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The Green Knight  by Le Rouret

11.

            Brytta of Rohan was indeed a huge brute of a man, fully half a head taller than Lasgalen of Dale, and much greater in girth.  He was celebrated as a swordsman both within and without the barriers, and had racked up such a great account of defeated foes that none even bothered relating them, saying instead that Brytta of Rohan crushed all.  The only thing that kept his fight with the Green Knight from becoming a complete rout was the Man of Dale’s superior speed and reflexes; it seemed to Brytta, as he became more winded and frustrated, that Lasgalen of Dale thwarted his blows with magic and not skill.  But he dealt the Green Knight his third strike with such finality upon his basinet-helm, which he wore in preference to the frog-mouth for foot combat, that his opponent staggered back upon the fence of the barrier and leaned against it, gazing at his foe through the visor and admitting his defeat; Brytta, though pleased to have faced such an artful enemy and been victorious, was nonetheless unnerved to hear Lasgalen’s soft laughter echoing through the visor.

            Back in his tent Gimli struggled to remove the basinet, grumbling to Legolas:  “He struck you so hard I though he would split the helm!  Look what he has done to the cheek-piece and bevor; it will take me hours to repair them.”

            “I am grateful I at least landed two blows upon him,” said Legolas, his voice sounding hollow and metallic within the helm.  “That was more amusing than I thought it would be!  What a great troll he looked, did he not, Bandobras?”

            “Not from my point of view,” piped Bandobras from his stool, as he untied the points and eased Legolas’ arms from the pauldrons.  He had to stand up on his toes to reach the gardbrace and lift it away from his master’s shoulders.  “I always understood trolls were bald-headed.  He had so much hair coming out from under his helmet I thought maybe he was like Beorn the Skin-Changer.  My father used to tell me tales of him, which he had from Mad Baggins before he went ‘bang’ off into the Wild.  Is it true, Master, that Mad Baggins could appear and disappear whenever he wanted?  All the lads I’ve talked to say he could, but Uncle Pip says not, and perhaps he’d know best.  Still, it’d be pretty convenient, wouldn’t it?  Especially if you got in trouble for something or other.”

            “Now, Bandy, you have met the Beornings,” scolded Gimli, at last loosening the cheek-piece enough to open it and see Legolas’ face inside the helmet.  “They are big and certainly very hairy, but none to my knowledge have yellow hair.”

            “There were a few,” said Legolas, smiling down at Gimli, “but not within the past hundred years or so, I think.”

            The Hobbit shuddered.  “It makes my blood run cold to hear you talk that way, Master,” he chided Legolas, elbowing Gimli aside and working the other gardbrace with his small fingers.  “You talk about decades like other folk talk about days.  Seems most unnatural to me.  Ah, there we go!”  He slid the gardbrace and pauldron from Legolas’ other arm.  “Now let’s see to this breastplate!  Gimli, are you going to help me or not?”

            “I am a little occupied,” grunted the Dwarf, tugging at the bevor; “Aulë, Legolas! I am glad my father made that aventail, for if he hadn’t that Rider’s sword would certainly have pierced your neck!”

            “Then I am doubly grateful,” said Legolas, “and I intend to tell him so when I next see him.  Perhaps he will accept from me a barrel of wine as thanks.”  The bevor came lose with a soft spang, and then Gimli could lift the basinet up over Legolas’ head.  The Elf reached up to untie the lacing under the arming cap and pulled it off, shaking out his hair with a relieved sigh.  “Ah, that is better!  I much prefer the frog-mouth to this basinet; it is far more comfortable – or rather, less uncomfortable; I like neither of them very well.”

            “The cuirass is loose, Gimli,” said Bandobras, panting a little.  “Hurry!  It is very heavy.”  Together Dwarf and Hobbit pulled the breast and back plates apart by the hinges, and Gimli took it from under Legolas’ left arm and set it upon the floor, studying it carefully.  He made a discontented noise in his throat. 

            “Look what that barbarian has done to the besague!  Another hour’s worth of work,” he sighed.  He looked up at Legolas, who was being helped out of his arming doublet by his servant.  “How do you feel, my friend?” he asked.  “You were pretty battered about down there.  Do you still feel able to joust?”

            “Of course!” laughed Legolas, stretching his arms over his head.  “The piece of metal hammered after the fire is quenched in the water – or in the wine, as will be my case,” he said, heading to the sideboard.  “Come, Gimli, never mind the breastplate!  I will only damage it further in the joust today.  Sit with me and eat the luncheon Bandobras has so thoughtfully prepared us – cold smoked meats, cheese and fruit; it will keep me on my feet until dinner-time.”  He sat and gestured to the two seats beside him.  “You too, Little One!  If you force me to keep up this frantic pace you must allow me my little pleasures.”  Bandobras obediently clambered up onto the chair beside his master, and Gimli reluctantly took his seat beside his friend.

            “It’s not just the breastplate,” he grumbled as Legolas filled his goblet.  “There is a new betting-pool going on, I heard, over by the ice house; your odds are improving and I wished to hear the local gossip.”

            “You wished to wager more money on me, you mean,” said Legolas, disapproving.  “Well, I am even more convinced, then, that you must stay within the tent and eat with us.  There is no guarantee I will even place, especially after the beating I took today; it will take me some time to recover points, and I care not what Lady Éowyn says; if Brytta rides as he fights, I will not escape the joust without being thrown at least once.”

            The sun was high when the time of the jousts came, and the air was still; tree branches hung limply in the dusty air and birds hid in the shadows.  King Elessar was glad he had changed from his heavy doublet into a linen tunic.  He looked less a king, yet felt far more comfortable.  The queen and the lady of Emyn Arnen each wore light gowns and were screened by Belecthor’s attentive servants, and many of the ladies in the royal box were fanning themselves with parchment fans, decorated with lace and ribbons and painted with bright colors.  Egalmoth looked sullen and disinterested as ever, but Eradan stewed uncomfortably in the heat, round face bright red and sweating.  He caught his king’s eye and smiled.  “It is hard to be fat, your majesty,” he said; “even sitting here in the shade I am scorched.”

            “I disagree with you, my lord Eradan,” said Egalmoth, turning his cool gray eyes upon his fellow-councilor.  “It must be easy in truth to be fat, for all a man must do to achieve it is to eat, and to watch you at the table you find that no hardship.”

            Eradan chuckled good-naturedly.  “Well, no more I do,” he admitted, giving his smiling king a little wink with his eye.  “But it takes practice, my lord Egalmoth, and from the looks of you I do not believe you have practiced nearly enough!”

            Faramir stood to begin the joust, and the crowd, though hot, cheered nonetheless and waved their pennants from the stands.  Brytta of Rohan’s standard-bearer entered the lists before his master, and the Rider following rode proudly upon his gray steed, yellow hair flowing from beneath his helm.  His great cuirass was considerably broader and heavier than his opponent’s who rode behind him; Lasgalen of Dale, bearing his crossed branches of oak upon his escutcheon, looked far too slender a figure to withstand him long.  But if there were an expression of concern upon the face hidden behind the winged helm, none could tell.  Certainly his mighty destrier was indifferent; Hatchet’s snorting and neighing was disturbing Brytta’s gray mount, and all could see the horse of the Rohirrim rolling his eyes behind him, mistrusting the steed who so threatened him, and his flanks bearing the weight of the shaffron and cruppers were streaked already with foam.

            “That unfortunate beast!” commented Arwen sympathetically to Éowyn and Éodild.  “How can he bear such weight?  Think you he is strong enough?”

            “For three passes?  Perhaps,” said Éowyn.  “But I would not use my Windfola so, especially under such a blazing sun; I am surprised at Brytta for how he is treating his Éreod.”

            “He wishes to make his conquest of the Green Knight absolute,” said Éodild from her seat behind Éowyn.  “I know; his esquire told me.  He takes offense at Lasgalen of Dale for hiding his face from the company of knights and desires to make a lesson of him.  Also, my lady, he is greatly affronted that Lasgalen Oakleaf bears your token; he hoped to be your champion at this joust, as he is your kinsman.”

            “I hope that you were correct, my lady,” said Faramir, watching the two knights approach the tilt, “when you said the Green Knight would be able to best him at the joust.  I have watched Brytta at practice; he is formidable.”

            “Such disquiet on account of a lone knight from far away!” said Egalmoth, a dry smile twitching at his lips.  “I would not have thought it possible, my lords and ladies, that the Green Knight could stir so much anxiety in you.”

            Eradan chuckled.  Already in his fat hand he held his usual goblet of cold wine.  “I believe, your majesty, my lord, that Lord Egalmoth has wagered upon some other knight than Lasgalen of Dale; he seems most reluctant to think he may win!”

            Egalmoth did not deign to reply to this, but instead attended to the lists, where all other eyes were fixed.  When Brytta in his green surcoat, and Lasgalen in his green-tinctured armour, had faced each other over the flag, Arwen moved forward slightly, frowning and narrowing her eyes, but before she could speak the herald dropped his pennant and the two destriers surged forward upon the dusty ground, the larger of the two giving his great bellow as he charged.

            All at once Arwen cried out, the Green Knight called aloud to his horse to stop, and Éreod with a piercing squeal tumbled thrashing into the dirt.  Brytta was flung from the saddle in a heap, rolling clumsily across the earth in a great cloud, his armour clattering about him.  Lasgalen Oakleaf leaped from his destrier and pushed him by the peytral away from the tilt with his great clawed gauntlets, the squeal of metal screeching above the sudden noise of the crowd; the great horse snorted and dug in his hooves, resisting.  Then the queen cried out again in a loud voice so that all could hear:  “Caltrops!  Beware!  There are caltrops upon the lists!”

            Immediately Belecthor and Faramir were on their feet, Belecthor calling to his guards and servants to put on steel-shod boots and fetch rakes, Faramir appealing down into the quadrangle to all who stood therein:  “Take care!  Step not onto the lists!  All those with naught but leather shoes, stand to and do not move!”  Elessar looked down at the esquires by the tilt; the halfling had started to run forward, but all in the stands, perhaps even in Osgiliath, could hear the Dwarf call out:

            “Stop!  Stop, you wretched Hobbit!  Do you not know what a caltrop is?”  And the perian stood still, wonder and a little fear upon his small face.  At once the Dwarf and the Green Knight began to search the ground with eyes and hands; the Dwarf wore heavy leather gloves and was brushing the tips of his fingers through the dust, while Lasgalen sifted through the earth with his clawed gauntlets.

            Brytta heaved himself to his feet and stepped forward, then fell with a cry; he had trod upon one of the caltrops and it had pierced his thin sabaton.  Two men wearing heavy, iron-shod boots rushed out, one holding a rake, and began to help him up.  Then the Green Knight straightened and held up his hand to the front box; encased within the claws of the gauntlet was a cruel, four-spiked piece of metal.

            A hissing sound went around the stands; all began to mutter to each other as the Green Knight and his armourer assisted Belecthor’s servants in locating the caltrops.  Faramir turned to Aragorn, concern upon his face; the king could see in his steward’s light eyes a look of dread.  “Caltrops!” he said.  “What manner of fiend would seek to disrupt the Grand Tournament so?”

            Elessar did not reply but spoke instead to a servant standing nearby:  “Go as quick as you can to Fenbarad the Captain at the gate of the tournament grounds; tell him the king commands him to seek out all who could have done this.”  The servant nodded and left the box, pushing past the lords and ladies who craned their necks to watch what was happening upon the lists.  Faramir was calling down to the servants and guards to bring out more men shod with iron boots; Arwen was pointing to the caltrops her sharp Elven-eyes could descry and instructing the men where to find them; Éowyn was appealing to someone he could not yet see to help Éreod Brytta’s destrier.  The king stood beside his wife and saw that the Green Knight had approached the writhing horse and could hear his soft voice speaking soothingly to it; at once it ceased moving and lay still.  Lasgalen had stripped off his gauntlets and with leather-clad fingers began to ease the caltrop from the frog, where it had lodged itself; still he spoke quietly, stroking the horse’s trembling fetlock.  Then the king saw that Éowyn’s scarf fluttered not from the Green Knight’s polder-mitten, but around the destrier’s head; the Green Knight had covered the horse’s eyes to calm him.  Gimli had returned to the Hobbit, who stood as though turned to stone; he did not resist when the Dwarf picked him up in his arms and carried him back to one of the far walls.

            Elessar turned to Eradan and Egalmoth, who stood aghast looking down upon the lists.  “This is a grave thing!” he said to them.  “Who would want to cripple these two horses, and disqualify these knights?  Do you know, or can you guess?”

            Egalmoth shook his head, but Eradan, he saw, glanced hurriedly up into the stands above the royal box; then he looked away and turned to his king, lowering his voice.  “I know not for certain, my lord,” he said; “it could perhaps be but a prank, a jest – “

            “A jest!” exclaimed Egalmoth in wrath.  “What fool would halt two war-horses out of jest?  You are rash to say such a thing!  No, your majesty, this is no jest I fear; we must determine who would want to take these two knights out of the tournament.”

            “Not these two, necessarily,” argued Eradan.  “Few knew the order of the list this afternoon.  This may be an act against the tournament in whole, not Brytta and Lasgalen in specific.”

            “Perhaps,” said Egalmoth, though still he looked doubtful.  “We shall know more, should another attempt be made.  Come, Lord Eradan!  It seems the joust is unduly delayed, allowing you and me to accomplish some foot-work of our own.”  He turned to leave the box and gestured to his fellow.  “We shall disperse our men amongst the esquires and other people,” he said to Elessar, “thus increasing the number of friendly ears amid the crowds.  Should aught be found against one, we shall inform you of it immediately.”

            “My thanks,” said Elessar to them, and they bowed and went out.  Arwen stepped up to him, concern upon her fair face; she placed her hand in his, and he kissed the fingers. 

            “Estel,” she said, “it is certain no joust will be made today; Belecthor is not confident his servants can clear the lists of the caltrops without finer-toothed rakes, which will cause a great interruption.  Éowyn is torn between seeing her kinsman, who has just been taken to the leeches’ tents, and staying aloft here, in case her champion should joust against some other foe.  I think perhaps you should tell Faramir to annul today’s competition, and let the people go to their homes, and Éowyn to her kinsman.”

            “Very well,” said Elessar, and turned to Faramir, who was speaking to several other lords in the box.

            “My lord,” one was saying, a tall thin man with white hair clad in a robe of marvelous design, “I am not convinced this is an act of despite against your tournament, but perhaps against these foreign knights.  It is well-known that many of the folk of Gondor dislike those people of the north, who are so different than we.”

            “Many knights of northern realms have jousted in our lists, Orodreth,” said Faramir; “If some are mistrustful of them at this time, it is not through their land of origin, but instead because they are jousting well against the southern knights.”

            “All the same,” said another man in a red doublet, “I do not think it would be wise to cancel the tournament and cause all to withdraw, simply through one mere incident.  Let us clear the quadrangle of these caltrops, to ease Belecthor’s heart, and continue on, lest the people think us chary and weak-hearted.”

            “I do not think they should joust today, however,” said Elessar approaching them.  Orodreth and the other lord bowed to him, and Faramir turned.  “Let the stands empty, to better allow Belecthor’s men to secure the grounds.  We have guards searching for answers, and even some of the Council are going to be examining the people.  There is naught else to be done up here.”

            “Wisely spoken, your majesty!” said Orodreth with a smile.  “I would be forlorn indeed to have the tournament terminated so early in the competition.    My niece Dirhael would never forgive me, having brought me up here to watch the knights, if I were to tell her that her favorites were to be withdrawn from her presence so quickly.  She has taken such pleasure from it, my lords, as have all the ladies and commoners; let us not depress them further by removing what diversion they have in these hard times.”

            “No, indeed!” said Elessar, looking keenly at him and remembering what Eradan had said.  “There is no need to dismay the ladies, to be certain.  But Lord Faramir’s lady is beside herself with worry for her kinsman, who was to joust; he has been injured, and his horse too, and she greatly desires to see him.”

            “Her kinsman!” said Orodreth, smiling wider.  “How peculiar that she should choose a knight of Dale as champion, passing by a knight of her own land in his preference!”  Then he bowed and withdrew, and his companion with him.

            “I shall empty the stands, then,” said Faramir with a weary sigh, and went to the front of the box to speak to the people.  Elessar went down to Éowyn, who was watching anxiously as Éreod was led limping from the lists by Brytta’s squire.  The Green Knight and his attendants were nowhere to be seen.  Éowyn turned as Elessar approached her, and as Arwen also went up to her the king said:  “Lady Éowyn, get you down to the leeches’ tents and see to Brytta your kinsman, and be so kind as to bring my wife with you; I must go speak with Belecthor about this.”

            “Is this the end of the tournament, Aragorn?” whispered Éowyn, taking Arwen’s arm.

            “I know not,” said the king.  “I hope not.”  And he turned to seek out the Ceremonies Master.





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