21.

            The Red Knight’s destrier threw a shoe at the fourth charge down the tilt, and Belecthor the Ceremonies Master instructed the two knights to postpone their trial until the shoe could be refastened.  So while Aldamir of Amon Din and his various retainers sought a blacksmith, Lasgalen of Dale and his armourer retreated to the corner where the leeches’ tents were housed to watch the other jousts.  It was a fine clear day, breezy and fresh, though on occasion the light wind would waft flurries of sand into small spirals, which danced across the quadrangle like will-o-the-wisps, only to end their short lives by careening into the walls of the stadium.  The first light dusting of snow had touched the crowns of the Ephel Duath in the night and turned the grey-brown rocky peaks to a lacy white, and Mindolluin’s pale slopes gleamed with fresh powder.  But the trees of the vale were green and lush still, twisting and bowing to each other in the gentle wind that gusted about them, stirring up flocks of starlings and orioles, and setting the lavender brakes tucked in the thick grasses to dance and throw their fresh scent into the air.  Araval of Tarlang in his dun surcoat, and Ingbar of South Ithilien in cyan and white, stood to the tilt upon their mounts awaiting the herald’s pennant.  Hador, Araval’s esquire, stood with his lord’s other retainers to the side, eagerly watching his master; he was a young man, blithe and lighthearted, and so had won the confidence of the Green Knight’s perian.  Already he had spoken to Gimli and Lasgalen, approaching with a bow and a smile and wishing them well when their joust resumed.  “I hope that you defeat Lord Aldamir, Lasgalen of Dale,” he had said, smiling.  “For if you do then my lord must needs joust against you once more, and your Bandobras and I have a small wager upon it.”

            “Bandy has no money to wager,” Gimli had grunted disapprovingly, though the Green Knight had laughed.

            “O we do not wager with gold or silver!” Hador had responded, his eyes alight with mirth.  “Nay, sir, my lord, our stakes are far greater than mere capital.  Bandobras will owe me a bottle of olive oil flavored with rosemary and birds’ tongue peppers should you fall beneath my Master’s lance, Lord Lasgalen; but if Lord Hador is defeated your esquire shall take from me my vial of saffron threads as payment.”  And so saying he had bowed and returned to the tilt, while Gimli grumbled to the Green Knight that Bandobras was becoming insufferable.

            One of the healers had suggested with dissembling guise to Lasgalen of Dale that he remove his frogmouth to better see the joust, but the Green Knight had shaken his head and the Dwarf had said:  “Do you hope to make him uncloak by careless error?  Nay, good leech, the Green Knight’s face shall remain shrouded until the end of the Tournament, and be revealed no sooner.”  So Lasgalen of Dale stood with the leeches armored cap-a-pie, his plume shivering and dancing in the breeze and his arm resting in its manifer and vambrace upon Hatchet’s cantle, his other hand in its clawed gauntlet upon the hilt of his broad sword.  The blue, flower-figured scarf rose and spiraled against his arm, catching now and then upon the spike of the polder-mitten.  Gimli stood beside him with the lances leaning upon the wall; every now and again he would take one down and examine the vamplates and coronels to make sure all was well.  When one of the healers asked him why he so continuously assessed his work, he replied:  “I have never made so many lances in my life!  Had I known Lasgalen would be so uneconomical with them I would have designed less ornate piecework; then the task of constantly re-making them would have been all the more easier.”

            “If you like,” murmured the Green Knight behind his bevor, still attending to the joust, “I shall attempt to let pass my opponents, thus sparing you the ignominy of crafting so many extra lances.”

            “O do not do that, my lord!” exclaimed another of the healers.  “You have kept us quite busy during the Tournament, which is gratifying, as times of peace are times of want for the leeches.”

            “Very well!” laughed Lasgalen Oakleaf.  “I will continue then to justify your wages.”

            At that moment the pennant fell, and Dun and Cyan Knights spurred their chargers forward; there was the now-familiar crack of splintering wood as each coronel hit the other’s escutcheon, and devoid of points the two knights turned back to the tilt.

            “The further into the Tournament we are gone, and the more the knights are whittled down to the most prodigious, the longer each joust becomes,” complained one of the leeches.  “When the knights are unevenly matched it is easy to finish a turn in three or four passes; however when Aldamir’s horse threw his shoe you had passed each other four times and neither of you had won a single point.”

            “I beg your pardon,” chuckled the Green Knight softly; “I had no idea we were wasting your time so.  I shall attempt to correct that when next I meet him.”

            “Just be sure to correct it in your favor!” said Gimli.  “You fought so well against Vorondil this morning; try to regain that zeal and so defeat the rest of your adversaries.  Remember you are the White Lady’s champion.”

            “Aye!” said one of the healers.  “You would be brave indeed to lose the Tournament and risk her displeasure!  I remember her well from her stay in the Houses of Healing, before the battle of the Morannon.”

            Once again Araval and Ingbar met at the tilt, but this time the Dun Knight’s lance struck the truer, and Ingbar was flung to the earth, his cuirass clattering about him.  His destrier at first made for the leeches’ tents, about which he sensed freedom from his master’s caprices, but Hatchet bawled fiercely at him, scratching at the dirt with his huge fullered hooves, causing the smaller horse to balk, its eyes wide, snorting with fear.  The Cyan Knight’s esquire caught him by the reins and brought him back to the list, and Hatchet shook his head, rattling the plates upon the crinet.  Lasgalen of Dale absently patted him upon his heavy jowl, and in an upsurge of affection the destrier butted him in the shoulder with his shaffron, nearly knocking him aside.  “Hush, hush!” laughed the Green Knight, steadying himself upon the crinet; “your job, my dear Hatchet, is to prevent my looking a fool, not be the cause thereof!”

            During the third charge Aldamir of Amon Din and his retainers approached them from behind, leading his newly shod destrier.  This mount was a mighty horse, but not so large as Hatchet, and though he was uneasy in Hatchet’s presence was bold enough to prove to the larger animal he was of superior lineage, ensuring their enmity.  So Lasgalen of Dale held his own horse’s head and spoke quietly to him, while the Red Knight’s esquire struggled with the other stallion’s reins.  The Red Knight approached in his arming cap, his great scarlet-plumed helm beneath his arm, and his face was troubled.  “So here we meet again, good sir knight!” he said.  “I had hoped to speak with you before the joust upon a matter that seems to me of great import, and now by simple chance have I been given the opportunity.  I have heard the gossip bruited abroad in the Tent City that you are in both Prince Faramir’s and King Elessar’s counsels; this to me seems not strange as it does to diverse other men, for you are a mighty knight and worthy adversary, though you come from many leagues hence.  I beg you to hear me, therefore, for if you advise the King of Gondor and the Lord of Emyn Arnen in matters of politics and warfare, then I hope you may give me good counsel as well.”

“Speak then!” said the Green Knight.  “I cannot promise good counsel, my lord of Amon Din, for your lands and customs may be strange to me and I might find myself unfit to give you guidance; however I do promise you this, that I shall take your case before Lord Faramir myself, should I be unsuited to advise you in this.”

“Thank you!” said the Red Knight.  “I greatly hope you may advise me, for I am confounded by a circumstance only recently brought to my attention.  But a moment ago a runner found me and delivered up to me a missive from my lands up north, the contents of which have filled my heart with misgiving.  This letter is from my seneschal in Amon Din, informing me that for some past weeks the southern reaches of the Entwash have filled with tents and sundry wood structures that have until now never been.  None who dwell nearby dare approach them, for dwell therein men well-armed and sullen-faced; indeed many villagers in alarm are leaving their homes and seeking refuge in the fortress of Amon Din itself.  And my seneschal has also said, much to my distress, that some of the King’s patrols have gone up the road to Druadan but have not returned, and there is fear that perhaps these strangers have waylaid them.  What shall I do with this information, my lord?  The King, I see, has left, and word has it he battles now with enemies to the South, the men of Umbar and Harad that are ever a thorn in our sides; these men in Druadan Vale mayhap be but innocent travelers whose strange countenance strikes discord into the hearts of the simple villagers – yet again, mayhap they are not, and then Prince Faramir must needs look to the north, lest Gondor be pinched in a vise.  What would you advise me do, Lasgalen Oakleaf of Dale?  Shall I go to the Lord of Emyn Arnen, or perhaps to those members of the Privy Council that sit in the royal box?  For it is evident this intelligence should be disclosed to our lords and protectors.”

“Has your seneschal sent men to speak to the strangers, to seek their intentions from them, or to descry their deeds?” asked Lasgalen.  Gimli and the healers were listening also, their faces grave.

            “He had, at the time he sent the letter,” said the Red Knight, “but had heard no news of them since then.  What think you?  Shall we go to Prince Faramir with this, or perhaps to Lord Eradan?  For he was on Lord Denethor’s council as well, and is very knowledgeable.”

            “Nay, I think not,” said the Green Knight.  “As you said, Aldamir of Amon Din, I am in the King’s counsels and know better than most of the men here the events concerning his departure.  This news ought to go directly to the Lord of Emyn Arnen himself.  After Araval defeats Ingbar – “ he gestured to the lists, where the Cyan Knight had been thrown from his horse once more  “ – we face each other at the tilt, and when we are finished, instead of leaving the grounds we will go up immediately to him, entreating him to hear us in private, and you may divulge your intelligence to him.”

            “My thanks!” said Aldamir, much relieved.  “I do confess me to have been harrowed up with disquiet on account of this; merely relating my tale to you has allayed my fears.”

            “Brother Knights gather to bear one another’s burdens,” said Lasgalen, bowing.  “It would be foolish to carry so heavy a load of unrest alone.  I commend you both for your wisdom in imparting this tale to me, and for your faith in me to counsel you; I shall do all in my power to justify your confidence in me.”  The Red Knight bowed to Lasgalen of Dale, and they fell silent, attending the joust.

            At last Ingbar of South Ithilien was defeated, though he had won two points against Araval of Tarlang; it took nine passes at the tilt for one knight to emerge the victor, and the crowds were spoiling for additional warfare.  There was great outcry and loud clamor in the stands, and many green and red pennants were fluttering from the hands of the people, for Aldamir son of Castamir and Lasgalen Oakleaf were brave and mighty knights; and if most of the pennants were borne by maidens young and eager it was not to be wondered at, for as all knew neither knight was as yet wed, and expectation ran high.  As the Green Knight passed by the royal box on his way to the lists he looked up at those therein; Faramir was there, and Éowyn and Undómiel also; upon either side were various lords gaily robed, and behind them were merchant princes and their ladies clad in bright clothing.  The Lady of Emyn Arnen was looking happily down upon him, full confident he would not fail her, and smiling to himself the Green Knight knew he could not bear to bring her disappointment, who thought so highly of him.  He wondered however at the various lords and vassals beneath the pavilion, desiring to descry behind the bland and dispassionate faces the treasonous thoughts therein; he was thwarted though by his position, for he had been told by Elessar to joust, and could not therefore sit beside those men, and determine which one spoke the truth, and which was the traitor.

            “How I wish my mother the queen were here!” he thought as he turned Hatchet toward the tilt.  “She would sit beside Undómiel and name the turncoat within an hour; she has the gift of deep insight.”  He did not know that at that moment his esquire also greatly desired his own mother’s presence; had he been able to read the Hobbit’s thoughts they would have greatly pained him.  So he cast his wishes aside and faced Aldamir; as he nodded to the herald he thought, “Men encamped at Druadan Dale!  This Tournament is become a farce; we play at combat while the true battle burgeons about us.”  Then the pennant dropped, and Hatchet with a scream surged forward.

            Gimli was fated to be chagrined; Lasgalen broke three lances upon Aldamir of Amon Din, two upon his cuirass, nearly throwing him from the saddle, and one upon the escutcheon.  Aldamir himself caught the Green Knight unawares at the pauldron, snapping him round about so that his whole body twisted.  The stands were erupting in cheers and cries of approbation, though Lasgalen could hardly hear it above the rattle and clang of the armor.  Impatient to end it and speak to Faramir, he gripped his lance tightly and murmured to Hatchet:  “Let us finish this, my friend!”  Hatchet, flicking his ears back to hear his master, seemed to understand, for he scraped great furrows in the earth with his hooves and bellowed belligerently down the tilt to the Red Knight.

            The herald dropped the pennant and Hatchet heaved ahead, snorting and bawling; Lasgalen turned the lance in its rest, pushed up on the stirrups with his sabatons and leaned forward into the charge.  Aldamir attempted to raise his escutcheon but was too late; the dragons-head coronel smote him full upon the charnel and he fell backwards upon the crupper, dropping his lance.  Lasgalen called to the Red Knight’s destrier to stop and turn, which he did, facing them with surprise; the Green Knight reached forward and pulled upon Aldamir’s manifer, righting him.

            “You struck me as a blacksmith strikes his anvil!” panted the Red Knight, lifting his visor and grinning at Lasgalen of Dale.  “I am not ashamed to be bested by you; I admit you are better than I.”

            “Better at jousting, you mean!” said the Green Knight.  “I am certain you will overcome me at the barriers tomorrow, for you are the superior swordsman.”

            “We shall see!” said Aldamir.  “I watched you with Vorondil today, and am not sanguine about my chances.  Come, friend!  Let us approach the pavilion, that we might entreat with Lord Faramir to hear us.”  The two knights turned, urging their mounts forward; but at that moment a great cry was heard from the leeches’ tents, and looking round they saw a small crowd gathered about a man stained red with blood.  He was attempting to run forward but was held by the healers, who were very concerned for his health, as he was white and drawn, and looked to be in great pain.

            Lord Faramir stood and motioned for silence, then calling out in a loud voice he said:  “What is it?  Whom do you seek?  What news bring you in this fashion?”

            “Lasgalen of Dale!” cried the man, pushing the leeches aside.  “Come quickly, make haste!”

            “It is Híldaf!” exclaimed the Green Knight, and spurring his destrier forward he cantered down the lists to the leeches’ tents.  Aldamir on his warhorse followed.  “Híldaf of Rohan!  What tidings do you bear at such great cost to yourself?”

            “Forgive me, my Lord of Dale!” said Híldaf, falling to his knees and clutching at his own bloodied arms.  “I was unable to stop them; my sword broke in my hands and they struck me down ere I could rescue Bandobras.  They have taken him, my Lord; they have taken your esquire from you!”

            “Who?” cried Gimli in dismay, springing forward and shaking the hapless youth by the shoulders.  “Quick, man, tell me!  Who has taken him?  Where did they go?”

            “They were clad as soldiers of Gondor; they lured him into an alley and struck him, then carried him out on a cart,” said Híldaf, weeping as he spoke.  “I saw them from my window and ran out with my sword, but they were too many for me; they knocked me down and quit the village, running with all haste to the north.”

            “There is aught but forest to the north,” said Aldamir in surprise.  “Lasgalen of Dale, do you – “  But he was cut off, as the Green Knight with a terrible cry urged Hatchet forward through the gathering crowd; they scattered before him as quail before the hunting dog.  He galloped out of the quadrangle, disappearing behind the wall, though they could yet hear the rumbling of his destrier’s hooves.

            “Wait, wait!” cried Gimli, running after him, then turning back to the men in frustration he said,  “A pony, or a small horse!  Quickly, quickly!  He is fey with fear and would attack the hosts of Moria alone.  Get me a mount!  And an axe or a halberd!  Hurry!”

            “We will go with him,” said Aldamir, and coming up behind him Araval and his esquire Hador also mounted their steeds.  “We will go as well,” said Araval.  “Hador, take you the Dwarf upon your mount; he is strong enough to bear you both.  Lord Faramir!  What say you?  My heart tells me to follow and quickly, lest the Green Knight finally meet his match in these marauders; can you gather unto yourself your Rangers and come after us?”

            “I would that you waited, but I recognize your eagerness,” said Faramir, running up to them.  “Ethmor!  Call Beregond and his men to me!  We need swift horses as quickly as possible.  My lords Aldamir and Araval, go swiftly to the Green Knight’s aid ere he finds these soldiers; should aught happen to him Elessar will strip me of my title – nay, of my very skin!  Who is that?  O it is you, Lords Mardil and Cirien; there is something of greater importance than your joust today; go with Aldamir and Araval in pursuit of the Green Knight, who himself hunts the men that abducted his esquire.  See to it that no harm comes to the perian, for he is precious to Lasgalen of Dale!  We will follow forthwith.  Go!”

            The men on their horses, and the esquire with Gimli behind him, galloped past the leeches’ tents out the stadium to the road, and the crowd watched them in amazement and unease.  Faramir turned then to Híldaf, who lay groaning upon the ground.  “Healers!  Take him to the tents and see to his wounds.”

            “O let me go with them, my lord!” begged Híldaf, struggling to rise.  “I am to blame; I ought to have hindered them – “

            “And been killed for your persistence!” said Faramir.  “Nay, good Híldaf, your hurts are too grievous; remain here and regain your strength.  Egalmoth, Belecthor!  We must clear the stands; there has been an abduction, and there will be no further games today.  Make the announcement, my lord Belecthor; with good fortune perhaps we may continue tomorrow, though my heart misgives me.”

            “This is a terrible thing!” said Belecthor, wringing his hands.  “The poor perian!  I will have Fenbarad begin searching at once!”  He turned to the lists and made to address the crowd.  Egalmoth regarded the Lord of Emyn Arnen shrewdly.

            “Has the Green Knight run off alone, then, to rescue his esquire all by himself?” he asked, his voice full of wry humor.  “How brave of him!  Though some might think him foolish to be so heedless.”

            “How many soldiers took Bandobras of the Shire?” asked Faramir of Híldaf, turning from the counselor.

            “More than a score, I would guess,” said Híldaf, leaning upon the arm of a healer.  “Perhaps more; I could not say.”

            “Foolish indeed!” murmured Egalmoth, a smile twisting his thin lips.  Faramir turned to him to chide him, but Egalmoth rubbed his lean hands together and said, “Well, my sword is at your disposal, Prince Faramir; shall I ride with you and your men?  It would be imprudent to let the son of so rich a lord come to ruin.”

            “Nay, lord Egalmoth!” said Faramir looking to him in surprise.  “But I thank you for your brave offer.  Ah!  Here is Beregond; now we shall be equal to the task.”  Beregond led two saddled horses forward, and presented his Lord with a sword.  “If you truly wish to be of assistance to me, my lord Egalmoth, there is some kindness you could perform.”

            “You have but to ask it of me, my lord,” said Egalmoth, bowing, as Faramir mounted with his men.

            “Restrain the Lady of Emyn Arnen and prevent her following after us,” said Faramir.  “I do fear me her zeal may outstrip the Queen’s efforts.”

            “I shall do as you ask of me, my lord,” promised Egalmoth, and watched the men ride off in a great cloud of dust.