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The Green Knight  by Le Rouret

22.

            Bandobras opened his eyes to be greeted by a stab of pain.  “O but I hurt!” he thought to himself, wincing in the light.  “I shall never, never drink wine again.  Uncle Berilac was right; it gives one such an ache in one’s head.”

            He tried to move but found to his surprise that he was not only bound hand and foot, but gagged with a strip of dirty cloth as well.  Then with a flash his memory returned and he recollected the chainmail-clad grocer in the alleyway, and his heart sank down to his toes.  “I have failed my Master!” he thought in dismay; “I disobeyed him and look what has happened because of it.  I wish he were here right now.  O what will become of me!”

            He looked around and saw he was lying on the floor of the cart, upon his back facing the sky.  His vision was obscured by the plank walls of the cart surrounding him, but overhead he could see the branches of trees waving, the tassels of the pines dark against the pale blue.  He could hear men’s voices and smell the smoke of a cook fire.  He moved his hands, testing the bonds, but they were very tight and he could find no purchase there.  At the sound of his struggles someone approached; it was the man who had told him about the mushrooms.  When he saw Bandobras was awake he gave him a cruel smile, showing a row of broken teeth.

            “Ah, it moves!” he called to the men behind him.  “Now we shall discover what it knows.”  He drew a long black knife from his belt and showed it to the Hobbit.  “See you this, my little ground squirrel?” he said, turning it about before Bandobras’ terrified face.  “I am going to cut your gag, but I shall cut else besides, if you do not answer my questions.”  He reached down into the cart and slid the cold blade between the cloth and Bandobras’ cheek, cutting the gag and also slitting his skin, so that a thin stream of blood trickled down into the Hobbit’s ear.  “Do you see?  I will not brook refusal to speak, for it amuses me to harm you.  Now tell me, ground squirrel, who is your Master?  What is his name?”

            Bandobras bit his lip and his eyes filled with tears, but he shook his head and did not answer.  Angrily the man struck him across the cheek with his fist, and the Hobbit cried aloud in pain.  “Answer me!” he ordered.  “What is your Master’s name?”

            “L–Lasgalen Oakleaf of D-Dale,” said Bandobras defiantly, gritting his teeth.  The man struck him again on the other cheek, and Bandobras tasted blood.

            “His true name!” said the man angrily.  “Do not seek to play the fool with me, ground squirrel; we know well the Green Knight does not joust under his own name.  Who is he, and who is his father?”

            “He is l-l-Lasgalen of Dale, s-s-son of Telchar of Esg-g-garoth,” stammered Bandobras, wincing; the man struck him again and cried, “Idiot perian!  I will kill you lest you tell me!”

            “Why should I tell you, then?” sobbed Bandobras through his bloodied lips.  “If you’re going to kill me anyway, why should I betray my Master?”

            “There are many ways to die, ground squirrel; some less unpleasant than others!” the man snarled.  “And do not think to delay us ‘til your Master comes!  We are more than he, and he is hated and envied by the other knights; none shall heed his pleas for aide, and he shall be forced to come to your rescue alone, and when he does we shall cut him down, and after you have watched him die we shall kill you slowly, since you are so intractable.”

            “Wait, Sangahar; we may not slay him ere our Captain arrives,” warned another man, looking with distaste upon Bandobras, who lay weeping and bleeding in the cart.  “He has said we are to wait, though we should press this creature for information.  He does not trust our lord’s discretion in this, nor do I.  Listen to me, perian!”  He shook Bandobras roughly by the shoulder until the Hobbit was looking him in the eye.  “We know your master’s father brings a gift of money to Elessar the Usurper; when does he arrive, and what is the means of his journey?  Tell us, or I will cut off your fingers one by one, starting with this!”   So saying he lifted Bandobras’ bound hands and pried his little finger loose, setting his knife-blade against it.  “Speak!”

            “No!” sobbed Bandobras, terrified yet adamant.  “You won’t get me to say anything, not if you cut off all my fingers and all of my toes and – and—my ears, too!  O you are bad men; I heard the Dunlendings were cruel but you’re worse – worse!”

            “Enough, Húrin,” said another man; “there is no sport in tormenting this little squeaking mouse.  Let him lie without food or drink for a time; he will be willing enough to speak then, when his tongue cleaves to the roof of his mouth and his innards shrink with hunger.”

            “We do not have time!” said Sangahar.  “Our Captain will be here in a moment, and he becomes most wrathful when we have failed him.  Let us make him speak now!  Build up the fire and we shall hold his feet over the hot coals until that loosens his tongue.”

            There were cries of approval at this plan, and Bandobras sought to quell his panic, for of all pains he feared burning the most.  But then into his mind came the likeness of his dear Master’s beautiful face, smiling encouragingly upon him and handing him his sword, saying, “Take this, Bandobras son of Reginard!  You are kin to the mightiest Halflings in the Shire.”  His resolved stiffened then and he told himself, “Live up to your name, Bandobras Took! Imagine what your Master would think!  And besides the Bullroarer wouldn’t sit here sniveling to himself.”  He frantically tried to think of what the Bullroarer actually would have done in his place, but sadly his education did not extend to strategy and defense, despite Legolas’ repeated efforts to train him.  “If only I could get my hands free!” he thought desperately, as Húrin and Sangahar reached into the cart to lift him up.  “I’d mark a few of them, at least, before they could get me!”

            The two men pulled Bandobras to his feet, but he was so weak and dizzy that he fell over almost immediately.  Húrin laughed, but Sangahar grasped him roughly by his hair and hauled him up until he stood leaning against the edge of the planks.  Bandy looked about him, blinking though his tears.  They were in a small clearing in the middle of a pine forest, and there was a fire in the middle, which several men were feeding with fresh faggots so that the flames leapt ever higher.  The clearing was full of men in the simple mail and helms of soldiers of Gondor, but they looked a little worse for wear; there was rust on the helms, and several of the mail shirts were broken and dangling.  Their surcoats were very dirty.  “Slackers!” he thought, feeling contempt even through his fear.  “If Gimli could see the state of their arms he would give them such a tongue-lashing, their ears would sting for weeks afterwards!”  A sudden wish for Gimli’s stout presence alongside his Master came to him, and when Húrin and Sangahar grasped him by the arms to lift him from the cart his heart hammered, and he thought, “This is it then!  Steady on, Master Took; for once in your life keep your mouth good and shut!”  But the two men paused and turned; from the other side of the clearing a man called out:  “Hold!  It is the Captain; I hear his horse!”

            Bandobras listened in the sudden silence and heard the muffled thunder of a horse’s hooves on the thick loamy ground; he also heard the rattle and clamor of jangling armor.  The men began to look uneasily at each other.  Then there was a hoarse bellow, and Hatchet broke into the clearing, tossing his great head, his own eyes flashing as brightly as the red dragons’ eyes upon his shaffron.  Upon his back brandishing a long lance was the Green Knight, the wings of the helm flaring above his head, his spiked poleyns tearing at the men as he passed them.  The bright armour flashed about the clearing like a bolt of lightning and the men cried aloud in terror at the fearsome sight.  The destrier reared up, striking out with his clawed hooves and knocking a man down; then regaining his feet he leapt forward, and the Green Knight lowered his lance.

            “Master!” cried Bandobras, his heart leaping in delight, but his joy turned to horror when he saw Sangahar turn to him, brandishing his knife.  “I shall end you first, ground squirrel!” cried the man, and pressing the tip of the knife to Bandobras’ neck made to cut his throat.  But the Green Knight’s lance struck him full in his chest and shattered, throwing him backwards ten feet into a tree; he struck his head and was still.  Then the knight wheeled about and threw the splintered lance into the chest of Húrin, who with a strangled cry also fell upon the ground.  At that Bandobras’ Master drew his sword in one gauntleted hand, swinging it over his head and crying, “Eryn Lasgalen, Eryn Lasgalen!  L'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I'anor!”  And he fell upon his foes, striking them down left and right, while Hatchet trampled them beneath his great hooves.

            “Hurrah!” shouted Bandobras, leaping up and down in delight, and just then he trod upon the edge of Sangahar’s knife, which had dropped into the bottom of the cart.  “Hold hard, Master Bandobras!” he said to himself.  “That ought to come in handy.”  And sitting down he started to saw his bonds back and forth against the edge of the knife.  “Quickly, quickly!” he panted, his eyes darting to and fro; “I’ve got to help my Master – they are too many for him – I must help him!”  At last the ropes came away from his hands, and speedily cutting the bindings around his ankles he leapt to his feet, brandishing the knife, which in his small hands was the size of a sword.  “The Shire!” he shouted, waving it over his head; one of the men espied him and turned on him, eyes wild with fear; he lunged at the Hobbit, his sword at the ready.  Bandobras gulped with fear but remembered his Master’s instruction; he knocked the sword aside with a quick flick of his wrist, and then he and the man grappled together.  Bandobras could hear the man cursing under his breath, and for a moment all was confused and breathless; then the man toppled over, and to Bandobras’ surprise he found he had slain him himself.  “O dear me!” he thought; “I never believed I’d have been able to do something like this!”  Stepping away from the blood the backs of his legs struck the side of the cart, and he toppled out of it to the ground, landing upon his head, and everything again went blessedly dark.

            The horses thundered up the plain to the forest, jingling and clattering as they went; Mardil, Cirien, Aldamir and Araval, and Hador with Gimli, surged up the dell and crested a hill, seeing the dark shadows of the pines before them.  But at the entrance to the forest they checked, and Cirien dismounted, casting to and fro upon the ground.

            “Do you see anything, my Lord of Langstrand?” asked Aldamir.

            “Not here,” said Cirien.  “We have lost their tracks; we ought rather to have followed them up the knoll to the west.”

            “It would have slowed our mounts,” said Araval; “the ground was boggy.”

            “Well, now we have slowed them indeed,” said Cirien.  “But look!  There is a hut a league or so to the west; let us go to them and see if they have seen anything.”

            “Yes, and hurry!” said Gimli.  “I am anxious for my friends.”

            So the knights with Hador and Gimli rode up to the hut.  It was a rude shelter, little more than four walls of earth thatched with straw; the old man who stood in its doorway was little and wizened, yet his head brushed the top of the lintel.  At his feet sat a small girl child holding a doll.  When they approached the old man bowed low and said to the girl, “You see, Miriel?  The other knight is not alone; here are his friends to help him.”

            “You have seen the Green Knight?” cried Mardil.  “Tell us quickly, old man, and you shall not suffer want for it!”

            “We saw a knight in green armor,” said the old man, bowing once more.  “My lords, he was in desperate haste, and leant from the saddle as his horse ran to and fro; he sought the steps of the men with the cart.  We guided him, Miriel and I; did we not my love?”

            “Yes, grandfather,” said the little girl earnestly.  “We saw them enter the woods over there – “ she pointed her finger to the west, where there was a break in the ground obscured in shadow.  “They were pulling a little cart covered with a white cloth.  Grandfather asked them if they needed firewood and they took it, but did not pay us for it.”

            “For shame!” exclaimed Araval.  “I am indignant on your behalf, little one; as for you, good man, you will not find us ungrateful.  So the Green Knight entered the woods there?”

            “Aye he did, in a great rattle and clamor,” said the old man.  “He seemed in a dreadful hurry, and we did not dare ask him his business; it is best sometimes not to know.”

            “Should we have the leisure to disclose our task to you we shall do so,” said Mardil.  “For now we have great need of haste.  Fear not!  We shall return to reward your candor; yet we do you this disservice by hurrying on.  On, fellow knights!  Lasgalen Oakleaf has dire need of us!”  So saying he spurred his mount forward, and the rest of the men followed him to the dingle.  When Gimli looked back he saw the old man and the little girl watching them.

            “If their information is true I shall give them a bag of gold for their troubles!” he panted to Hador.

            “They seem to have great need of it,” agreed that esquire.

            They went down into the dell, and Cirien once more found traces of the company’s passing.  “See, there are booted feet,” he said, gesturing in the soft earth.  “And over them are the hoof prints of the Green Knight’s great destrier; I should not mistake them for another.  Come!  He has passed by here not a few moments ago.”

            He remounted and they entered the wood.  There was a rough track there, much trampled and slashed, and here and there were signs that the company they followed was unfamiliar with the woodlands, for there were scraps of cloth torn upon the thorny brakes, and trenches in the dirt where a man had stumbled.  Yet over all there were the deep hoof prints of a mighty horse in fullered shoes.  “He has followed galloping – look!” cried Cirien.  “He is right upon them.  Fly, fly!”

            They urged their mounts into a gallop, ducking beneath the low-hanging pine branches, getting slapped now and then by the bushes and trees as they passed.  Once Hador’s hackney stumbled over a root and nearly threw them, but Gimli gripped the esquire about the waist and Hador straightened himself and they went on.  At last they smelled the fleeting aroma of fire, and then burst forth into a clearing, reining in their destriers and coming to a halt, staring about them appalled.

            All around the clearing bodies were littered, blood-soaked and twisted; red dappled the earth and the broken weapons clutched in the gauntleted hands.  All was still and silent, save for the large destrier that stood restlessly by a small cart; his peytral was splashed with gore and he rolled his eyes at them, shifting upon his massive hooves in the reddened dirt.  In the center of the clearing knelt a knight in green intaglioed armour, helm and arming cap cast aside, holding to his breastplate a still small form.  His cuirass and manifers were covered in blood, blood soaked the clothing of the body he clutched; his long bright hair hung like a curtain across his face, and he was still as death.

            Gimli’s heart turned to stone within his chest, and he tumbled nearly senseless from the back of Hador’s horse to the ground.  But as he with faltering steps approached the Green Knight he heard a tiny voice say, “Mafter, I cam’t breeve.”

            Relief struck the Dwarf palpably and he took in a deep gulp of air, surprised when it sounded more a sob than a breath; Legolas lifted his head and loosened his arms, and the tiny form stirred; beneath the sheet of golden hair a small face peered up at him.

            “Master, you are crying!” said Bandobras, and reached up a tiny hand to touch the Elf’s cheek.

            “Ilúvatar save us!” murmured Mardil, sliding from his mount and sheathing his sword.  “He is of the Fair Folk, or I am a mûmak!”  The other knights also dismounted and stared openly at Legolas, wonder and unease upon their faces.  Hador was weeping with relief as he stood looking upon his friend, but Bandobras gazed solely upon his Master, his face shining with gratitude and devotion. Gimli, his feet frozen to the earth, dropped his halberd and pulled off his iron cap; he stood staring at his friend a moment, then stirring said brokenly, “Well, Legolas!  Here is proof of your selfishness; could you not have left but a single enemy for me to strike down?  Here I had readied myself to hew the necks of at least two men, but now we come upon you and there are none left!”

            “Mock me not, son of Glóin,” said Legolas, his steel-clad arms still wrapped about his esquire.  In his face were fear and release and horror mingled, and tears ran down his cheeks.  “My heart still misgives me that I shall awake from this nightmare and Bandobras be slain, and you also in pursuing me in my madness; give me some moments that I might collect my thoughts and quiet my trammeled heart, for I can scarce speak without weeping.”

            “Very well!” said Gimli surprised, and stepping forward he looked down upon Bandobras, who tipped his face up to his, wide brown eyes full of bewilderment.  “Well, well, my good Bandy; and how are you?” he asked gruffly.  “Are you injured, or is all this blood that of your enemies?”

            “I’m not much hurt,” said Bandobras, turning a bit in Legolas’ arms and resting his cheek upon the breastplate.  “I have some cuts and bruises, and my head is throbbing – though I’m not sure if it’s the wine or the blow – but other than that I think I’ll be all right.”

            “Good!” said Gimli.  “I would hate to have to do all of the cooking myself, though I admit I could do with fewer mushrooms on the menu.  Well, all of you, let us go round this clearing, to see if the Green Knight in his blood-madness has left aught to question.”  So the knights and Hador looked about the clearing, but though they turned over various bodies and peered into faces they found none living.  Araval shook his head and turned to Legolas.

            “You confound me completely, Lasgalen of Dale – or whatever your true name might be,” he said in amazement.  “I had not thought it possible for even such a mighty knight mounted upon a fierce war horse to slay so a great number of men alone.”

            “I was not alone,” said Legolas, turning round to him; “Bandobras had his man.”

            “I did, didn’t I?” said Bandobras with shaking voice, looking at his Master doubtfully.  “I’m not even sure how I did it, but he’s dead all right – and I’m not certain how I feel about that, you know.”

            “And call me not Lasgalen Oakleaf but Legolas Thranduilion,” added the Elf with a faltering smile to Araval; “since you have come to my and my esquire’s rescue it is only proper you should know my true name.”

            “So be it, Legolas Thranduilion!” said Araval, crossing the glade and holding out his hand to him.  “I beg you, brother knight, rise that I may meet you in a more fitting manner.”

            Putting the Hobbit from his lap the Elf rose smoothly to his feet and grasped Araval by the hand.  Then the other knights in turn did likewise, peering into his face with enthrallment, for barring the Queen and her attendants they had not met with Elves before.  “Now are all the riddles answered!” said Aldamir, smiling at his fellows.  “Wise were you indeed, Legolas Thranduilion, to mask yourself during the Tournament.  Wroth I was to see how you drew the eyes of the maids to you, but had you let them see your face unshielded you would have certainly been unable to fight them back, warrior though you are.”

“You are welcome to them all!” said Legolas with a relieved laugh.  “Indeed, if you like my esquire has amassed a great pile of tokens from hopeful maidens, and you may choose from it one that you like the best and go to redeem it.”

“Thank you!” said Aldamir bowing.  “I confess in part my desire to compete in the Tournament was to find myself a suitable wife, and it was with chagrin I saw all the maids flock to your banner.  But now you are unmasked you may draw all other knights to you, for we know we have naught to fear from you, and only blessing to hope for.”

The other knights murmured their agreement, and Legolas smiled at them all. “It is I who have received blessings from the Edain,” he said.  “You have my deepest thanks for pursuing me.  So full was I of fear that I threw myself heedless into the chase, and had aught gone amiss I should have missed having companions to guard my back.”

            “O you were not afraid, Master!” said Bandobras indignantly, putting one hand upon his cuisse.  “You were brave and ferocious!”

            “Nay, my beloved Halfling, that was not courage spurred me on,” said the Elf, taking Bandobras by his hand.  “It was fear – fear and wrath – fear for your well-being, Little One, and wrath at myself, for letting this game go so far as to put you in danger of your life.”  He turned to Gimli.  “Aragorn was right, my friend; it was imprudent of me to enter this Tournament and so endanger my esquire’s life.  I shall go forthwith to Lord Belecthor and withdraw ere aught else occurs.”

            “I beg your pardon, Legolas Thranduilion,” said Mardil, “but that to me seems imprudent as well; so long as your face is hidden your secret enemy is hobbled by ignorance.”

            “Aye,” said Cirien; “besides there are but two days of games left and the Tournament shall end.  During that time we may discover your enemy’s name, and the reason behind his deadly diversion.”

            “I wish no further hurt to my friends,” argued Legolas, but Araval said:  “All know your esquire’s name and face; to reveal your own will not protect him.  Let us instead aid you in safeguarding him, and keep our eyes open as well; until now you and your armourer have been alone, but now you have us to help you.  I beg of you, Lord Elf, permit us to be of assistance to you!  You are a mighty warrior and an honorable man – Elf, that is; we should be honored to lighten your woes.”

            All the other knights, and Hador as well, eagerly agreed to this, and Legolas stood dumbfounded before them; at last he said, “I am greatly humbled, my lords!  Heretofore had I hid my face behind helm and hood for I had no trust in men to endure me as I am; yet you have confounded me and proved to me that I have greatly wronged you.  Forgive me, knights all!  You are more like unto the men of Dale whom I love than I had hoped.”

            “And anyway,” said Bandobras from his place at Legolas’ side, “you can’t withdraw, Master, because the King told you not to.  You’re the goat, remember?  He’d be awfully angry with you if you didn’t do as he said.  Remember how cross he was when you went out into the woods!”  The knights at his words looked bewildered, and chuckling Gimli said,

            “Legolas, though Faramir might object, I would trust these knights with all that has come to pass; after all he and Aragorn have had no luck finding your detractor, and things are getting dangerous.  We need more allies, and these are hardy men and true; I believe we may confide in them.”

            “Very well, Gimli!” said Legolas.  “But let us make haste; we may not linger here, lest others arrive, and I have no yearning to enter into battle again so soon.”  And he told the five men of the letters and the threat to Baldor of Lossarnach, though he did not mention his father’s gift of gold to Gondor; he felt that would be up to the King to disclose.  When he had finished the knights shook their heads, frowning; Cirien spoke first.

            “My Lord Elf, these are deep waters, and I am certain you have not told us all, though I reproach you not for your caution!  It is evident we must needs hold a council, for some of us are of southern Gondor and might know more than you of the deeds and beliefs of those in our lands.  I myself am from beyond Prince Imrahil’s fiefdom, and Mardil is from Ethring near the rivers; Araval is from Tarlang’s Neck.  We know of the discord that some troublemakers sow among the people there, purporting to make us believe the coming of the King is a hindrance to us and not a help: we are however not of that conviction, and know that Elessar’s rule brings peace and wealth, not unrest and poverty, as some would have us believe.  But those vile detractors are few, and lords loyal to King Elessar are many, and we know which is which.  The campaign in southern Gondor is, I am all the more convinced, part and parcel of one plot with this one.  So let us foregather with Lord Faramir alone, trusting not his council-members, who perchance could betray us further.”

            “Hear, hear!” said Bandobras.  “Master, listen to these men; I know we can trust them.  They’re nothing at all like these wicked soldiers here.  Please, let’s get back and talk to Lord Faramir and put an end to this!  You can’t win the Tournament if you’re always looking behind you, to see if someone’s about to stab you in the back!”

            “Well spoken,” laughed Mardil, but just then Legolas turned and peered into the woods, his bright eyes intent.

            “Listen!” he said softly.  “The sound of hooves – many men on horseback approach.”  All fell silent, and after a moment they could hear it too:  the clatter and thud of galloping hooves, crashing through the woods.  As one they drew out their swords again, and Gimli picked up his halberd.  Bandobras took up the black knife and drew closer to his Master, trying to quiet his pounding heart.

            “Here we go again!” he thought.  “I wonder how many of them I can kill before we’re taken?”  Then looking about him he was comforted.  “No!  You’re quite safe, Bandobras Took; you have four great knights with long bright swords, and Hador with his sword, and Gimli with a nasty-looking halberd, and you’re standing beside your Master.  Who could possibly defeat us?”  And feeling somewhat better he lifted his chin and placed his small feet apart, ready to challenge the newcomers.

 

*“L'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I'anor” -- The bones of our foes will gleam
under the sun





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