29.

            Bandobras awoke to see the stars fading in the pale pearly sky through the window-flap of his little chamber; he rubbed his eyes and stretched, trying to clear his clouded head from the downy remains of a deep and languorous sleep.   Then with a start he remembered the events of the previous evening, and he leapt from his pallet, his heart sinking.  Today was the day his Master was going away into battle, and Bandobras was to stay behind with the women!

            He sat back down upon his rumpled pallet and put his head in his hands.  He did not really wish to go into battle; his horrible experience with Fenbarad’s men had cured him of any romantic notions he may have had about it; but still it was mortifying to know he had no place there, and would be forced to watch from behind the walls of a safe refuge, while his Master and Gimli rode off with King Thranduil and Lord Faramir and all, to go fight bad men in Lord Aldamir’s home, maybe to be wounded, maybe – Bandobras gulped – to not return at all.  Not that he had any fears in specific for his Master – he had watched Legolas in his battle-fury kill two score men alone – and he didn’t – really – fear for Gimli either; Dwarves seemed to Bandobras too tough and stubborn to kill.  But King Thranduil’s three remaining scouts had returned last night, while Bandobras helped Lady Éowyn direct the laying in of supplies into Osgiliath’s lower cellars; he had heard the news as had all in the main courtyard:  Meivel, Himbaláth, and Kaimelas had counted the enemy quite carefully, and were agreed there were no fewer than five hundreds encamped upon the meads to the east of the Great West Road; though they were poorly armed, Meivel said, and some he believed to have been wounded in the skirmishing about the ruined villages.  They had observed quite a bit of infighting as the evening had progressed, and overheard many arguments over the division of spoils; in fact they had seen several men killed outright by their rivals.  The women and children held captive were penned up like cattle but not, they believed, actively mistreated.

            Bandobras shuddered at the thought of what those poor mothers and children had endured, watching husbands and fathers murdered and homes and barns burnt.  His own father, Reginard Took, had been killed by Sharky’s men several years before, in the great uprising against the Big Folk; though he had not witnessed his father’s untimely death, he knew the sharp grief of the child whose parent is so abruptly taken by violence.  He tried to imagine how he himself would feel, if some group of armed men had burst into his Hobbit-hole and taken his mother and him captive as well.  “It’s bad enough being a captive all alone,” he thought, dressing with shaking fingers; “it would be ten times worse knowing your whole family was just as bad off as you were.”  For a moment he sympathized with the look of fierce anger he had seen in Lady Éowyn’s eyes; he too wanted nothing more than to ride up to Amon Din upon a big warhorse, waving a huge sword, striking down his shrieking enemies as they fled from him in terror.  “It’s no more than they deserve,” he said, settling his mouth into a grim line as he buttoned up his waistcoat.  “Ramping and pillaging the way they’ve done.  I hope my Master gives them what for!”  But still he harbored deep in his timid heart the hope that today Elessar would return, and delay his Master’s departure, thus sparing him another day.  Legolas’ wounds from the Tournament were still fresh in the Hobbit’s mind, if healed already upon that immortal body; it distressed Bandobras greatly to think of further indignities being visited upon the flesh of his beloved Master.

            There were soft voices speaking in the sunrise hush of the day; Galás and Baranil were in the main room of the tent, and Bandobras could hear the light, firm voice of his Master.  It was not often the Hobbit heard Legolas speak such, for with him his Master was ever placid and indulgent; however now his voice was resolute and commanding, imparting his will with the inflexibility born from centuries of expecting compliance of his subjects.  For their own parts it did not sound to Bandobras as though either Galás or Baranil opposed him, but it was clear Legolas expected resistance from some quarter in the near future and would brook it not.  Bandobras pushed aside the curtain that separated the sleeping quarters from the rest of the tent, and the rings clattered upon the rod above him.  The three Elves, already clad in armour and with their swords bound at their sides, turned and looked at him, and Legolas smiled.

            “Ah!  Here is my esquire at last,” he said, holding out his hand, which bore as yet only the heavy leather gauntlet.  “It is time to go, my good Little One; be not dismayed nor sad, for it is for but for a short while.  In the night a messenger was sent up river from Pelargir saying King Elessar returns and shall be with us again in two days’ time.  Lord Faramir is anxious to have these miscreants mopped up by then, so we shall ride swiftly and make short work of them.  You must stay here and make sure King Elessar’s people do nothing foolish in the meantime.  Will you do that for me, my Bandobras?”

            Bandobras swallowed and blinked fiercely; he could feel tears pricking at his eyes.  “Won’t – won’t you even have a bite to eat before you go, Master?” he begged, tugging at the gauntlet with both his small hands.  “At least let me make you a little breakfast, to tide you over ‘til you come back.  I could fry you up a quick egg – and make some toast – and we have that cherry preserve still.  You can’t go killing people on an empty stomach, you know.”

            Baranil bit his lip and stared hard at the chandelier; Galás hid his own smile behind his hands.  But Legolas looked gravely down at his esquire.  “Nay, my dear Little One!” he said.  “I have broken fast already, before the sun cast her pale rays to cloak the eastern edges of the Ephel Duath.  Bergil has been here and said Faramir’s folk are ready to go.  They await only those knights of the Tent City to join the muster in the field east of the staging area.”

            “I heard Hador and Araval refer to it as The Field of Muster,” said Galás with a grin.  “Think you that title shall become widely used?  I quite like it.”

            “That does not surprise me,” said Baranil dryly.  “When you are seneschal here you may petition the Lord of Emyn Arnen to deed the field by that name alone, for he seems to me a man who would appreciate such wit.”

            The tent-flap was pushed aside, and Gimli entered; his face, normally grim, was wreathed in smiles.  “Legolas!” he said, clapping his meaty hands together and chuckling so that the chain mail he wore jingled.  “Your four knightly friends are here and await you outside the tent – Hador is there as well; he has Hatchet ready for you – and you will not believe it; Hallas is to ride with us.”

            “Hallas of Lossarnach!” exclaimed Legolas in surprise, taking up his basinet and tucking it beneath one polder-mitten.  Bandobras saw he still had Lady Éowyn’s scarf affixed there, and the sight of it comforted him somewhat, reminding him he was the Lady of Emyn Arnen’s chosen champion and unlikely to come to harm.  “How is he to ride?  Usually when I have hamstrung a man he is crippled for years to come.”

            “His esquire Ornendil helped him into his saddle, and lashed him there with ropes,” said Gimli.  “He is determined to ride; nothing Cirien or Aldamir has said to him will gainsay him.  His armour is pitted and dented, and his sword in great need of reforging; however I have seldom seen so determined a young man, and that in itself lends him an air of dignity apart from many of the more well-appointed men out there.”

            “He will be greatly at risk, unable to leap from his horse, or run even if he manages it somehow,” said Baranil.  “You ought to keep him close to you, my Lord, to keep an eye on him.”

            “That will be up to whoever is leading us,” said Legolas, “though I shall certainly ask permission to ride beside Hallas.  It is partly my own fault he is so grievously crippled, and I would not have him slain in this endeavor for anything.  When the company of knights has been divided into each phalanx I shall request he be placed in file beside me.  I would ask Faramir but he is riding with the foot-soldiers; I would request it also of my Lord, but to him has been given the task of overseeing the archers.  I wonder who will be leading the two companies of knights?  Faramir and my Lord Father discussed it last night, but the only agreement they could come to was that the companies would be mixed, made of knights of both Men and Elves.”  He lifted the basinet and settled it over his head, and Galás attached it to the bevor.  “Has aught been heard of Orodreth and his niece?”

            “Nothing,” said Gimli.  “They, like Lord Eradan, have vanished.”

            “That perhaps is his reason for joining the fray,” said Legolas from behind his visor.  “Despite his keen disappointment in her Dirhael is still his heart’s lady; he would wish her no ill though they do not now have a future in matrimony together.”

            “Speaking of matrimony,” began Galás pertly, but Legolas gestured to him to be silent.  “Nay, Galás, I need no more of your pithy comments upon the conversation you overheard last night, betwixt my Lady Mother and Queen Undómiel!  I am well aware – moreso than I desire – of the regard paid me by the two queens’ attendants; now is not the time for such discussion.”  So saying he turned and strode out the tent, Galás and Baranil following him with sly smiles on their faces.  Disconsolately Bandobras trailed after them.

Legolas came to an abrupt halt upon quitting the tent; he stood staring in amazement at the large group of knights, some mounted and others standing with their horses, arranged about his tent.  It seemed the entire Tent City stood before him, knights and esquires alike, clad in mail and armour, bearing lances and swords, their many-colored standards flapping in the stiff breeze.  Cirien, Aldamir, Araval and Mardil stood at the forefront, smiling, their pennants floating from their esquires’ standards.  The small company of Elves that had come with Baranil stood at attention about the front entrance, grinning back at their Lord; they had the appearance of having prevented any intruders while being at the same time amused by the attempts.  Gimli stepped out and stood beside his friend, chuckling; Bandobras looked about him in amazement.

            “What is all this, Gimli?” he demanded in surprise.  “Why have all the knights in the Tent City come here?  What are they waiting for?”

            “They are waiting for your Master, of course,” growled Gimli.  “What; did you think they came to pay homage to you?  Watch and listen, Bandy!  I think you will enjoy this.”

            The Green Knight stepped forward and the Elvish company parted to let him through.  Hador stood beside his lord, holding fast to Hatchet’s reins; the great war horse snorted and rolled his eyes at the esquire but Hador did not flinch, instead grinning in a most impudent way at Lasgalen of Dale.  To his left was Hallas of Lossarnach, bound by ropes to the back of his rouncey, his tattered brown surcoat held over his armour with leather straps.  By the Red, Dun, Yellow and Silver Knights were also waiting the Gray and Black Knights, Vorondil and Malbeth, those mighty men whom all the other knights, esquires, and soldiers in the Tent City held in great reverence.  They both dismounted and approached the Green Knight.

            “Good morrow, my lords and gentlemen all,” said Lasgalen of Dale hesitantly, looking about through his visor at the great crowd of men about him.  “Why the delay?  Do you for some reason wait upon me?  The Lord of Emyn Arnen awaits our coming.”

            “We wait upon you for you are to lead us, Lord of Dale,” said Malbeth, bowing.

            “We follow the Green Knight into battle,” added Vorondil.  “We have discussed this and are come to an accord.”

            “I?” said the Green Knight.  “I had thought me either you, Lord Malbeth, or you, Lord Vorondil, should be the chief amongst all these knights of Gondor.  I am not of your people.”  He turned to his four friends.  “What part have you four played in this, my brother knights?” he chided.   “Could you not turn these men from their whims?  There is no time now for argument; we must needs choose some other knight of Gondor to lead us.”

            “We follow the Green Knight,” said Cirien firmly.  “Our pardon to you, Lasgalen of Dale; when approached by the Gray and Black Knights we were all in accord.  We shall follow you; you are more versed in battle than any other knight here, and have bested us all at the barriers and upon the tilt.  We shall follow you.”

            There was a murmur of agreement from the great crowd of knights, and the Elves all smiled, looking from the corners of their eyes at Lasgalen of Dale.  Gimli was chuckling openly, and Bandobras’ eyes shone with delight at the homage paid to his Master.  But the Green Knight shook his head.

            “Nay, this shall not be,” he said firmly.  “I am not the knight whom you should follow.  Aldamir at least should lead us; it is to his fiefdom we ride, and for his people we fight.”

            The Red Knight shook his head.  “I am truly sorry, Lasgalen of Dale,” he said; “I am leading the northern flank.  I had a message from Prince Faramir this morning requesting it be so.  The rest of the knights have decided to rally round your standard.”

            “But as the greater part of these knights shall be Elves perhaps one of the Elvish lords should lead the southern flank,” protested the Green Knight, a note of disquiet in his voice.  “You should not request this of a knight of Dale!”

            “The Elven knights have agreed to ride beneath the banner of Men,” said Vorondil.  “They told us to choose one of our own to lead us, and we have chosen well.”

            “We follow the Green Knight,” repeated Malbeth.

            “Come!” smiled Vorondil.  “Delay us no longer, Lasgalen of Dale.  Ride at our vanguard and lead us to victory.”

            The Green Knight stood very still a moment, and all fell silent, watching him.  Bandobras held his breath as he regarded his Master, who stood with his head bowed, thinking deeply.  Even Baranil and Galás were silent, awaiting his decision.  At last the Green Knight looked up.  He removed his gauntlets and unfastened his basinet from the bevor.  He lifted the helm from his head and drew off the arming cap, revealing his face to the crowd of knights and retainers before him.  He looked severely upon them as they stared silently at him.

            “I cannot lead you,” he said.  “For I am not Lasgalen of Dale but Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen; I am no Man but an Elf.  I tell you again, the Green Knight shall not lead you, for there is no Green Knight.  I am the Prince of Mirkwood and a vassal of Elessar, and you must choose for us another leader, for I would not lead you in mendacity but show to you at last the truth.”

            Malbeth and Vorondil looked upon him in astonishment; there were murmurs coming from the crowd as the men saw him for what he was.  Cirien, Mardil, Aldamir and Araval looked from one to the other in consternation.  Only Hallas stood unmoved; the expression upon his face was one of a man who has made his decision and will not change it for any reason.  Then the other knights clustered together, speaking quietly.  The Elven soldiers stood still, arranged behind their lord, and Baranil and Galás waited silently.  Gimli shifted upon his heavy booted feet, and Bandobras, in a fever of anxiety, grasped the Dwarf’s hand tightly.  After some minutes the knights moved back, and Vorondil and Malbeth turned once again to the Green Knight.

            “We are wroth with you, Prince Legolas, for obscuring your face from us and denying us the grace of your presence,” said Vorondil solemnly.  “Many mysteries and tales bruited abroad this Tournament could well have been stemmed had you come to us uncloaked.  Yet I beg you this indulgence, that you will allow me to say this:  You are in grave error by saying there is no Green Knight.  Who was it then that threw Malbeth from his destrier not once but five times?  Who was it that bested me at the barriers, when no man had done so before?  It was neither Lasgalen of Dale nor Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen; it was indeed the Green Knight.  And we will not follow Lasgalen of Dale nor Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen into Amon Din to battle:  We will follow the Green Knight, for he would not be so churlish as to deny us this.”

            At his words the assembly of knights lifted their standards into the air and began to shout:  “The Green Knight!  The Green Knight for Gondor!”  Legolas stood in amazement listening to them, a look of incredulity on his fair face; he held up his hand for silence and when that had been achieved he said:

            “I am filled with shame and dismay, brother knights, for you have shown to me my error in mistrusting you with the knowledge of my name!  I am humbled and awed by your faith in me, and shall prove to the utmost your confidence has been well-founded.  There is truly now no hope of defeat today, for this congress of mighty men is filled not only with strength and skill and speed, but overflows with valor, kindness, boldness and grace.  The Red Knight, Aldamir of Amon Din, my friend and ally, shall find in this assemblage respite and triumph for his besieged people; alas for the enemies of Elessar!  Nothing may hinder us now.  Mount and ride, my brother knights!  I shall lead you as you have demanded.  To Faramir for Gondor!” 

            “For Gondor!” cried the knights, shaking their ensigns as Legolas mounted Hatchet, who was prancing and snorting with impatience.  Galás took his horse from the pen and mounted as well; in his hands he held the standard of Lasgalen of Dale; the crossed oak branches fluttered overhead.  He and Legolas led the company of knights out down the Tent City street, the hooves of the destriers and hackneys raising a great cloud of dust in the pale cool air.  All around was the sound of jingling harnesses, clattering armour, and the shouts of the knights as they cried, “The Green Knight for Gondor!”  At last the file retreated round the corner, the last straggling esquires galloping to keep up, and the dust was whisked away by a sudden brisk wind.  Gimli, after a moment’s thought, went to the pen to see to the other horses and ponies therein.  Bandobras stood staring after his Master, gulping back sobs, tears standing out shamelessly in his eyes; after a moment Baranil stirred, and looking down with a smile at the Hobbit he took him by the hand.

            “Fear neither grief nor weeping,” he said reassuringly, leading the Halfling down the same street the knights had just used.  His Elves followed behind them, some singing softly, others talking and laughing amongst themselves.  “It is seemly to regret the departure of loved ones.  Did we not love them so well, we should lament not their passing.  But I do not think you need fear for your Master’s safety.  Many times has Legolas of Greenwood the Great lead soldiers into battle, many times against great odds and into even greater danger.  He has yet to be bested by any mortal enemy!  These poorly-armed soldiers of a small insurrection shall fall as mown wheat before him.”

            “I suppose,” sniffed Bandobras, wiping his nose with his sleeve.  “I just can’t believe he went off like that without a proper breakfast.”

            Faramir was arranging the foot-soldiers upon the trampled grass of the field when he heard the sound of singing.  He turned and shaded his eyes against the rays of the sun, just peering over the peaks of the Ephel Duath, to see arriving in a great cloud of dust all the knights of Men from the Tent City, riding behind a single knight clad in bright armour.  Even from that distance he could see the long pale hair fanned out behind the rider as he led the group bareheaded, his green and brown banner streaming above him, a blue scarf tied to his arm.  He smiled and turned to the Elven King.  “Look, your Majesty!” he cried.  “It is as I said; they have chosen your son to lead them.  Now the company which has the longest to ride shall have the swiftest leader.”

            Thranduil came up to him from where he had been conferring with Beregond.  “Ah,” he smiled, seeing Legolas at the head of the approaching file.  “All those years giving him the most difficult of tasks appears to have paid off.  He shrinks not even from leading an army of Men and Elves mixed.”

            “I cannot imagine he gave into them without a fight,” said Éowyn from atop Windfola.  “Look!  He has uncloaked.  I am sure he used that as one of his arguments against it.  He is too passive, your Majesty; he ought to accept his due without question.”

            “It will grow easier for him with time, my Lady,” Thranduil said to her.  “But press him a little and he pushes back, I assure you.  Sometimes, I confess, a little too forcefully!  He will not be so reticent after he has assumed full reign of his people.”  And so saying Thranduil went back to his task of ordering the archers.

            When the knights had all arrived Faramir divided them equally between Aldamir and Legolas.  To Aldamir were given twenty knights of Men and a hundred Elvish knights, all mounted upon large dark horses and bearing lances and halberds in addition to their short, stout yew bows.  The bright surcoats and caparisons of the knights of Men stood out in sharp contrast to the rows of Elves in green and brown, their low dark helms not sporting the plumes and ornaments so favored by their mortal counterparts.  The remaining knights Legolas took among his own people, scattering the Men amongst the Elves, explaining to them he wanted his people to be able to recognize friend from foe, which could only be done by close association.  By his side rode both Galás and Hallas of Lossarnach.  Before the entire assembly Faramir called Legolas forward.  Now wearing his basinet, the Green Knight approached, his armour flashing in the early morning light, the green intaglio designs writhing and twisting over the surface of the steel.  He stood before the Lord and Lady of Emyn Arnen, lance resting upon the stirrup, his escutcheon strapped to his left arm.  Beneath him Hatchet shifted and champed, anxious to be on his way; his blood was up and he smelled the approaching conflict.  Overhead the carrion birds circled, but warily; so often had they been deceived by the Grand Tournament they no longer trusted the signs of battle.

            “Legolas Greenleaf, to you and your company has been given the longest trek,” said Faramir.  “You must ride the valley by the wall of the Pelennor up to the Stonewain, then cut north to meet the enemy’s southern flank by midday.  We shall be sending scouts from the center of the van to you, so that you shall have ample notice should aught go ill.  When the sun is at its zenith we engage the insurgents on three sides.  Caution your knights to watch carefully for signs of the captives!  We would not have the innocent slain in the rush.”

            “I have done so already, Lord Faramir,” said Legolas.  “Fear not!  Aldamir’s people shall taste freedom again by nightfall, and Elessar shall return to Minas Tirith with a goodly number of trials to judge.”

            “You plan to leave some enemies living this time, then?” asked Éowyn with a smile.

            Legolas bowed to her in his saddle.  “I deeply regret my actions of a few days past,” he said solemnly, “as it deprived my Lord and Lady of the pleasure of interrogating their detractors.  I promise to deliver up to you traitors and rebels by the dozen to satisfy your desire for vengeance.”

            “I expect no less from my champion,” said Éowyn.

            “If I might beg a favor from you, my Lady,” said Legolas.

            “Anything, my champion!” said Éowyn.

            “Will you watch after my esquire, my beloved Bandobras?” asked Legolas.  “It grieves me to leave him behind, but it would grieve me all the more to expose him to peril.  I would not have him pine after me, but be filled with the zeal of duty and the joy of doing good deeds.  Keep him busy, so that he will not languish in my absence.”

            “I shall see to it, Lord Legolas,” said Éowyn.

            “And my Lord Faramir, a boon also I ask of you, if you would hear me,” said Legolas.

            “You have but to ask, my friend,” said Faramir.

            “Gimli will be with the foot-soldiers, a lone Dwarf amongst Men and Elves,” said the Green Knight.  “I know that he cannot ride with us but still it distresses me to be apart from him in the heat of battle.  I do not fear his safety but it would ease my heart to know he is well-placed, with friends on all sides.  Can you do this for me?”

            “I shall put him with Beregond,” said Faramir.  “He need fear no ill will there!”

            “My thanks to you,” said Legolas.  “Now by your leave I shall quit you; we have many leagues to ride today, and many traitors to slay – I mean, of course, to capture!”  With that he saluted them both and turning Hatchet rode back to his phalanx.  Faramir and Éowyn watched him arrange his troop, hearing his clear voice calling orders even over the noise of thudding hooves and clattering armour; after a moment he gave one loud cry, and lifting up his banner they rode off to the Pelennor, leaving behind a great yellow haze of dust hanging in the early morning sunlight.  Éowyn turned Windfola and said to her husband:

            “My Lord, I quit you now, to return to my duties within Osgiliath.  Should the battle go ill, is there aught I should tell Elessar the King upon his return some two days hence?”

            “Yes, my Lady!” said Faramir, grasping her hand and kissing it.  “Tell him to find you a new husband, for if I do not return it means I have failed indeed and breathe no longer.  I do not mean to return to Osgiliath ‘til all these traitors have been hounded out, run down, and defeated.”

            “In that case it seems as though we shall be married many years yet,” smiled Éowyn, and rode back to Osgiliath to keep watch.