35.

            The next day dawned sullen and gray, with a stippled lowering sky suspended about the slopes of the Ephel Duath, obscuring the peaks.  Birdsong sounded muffled and weak, and the air was still, pressing the scents of cookfires and humanity close to the earth.  Even the sun in her splendor could not penetrate the heavy curtain of gloom that hovered over Osgiliath and Minas Tirith, and her rising was marked solely by the lightening of the clouds to a lesser darkness.  Now and again thunder rumbled dourly in the distance, promising rain but withholding its oaths for a season; oft times the folk encamped in the stone city would hear its ominous grumbles and look up, but no moisture yet fell from the leaden sky.

            The Elves in the watchtowers looked to the east, awaiting the coming of the army from Amon Din, though their bright eyes were impeded by the roiling mists engendered in the clammy air; by midday however they rang the bells in the campaniles and shouted down to their mortal compatriots that the troops were returning, with three great lords at the head of the file.  Then all the folk clustered about the walls, peering across the fields to the Road, but all they could see was a great stir of dust hanging yellow over the sunburnt grasses.

            Bandobras, being but a very small Hobbit indeed, had great difficulty seeing over the walls of the city, and though he stood up on his toes and strained it was all he could do to peek his face over the edge.  He decided rather to climb upon the wall, as had several of the other children, and was just about to fit his foot into one of the clefts when a voice called his name.  He turned, and was surprised to see Lady Éowyn standing there, clad in a brown flannel dress and covered with a heavy cloak.

            “Well met, good Bandobras!” she said, smiling down upon the perian.  “I see you are anxious to look upon your Master again.”

            “I am indeed, ma’am – I mean, my Lady!” said Bandobras, turning and bowing to her.  “It seems more like a week than just two days since they rode off.  But I can’t see nothing from over this wall, so I’m just going to climb it and try to take a peek.”

            “There is no need of that!” laughed the Lady of Emyn Arnen.  “As Prince Legolas’ esquire you deserve a better view.  Would you, good holbytla, like to ride with us as we go out to meet them?  Queen Edlothiel and I are taking a small company with us to welcome them back to Osgiliath, and her Majesty suggested to me it would do your Master good to see you.”

            “Why, that would be marvelous!” cried Bandobras, jumping up and clapping his hands.  “Then I would get to see him before he gets overrun by all the other folk who want to congratulate him.  May we go now, my Lady?  I really don’t want to wait any longer!”

            “Come with me then!” said Éowyn, and led him from the wall down to the street.

            Waiting in a small group were Queen Edlothiel and several other riders; two of them were Lady Éowyn’s own Rangers from her personal guard, and the others Elven scouts from Eryn Lasgalen.  The Queen smiled down at Bandobras as he trotted up to them at Éowyn’s heels.  “So here is Bandobras!” she said.  “To see your face brings me great joy mingled also with regret, for though I know my son’s coming brings you much happiness, my heart tells me it is time to return you to your rightful duties by his side, and so rob myself of your presence.”

            Bandobras ran up to her and threw his arms about her knees to embrace her.  “O, do not be sad, your Majesty!” he begged her.  “It is too happy a day to be sad.  Just think!  My Master and Gimli and King Thranduil and Lord Faramir and all the rest are coming home, and the bad man who started all of this is captured and going to be punished, and all the people are going to have plenty to eat and warm houses to live in, and the Tournament will start up again and we’ll be able to watch my Master at the tilt!  You oughtn’t to be sad just because I’m going to do what I love to do anyway, which is take care of my Master.  Besides it saves you the trouble of having to take care of him yourself.”

            The Queen smiled, and the two Elven scouts laughed.  “So it does!” said Edlothiel.  “And I am very much obliged to you, Little One, for taking on so daunting a task, and therefore relieving me of the worry such a charge would engender.  Now I beg you, ride with me, so that I might have the comfort of your presence but a little while longer.”

            “Of course!” said Bandobras, and he allowed one of the scouts to lift him up on the back of the great roan mare who stood patiently by the Queen’s side.  Then Edlothiel mounted, and Lady Éowyn, and the others as well, and following the cobbled street headed to the gates.  The guards swung them open, saluting, and the horses left the clatter and rattle of the stones to thud upon the hard packed yellow dirt of the road to the fields.  Before them they could see the great cloud of dust kicked up by the men approaching, and through the swirls and eddies in the air now and again Bandobras could descry the dull gleam of armour, or the flicker of color from some raised standard.  Above them the sky grew ever dimmer, until at last the grim mumblings of thunder gave deed to their tongue and it began to rain, a thin trickle at first, but soon a steady downpour fell upon their heads.  Edlothiel pulled up her hood, and wrapped her cloak about the Hobbit to keep him dry, and they rode on.

            The rain accomplished one thing at least; the cloud of dust surrounding the returning army dissipated, and squinting through the dripping cloak Bandobras could at last see the three mighty lords who rode at the head of the army:  In the middle was Lord Faramir of Emyn Arnen, clad in black, beneath the white banner of the Stewards; to his left was the fair Elven King with his green standard, and upon Faramir’s right, gleaming in his burnished armour, was Legolas Thranduilion and his ensign of crossed oak branches.  Behind them were Gimli the Dwarf upon his stout hill pony, Aldamir of Amon Din in a simple doublet, his arm wrapped in a bloodied cloth; Araval of Tarlang and his esquire Hador, Cirien the Yellow Knight, his wise face inscrutable, and Mardil of Ethring, sitting stiffly upon a strange horse, his head bound in a rag.  Also there were the Black and Silver Knights, those mighty warriors beneath their separate standards, and Hallas of Lossarnach, riding beside a young maid wrapped in a cloak.  Behind them were the other knights, archers, and foot soldiers, all interspersed with the various farmer’s widows and orphaned children of Amon Din; cattle and sheep also there were, being hurried along by young boys with sticks, and great waggons bearing casks and sacks and other goods, with smaller children and young women with infants perched about the foodstuffs like sparrows clustered on haystacks.

            Bandobras’ heart gave a great leap when he saw his Master, though he was teased by the knowledge that something about him was not quite right; with a pang he realized the brilliant armour that Hatchet had so proudly borne was absent and the black horse he rode was clad in but a simple chainmail trapper.  But the horse was every bit as big as Hatchet had been, and perhaps of a more noble lineage, for its profile was straight and its hocks clean; it was strong-limbed and deep-chested, and sported a white blaze and two white socks.

            “Whose destrier is that, upon which the Green Knight sits?” asked the Lady of Emyn Arnen of the Queen.

            “I know not,” said Edlothiel; “I recognize it, but cannot put a master to its form.”

            “That is Piukka, Meglinidar’s steed,” said one of the scouts; “it is the only black horse we purchased in Dale.  I hope this does not mean some ill has befallen Meglinidar!”

            “The list of the dead and the injured has not yet passed into our hands,” said Éowyn; “let us trust to hope that most of our friends are well.”

            “My Master is well,” said Bandobras; “that is the biggest relief to me at least!”

            The three warriors rode ahead to meet the Queen and Lady Éowyn, and with many warm and affectionate words they greeted each other.  Bandobras for his part was not satisfied to simply salute his Master, but launched himself from the Queen’s arms upon the cuirass of the Green Knight, laughing with delight and relief.  Legolas caught him up in his heavy manifers, careful to keep the clawed gauntlets from piercing him, and lifting his visor he let the Halfling kiss him.  “Welcome back, Master!” cried Bandobras, flinging his little arms about the bevor in his attempt to embrace the Elf.  “O, I am so glad to see that you are not harmed; you have no idea how worried I’ve been!”  Turning to the Elven King and Faramir he added, “And it is also very good to see you, too, sirs – I mean, my Lord and your Majesty.  Sounds as though you gave that wicked man something to think about!”

            “Your Master did, at least!” said Faramir laughing.  “Eradan will go to trial before the King himself – that is, if he recovers from the many head injuries he sustained after his capture.”

            “After his capture?” said Éowyn in surprise.  “Did he fall from a horse?”

            Thranduil gave his son an amused look.  “That is a tale best told in private, I deem,” he said.  “There are after all certain proprieties held between captor and prisoner, that I think have been mishandled somewhat these past few days.”

            Legolas flushed.  “Had he but kept quiet – “ he began, but Faramir waved his protest aside.  “It is of no moment, my friend,” he said; “and of us all I believe you had the most reason to feel vexed with him.”

            “I see you are on Meglinidar’s destrier, my Lord,” said one of the Elves; “has aught happened to him?”

            “Nay, he is leading one of the wains,” said Legolas, gesturing to the great crowd behind them, which trudged slowly through the heavy rain and thickening earth.  “The injured and the frail ride with the victuals, and some hale warriors were needed to guide the waggon-horses.  Meglinidar loaned to me his steed, saying he might not ask for him back; apparently good Piukka here is not to his liking, being somewhat more headstrong than Meglinidar is used to.”

            “I am so sorry about Hatchet, Master,” said Bandobras, wriggling about until he was seated in front of Legolas.  “I – I hope he went quick and didn’t suffer much.”

            Legolas hesitated, looking down at his esquire’s wet curls.  “Well, Little One,” he said carefully, “he died doing what he loved – cut down in the midst of a mad charge; there are few who can boast such who have gone to the halls of Mandos.”

            “So Námo did want a dead horse,” said Bandobras thoughtfully.  “And this is Piukka, then?”  He patted the black stallion on its thick neck, and it twitched its ears back to hear him.  “He is a beautiful horse.  Will you ride him as you joust, Master?”

            “He has never charged a tilt before,” said Legolas; “I shall test him a few times before the Tournament resumes.  If he shies I will not joust at all, but forfeit; it is too late to train another destrier in that art.”

            “O I am certain Piukka will do well,” said Bandobras confidently; “he looks so intelligent, you know.  And he can’t be any worse than Hatchet was – do you remember, Master, how he tried to attack the quintain the first few times?  Whew!  How he bellowed when he charged!  But this good fellow looks much better behaved.  I am certain after Gimli adjusts the shaffron and crinet and cruppers to fit him he will be every bit as good a destrier as Hatchet was, and maybe if we’re lucky he won’t try to bite the mules.”

            “He will not bite; he is a good-natured beast,” laughed Legolas.  “Well, Little One, do you wish to get out of this rain, or would you rather go to see some friends?  There is someone I would like you to meet.”

            “I’ll go wherever you go, Master,” said Bandobras earnestly.

            “Very well!” said Legolas.  “My Lord Father, Lord Faramir, I am heading back to the waggons; I shall collect Gimli as I go.  My Lady Mother, Lady Éowyn, I shall meet with you anon.”

            “As you wish, Lord Legolas,” said Éowyn, and Legolas turned his destrier and rode back.

            Gimli greeted Bandobras with a gruff handshake.  “Staying out of trouble, are you?” he asked.  “I hope at least you have not driven the Queen to distraction with your chatter!”

            “I haven’t had much time to talk at all, Gimli,” protested Bandobras as they jogged along through the mud to the line of wains in the north end of the file.  “Honestly, I’ve kept so busy since you’ve been gone, feeding and housing all those villagers and folk.  And now King Elessar has asked me to help distribute all the collected food over the winter to the people here who’ve lost their homes.  Do you think that will be all right, Master?”

            “I have full confidence in your abilities in that area, my Bandobras,” said Legolas.

            “Of course!” muttered Gimli.  “If it has aught to do with food you may trust a Hobbit to see it done, and done properly – to Shire-standards anyway!”

            “Why, what other standards are there, Gimli?” laughed Bandobras.

            They rode up to a broad-beamed waggon covered with a canvas; sitting upon the seat holding the mules’ reins was Galás.  He was injured, Bandobras could tell, for he sat stiffly favoring his left side and had a great strap bound about his chest.  But his face was as blithe and merry as ever, and he greeted the Halfling with a smile.  “As you see we have brought you both bad weather and good tidings from the slopes of Amon Din!” he said.  “I do not mind the rain much but I think it ought to have waited an hour or two for us to get to some sort of shelter.  I do not know what the skies are thinking, to drench us so.”

            “At least you are not wearing full armour,” said Legolas.  “If I do not rid myself of this metal garment I am certainly going to rust shut.”  He removed his gauntlets, dismounted and lifted Bandobras from Piukka’s back to set him on the sideboard of the waggon.  Then he climbed up behind him and pushed the canvas aside.

            Lying among bales of sweet hay on the floor of the waggon was Kaimelas.  His bloodied jerkin was stiff and dark and a great swath of strappings was wrapped about his torso.  He was very white, but his eyes were open and he looked upon his lord with a weak smile.  Sitting beside him were two children.  Bandobras blinked, looking upon one of them closely; then his face cleared and he exclaimed:  “Why it is Miriel, the wood-cutter’s granddaughter!  Whatever are you doing here?”

            “There, you see, Lanna?” said the little girl laughing.  “It is true; it is just as I said: I have met a real perian.  It was he the Green Knight went to rescue in the woods, and my grandfather and I aided him.”  Turning to Bandobras she said:  “I was visiting with my cousin Lanna at her farm in Amon Din when the marauders came, and we were carried off.  I hope my grandfather is not too worried about me – I miss him so.”

            “I’m sure he’ll be very happy to see you,” said Bandobras.  “But why are you riding with Kaimelas?”

            “He brought my doll Isilya back to me,” said Lanna, showing the Halfling a small wooden doll.  “He even got pierced by an arrow trying to bring it to me, and as he is so brave we are sitting here keeping him company while we ride.”

            “Are you really very badly hurt, Kaimelas?” asked Bandobras anxiously.  “You do not look well at all!”

            “I am better,” said Kaimelas in a soft voice, but then he began to cough and the two little girls leaned forward, one holding his hand and the other stroking his hair.

            “There, there!” said Miriel.  “Do not try to speak, friend Elf; we will take care of you.  My grandfather says King Elessar is a great healer and I am sure he will have you better in no time.”

            “And well he must!” said Legolas.  “Kaimelas is one of my own people now and I have great need of so brave a scout.  Miriel, I have sent one of my runners to your grandfather’s hut at the edge of the forest; he will come to fetch you as soon as he can.  But I think Lord Faramir will want you to move to Osgiliath for the winter – after all, with all these people we will have great need of wood-cutters.”

            “That is just as well,” admitted Miriel, “for our house is very draughty in the winter-time; last year we could hardly sleep for being so cold.”

            “There is plenty of room in Osgiliath, Miriel,” said Bandobras; “so many houses, all ready and waiting for the people to move in!  And Lord Faramir has asked me to help distribute food to everyone – that will mean you and your family too, I guess, Lanna.  Perhaps we will all work together, and hand out wood as well as victuals.”

            “I would like that very much!” said Miriel.  “And we can keep an eye on Kaimelas too.”

            “That is a great comfort, Little Ones,” said Kaimelas weakly, and the little girls smiled and stroked his hair.

            “Well, since you are so well cared for, Bandobras and I shall quit you,” said Legolas.  “We must needs foregather with Elessar and the others for a council, to decide how best to deal justice to the people.  Fear not, daughters of Men!  Your king and your lords have your well-being foremost in mind, and though your futures are not fully determined they are secure.”  So saying he gathered Bandobras to him and they remounted; then bidding Galás farewell they rode through the rain to the gates of the city, where the King awaited them.

            There was no feast that evening; the rain fell in right earnest, soaking the open courtyard where the previous night’s festivities had been held; besides that the great number of grieving and injured folk that had filled the city gave a grimmer purpose to the evening meal, and the people of Osgiliath had for themselves many private feasts, inviting the widows and orphans of Amon Din into their houses to feed and comfort them as best they could.  Many of the knights and their retainers returned to their tents, and others to the comforts of the inns of the nearby villages; the city of Osgiliath which had so recently seethed with song and laughter and lights was dark and quiet, waiting beneath the weeping sky for a brighter morn.  In the Lord of Emyn Arnen’s house about his table sat the Lord and Lady, King Elessar and Queen Undómiel, the Elven King and his pale bride, the Green Knight and his two retainers, and to everyone’s surprise, Baldor of Lossarnach, Belecthor, and Orodreth.  The Ceremonies Master and the Lord of Linhir had regarded each other with suspicion at first, but upon learning that Orodreth had been one of the lords opposing Eradan Belecthor embraced him as a brother.  They had drunk a toast to Egalmoth, that brave but difficult councilor, and put aside their differences for the good of Minas Tirith.  Ardún and Bandobras had made ready a rich and varied meal for their beloved masters, and upon the sideboard was a profusion of good things:  smoking joints of meat, platters of stewed fruits and nuts, steaming rolls with brown chewy crusts opening to white soft centers, jugs of rich purple wine and crocks of briny olives, and, to Gimli’s disgust, a big bowl of mushrooms sautéed in butter and swimming in cream with fresh tarragon leaves.  Now, sated and warm, the companions sat about the table discussing Eradan’s depredations, and Aragorn was able to explain to them what he had learned from that miscreant during his interrogation that afternoon.

            “The most generous promise of gold, O Elven King, was the catalyst that set his machinations in movement,” said Elessar to Thranduil; “knowing your son jousted in the Tournament gave him the opportunity to undermine your confidence in me as a receptacle of your charity.  Seeking to defame and finally to hurt the Green Knight was his aim, for he believed the gold forthcoming would be withheld should your son be mortified in some way.”

            “My discovering his plot against Baldor here was then the reason he moved his troops to Druadan,” said Legolas thoughtfully; “with the King battling enemies in the south he must have thought to himself to secure his position in Amon Din, capturing Aldamir’s keep and holding it against any loyalists.”  He turned to Elessar.  “And then, Aragorn, he took my Bandobras from me, to lure me from the safety of Lord Faramir’s home, and so kill me to prevent any aid from the North.”

            “He was gravely in error,” said Thranduil; “far from withdrawing my promise by your death, my son, I should rather have marched upon him myself and taken my vengeance.”  He smiled at Faramir.  “With the Lord of Emyn Arnen’s permission, of course!” he added.  “I should not be so churlish as to pursue my enemies into another lord’s territories.”

            “And I would not have been so churlish as to have denied you that,” laughed Faramir.  “Indeed I am sure my Lady here would have welcomed you with open arms, and ridden with you had you desired it.”

            “So I should have,” said Éowyn; “my champion would have been avenged then.”  She looked at Legolas, who sat by the inglenook with the drowsing Bandobras on his lap; his brilliant hair gleamed in the firelight and his white doublet was edged in gold.  He had once again bound her blue scarf about his arm, and it hung softly shimmering in the flickering yellow light.  “Lord Legolas, when will you decide whether you remain my champion or no?  For Belecthor here has set the final day of the Tournament for the day after tomorrow, should the weather permit it.”

            “Let me ride Piukka some more,” he told her with a smile.  “He is not Hatchet by any standard, but perhaps he shall bear me as bravely and as well.”  He looked at Elessar, who sat with his fingers entwined about his wife’s hands; those two looked contentedly at each other, and pleased to be reunited.  “Aragorn, what of the lances?  When did Eradan effect that exchange?”

            “After you rescued Bandobras,” said Elessar, turning from his contemplation of his wife’s face back to Legolas. “Though he admits he had the lances prepared many months in advance – from the time you planned out the tournament, Belecthor, he had thought to disrupt it and so use that confusion engendered to force his plans through.  So it is certainly no fault of yours our Grand Tournament has been so fraught with interruptions!  You had at your side a cunning and furtive enemy, who cared not for either the health or safety of the knights entrusted to your care, but only for his own advancement; it is no wonder we were unable to keep the festivities from being upset.”

            Belecthor sighed.  “And at the end his intrigues came to naught, save for the deaths of twelve knights and foot-soldiers, and seven good Elves of Mirkwood,” he said sadly.  “Not to mention poor Targil and Egalmoth, and the unhappy farmers his soldiers slaughtered!  I never heard the reason for that, your Majesty; to what aim, for what purpose were those men killed?  Surely it would have availed him nothing to take possession of a land with no men to till it!”

            “It was in his mind to give the widows and children of those poor farmers to his men as prizes,” said Arwen, her fair face set and grim.  “Many of his soldiers had left behind families in their flight from Estel’s power, and Eradan recognized they would need some incentive to stay in Amon Din, and not return to their holdings in the south.  So he told them to pillage as they moved from their camp in Ithilien west to Druadan, and carry the goods and kine and women with them, as spoils of their ravaging.”

            “A sorry business!” said Baldor shaking his head.  “If only Egalmoth and I had been able to forestall him . . . “ he sighed and drained his cup.

            “The damage has been done,” said Orodreth, fetching a pitcher from the sideboard and refilling Baldor’s flagon.  “All we may do now is to try to repair what he has done.”

            “While we are on that subject then,” said Legolas with a smile, running his long fingers through Bandobras’ curls, “what say you two to the reconciliation of your charges?  That seems to me to be a part of the reparations there.”

            “Ah!” smiled Orodreth.  “My niece is a capricious maid, but I think she has learned her lesson; besides to her mind Hallas of Lossarnach, as one of the Green Knight’s companions, is even more desirable than before when he was but one knight in many.  And despite his temper he has proved a worthy man indeed, and should Baldor permit it I would be pleased to see our houses unite.”

            “I will speak with my son then,” said Baldor; “he loves her yet and I am sure it will take very little persuading on our parts to bring them together.”

            “Speaking of capricious maids,” said Gimli, “has aught been seen of Éodild and our friend Híldaf?  Walda of the Westfold has arrived and is seeking him out, to swear him in as esquire to him.”

            “So far as I know Éodild has returned to her rooms in the Bridge Embattled,” said Éowyn.  “I hope that she will show more patience than is her wont, for Walda will release neither of them from his care ere Híldaf completes his apprenticeship.”

            “What of Brytta?” asked Legolas, apprehension clouding his face.  “I saw him not upon either the field of battle nor in the crowds in Osgiliath.  Where is he gone?”

            “Back to Rohan, I believe,” said Éowyn.  “With his tail tucked firmly between his legs.  Do not look that way, my friend!  His hatred of the Green Knight is no fault of yours.  Ever he has been a rash and obstinate man and even Éomer, my long-suffering brother, tires of him on occasion.  It is very like him to leave on a whim, with no thought for the welfare or interests of others.”

            “I had hopes to reconcile with him ere the snow flew,” sighed Legolas, disappointed.  “I do not like to leave such a thing unresolved.”

            “You will be here many years yet, my son,” said Thranduil, “and our friend Gimli has his holding at Aglarond in Rohan.  You will have your chance to see this intractable Man again, I am certain.”

            “At any rate, his absence affects the Tournament standings not one whit,” said Belecthor.  “Lord Faramir and I have decided to pare down the list of knights remaining so that but two foot combats and two jousts are all that is needed to determine our winner.  You are one of those four knights, Lord Legolas.”

            “Am I?” said Legolas.  “Whom shall I fight then?”

            “Malbeth, Minardil, and Vorondil.  Aldamir of Amon Din ought to have fought before Minardil, of course, but as he was wounded in the battle he is disqualified.  You shall fight Malbeth first, and either Vorondil or Minardil in the ring, depending which one of them is the victor over the other, and then there shall be the joust of the winners.”

            “What shall you do with the money, my son?” asked Thranduil, shooting Gimli a little wink.  The Dwarf chuckled into his goblet.

            “I have not yet won it, my Lord Father,” chided Legolas.  “Those three knights are mighty men and their prowess in the barriers and at the tilt is legendary.  There is no guarantee the Green Knight shall be the victor.”  But Éowyn clucked her tongue and turned to Edlothiel.

            “He is so modest!” she said.  “But I have every confidence in my champion.  Have I not wagered my pride on the Green Knight?  He would not dare disappoint me.”

            “I dare many things,” said Legolas dryly; “however the gulf between intent and action is deep and dark, and many things may fly between.”  Shifting Bandobras in his arms he said to Gimli:  “Let us quit this assembly and get us to our tent then; my little youngling here has need of his own small cot, and I admit I am anxious for a quiet night – there have been few enough of those these past few days!”  He rose with the Halfling slumbering in his arms, and Gimli drained his cup and gathered up their cloaks.  Queen Edlothiel walked over to her son and kissed him.

            “Thank you for loaning your esquire to me!” she said, placing her white hand upon the sleeping Hobbit’s head.  “He is sturdy and good-hearted, and displays a deep compassion for the destitute.”

            “You have just described all Hobbits I think, your Majesty,” said Gimli, carefully tucking Legolas’ cloak about him so that Bandobras was fully protected.  Edlothiel watched him with a smile.

            “You love him too, do you not?” she asked gently.

            “Of course!” the Dwarf grunted.  “But do not let him know, I pray you, my Lady, or I’ll not hear the end of it.” 

            Laughing Legolas bid them good-night, and he and his friend went out into the rain.