My stories sometimes track Tolkien's version of Middle-earth, sometimes Jackson's.
Thanks to the following reviewers of Episode 10 of "Elf Interludes": leralonde, Ne'ith5, Joee1, jellebie, ziggy3, and CAH. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you unless you have disabled the private messaging feature.
This chapter may incorporate incidents and/or quotations from the book and/or movie versions of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. The chapter may also draw upon posthumous publications edited by Christopher Tolkien, such as The Silmarillion.
Beta Reader: Dragonfly is the beta reader for Parallel Quest, but shorter pieces are posted without a reader. If you catch any errors, please let me know.
Episode 11: Poise under Pressure
The footfalls were soft, but not so light that they escaped the notice of Legolas. Quickly he slipped behind a tree. He waited until the one who followed him had passed by his hiding place before leaping into the open. His tracker spun about, hand on knife, then froze.
"What are you doing outside at this time of night, Estel?" Legolas demanded, trying to sound stern.
"What are you doing outside?" Estel shot back.
Legolas hesitated. Estel grinned.
"You are going to see Glorfindel's niece, aren't you? He'll skin you when he finds out!"
"He isn't going to find out," Legolas said darkly, trying to look even sterner.
Estel's grin grew wider. "No, he isn't—because I will be on patrol with you and the twins!"
Legolas scowled, but Estel was not daunted. He went from grinning to smirking. Legolas tried another tack.
"Estel, if you will return to the Hall and say nothing, next time you are assigned skivvy duty, I shall do your chores."
"I don't mind skivvy duty," Estel said cheerfully.
"A week's worth of skivvy duty, then."
"I don't mind skivvy duty," Estel repeated. "And you needn't offer a fortnight or a month," the youth added. "The answer would be the same."
Legolas had to concede that Estel held the upper hand. He shrugged, the scowl vanishing. He knew that there was no use in bemoaning the unavoidable. "Very well, Estel. I shall ask Elrond to allow you to accompany Elrohir, Elladan, and me on our next patrol."
"Thank you, Legolas. I shall cover for you. And someday, when I have an assignation, you shall do the same for me."
"That is not very likely," Legolas teased. "Truly, Estel, what maiden would welcome the attentions of a scruffy youth such as yourself?"
"I shall woo and win the loveliest maiden in all of Middle-earth," Estel said airily.
"Of which race?" retorted Legolas. "Orc, Troll, or Dwarf?"
Estel merely laughed, and the two parted amiably, each going his separate way, Estel back to the Hall and Legolas to his rendezvous with Glorfindel's niece.
Before dawn the next morning Legolas returned to the Hall in an excellent frame of mind, reentering that building the same way he had exited it, through a window.
"Did you sleep well, Legolas?" Estel asked when they encountered one another at breakfast. The young human put on an innocent expression.
"I passed the night excellent well," Legolas replied cheerfully.
Estel pretended surprise. "You look a little worn. Are you sure you passed the night well?"
"Very, very well," Legolas assured him, grinning. Estel grinned back. Legolas turned to Elrond, their foster-father.
"Ada, the twins, and I are riding out tomorrow to scout the border of Dunland. Estel is desirous of joining us. Glorfindel said yesterday that Estel has been acquitting himself with great credit on the practice fields. May not his wish therefore be granted?
Elrond turned to Glorfindel. "What say you, my friend? Ought Estel to join the patrol?"
Glorfindel was in fact very impressed with Estel's progress, but the balrog-slayer was not in the habit of showering his pupils with praise. "He has done well in his sword exercises," the Elf lord said slowly, "and in his horsemanship. I would wish," he added sternly, "that he would spend more time on his archery."
"We will make him responsible for hunting on this expedition," Legolas said quickly. As reluctant as he had been to include Estel in the expedition, as soon as he had agreed to advocate for the youth, he had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the task. Estel looked at him gratefully, and suddenly Legolas was all the more eager that the youth should accompany them. "Ada," he continued, "you must own that a true test of archery will take place in the field."
Amused, Elrond quirked his eyebrows. He could remember how dismayed Legolas had been when Estel, then a smelly, grubby urchin, had arrived at Rivendell and proceeded to follow Legolas everywhere. Legolas had been Anomen then, but under that name he had been just as fastidious as he was now. 'I wonder how Estel has managed to get Legolas to take his part," the elf-lord wondered. 'I wouldn't put it past the lad to have caught Legolas in some mischief and to have turned that fact to account'. Aloud he once again addressed Glorfindel. "Do you think Estel would benefit if he could practice his archery whilst on patrol?"
Legolas had spoken the truth, and Glorfindel knew it. However, as the balrog-slayer, it behooved him to not defer too openly to the younger Elf. "The lad may as well go," Glorfindel said grudgingly. "My niece has been recalled to Lothlórien, and I mean to escort her, so it suits me that in my absence he should accompany his brothers on patrol."
Legolas looked distressed at hearing that Glorfindel's niece would be departing. At the sight of his dismayed expression, Glorfindel allowed his façade to slip and grinned momentarily. Legolas realized at once that he was very much mistaken if he thought the balrog-slayer had been unaware of his nightly excursions. The young Elf first paled but then blushed to the tips of his pointed ears. Glorfindel's grin widened, and then he winked at the discomfited Elf before turning to address Estel. "I expect you to give a good account of yourself," he warned the young human. "Do not distract your brothers from their mission."
It was to Estel's credit that his face betrayed no emotion, for he was taken aback by Glorfindel's words. His father had been slain by Orcs, and although Estel had the insouciance of youth, he took seriously the need to patrol the borders against the enemies of the Free Folk of Middle-earth. In spite of his lighthearted manner in addressing Legolas, the young human desired to accompany his brothers not for amusement but because he was eager to take his place amongst the warriors.
Sensing his foster-son's emotions, Elrond spoke up. "I am sure that Estel will bring credit to himself and to his brothers. In all things that matter, he is serious enough."
Glorfindel did not truly doubt Estel's steadfastness, and when no one was looking, the balrog-slayer sent a wink that was brother to the one he had bestowed upon Legolas. In his relief, Estel let his mask slip and broke into a grin. Surreptitiously observing the exchange, Elrond had to hide his own grin. 'It is no wonder Mithrandir and Glorfindel get along so well', Elrond mused. 'Both pretend to be irascible, but both are as tender as kittens to those whom they love'.
Perhaps 'tender as kittens' was a bit of an overstatement, but it was true that the behavior of the wizard and the balrog-slayer was often not in keeping with the fierce façades that they presented to those outside their domestic circle; however, neither was desirous of giving the lie to the tales told about them. Both had avoided many battles on the strength of their reputations alone, their opponents preferring to turn tail and scuttle away rather than face the wrath of either.
The conversation having concluded to everyone's satisfaction, Legolas and Estel, in company with Elladan and Elrohir, went to the armory to sharpen their swords.
"In the south it has been very quiet for many months," Elrohir observed as he sighted along his blade. "Estel, if you expect adventure, you are likely to be disappointed."
"Glorfindel says to be mindful of the lull before the storm," Elladan reminded his older brother.
"And Ada says that the past is not always prologue to the present," Legolas chimed in. "A forest empty of foes one day may be full of them the next."
"But you must concede it is far more common that a forest empty of foes one day is empty of them the next," replied Elrohir.
"True," said Legolas, "but we never know which will be the case, and it is better to act as if the former will be true rather than the latter. No harm will befall you if you enter a forest prepared to do battle with foes who are not there; great harm may befall you if you enter unprepared and an enemy is indeed present."
Elrohir could not gainsay this point. His sword sharpened, he turned to examining his arrows. He set aside two whose shafts were warped and set about making replacements. Estel, meanwhile, was making vigorous use of the grindstone that Elrohir had relinquished.
"If you sharpen your sword any further, brother, it will be as thin as a blade of grass!" Legolas called to young human.
"Pity Estel does not take as good a care of his appearance as of his sword," Elladan added, grinning.
"Yes, for he takes most excellent care of his sword," Elrohir chimed in. "He never removes it from its scabbard!"
Estel looked bewildered. He practiced with his sword every day. How could Elrohir say he never removed it from its scabbard? "Oh," he said finally, blushing. Then he rallied. "You should not be one to talk, Elrohir, for you sheathe your sword much too often!"
The Elves burst into laughter. "Well parried, Estel," Elrohir acknowledged.
Their tasks complete, the Elves and the human returned to the Hall, there to pack their saddlebags. This task did not take long, for they traveled light. Each packed an extra blanket, an extra pair of boots, and a spare set of tunic and leggings. The weather was cold, and if they became wet it would be necessary to have extra coverings and dry clothes. (Even a grown Elf will feel the cold if he becomes drenched in wintertime.) Had it been summer, they might have dispensed with the extra coverings and garments in favor of a larger stock of food. As they carried their bows, however, they had no fear that they would starve. And as Elrohir declared, fresh meat was preferable to dried. Of course, hunting and dressing carcasses was time-consuming. Still, although Legolas had warned that they might confront the unexpected, they all felt certain that they would have sufficient leisure time on this expedition to prepare several tasty meals.
At dawn the next morning, the four of them rode out from Rivendell. The weather was cold, but the skies were clear, and they took turns singing merry songs. They were far from the border of Dunland, in an area well-patrolled, and even Legolas conceded that it was too soon to be wary.
"A maiden in Bree / With her favors was free," sang Elladan.
"When she bedded this Elf / It was her twelfth," warbled Elrohir. This was a ditty frowned upon by the Elders in Imladris (although Elrohir swore that he had overheard Glorfindel humming the tune one evening as he strolled in the garden).
"Yet in the morn / That Elf was worn," Legolas chimed in.
"She had a strength / That matched his length," Estel croaked. His fellows burst into laughter., Estel's voice was still unreliable. It ranged from high-pitched squeaks to guttural rumbles. Estel joined in the laughter. "In the end, my voice shall be manlier than yours," he said cheerfully.
"As you are a Man, that is of course true," Legolas agreed.
"Does it never bother you, Legolas, that Men think Elves woman-like in some respects?" Estel asked.
Legolas shrugged. "Those features that mark Men as manly I think troublesome. Soon you will have to trim a beard or scrape your face clean of stubble, but I shall never have to bother myself with hair sprouting upon my face. Only Dwarves are hairier than Men!"
"The Men in Breeland say that Elves wear their hair like woman and that they have voices to match," Estel retorted, smiling.
"Men themselves vary in the length of their hair. Most wear it cut short, but some wear it nearly as long as Elves," Elladan pointed out. "It is custom only."
Elrohir joined the debate. "Mithrandir says there is a story among some Men about a mighty hero who lost his strength when his hair was cut. In his weakened state, he was blinded by his enemies."
"But Elves do not claim to derive their strength from the length of their hair," Estel observed. "If the length of hair is customary, as Elladan says, why do Elves almost invariably wear it long while amongst Men only some tribes do?"
"Perhaps it never occurred to our ancestors that the male Elves ought to cut their hair," Elladan mused. "Men make much of the distinction between males and females, and their dress and clothes accordingly differ greatly. Elves are not so concerned with this distinction. It does not trouble them if male and female alike wear their hair long."
"Why would it matter to Men but not to Elves," Estel wondered.
"Perhaps because Men put much more stock in strength than Elves do," Elrohir suggested. "You must own that humans honor Men who are disproportionately strong. Such folk are often elevated to positions of authority, whereas among Elves it is the wise who are so honored. Now, as women are rarely as strong as Men—not in musculature, anyway—Men as a class are the more highly honored. Therefore, Men will stress the features that distinguish them from women, such as hair upon the face and deep voices."
"I hear that in some settlements it may go ill with any youth who continues hairless and fails to develop a deep voice," Elladan remarked.
"Aye, I have heard that as well," Legolas agreed. "Such unfortunates may be mocked and abused or even driven from their villages."
"I have heard worse," Estel said slowly. "Halbarad told me that one day he came upon a badly beaten youth who had been tied to a fence in freezing weather. He untied the youth and carried him to a nearby village. There he learned that the young Man had been set upon because he was not sufficiently manly and did not evince any interest in maidens."
"What happened to him?" Elladan asked.
"He had been left to die," Estel said softly, "and in spite of Halbarad's intervention, he perished."
The four rode on in silence for some time. They all knew Elves who had no interest in maidens, and each was as honored as any of the other residents of Imladris. They could not imagine any of them being beaten and left to die. Estel felt ashamed. This was yet another sign of the weakness of his kinsmen. Most would willingly go to war to seize their neighbors' lands. Many believed in blood sacrifice. Some beat children. And one, seduced by avarice, had grasped a Ring of Power, an evil object that should have been destroyed. For his sin, this Man had died, but his death had not set right the wrong he had committed, for Sauron, the ultimate master of the Ring, lived on, as would not have happened had the Ring been destroyed.
Estel's shoulders slumped. That Man had been Isildur, his forefather. Disconsolate, the youth wondered whether he could escape the taint of his ancestry.
"You are not those Men, Estel," Legolas said kindly, for he perceived the thoughts of his foster-brother.
"But are not most Men evil?" Estel asked.
"Some are evil. Some Elves are evil, too, as our father Elrond knows all too well, for he survived the sack of Sirion. But some is not all. Look you: have you never wondered why Mithrandir goes about in the guise of a Man?"
"I am sure it is because he must address Men and they will listen to him more readily if he appears in the guise of one of them. Unlike Elves," Estel added bitterly, "who will welcome those of other races into their councils."
"Yes, I am sure that that is in part the reason. But I also think it is in token of the fact that Men can be virtuous. After all, why would the Valar have even bothered sending Mithrandir to Men if they did not perceive Men worth saving?"
This was an encouraging thought. Unconsciously, Estel straightened his shoulders as he rode, pondering the notion. Legolas was glad for him. He knew that Men believed that the sins of the fathers would be visited upon the sons, but like most Elves, Legolas did not hold to that notion; nor did he wish that Estel should. 'Each one, Man or Elf, may choose anew', the Elf thought to himself. 'That is why Mithrandir has come to Middle-earth: because there are choices to be made and so that he may guide folk in making the right ones'.
After several days riding, Legolas and his companions came to the end of the region regularly scouted by the Elves of Imladris. Accordingly, they grew more vigilant, riding more slowly and stopping frequently to examine such tracks as they encountered. From time to time they came upon the deserted camps of Dunlending hunting parties. Unlike the Dúnedain, who carefully hid all traces of their bivouacs, the Dunlendings merely kicked dirt over their fires and moved on.
"These marks were not left by Dunlendings," Legolas announced one day as they stood in the middle of an abandoned camp. He bent and picked up a broken belt buckle. "This is finer than anything their smiths are capable of forging."
"Perhaps they traded for it," Estel suggested.
Legolas shook his head. "They are poor folk. What could they offer in trade for a buckle such as this? See: it is brass inlaid with silver."
"Perhaps they stole it, then," Estel said.
"It is indeed likelier that a Dunlending would have stolen rather than traded for such a buckle," Legolas agreed. "But neither is the case here. No Dunlending would discard a broken buckle—especially one such as this! The Dunlendings reuse every scrap of metal."
Legolas and his companions carefully examined the camp. At its edge, Elrohir found a discarded pair of boots. The sole of one was worn through, but the other boot was sound.
"Now it is certain that they are not Dunlendings," Elrohir said. "At the very least, a Man of Dunland would have kept the good boot and fashioned a mate for it. Even likelier, he would have kept both boots and resoled the damaged one."
Legolas took one of the boots and studied it. "This boot is of the style worn by Southrons," he said soberly.
Judging from the amount of charred wood in the abandoned fire pit, the Southrons must have stayed several days at the camp.
"If they were traders," Elladan said, "they would have camped only one night and then gone on their way the next morning."
"True," agreed Legolas. "As they lingered, they were more likely scouts who made this their base and went out each day in order to spy out the land."
"Shall we track them?" Estel asked.
Elrohir shook his head. "The vegetation is much trampled. I deem their party to be larger than ours. We may be too few in number to risk an encounter. However, it is enough to know that these Men have visited this place. Tomorrow we should return to Rivendell and report on this matter to Glorfindel and Ada, who will no doubt order that the guard on our borders be redoubled and that scouts be sent out more often."
The others agreed with Elrohir's counsel, although Legolas suggested that they should at least determine the directions in which the Men had scouted.
"Elladan, Elrohir, and I will split up and briefly follow three of the trails," he told Estel. "Meanwhile, you can hunt up something for our dinner."
As Legolas had promised Glorfindel, the human had been keeping the expedition in meat. Now the young Man nodded and strode from the camp, his bow in hand. Behind him, the Elves split up, each following a different trail out of the camp.
Legolas's path was a short one. It led to a nearby Dunlending village. The trail led around the settlement but did not enter it. 'That is good', the Elf thought to himself. 'If they had entered the village, that might bespeak an alliance between the two peoples. Better that each should remain wary of the other'.
Legolas returned to the camp. There he found a brace of squirrels lying beside the fire pit. Estel's pack sat nearby. It was open, and Legolas could see that the camp kettle was gone. 'Whilst Estel is fetching water', Legolas said to himself, 'I shall kindle the fire'. He put aside his bow and collected an armful of branches. Then he knelt and took out his fire kit. As he kindled a small blaze, he heard approaching footsteps that were unmistakably those of a Man. "You have done well, Estel," he called without looking up.
"Have I indeed, Master Elf?" came the sardonic reply at his back. Legolas would have leaped up, but the hand on his shoulder and the knife at his throat prevented him. "Put your hands behind you," the Southron ordered. Legolas thought it prudent to obey, and the spy quickly knotted a rope around his wrists and then yanked Legolas to his feet. "We have made use of this camp in the past," the Man said, "but I see these environs are no longer safe. Still, you are a valuable enough prisoner to make up for the loss of our camp."
The Man pushed Legolas in the direction of the forest, but they had hardly taken two steps before Estel emerged from cover, an arrow nocked on the string of his drawn bow. The Southron seized Legolas by the hair and dug the point of his blade into the side of the Elf's throat.
"Stand aside," he commanded. "Stand aside or I will kill your comrade."
Estel's only answer was to raise the bow and aim it at Southron's head—what he could see of it, anyway, for the Southron was shielded by Legolas's body. The Man laughed mockingly.
"You dare not risk such a shot," he sneered. "Not even a Man full grown would risk it."
Estel hesitated and then lowered his bow. The Man chortled. "Now stand aside," he again demanded, lowering his blade slightly.
Even Legolas's elven eyes could scarcely track Estel's movements as the youth suddenly raised his bow anew and released his arrow. But the Elf felt the fletching of Estel's arrow brush his cheek as it sped by. The Southron let out a gasp and then the knife fell from his hand as his knees buckled and he collapsed dead at Legolas's feet. Legolas locked eyes with Estel. "Le hannon," the Elf said simply. Estel looked a little pale, and he simply nodded in reply.
By the time Elladan and Elrohir returned to the camp, Estel and Legolas had heaped brushwood over the body of the Southron. Solemnly, the scouts stood by as the body was consumed. Then they removed to another campsite. By tacit agreement, Estel was not expected to dress and cook the squirrels. Elrohir took on that task, and Elladan did the washing up.
A week later, Legolas and his foster-brothers rode into Rivendell. Leaving their horses to the care of the ostlers, they repaired to the bathing rooms, where even Estel was glad to luxuriate for a time in a tub filled with steaming water. Indeed, he stayed so long in the bath that Legolas began to wonder whether the young Man were intent on scrubbing off far more than the grime of a three weeks' journey.
When Estel at length emerged from the bath, he joined his brothers in the Dining Hall, where Elrond and Glorfindel greeted him, each in his own fashion. Elrond smiled and said that he was glad to see his youngest son; Glorfindel, himself lately returned from Lothlórien, harrumphed that tomorrow Estel had better begin making up for lost time on the training field. "Did Estel get in any archery practice whilst gadding about?" the balrog-slayer demanded of Legolas. The young Elf smiled. "Indeed, he practiced his shooting under the most trying conditions and in doing so proved himself to be a formidable archer."
Glorfindel snorted. "A formidable archer! One must bring down a foe at great peril to be called a formidable archer." Suddenly Glorfindel caught sight of Estel's face. It was a study in contrasts, for upon it could be seen pride and grief, confusion and clarity. "Well, I see I should wait to hear the story before I pass judgment," Glorfindel remarked, his tone suddenly kind.
Later that evening, after Legolas had had an opportunity to tell the tale, Elrond, Erestor, and Glorfindel gathered in Elrond's chamber.
"I am beginning to think that Mithrandir is correct," Glorfindel said thoughtfully. "It may be that Estel will indeed be the one to restore and reunite the kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor. On this expedition, he has truly demonstrated his quality in a way that bodes well for his ability to vanquish the foes of the descendants of Númenor."
"It will take more than a few well-placed arrows to bring down the Dark Lord," Erestor reminded the balrog-slayer.
"It is not Estel's skill as an archer of which I speak—impressive though that be," Glorfindel replied, "but rather his steadiness of purpose and poise under pressure. Lacking these, he should not have been able to take the shot—or he would have taken it, and it might have gone ill for Legolas."
"Glorfindel is right," said Elrond. "An archer may spend hours in practice and may hit the eye of the target with every shot, but should he lack those qualities of which Glorfindel speaks, he may miss his mark in an actual engagement. In battle, skill with a bow is necessary but not sufficient."
"And those qualities will be important in many endeavors, not just those involving archery," came a voice in the doorway.
"Mithrandir," smiled Elrond. "You have returned from the Shire."
"As I am here, that seems an unnecessary observation."
"Would you like some wine?"
"And that, my friend, is an unnecessary question."
This declaration was met with another smile. Elrond poured Mithrandir a goblet of Dorwinion wine, several bottles of which Thranduil had sent via Legolas when the younger Elf returned from an extended stay with his Mirkwood father. The wizard, meanwhile, leaned his staff in the corner and tossed his distinctive pointed headgear onto a bench before taking the armed chair before the fire that Erestor obligingly vacated for him. The wizard stretched out his legs, resting them on the fender. Sighing in satisfaction, he accepted the goblet from Elrond. The Elves saw that, as always, the Istar's boots were worn, his leggings muddy, signs that he had walked a long distance and slept rough.
"You were speaking of Estel," Mithrandir said after taking a sip of the wine.
"Yes," replied Elrond. "Glorfindel is beginning to think that you are right about the lad's prospects."
"He has just now come to that conclusion? I should have thought he would have realized that fact long ago."
"I take the long view, Mithrandir," Glorfindel pointed out, "as has always been my custom since being vouchsafed the right to return to Middle-earth."
"Yes, I suppose coming back from fighting a balrog to the death would create just that perspective," Mithrandir conceded. "Much as I love wisdom, I hope I do not purchase it at that price!"
Standing in the doorway as Mithrandir spoke was Legolas. Having been told of Mithrandir's arrival by the Door Warden, the young Elf had hurried to Elrond's room in order to greet his friend and mentor. Listening to the Istar's words, he suddenly had a vision of an immense chamber filled with shadow and flame. He shuddered. Mithrandir looked up.
"Here's my lad!" he cried. "But why do you look so pale?" he added abruptly. "Elrond, he cannot be ill!"
Elrond leaped to his feet. Taking Legolas by the elbow, he guided him to the armed chair, which Mithrandir had hastily relinquished. With Mithrandir hovering over him anxiously, Legolas drank a little watered wine. As his racing heart slowed, the young Elf flushed in embarrassment. "I do not know what came over me," he apologized. "I merely wanted to greet Mithrandir, who must now think me as excitable as an elfling."
"Well, well," said Mithrandir, whose own heart had momentarily raced. "There is something to be said for the enthusiasm of youth. But you must undertake not to give me such a fright in the future, and I shall promise you the same."
"Do not make pledges you cannot keep," Elrond said dryly. He put aside his own wine glass and arose. "It is late, my friends, and I wish to repair to my bed. Legolas, you repair to yours—and stay there for a change!"
"Half a minute, Elrond," Mithrandir said hastily. "In a week I set off for Lothlórien. Glorfindel, you lately returned from that place. How is the road?"
"We saw the tracks of many Orcs. None assailed us, but you should travel in company if at all possible. "
"Exactly! Elrond, as Estel seems to have acquitted himself well recently, might I borrow him?"
"Estel and I are well paired," Legolas said quickly. "We have each other's backs. So you ought to borrow both of us."
Elrond quirked his eyebrows and glanced at Glorfindel. The balrog-slayer gave an exaggerated sigh. It seems he might have saved himself the trouble of escorting his niece to Lothlórien. "I won't object, Elrond," he declared. "Let those two scamps be Galadriel's problem for a change!" Hearing no objections from the weapon's master, Elrond gave his consent.
At dawn a week later, Mithrandir rode out of Rivendell on a horse loaned him by Elrond. Behind him, Legolas and Estel cantered side by side. The two young friends were congratulating themselves on their good fortune. It remained to be seen, however, whether they would still consider themselves fortunate by the end of a fortnight.
To be continued.