards and they had broached a new barrel in the cellar and it was cold and strong and there was plenty, O no your lordship, your servant would be overjoyed and would his lordship like to hear a song that his servant had just learnt that morning? Well, Elessar sat and smiled to himself, watching the Lord of Ringló’s features relax, and the reluctant humor return to the man’s mouth, and when Tamin returned with a jug of wine and his flute the Lord of Ringló was putty in the boy’s hands. Then did King Elessar pull his friend Legolas aside, and ask how much gold would the Elf-lord require to transfer the fealty of the son of Rúmil to Minas Tirith. But Legolas laughed and said no gold nor gems nor any remuneration would suffice to separate him from this daffodil-child. Besides which, Legolas explained to Elessar, Tamin’s mother Maelaëri would pine, and that, he added gravely, was a happenstance to be avoided at all costs; not only for Rúmil Tamin’s father’s sake, but for Legolas’ own, for did Maelaëri pine did her discontent transfer itself upon the other ladies in the tucking-mill, of which Dúrfinwen was chief, and her displeasure when stirred was a terrible thing to behold. Not that Legolas would have given up the boy to Elessar in any season, for in addition to his parents and the pain that would cause them, Legolas was a tender lord, and looked with care upon his subjects’ ease; also was Tamin a steady and honest and unflaggingly jolly boy, and the Lord of Dol Galenehtar anticipated with pleasure the prospect of turning him into a knight of Gondor.

Betimes Fastred son of Faramir would be filled with an exasperated frustration, for his dearest friend Tamin could not be got to be angry; indeed the only unpromising feelings he would express would be sorrow, or the slightest indignation upon another’s part. Fastred would go to the Green Knight and complain, “Lassah, he is so good! Halgond presses him and he but smiles; and if any of my companions go too far he is injured yet strives to hide it from me. What will it take to stir him to be bad?” Legolas had laughed, and assured Fastred that Tamin would learn to be bad soon enough. Fastred was nearly a man grown, and had expected Tamin would age as did he; but Tamin was very young, and retained the innocent brightness Fastred had shed during his sixteenth summer. Tamin, Legolas explained to Fastred, would be a child until his fiftieth year, and at that time he was certain Ithilien would learn how capricious and strong-willed this charming Elf could become.

Yet had Fastred observed his dear friend Tamin as he walked along the flower-strewn meadows of Ithilien that bright spring morning, kicking the sparkling dew aside with his shoe and scowling at the birds as they sang, he might have been comforted; for Tamin was, as Bandobras the Hobbit would have said, in a proper stink, and not in a mood to be happy about the slanting rays of the sun through the bright green of the trees, the little rabbits which stared at him with big brown eyes and swiveled their ears so endearingly, or the blossom-strewn branches laden with petal and fragrance. His day was ruined – simply ruined! – because his mother and Seimiel would not see reason! Why should he be constrained to give up his ride and his hunt, and bathe of all things, simply because today was the day Bandobras son of Reginard won his accolades? It was a perfect day to hunt – Andunië had said so! She had promised to let him use the goshawk – and he and Malinadulin and Fionim and others were to go up to Westering Sun Hill and falcon and enjoy the spring. And Fionim had professed himself to be delighted in Tamin’s company, as though Tamin had been full-grown, which was gratifying; and, of course, it was delightful to simply be with Andunië, for though wed she might be Tamin thought privately she was the loveliest woman in Ithilien, and Himbaláth the luckiest man in Gondor. Though on occasion Tamin did wonder if perchance Dúrfinwen might be, if not lovelier, certainly better company. It was a shame, Tamin reflected, that Dúrfinwen was away – something seemed to be missing from Dol Galenehtar, he determined, when Dúrfinwen was not at home. He knew she had gone with diverse others to King Thranduil’s palace in Eryn Lasgalen, but apart from that, poor lowly page Tamin knew not the meaning behind her departure. Certainly he would rather have gone hunting with Andunië, but to be certain to sit at Dúrfinwen’s side – especially when there was good gossip brewing – had its advantages. But no, neither was to be; Dúrfinwen was gone, and Maelaëri had said Andunië nay, and the huntsmistress had but shrugged and gone her way, leaving a devastated and disappointed Tamin in her indifferent wake. And naught Tamin could say to his mother, no pleading nor wheedling nor even the stamping of his feet, would sway her! She but kissed his forehead, said with a sigh he had got so tall, and told him he could walk to the western olintalari if he liked, but he would have to clean his shoes after breakfast. So, full of ill-humor and thwarted desire, the child stalked along, determined not to enjoy himself one bit despite the world’s springtime charms.

He was glad for Bandobras, of course. It had been years and years ere the Hobbit had entered Lord Legolas’ service, and now that it was Bandy’s thirty-third birthday it was time for him to enter his majority and become a proper knight. Tamin had been involved in the preparations for the evening’s ceremonies, though only upon the periphery. He had been sent with messages from so-and-so to thus-and-such, and ordered to carry this particular object with haste and care to a certain place, and be sure to inform our lord’s secretary that the lord of so-and-so was coming, and give this to our lord’s seneschal as quickly as possible, and above all else to please, Tamin, hold your tongue and do, please, stop asking so many questions! He did so cheerfully enough, for it was exciting planning such a big and important ceremony – even more exciting than the Mereth en’Ehtelé, or Meivel and Hirilcúllas’ wedding – because as many knights of Gondor and Rohan were coming as could, and the guest list was long and illustrious, and even one of the sons of Elrond was there – a terrible and impressive person, who threw poor Tamin into stammers and stalls – and the food and the clothing and the tapestries and banners and lamps and jewels were all new and fresh and O Tamin was very excited and interested, and it was delightful to know he was to be a part of Bandobras’ accolades, though to be sure a small part indeed, for Bandobras was to rise from esquire to knight and Tamin was but a page of the court, and not interesting or important at all. He had seen Bandobras’ suit of armor last night – Gimli Lord of Aglarond had made it himself, and it was so splendid! – and he was looking forward to the knighting ceremony, for he had never seen one; Elves did not of custom indulge in the tradition of squires and spurs, and he was eager to improve his mind with knowledge and experience, especially since his lord had agreed to take him as esquire to train him to be a knight, too. He fully expected to be sworn in when he had proved himself as a page, and thus performed his duties with eagerness and delight, looking ahead to the day he could begin to put his childhood aside, and enter the mysterious realm of maturity.

The guests coming from furthest away had arrived and been properly ensconced in their rooms, and all their servants and retinue given limited rein. The Tower of the Green Knight fairly burst with bustle and activity, and Tamin scurrying to and fro on humble errantry felt near crushed by it. How he longed for the halls to be empty and echoing, the solars and rooms quiet! It was for that reason he had so eagerly anticipated going out to falcon, for Westering Sun Hill had not yet been discovered by their mortal neighbors and an Elf could hunt there in full solitude if he or she wished. Tamin wanted rather to be scrambling about the rocks and waterfalls of Ephel Dúath, exploring and poking round brakes and trees, stirring up quail and finding colorful insects to secrete in Liquíseleé’s bell jars in the apothecary. The commotion in Dol Galenehtar pressed so heavily upon him, and though he could not yet identify the source of his discontent, he wished to go someplace to hide ‘til it was all over, yet greatly desired to take part in the revelry. This dichotomy puzzled and distressed him, and coupled with his disappointment at not being able to falcon, he felt very unhappy indeed.

He trudged along the lesser path, the sun gleaming upon his golden head, his plain brown tunic brushed with dew and bits of leaves, his feet soaking. Over his head a nightingale warbled down at him, and Tamin stopped and looked up at it reproachfully.

“I suppose you have every right to be content,” he said to it; “your nest is not overrun with other noisy chattering birds, and you may hunt if you like!”

The nightingale cocked its head at him and fixed him with a beady eye. It gave a noncommittal trill and sharpened its beak upon the branch. Tamin watched it a moment more and said thoughtfully: “Though I do not think I would want to eat bugs for breakfast – pastries are better. I hope there are some left for the butteries are in such duress. It is terrible when they run out of pastries. Then I am constrained to eat toasted muffins, which are not nearly so nice, though the raspberry jam tastes quite good upon them; not so good as pastries though, especially the cherry ones, when they are dripping with honey. But that is the way of it now, for there are too many folk in Dol Galenehtar and they all seem to favor pastries; even the gooseberry ones, which I do not like quite so well. Is it thus with you, friend nightingale ? If there are too many birds, do you run out of your favorite bugs to eat?”

The nightingale did not deign to reply to this, but spread its wings and swooped away, to land upon the bloom-laden bough of a cherry tree. A little shower of petals fluttered to the ground beneath it, like fragrant snowflakes; despite himself Tamin smiled.

“That was very prettily done!” he complimented the bird. “Are you trying to cheer me up?”

The bird ruffled its feathers, and gave a comical squawk; Tamin laughed.

“Yes, you are!” he scolded the bird. “Shame on you; I was having such a fine sulk. Well, where do you lead me next?”

The bird fluttered away, disappearing into the thicket, and Tamin followed. He found the nightingale perched crookedly on a pine branch, worrying at a nascent cone. It let Tamin approach, eyeing him with caution; but Tamin whistled softly to it and held out one finger, and the bird did not fly away, but let the boy lightly touch its head. It submitted to this but for a moment; then when Tamin attempted to put his hand upon the bird’s back it gave him a disapproving look, and flew away. Tamin stood and watched it go; his heart was lighter though he could not have explained why.

He wandered through the thicket for a while, caring not for the state of his shoes nor his ultimate destination; then under the scent of pine and wet wood and cold earth came a most intriguing pair of smells: One of his own kind, and that of a mortal. He paused, eyes wide, listening and sniffing with care; then he heard voices, dim and muffled through the trees, and to his joy identified the dulcet tone and rich piney scent of his lord. He crept quiet as he could through the thick underbrush, hoping the heavy brakes of lavender would disguise him; then peering round a large oak he spied the interlopers.

Lord Legolas of Dol Galenehtar, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen and Green Knight of Gondor, of the Nine Walkers, Fell-Beast-Bane, and betimes called the Jewel of Ithilien, sat upon a stone in a small clearing, clad in plain dark clothes, his hair pulled back into a simple plait. He had his arm round Bandobras’ shoulders, and the Hobbit was weeping. Tears also glimmered in the Elf’s eyes, and his face was grieved; even as Tamin watched, Legolas pulled Bandobras to him and embraced him and said:

“My dear Little One! How I wish it were not so; she would have been so pleased I know, and was so proud of you even as mere accolade. That she anticipated this day with great joy should not however rob you of your own! Her absence is a great gap, but her satisfaction flows out of it nonetheless.”

“It was the food she looked forward to, Master,” sobbed Bandobras into Legolas’ shoulder. “And getting a fine new dress. When I saw that bolt of blue brocade in Laivánwa’s cupboard I remembered Dúrfinwen had got it for her especially, and O how it hurt me, Master, to know the dress hadn’t never been made! And after Dúrfinwen and Tuilíndo had picked it out for her too, and Hwindiö had even made the little silver buttons for it, and those cunning hook-and-eyes. O I know I’m being awful stroppy, Master, and don’t go thinking I don’t appreciate the trouble you and everyone else has gone through to make this day special, but – “ he sniffled. “I do miss her, and that’s a fact.”

“My Bandobras, to miss one’s mother is right and proper,” said Legolas gently, ruffling the Hobbit’s brown curls. “Especially when that mother was so good and kind and wise and beautiful. I miss her too; I miss Pearl Took, my Little Mother, who fed me scones and muffins and hot tea with sugar and cream, and bullied Kaimelas about my wardrobe, and scolded me if I got my shoes dirty.” Bandobras gave a strange noise, something between a laugh and a sob, and Legolas kissed his head. “She was so proud of you, and so happy here; even in her illness she was happy, and you must remember that, dear Bandobras.”

“I do, Master, I do that.” Bandobras took a great shivery breath, lifting his head from Legolas’ shoulder and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “And I’m a right fool to sit and whine when this here’s the biggest day of my life, ain’t I, Master? After all Gimli and his crew are here, and that bunch of folk from Rivendell, and all them knights from all over. I ought to be getting ready, not sooking about making you miss your breakfast.” He got up and straightened his tunic. “Come to think of it, I’ve still got that fitting with Gimli for my armor, haven’t I, Master? I’d better run along right quick or he’ll get cross with me, and we both know how he can fuss when he’s been put off, like.”

“That is so,” laughed Legolas. “Go along then, my Little One; I will follow; I have some small thing to attend to yet. Run along before me, as you are still my esquire, and I might order you about; come this evening should I issue orders to you I give you permission to put me in my place!”

Bandobras snorted. “As if I’d ever stoop so low!” he exclaimed. “Why I think I had better luck bossing you when I was your esquire! When I’m a knight I’ll only be able to make suggestions, and you’re not one to take those very well.”

“True enough,” smiled Legolas. “Be well, my Bandobras. Go to your fitting, and stay in your rooms ere the ceremony begins. The other knights will come to fetch you.”

“Thank you, Master,” sighed Bandobras, throwing his arms round Legolas’ neck and kissing him. “What I will do when I can’t call you ‘Master’ anymore beats me. It’ll be right strange, having to make my own decisions.”

“You will do well, Bandobras,” said Legolas with a sad smile. “Run along! Do not make Gimli late or he will shout at me!”

Bandobras grinned, and kissing Legolas again he ran down to the lower path, and disappeared into the wood. Legolas sat very still, his face thoughtful, his hands in his lap; of habit so kinetic, it was strange for Tamin to see them so still, lying like the marble hands of a statue upon the rough brown cloth. Legolas’ eyes were downcast, obscuring the silvery light within, and his shoulders slumped somewhat, revealing by contrast his latent sorrow. All round the Green Knight the spring morning glistened, and Tamin was cut to the heart at the prospect, for he loved his lord speciously and unashamedly, and greedily drank in the sight Legolas made sitting still and silent upon the cold wet stone. The sun flickered through the leaves on the Elf lord’s head, shimmering silver and green, and the breeze shook shining droplets like diamonds, and pink petals down upon him. The unbound stray strands of golden hair stirred round his fair face, touching his smooth cheeks and columbine lips and broad forehead; his throat like a column of marble rose from the dark clothing. Tamin stifled a sigh of contented pleasure and settled in to appreciate his lord, his chin on his palm. Birds chattered and chirruped in the branches, and far off was the sound of a cataract, mumbling deep and sonorous. O but he could not wait to serve his lord! Tamin could remember Celeborn’s departure and the desolation of the Galadrim, and in his young heart all the journey east had he longed for a lord, a prince, a patron to serve, to teach him, to succor and guide his people. And here he was! Legolas son of Thranduil, one of the most famous Elves in the world of Men, rich and splendid and strong and kind! And fair of face and a good warrior and statesman, Tamin was discovering; it seemed every time he learned something new about his impending master it was good, and cast poor Legolas in a brighter light than before. Tamin did not know it, but many of Legolas’ advisors chuckled behind their hands at him in his adulation, and Rúmil looked askance at his son for his reverence The object of Tamin’s veneration however merely shrugged tolerantly and agreed with Gimli, who said Tamin would learn soon enough and to his chagrin that the son of Thranduil was quite far from perfect.

For now however Tamin contented himself with admiring his lord, and imagining what it would be like to not be a page only, but an esquire and then a knight, and to work and live by Lord Legolas’ side. O he would be a good esquire – he would do everything his Master told him to do and would learn as much as he could and wait upon him and take care of him and sing to him when he was melancholy and bring him food when he was hungry and wine when he was thirsty, and protect him in battle and serve him at banquets and –

“Come forth, Tamin,” said Legolas suddenly. “It is unseemly to listen both at oak doors and oak trees.”

Blushing furiously Tamin scrambled out from beneath the lavender brake. He brushed the dirt and grass from his hose and rushed breathlessly across the clearing, dropping to his knee at his lord’s feet, and taking one of Legolas’ hands in his own. “Master,” he said earnestly, kissing Legolas’ hand. “I did not mean to eavesdrop. But Bandobras wept and I did not know what to do.”

Legolas looked gravely down at him, his gray eyes sober. “You were right to not interrupt, Little One,” he said, laying his other hand upon Tamin’s head. “But in the future, when you are surprised by another’s confession or immolation, you must retreat, and listen not to conversations not meant for your ears.” Tamin hung his head, ashamed; thus he missed the twinkle in Legolas’ eye and was surprised to hear his lord say: “Unless it benefits Dol Galenehtar, of course. Then you may listen all you like.”

Tamin raised his eyes to his lord’s, and seeing the humor there was awash with happiness, that he had not disappointed his beloved Lord Legolas. “I will then, O my Master!” he cried, pressing Legolas’ hand to his heart. “I will listen and glean all pertinent information I may! That way I will safeguard your house and improve your knowledge of the secret things which might fester in the dark corners of your home.”

“Well I flatter myself there is not overmuch festering in Dol Galenehtar,” said Legolas dryly. “And do not make yourself a nuisance, Little One! Be you sure to determine betwixt private conversation and dangerous plotting. Difficult betimes, especially with so many strangers in my halls; but I have faith in your common sense, my Tamin.” Tamin beamed at him, and Legolas smiled; he could not help himself, for his little page was so appealing, like a pup gamboling with its toys. “Now tell me, my Tamin, why do you skulk about the perimeter so? Do you have some secret assignation, or did you as I simply follow a much-beloved friend in distress? Or,” he added, giving Tamin a keen look, “are you discontented with your parents, and anxious to put distance betwixt you and they?”

Tamin blushed again. “I was discontent, Master,” he admitted, embarrassed. “I wanted to go falconing with Andunië today but Naneth said me nay.”

Legolas looked thoughtfully up at the sky, peeping pale blue behind the waving branches above them. “’Tis a fine day indeed,” he said with a sigh. “A hunt would have been a good thing, would it not? Though I prefer bow to bird, and a good haunch of venison to rabbit. Well, to-day is not the day for us to so indulge ourselves, my Tamin; it is a big day, and an important one for me, and I must needs keep myself at home to prepare for it.”

“A big day for you, Master?” asked Tamin in surprise. “But it is Bandy’s day not yours! All you have to do is to sit upon your throne in your splendid white robes and wear your beautiful crown and give him his sword and steed and spurs. I have read the ceremony, Master; I am sure it is not beyond you.”

Legolas laughed, and embraced the boy. “Dear Tamin!” he exclaimed, releasing him and taking him by the shoulders, smiling down into the child’s upturned face. “Nay, it is not beyond me; I know the words well, for have I not observed the knighting ceremonies many times ere coming to Gondor? I mean, it is a big day, for my house is full to overflowing, and my heart also; Bandobras Took is the only esquire I have ever taken, and to lose him to his accolade is an amazing thing for me. I am proud of him, and sad for myself, for now he shall not be my little Bandobras, but Bandobras the Blue Knight of Dol Galenehtar, and no longer under my protection. It has been a long day coming, my Tamin; he is precious to me, and I love him and would fain release him; yet I know it is my bounden duty to so do.”

Tamin did not fully understand, for he was as yet very young; the pertinent point to him was his lord’s love for Bandobras and high regard for the Hobbit, and he quelled within himself the twinge of jealousy that had sprouted there. But he knew rather he should be glad for Bandobras and he said stoutly: “He will make a good knight Master; you have taught him so well, and he is so brave and wise and well-liked. And is not his armor splendid? Lord Gimli did show it me last evening; the blue inlay shines so, and the plume so high, and the pauldrons so stiff! I hope Spark is strong enough to bear shaffron and peytral for they look very heavy.”

“Spark is a good pony,” said Legolas. “And a strong one too; he is of the hills round Dale and a good, stout steed. Nay, Little One; you are right: Bandobras will be a good knight, and I am proud to have fostered him. But to return to the task at hand; have you reconciled yourself to your Naneth? Are you still cross with her? For you must not bear enmity toward your mother long; you must treat her well, for she is the only mother you will ever have.”

Remembering what he had heard of Bandobras’ conversation made Tamin ashamed to think how he had harbored bitter thoughts toward his Naneth. “O I am not cross with her now, Master!” he said earnestly. “I do wish I could go hunting but I can do that another time I suppose. But I truly do not want to take a bath today, Master; must I truly take a bath?”

“Kaimelas is dragging me to the wash-tub too,” laughed Legolas, squeezing his page’s shoulders. “It is a mortification to be borne for good reason, Little One. Now look! The sun is high and my guests surely will be expecting me about; why, I am to share a pitcher of mead with the eldest son of Peredhil before noon, and I have not even broken fast!” He sighed then, and looked very low, and Tamin’s heart was wrung for him though he did not descry the reason for his Master’s sorrow. He was astonished when Legolas said sadly, “Harry me, my Tamin; be firm with me, and pester me to get me to my chambers, and make me to eat something, and harass Kaimelas lest he forget to lay out my robes; bully me about, for I am but a poor stupid knight and do not know better than to wander round in the woods when my time would be better spent attending my duties.” Tamin stared at him in surprise; then seeing the burgeoning laughter in his lord’s eyes he laughed too, and leaping to his feet he tugged at Legolas’ hands ‘til he rose tall above him.

“Come then, Master!” he cried, pulling him down the path. “Let us get back to Dol Galenehtar and beat the sun to the quadrangle. I am hungry; are you hungry, Master? If we hurry we can have pastries and not muffins! Let us go round the back way – I know where there is a break in the eastern hedge and we can slip round the side door – we can go to the butteries and get something to eat. Pastries if there are aught left, or seedy-cakes maybe, which are better than muffins and more filling beside. Would you like to go to the kitchen for some seedy-cakes, Master?”

“I would indeed, Little One,” said Legolas with a smile. “Let us steal seed cakes and a pot of tea from the butteries, and sit by Hwindiö’s hearth for a while, you and I, Little One, ere the day gets away from us, and we are swallowed in ritual.”

Tamin asked nothing better, and taking his lord firmly by the hand he led them running into the woods; their feet left no sign of their passage, but the nightingale noted their presence for they both laughed together as they ran.

“Elves!” sniffed the nightingale , watching them go. “Better in concert than in solo. Well they are harmless enough I suppose, and that little one did stir up some lovely bugs for my breakfast!” So thinking the nightingale fluttered off, to find its nest and its younglings, tucking them softly beneath its downy wings.