"What impudence!" Denethor fumed as he climbed the long stair of the White Tower beside the Steward. "Don't trust them, Father, they must have some shameful reason for hiding their names and lineage!"

"I think not." Ecthelion answered calmly giving his son a quizzical, sidelong glance. "Clearly they are of our people."

"So are the Corsairs of Umbar." Denethor answered grimly.

"Not Corsairs." Adrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, said decisively from behind them."There's Elven blood there."

"Like yours?" Ecthelion asked over his shoulder.

"No, not like mine." Adrahil answered soberly. "My ancestress was a silvan Elf of Lorien and bequeathed to us the fair hair of her people. Dark hair and grey eyes are the mark of the High Elves of the West."

A sentry opened a door off a landing for them and they passed into a curving corridor on the third level of the Tower. "King Earnur wrote the women and children of the North Kingdom were given refuge by the Elves of Lindon." Ecthelion mused. "I wonder, could their blood have mingled over the long years?"

"If that were so why should any wish to hide it?" Denethor demanded irritably. "There is no shame in Dunedain blood, or Elven!"

"That I cannot answer, son. But of this much I am certain; whatever our friends are hiding it is not shame."

Denethor snorted, but before he could continue the argument a door opened and a golden haired little girl ran laughing to Adrahil's arms. "Papa!"

Ecthelion and his son both smiled down on her. "Why Lady Finduilas," said the Steward, "what brings you to Minas Tirith?"

"The shops of the third circle." her father answered. "Finduilas has a birthday coming up, she must choose her present."

"How old will you be, my Lady?" Denethor asked, "nine isn't it?"

The girl drew herself up to her full height and gave the Steward's heir a cold look. "Eleven!"

"I beg your pardon, Princess." he said quickly, appropriately chastened. "I'd lost track of the years."

"I'll forgive you if you'll be my escort, Lord Denethor." she shot a glance up at her father. "Papa won't let me go down to the shops alone and nobody here will go with me."

"I'm sure the Lord Denethor has other calls on his time -" Adrahil began.

"In fact I believe I have completed my duties for the day." Denethor interrupted with a glance at his father. "With your permission, sir?" Ecthelion nodded. His son started to take Finduilas' hand, caught himself mid-gesture and instead offered his arm. She rewarded his tact with a beaming smile, laying her small hand on his sleeve as primly as any court lady as they walked decorously off together.

"Now Finduilas," Denethor said quietly when they were back on the stair and out of hearing of their fathers, "you know as well as I that any of my mother's women would be glad to chaperone you within the city. So why, may I ask, do you specifically require my company?"

"I need your advice." she answered seriously. "I don't want any silly girls' fripperies for this birthday. I want a horse, and I'm not quite sure how to choose one."

"But surely you have a horse." Denethor protested mildly.

"I have a pony!" she said emphatically. "A fat, sleepy old pony. I want a real horse, one that can run and jump!"

He tilted his head quizzically. "Will your father approve?"

"He'll have no choice." she answered firmly. "He promised to buy me whatever I wanted." Finduilas smiled a little smugly. "He thinks it will be dresses or jewels like my sister Ivriniel. But he's given his word and I will hold him to it!"

Denethor fought back a smile. "I must remember not to make you any open ended promises, Princess."

--

"That went well didn't it?" Aragorn said placidly as they repassed the Fountain Guards in their royal livery.

"Ecthelion is suspicious." Barahir pointed out, but mildly.

"He is intrigued." Aragorn corrected. "We need have no fear of him."

"I don't." Barahir gave his brother a sidelong glance. "Ecthelion's heir is another matter."

"Yes." Aragorn agreed thoughtfully. "We must try to make a friend of him."

"Why?" Barahir demanded. "We won't be in Gondor long."

"Not this time." Aragorn answered somberly. "But we will be coming back someday - to stay."