'Orcs?' Asked Aragorn in amazement when they returned, weary and bloody. Even as they talked with him Celeborn and Galadriel's maids were binding their wounds. Mithmír winced as stinging salve was applied to the cut on her arm, the worst harm she had received. Even Elvish medicine was not wholly pleasurable, for all its greater potency.
'A whole band of them,' replied Legolas in his lilting tones. 'Maybe twenty or so…'
'At least fifteen, King Elessar,' confirmed Tondfael, with his usual deference to the King of Gondor. 'And hardy fighters for orcs; well armored and bearing many weapons. That is unusual in peaceful lands like this one…' He paused. 'Well, peaceful after the War of the Ring ended, and peaceful before it began.'
Aragorn nodded, and his eyes were grave. 'There are many wandering bands of foul creatures about even now,' he stated in a surprisingly calm way, the fire in his eyes not shown in his voice. 'It is an odd chance, however, that they struck one fighter on his own in a near-deserted wood… And that they were making for our camp on the night that the Lady Galadriel, the Lord Celeborn and myself should all be away…'
'Far too odd a chance to be mere coincidence,' agreed Mithmír in a low voice.
Aragorn turned his piercing gaze her way, trying to hide his paternal instincts for the girl and not hug her, check her wounds, kiss her cheek. 'What do you think it was then, Mithmír?' He asked in a warm voice.
Mithmír shrugged. 'Simple enough, isn't it, Aragorn? The attack was planned. We were not supposed to reach our destination. It's only logical – we're a high-ranking party, what with the King of Gondor and the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood traveling with us, and few guards – even if Tondfael and Bainuilos are perhaps the most skilled High Guards left alive on Middle Earth today. A good catch for any and all bands of orcs and uruk-hai left after the War.'
Tondfael and Legolas raised their Elven voices in agreement. 'Lady Mithmír is right,' Tondfael said. 'But they were rash to come in such small numbers when four Elven warriors awaited them here.'
'That merely means there was no highly intelligent leader directing them,' replied Legolas in smooth tones. 'That is a blessing Valar-sent. They still attacked, though, and there may be more coming later. Maybe that was only a scouting party, and they did not expect to be caught in the woods at all. It is possible to hope that they knew not of the meeting that took place…'
'Possible,' grunted Aragorn in reply, 'but not overly likely, I think.' He sighed, and passed a hand wearily over his brow before continuing. 'It is lucky in deed, Legolas, that you refused to come to the meeting. Your skill with daggers was well-needed in the fight, or so it appears to me.'
A bright fire awoke in Mithmír's eyes. She loved Legolas, but… 'Tondfael and I could have handled the orcs,' she said angrily. 'We were capable.'
Aragorn raised his hands in apology. 'Mithmír, I meant not to imply that you and Tondfael were not capable of dealing with the attack on your own – Ilúvatar knows you are! But you would have suffered far more wounds. And I also think that had Legolas not been in the woods, neither would have you.' His voice was stern, but there was a hint of sympathy for the girl's wild spirit in his deep, secretive look. To his credit, though he knew quite well what Legolas and Mithmír had been doing, he mentioned it not in any more detail than that.
Nevertheless the shield-maiden blushed and averted her eyes. Her nod was slow in coming.
'The question remains,' spoke Legolas, making Mithmír wonder if he ever felt embarrassment, 'as to what action we should take in light of the events…'
Mithmír wondered if it was natural for him to speak so politely when he was in company with anyone but her. But then, she reminded herself silently, he was a Prince – and one of the highest Elven Princes left alive, because he was heir to Greenwood the Great – if he wanted it. As it was, with Legolas wanting to live in Ithilien, it seemed that if either son came to rule it would be Calenhir, his younger brother and only sibling. It made her realize just how different their up-bringings had been, and that, if she was to be his Queen in Ithilien, she had much to learn.
Aragorn nodded. 'Our conversation tonight – last night,' he corrected himself in light of it now being morning, '– which you missed, Legolas, discussed much on that topic.' He looked at Mithmír, rogue strands of dark hair slightly covering his eyes and their expression. 'Mithmír, since you are the only one "in the dark" about our conversation – and I can see in your eyes how much you hate that fact – I deem that I can, after these events, tell you of that talk… And Legolas, too, needs to know exactly what was said.' He was about to continue when two small men – hobbits, no less – broke into the pavilion at a dash, coming to a halt in the middle of the open space, between all the chairs of the assembled.
Merry and Pippin took a good while to catch their breath, but their bright eyes danced all over the assembled folk while they did so. Legolas and Mithmír exchanged laughter-filled glances with each other over the tiny folks' heads. It was Merry who composed himself first, and he leaned over to elbow the Took in the ribs.
'Looks like we barged in on something important, Pip. I told you it was a bad idea…'
'It's not my fault!' Replied Pippin in annoyance to his cousin, while smiling brightly at Mithmír, Tondfael, Legolas and Aragorn in that approximate order. 'Hope we're not interrupting anything important,' he said brightly. 'And if we are, you can kick us out, if you want. But the way we see it…'
'We've a right to know what you're up to,' concluded Merry. They had an odd way of finishing each other's sentences. It was one of Frodo's jokes, and one that Mithmír had heard often (though she barely knew Merry and was acquainted with Pippin little better than that), that there was no Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrine Took, only Pippinmerry, or Merrypippin, or Meriadocperegrine, or some other odd mix of the two. Mithmír thought he was probably right. 'We're a part of this company as much as any other – bigger – folk, and you're all getting told…'
'Frodo and Sam don't know,' reminded Aragorn softly, stifling his laughter exceptionally well.
'Ahhh,' replied Pippin, raising an eyebrow and looking very wise as he nodded slowly, 'but they don't want to know, do they? Whereas we do. We want to know and so you should tell us. Right, Merry?'
'Right, Pip.' And the two eyed the others boldly, daring them not to tell the "secret".
'Well,' Legolas said calmly, looking the hobbits over, 'we might tell the other hobbits…'
'And I suppose it can do no harm,' continued Mithmír, raising her eyebrows as if considering the fact.
'And they do look exceptionally desperate,' chuckled Tondfael, earning him an awed look from the cousins who barely knew him but had heard of his fighting prowess.
'What's that supposed to mean, Merry?' Pippin whispered to Meriadoc a little too loudly. All in the pavilion heard it, including the Elf-maids who, having done their healing work, were collecting their things and moving away, whispering to each other in intricate Sindarin. 'Desperate? Us? For what?'
'I think it might mean that we deserve to know because we look like we'll fight to find out, Pippin,' replied Merry, nodding knowledgeably. 'And we will,' he added louder, seeing Mithmír's face contort into laughter.
'Oh you will in deed, little Lords?' Aragorn's eyes glittered with mirth, but he only held out for a second longer. 'Of course we'll tell you. Please, take a seat…'
The two hobbits did so, whispering audibly between them of their moral victory. When they were settled, on the stools between Mithmír and Tondfael's chairs, they turned their cheery eyes to the King.
'So, what is it, this thing we want to know about?' Asked Pippin with a bright beam, not at all ashamed of his lack of knowledge. 'If we can get this over in half an hour it'll be time for breakfast.' He rubbed his stomach happily.
'Have you much knowledge of the Little People, Tondfael?' Asked Aragorn, seemingly polite, but his eyes flicked to the halflings and winked.
'No, King Elessar,' replied the Elf in all – apparent – sincerity.
'Then the first thing you should be told of,' replied Aragorn, winking then at Mithmír and sharing a smile with his great friend Legolas Thranduilion, 'is their exceptional love of and fixation on anything edible, and the vast amounts they are capable of consuming in a single day.'
'That's not fair to say!' Burst out Merry, indignant. 'We like other things too, like… Like pipe-weed, and ale, and growing things.' Pippin nodded earnestly along with this statement. ''Tis not as if we only like food.'
'I'm sure it's not,' chuckled Aragorn. 'I'm sure it's not. But quiet the growlings of your stomachs, gentlehobbits, while we discuss this matter.'
'And then there shall be breakfast in plenty!' Broke in Legolas, his pretty Elven voice fair ringing with joy and mirth at the innocent, charming antics of the Little People.
Pippin and Merry exchanged glances before speaking. It appeared that, as much as they wanted to hear the news, food came first. 'Very well,' Merry spoke for both of them. 'We'll listen. But don't try to keep any secrets from us, Aragorn!'
'I won't. And I promise you'll get both breakfasts today, Meriadoc and Peregrine.'
'That's well then,' sighed Pippin happily, and settled down to listen along with all of those who had not heard the full story of the previous night's meeting.
