Disclaimer: Not mine. Not one Elf. Not one Ranger.
Author's Note: This has been sitting on my hard drive for years, partly complete. And I wanted to write something silly, so what better idea than to finish it?
I have a feeling I haven't replied to everyone's reviews… ffn has been missing most of my notifications. Past time to finish AO3 crossposting, I know.
Summary: Éowyn takes Legolas to a market, so that he can learn something of Gondor. Legolas complicates matters by wagering with the sons of Elrond that he can visit the market without anyone knowing he's an Elf.
Market Day
Extract from letter from Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien, to her brother Éomer, King of Rohan
I would find it lonesome indeed. Although Faramir does everything he can for my amusement, he is necessarily much occupied with matters of state. I do not yet understand the land and its people well enough to engage myself similarly. I look forward to the time when I can be the Princess of Ithilien in more than name.
Lest you worry too much about me, my dear brother, I should tell you that the arrival of Legolas and his companions from Eryn Lasgalen has added greatly to the cheer of the country. I have never known such a merry folk. They are as playful as the Halflings. Some of them are far more inventive than even Master Peregrin. I can scarcely believe that they are the formidable warriors who have held the borders of the Elven-king against Dol Guldur.
The idea was mooted at lunch, when one of the lords mentioned that it was market day at the village nearby. Deric was seated near enough to the high table to hear Lady Éowyn's eager response, the Elven-prince's enquiries about what a "market day" was and whether that was where one bought Dorwinion, and, finally, Lady Éowyn's offer to take him to it.
"After all, Legolas," she said, her easy familiarity with the son of the reportedly irascible Elven-king astonishing Deric and his companions, "if you are planning to spend any length of time in a Mannish realm, you will have to learn the local customs. Consider this your first lesson."
"Elves in Gondor," muttered a ranger seated a little further down the table from Deric. "The son of Thranduil at a village market. No good will come of that."
He spoke softly, but it appeared that the tales of preternaturally acute Elven hearing were accurate, because the dark-haired Elf seated beside Prince Legolas looked up, grey eyes as hard as flint, to direct a stare at the man. He hastily busied himself with his trencher.
"Are you certain that is wise?" Faramir asked, drawing the Elf's attention away. "The presence of the Princess of Ithilien, and one of the few remaining Elven-lords of Middle-earth, might cause some consternation among the local population. They are unaccustomed to such important visitors."
Prince Legolas protested the title of Elven-lord. He was speaking Westron, as all the Elves were, out of deference to their Mannish hosts. He seemed more fluent than most of his companions, although his voice held an odd lilting music that was at once pleasant and utterly alien.
Deric wondered if he preferred being addressed as a prince, as indeed was his right. Deric could not tell. The question of the Elf's proper title was drowned by Lady Éowyn's immediate and enthusiastic suggestion that she and Prince Legolas should go to the market without declaring themselves.
"Nobody will know us," she assured Faramir. "They will think we have travelled from another town."
Faramir's eyes went doubtfully from one golden head to the other, but he evidently decided it was wisest to say nothing.
One of the sons of Elrond – Deric could not tell one from the other and doubted he ever would – said it for him.
"You might pass unnoticed at a Gondorian market, Lady Éowyn," he said, inclining his head to her with the courtesy that seemed innate to all Elves, at least when speaking to Men. "I cannot judge. But I very much doubt that Thranduil's legendary archer will successfully pretend to be a Man for more than ten minutes."
"You have little faith in my abilities," said Legolas – Prince Legolas; Deric would have to remember to use his title while the Elves remained to avoid causing affront.
"I have great faith in your abilities," the other Elf assured him, "as a warrior. If I were imperilled by a ravaging horde of orcs, there is nobody I would rather see riding to the rescue than the finest archer Middle-earth produced in the Third Age. But, and you will excuse my honesty, my Elven-prince, I have reason to doubt your success in this venture. You must remember that I have had ample experience of your attempts to pass unknown among mortals."
"You do not make sufficient allowance for the assistance of Lady Éowyn."
"Lady Éowyn," was the solemn reply, "cannot know the enormity of her undertaking."
"Perhaps not," Lady Éowyn said, with a gentle smile that as a happily married man Deric knew to be deceptive. "But I would like to try."
"Would you care to lay a wager on it?" the other son of Elrond asked Legolas, lips quirking into what seemed to Deric a most dangerous grin. "You seem confident of your success. I think, at least, there is more sport in this than in wagering on your bow."
Legolas, unheeding of the warning conveyed by the other Elf's expression, acquiesced. There was an enthusiastic clamour from his companions.
There would be several trinkets changing hands that evening, unless Deric greatly missed his guess.
"But I expect you to be fair, Legolas," said the son of Elrond. "Give the Men a chance to identify you. You must not go there and spend the day sitting in a tree. Even here, I do not doubt the trees will make certain that nobody can glimpse so much as the hem of your cloak."
"What degree of participation do you require?"
There was silence as the sons of Elrond held a quick, whispered conversation. Then, "I believe they often have archery competitions at markets in Gondor. If they have one here, you will participate. And you will do your best. Give them a performance that would please your Archery Master. If, at the end of the day, even one visitor speaks of having seen an Elf at the market, you will forfeit."
"Do you intend to question everyone in the country? I can see that causing far more alarm than my poor attempts at their fairground targets."
One of the sons of Elrond choked on his wine. The Elf-maiden sitting beside him thumped him firmly on the back, while his brother said, "Unlike you, Legolas, we are under no obligation to go anywhere in disguise. Lord Faramir will go." Lord Faramir looked alarmed. He did not speak at once, evidently trying to think of a way to refuse the King's foster-brother without causing offence. "I am certain you need do no more than visit the market yourself, Lord Faramir. The people will tell you what has passed as soon as they see you."
"As you wish," said Legolas, shrugging, when Faramir still said nothing.
"You have arranged matters so that the odds are greatly in your favour, Elrohir," said another of the Elf-maidens. "Forget being identified as an Elf; Legolas on the archery field will be recognizable as Legolas before he has finished his first volley."
"I see that you have as little faith in my abilities as they do," observed Legolas.
"As Elladan said, if I were imperilled by a horde of Orcs, there is nobody I would rather see riding to the rescue than the warrior-prince of Eryn Lasgalen. If I needed someone to pass for a Mannish archer, perhaps I would choose one of the sons of Elrond."
Deric stole a glance at the Elf. Despite her words, her eyes sparkled with mirth. Both sons of Elrond laughed.
"When this inevitably leads to trouble," said another Elf, "we will make certain that the King knows it was your idea, Elrondion."
Lord Faramir groaned.
"In the interest of our venture," Éowyn said to the Elves, "I must ask that the rest of you defer your own enjoyment until the next market day. One Elf might go unnoticed. I cannot answer for so many."
"It is no sacrifice," the Elf sitting at Legolas' right hand declared. "Indeed, my lady mother has ordered me not to go among Men until I have learnt more of their ways, so that I will avoid causing a war."
There was laughter among his companions, who seemed to agree with his lady mother.
Deric thought the matter might be forgotten, but it was not. Lady Éowyn was the first to rise from the table, taking Prince Legolas' offered arm to allow him to escort her from the room. Instead of following with one of the Elf-maidens, Faramir signalled to Deric to wait, and called another Elf aside on his way out of the dining hall.
"You are not letting him go alone, are you, Eredhion?" Lord Faramir asked the Elf. "There are still enough Men who do not welcome the Elven presence to make it… unsafe."
"Unsafe for Legolas?" said Eredhion. "Unless your Men who do not welcome the Elven presence trained in swordsmanship under Lord Glorfindel…"
"I am not impugning the finest of the Elven-king's archers," Lord Faramir said hastily. "I have seen his skill with both bow and blade. Legolas will be in no real danger, but there might be unpleasantness. He would not like that, either."
"Of course not," the Elf retorted. "Since Legolas seems to have a fancy for observing Mannish customs, we will ensure he does so in safety. But he will not take kindly to a guard following him… particularly if we draw attention to him and he loses his wager. At any rate I am likelier to pass for a Man than Legolas is."
"With all due respect to your Elven-prince," said Lord Faramir, "any Elf in Middle-earth is likelier to pass for a Man than he is. You may need help. This is Deric, one of the finest of my rangers. Take him with you. Deric, you will be responsible for Lady Éowyn's safety."
"There is no need," Eredhion said. "Voronwë and I are quite capable of watching over Lady Éowyn as well as Legolas, particularly since they will be together. Too large a group and we will be found out."
"Perhaps Deric can take Voronwë's place," Faramir suggested.
"If this unpleasantness that you fear should arise, would you like to be the one to explain the substitution to the King?"
"I do not know whether you mean Gondor's King or the Elven-king. I would not want to have to confess to either of them that a decision of mine caused harm to come to Legolas. But that will not happen. I do not doubt that you could watch over both Legolas and Éowyn yourself, just as Legolas is quite capable of defending himself and her – and nobody knows better than I that Éowyn is not helpless, either. But my Rangers must learn to work with Elven warriors. If you are willing, we can take this opportunity to begin."
Eredhion turned to look at Deric, clearly sizing him up. Whatever he saw, it seemed to satisfy him, because he nodded. Deric felt a flicker of pride. Everyone should know that Gondorian warriors were just as capable as their Elven brethren.
"Be ready in half an hour," the Elf said.
Extract from letter from Éomer, King of Rohan to his sister Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien
You have always been impulsive, Éowyn, so I cannot claim surprise. However, I will admit that it was not a bad plan. Legolas, as we can ourselves attest, has had experience in dealing with Men. I do question whether visiting a village market without revealing yourselves was the best way to learn something of your new home, either for you or for him.
I wish I had been there to see Legolas attempt to pass for a Man. You must have gained much amusement from the sight.
Fifteen minutes later, Deric was lacing up his boots, feeling unaccustomedly clumsy.
"Well?" The Elven voice held more than a hint of impatience. "Are you not dressed and armed yet?"
Deric looked up to find that Eredhion had divested himself of the formal tunic he had been wearing in the great hall. He was now clad in light brown garments under a dark cloak. He had on a pair of vambraces, which was apparently as far as he meant to go in the matter of armour, and no visible weapons.
Despite the hood covering his head – and his pointed Elven ears – he looked out of place in the armoury, and as Mannish as any of the Elven party had that morning, which was to say, in their silvery tunics and gowns, not at all.
Deric said as much.
Eredhion shrugged. "Wait until you see what Legolas thinks is a Mannish guise. Nobody will notice me."
"You on the other hand, Master Deric," muttered the Elf who had trailed into the room after Eredhion, "are very conspicuous. Look at that." He waved a hand in the general direction of Deric's sword, which was in a plain leather sheath. "That will be visible from leagues away."
Deric thought it was a bit much for Voronwë, whose allegedly woollen tunic had an unearthly pearly sheen, to talk about anything being visible from leagues away. Knowing it would be useless to point that out, he asked where Eredhion's weapons were.
Before the question was fully out of his mouth, the tip of a hunting knife was an inch from his nose.
"Here," said Eredhion. "And here," he added, brandishing a dagger that he slid from his sleeve into his left hand. "Do not worry about my weapons, Lord Deric." He shifted, and the blades vanished. "We should go. Legolas and Lady Éowyn have left already."
"So soon?" asked Deric.
"Legolas does not waste time. Nor, from what I have seen of her, does Lady Éowyn. Come."
Voronwë followed them down to the stables, looking discontented. Deric was not entirely certain that the Elf did not intend to tie him up in a corner and go in his stead.
"It will be fine," Eredhion assured Voronwë.
"That is all very well. The last time we let Legolas go away without an escort, he agreed to accompany the weapon of the Enemy halfway across Middle-earth. I thought the King would flay us when he learnt of it. If something happens today and I was not even present to try to prevent it…"
"Nothing of that sort is likely to happen here." Eredhion looked around to make certain nobody else was within hearing distance and added, "If Legolas finds some other sort of trouble, we can always tell the King it was Lord Faramir's doing."
With that not-very-comforting pronouncement he leapt onto his horse.
Extract from letter from Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien, to her brother Éomer, King of Rohan
At least horses are the same in Gondor – not so well trained as ours, perhaps, and it occurs to me that that might be an area where I could help Faramir, if his Rangers will allow a woman to teach them how to manage their horses. Faramir thinks they will, if the woman were a Shieldmaiden of Rohan.
Sometimes I long for the open plains and the races we had as children. The Gondorian court is so much more constrained than ours.
Legolas suggested that I might enjoy racing with the Elves, once they are more settled. The court of the Elven-king is – in Legolas' words – not nearly as dull as that influenced by stiff Noldorin customs. In any case, the Elves will have no court here. Some of Legolas' companions are among the most decidedly merry folk I have met.
I expect I will take him up on the offer.
Eredhion made Deric hold back, to avoid being spotted. Legolas and Lady Éowyn, both swift riders, were soon out of sight. Some distance from the village, Eredhion and Deric discovered Éowyn's horse tied to a tree.
"I suppose prancing up on chargers would have defeated any attempt at concealment," observed Deric. "But where is the Elf-prince's horse?"
Eredhion shot him an odd glance. "There is no need to stand on formality. I expect Legolas set her loose to roam." He swung himself off his own horse. "We would do well to follow their example." As Deric dismounted and set about tying his charger to the tree beside Lady Éowyn's Meara, Eredhion patted his horse's nose. "Stay out of Legolas' sight," he told it.
It whickered and cantered away.
"Come," said Eredhion.
And suddenly he was not there anymore.
Deric looked around in alarm. Lord Faramir had spoken to the Rangers of the need to work closely with the Elves – and to learn from them. Losing sight of his companion so early into their mission boded ill for the possibility of their working together.
"Are you coming?" came an impatient hiss from above him.
Deric looked up. Eredhion was in the tree, his tunic and cloak blending so well into the mottled trunk that he would have been invisible if not for his dark hair.
"Do you intend to sit in the tree?" Deric asked. "We are meant to be following the princess and Prince Legolas."
"Yes. Stealthily," said Eredhion, indicating the trees lining the road.
Deric had a mental vision of himself lumbering from branch to branch, falling out at some inopportune moment and sticking himself with his own sword.
"This is not how Rangers achieve stealth," he said at last.
"What do you suggest, then?"
"We will walk." Deric waved a hand in the direction of the village. "It is market day. People will come from miles around. Nobody will notice two Rangers going to the market. It will be quicker."
"Walk," muttered Eredhion, as though Deric had lost his mind. "Quicker. When there are trees?"
"I can climb trees, but, not being a squirrel, I cannot reach the village through the trees."
"Ah, yes. Legolas warned us about this." Eredhion leapt down lightly. "He said Men cannot speak to trees. But I did not think… Nobody can speak to trees as Legolas does, and… well, so be it. You walk. I will meet you at the market."
And he was gone again.
When Deric finally reached the edge of the large field where the market had been set up, he looked around for Eredhion. There was no movement in the trees to show where the Elf was.
Deric looked back at the road. Surely he could not still be –
"Here you are."
Deric did not jump, because Rangers did not jump, but he was startled. Eredhion was suddenly standing beside him, eyeing him with a mixture of amusement and mild disapproval.
"I thought you would never get here," the Elf said. "Come."
"Where are they?" asked Deric, following Eredhion into the bustling market.
Eredhion nodded in the direction of a stall selling carved wooden animals. Deric had no difficulty in spotting their charges. He had to admit that Lady Éowyn, at least, had disguised herself well. She was wearing a simple, dark gown. Her golden hair was tucked away under a bonnet. She might have passed for a local goodwife, albeit a wealthy one.
Legolas, on the other hand…
"He has tried," Eredhion said. Deric could hear the laughter in his voice.
Deric wanted to laugh himself. Legolas had acquired a decrepit, moth-eaten cloak and shrouded himself in it, in an apparent attempt to look like a penniless vagrant. But nowhere in Gondor did vagrants stand so tall and walk with such grace, nor did they have hair that shone like burnished gold through the holes in their hoods.
"Make sure they do not spot us," Eredhion warned Deric as they crept closer.
"Will Prince Legolas send you back?" Deric asked.
Eredhion scoffed. "I should like to see him try! Legolas has no authority over me." At Deric's raised eyebrows, he explained, "In matters of Legolas' safety I answer only to the Elven-king, and Legolas knows it. He will make no attempt to order me away. But if he knows we are here, he will make a game of evading us."
"Surely he is a little too conspicuous for evasion," said Deric, his eyes on Legolas. The people standing beside him were shooting him sidelong glances, and not the sort of glances anxious villagers gave tramps who might steal the butter. It was only a matter of time before someone tried to make conversation with this mysterious stranger.
"Legolas can be inventive," Eredhion said grimly.
Just as Deric and Eredhion reached the stall, Legolas raised his head and turned in their direction.
"Too late," Eredhion said with a short laugh. "Did you have tracking exercises during your Ranger training?"
"Yes," Deric said, shuddering. "They were terrible. Master Oswin would leave with an hour's head start on us. Once I spent four days of walking around in circles in the same square mile of forest before he took pity on me and let me spot him."
"Be thankful that we are not in the forest. Even among the Silvan Elves, there are very few trackers who might hope to find Legolas if he has gained the cover of the trees."
Extract from letter from Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien, to her brother Éomer, King of Rohan
There are certainly less entertaining ways to spend an afternoon than escorting an Elf to a market. I should be glad – so I was told later – that it was Legolas I took, because long years serving in the Elven-king's court have taught him to conceal his emotions. Any other Elf and I might have been trying to mediate a quarrel.
I hope that is not a presage of what is to come as Men and Elves attempt to learn each other's habits. The Elves seem unconcerned about that – fifty years or a hundred, the time they will spend in Ithilien is but a little space to them.
Despite Eredhion's dire predictions, for the first hour their task was easy. Lady Éowyn tucked her hand into Legolas' arm and guided him through the market. She stopped at a fancywork stall and selected three lace collars. Deric derived some amusement from watching the Shieldmaiden of Rohan and the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, both accomplished warriors but neither, it appeared, accustomed to handling Gondorian currency, as they took fully ten minutes to identify the correct coins to give the seller. The stallholder seemed equally diverted, and made no effort to help, though when Éowyn finally put the money in her hand, she responded by pressing an embroidered handkerchief on her.
From the fancywork, they went to examine the leather goods – Éowyn exclaimed over a finely-tooled saddle, which impressed Legolas not at all – flowers – Deric could have sworn the blooms were just a little brighter when the Elf's long fingers touched them – and pipeweed, at which every line of Legolas' cloak-shrouded form spoke Elven distaste.
What they did not do was hide, disappear, run away, or do anything at all to make their guards' task difficult.
Eredhion looked more and more worried as the minutes trickled by with no excitement.
"Is this Elven tracking?" Deric asked, unable to resist a gentle jibe. "Master Oswin would not be impressed. This is the easiest tracking lesson I have ever had."
"Be careful how you tempt fate," was all Eredhion said. "And remember the wager. Legolas has not been near the archery range yet."
Deric shrugged. Perhaps Eredhion was right. Perhaps, and far more likely, the Elven-prince was simply enjoying a day at the market, the wager had been idle banter between friends, and the guard was unduly paranoid.
Extract from letter from Éomer, King of Rohan, to his sister Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien
I would say you should try to avoid trouble; but knowing you, my sister, I cannot expect that. At least you kept Legolas from losing his wager. One of the sons of Elrond – I regret I cannot recollect which one – did mention to me that Legolas is notorious among Elfkind for being able to wheedle anybody into anything. I can hardly fault you for not having greater willpower than the Elven-king and the Master of Imladris.
"You are running out of time," Éowyn said, as the shadows began to lengthen. "The archery competition will close at sunset."
"I was waiting to have fewer observers," Legolas said. "Nobody specified when I must participate."
"That will not happen now. People are growing tired. They have bought all they need. Some of the stallholders have sold all their goods. If anything, more of them will gather to watch the competitions – and wager a portion of their earnings."
"I suppose it is time." Legolas looked around. "Eredhion seems to expect trouble."
"There will be trouble if someone wagers against you and loses too much money."
"I would not want to cause anyone hardship. Elladan and Elrohir laid no conditions about wagering on archery… only on my performance. I remember the terms of ourwager very well." Éowyn swore there was a mischievous glint in the Elf's blue eyes. "Perhaps the man running the stall might help us, if we can speak to him alone. Eredhion can finally be useful."
"Where is he?"
"He is loitering behind the fancywork stall with one of Lord Faramir's rangers. They are just waiting for something to go wrong." Legolas pursed his lips and whistled. Éowyn barely heard it above the noise and bustle of the market, but a moment later, he held up his hand, and a swallow alighted on his outstretched finger.
"Faramir said all the birds had fled Ithilien," said Éowyn, charmed.
"There are a few. There will be more. That is why we are here, to restore some beauty to Middle-earth before the time comes for us to leave it… I must ask you for a favour, my friend," Legolas said to the swallow. The swallow cocked its head. "Do you see the horses tethered by the fence?"
Extract from letter from Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien, to her brother Éomer, King of Rohan
I very much wish – and I think you will concur – that we might persuade some of the Elves to spend more time in Rohan. I would like to introduce them to the home I knew as a girl – and from what I have seen of them, seeing our Mearas will make up, in their minds, for the lack of trees in our wide plains.
Perhaps I will ask some of them to come with me when I visit Rohan next year. We share our love of horses with them. And I know that you will enjoy making their acquaintance.
The shadow of the Ephel Dúath had not yet receded. Birds were an unusual enough sight in Ithilien that Deric could not help but be aware of the swallow that fluttered onto Legolas' hand. He felt a little thrill of boyish excitement.
"I knew it," muttered Eredhion. "Trouble. I do not know what Legolas has in mind, but I do not expect to approve."
Before Deric could ask what Eredhion meant, the bird flew away. Moments later, a flock of birds, swallows and starlings, thrushes and robins, and even a pair of falcons, appearing seemingly from a clear sky, descended on the paddock where several of the horses were grazing. They set up such a racket as Deric had never heard before, chirping, trilling, cooing and screeching.
This had the expected effect on the horses. Deric was not surprised when they began to rear.
He did let out an exclamation of horror when the paddock gate swung open.
"They will destroy the market!" he exclaimed. "We must stop them!"
Eredhion laughed. "There is no need for us to bestir ourselves. Legolas would never cause wanton harm to anyone who is not an Orc."
Deric was about to protest, but the words died on his lips when he saw what looked like the Elven-prince's disreputable cloak among the horses. And although the horses did gallop, even the ones that had been tethered to the fence somehow running free with the others, they avoided stalls and merchandise, leapt over the fence, and, once they had put a hundred yards between them and the birds, began to crop the grass quietly. They left behind them a shocked silence, but not so much as a handkerchief had been trodden into the dirt.
Extract from letter from Éomer, King of Rohan, to his sister Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien
I cannot but suspect you of amusing yourself at my expense, my dear sister, since you devoted half a page to a description of lace edging for handkerchiefs – a subject which holds, I know, even less interest for you than it does for me – before you condescended to tell me of the archery.
I would regret that I was not there to see it, but I shall hope such an opportunity comes my way – particularly if you persuade your Elven friends to visit Rohan. Our friends here miss your company only a little less than I do.
"Go now," Éowyn said, as nearly everyone at the archery range ran off in pursuit of the horses. "There are but four people there now. We cannot expect it to be emptier than this. Go. Give them a few volleys before the others return. Then you will have kept the terms of your wager and I will not have to worry."
"It is scarcely a matter for worry, Lady Éowyn," said Legolas, but he began to walk towards the range all the same. Éowyn followed him, to intervene if necessary.
The stallholder, a rough-looking man, grunted and gave Legolas two sheaves of arrows in exchange for his coin.
"Choose a bow," he said. "Unless you have your own."
Legolas looked at the bows laid out on the table and muttered, "I should have brought my bow."
"Yes, indeed," said Éowyn, too softly for the stallholder to hear. "An excellent thought. An Elven longbow worked in silver would have been most inconspicuous. Nobody would have suspected a thing. Choose one, Legolas, quickly."
Legolas rolled his eyes, but he refrained from making any remark on the quality of the bows. After a moment's deliberation he chose one that he appeared to consider less poorly-made than the others. Éowyn had to admit that the bow looked far cruder than the Elf's normal weapon – although it was in keeping with his vagrant's disguise.
Legolas stepped to the shooting line and took a long look at the target.
Despite her worry about what would happen if someone noticed them, Éowyn could not help looking forward to the spectacle. Although she had seen enough during the battle at Helm's Deep to know that Legolas could easily outshoot even the finest archers among the Rohirrim, she had never yet seen him on the archery range.
"Let me give you some advice on stance," the stallholder began.
Legolas lined up and released four arrows in quick succession. They thudded into the target perfectly, the last one splitting the first. Legolas barely waited to see them hit before he reached for the next handful.
The stallholder grunted and stood back.
"Friend of yours?" he asked Éowyn.
"Oh – yes."
"If you'll forgive me for saying so, you don't look like a village woman."
"Oh – I –"
"I don't know what he's trying to look like, but I can assure you that he's failing." The man shrugged. "No business of mine as long as he pays."
Éowyn let out a breath as Legolas emptied the first sheaf. A few people were returning. They probably had only moments until the crowd became large enough to be troublesome.
"Legolas, do it faster," she said.
Legolas glanced at her and nodded. This time it seemed that he did not even bother to aim, simply drawing and loosing one shaft after another. All the same, the shots were perfect. The bowmaster at Edoras would have wept for joy.
Legolas turned to put the bow on the table with the others.
Éowyn allowed herself to relax.
A small boy darted out seemingly from nowhere, tugged at Legolas' sleeve, and said, "Please, will you show me how to shoot? I have coins." He held up a few coppers.
"I…"
"Please. It is my dearest wish to be an archer. I have never seen anyone like you. Please. Please."
Legolas looked helplessly over the boy's head at Éowyn. The boy turned at once.
"Oh, please, my lady, ask him to show me. I won't take long."
The boy's face was vaguely familiar, but Éowyn could not place him. His clothes were simple, patched in places but well cared for. He must have inherited them from an elder brother or cousin. Perhaps he was the son of one of Faramir's rangers.
"Please, my lady."
"Oh, I suppose if it means so much to him, I must ask you to be kind enough to show him," Éowyn said to Legolas. "Make it quick."
She may as well not have given the warning. By the time Legolas had loosed three more arrows, the crowd around the archery range was growing. Legolas did not seem disturbed by the throng – Éowyn supposed that he was accustomed to it. The Elves of the Woodland Realm, from what she had heard, liked to gather to watch the archers, and practically made a market day of it.
Of course, if those she had spoken to that morning were to be believed, the Elves of the Woodland Realm made a market day of everything.
Legolas gave the bow to the boy and showed him how to stand. If anything, this made him even more conspicuous. It was just conceivable that a man forced to make his living off the land might gain skill with a bow, but such precise attention to the placement of the elbows and the angle of the head bespoke years of training.
Éowyn could feel the growing curiosity of the crowd. The days when Gondor had lived under the constant threat of the great shadow to the east were near. People knew a warrior when they saw one. They might well be suspicious of a stranger who was so obviously a skilled archer.
Legolas seemed to sense the same thing. He glanced around, seemingly unconcerned, and then murmured something to the stallholder. The man shrugged, and then announced that Prince Legolas, commander of the Elven-king's archers, would be glad to give advice on the bow to anybody who wanted it.
The silence grew heavy. Éowyn wished she had a weapon.
Legolas, still appearing unworried, let his hood drop. His eyes, which, despite his youth, spoke of more centuries than any Man could know, would have given him away, even if his pointed ears had not been visible.
Éowyn did not know what they had been thinking to suppose that Legolas was ever going to pass for a Man.
Seeming unconscious of the impression he was making, the source of Éowyn's consternation smiled merrily around at the gathered people.
"It is but little return I can make for the kindness you have all shown me today," he said. "And for the many and wondrous goods I have seen at your stalls. I must congratulate you, Mistress Raisa, on the finest cakes I have tasted since leaving my home." A woman in the crowd blushed and laughed. "Master Hammand, your woodwork is exquisite." Master Hammand, a gruff, white-bearded man, tried to look disapproving, but the twitching of his moustache gave him away.
Legolas went on, but Éowyn barely listened to the words. It was enough for her to see the effect he was having on the crowd. Stiff shoulders relaxed, frowns vanished, tension eased… Éowyn could scarcely believe it until she remembered that Legolas had been a member of his father's court for years beyond her comprehension, and that he had, as she had learnt only that morning, inevitably been the one called upon to put Mannish visitors at ease and to accompany trade delegations into Dale and Laketown.
Éowyn could well imagine why. It scarcely seemed possible, but the crowd had grown friendly, and when Legolas mentioned his wager with the sons of Elrond, more than one person laughed in indulgent amusement.
One young man stepped hesitantly forward. He had a heavy limp.
"I was a woodsman in the days before the battle," he said. "But I took a cut to the leg on the Pelennor fields, and I can go into the forest no longer. Such as the forest is. If I learnt to use the bow, I might be accepted into the City Guard in Minas Tirith."
"I will gladly teach you what I know, any of you," Legolas said. Then he added, with a smile around at the crowd, "I must ask your assistance in one matter, if you will be so kind."
Extract from letter from Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien, to her brother Éomer, King of Rohan
You know I do not lie, and so you must take my word for it when I tell you that I saw battle-heartened veterans laughing with the Elf like children! And not only veterans of the war, whom, one might imagine, sympathize with a fine warrior, but women – children – everyone who was there was his friend by the end of it.
You should be glad, Éomer, that Legolas has not taken it into his head to persuade you to give up your kingdom and become a juggler. He would undoubtedly succeed.
Deric watched open-mouthed. He had fought on the Pelennor Fields, and he distinctly remembered the Elf's presence. But he must have been too busy fighting for his life to notice Legolas' archery – and there was a great deal to notice.
"I have never seen anything like it," he whispered to his companion, as, barely even seeming to aim, Legolas sent arrow after arrow to the centre of the target. The Men participating were improving as well, under Legolas' tutelage. "Is this Elven archery? No wonder Lord Faramir has such reverence for Elven warriors." He turned to Eredhion. "You must demonstrate for us when we return."
Eredhion laughed. "This is nothing. The bow is not my weapon; you would do much better to ask one of the archers to show you – and be certain you ask for a proper demonstration. But even among the archers, there are few who can rival Legolas. Saeldur does, at least on the practice field." He shrugged. "You might even persuade Saeldur and Rochendilwen to assist with the Rangers' archery training. They have been responsible for training Legolas' archers, under Lord Thorontur."
"Would they be willing?"
"They will be, if Legolas consents – and I cannot imagine why he would not."
Extract from letter from Éomer, King of Rohan, to his sister Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien
The one for whom I have the greatest sympathy in all of this is Faramir. I can foresee that he is going to lose a great deal of your company to your new Elven friends – but knowing Faramir, perhaps he will be among them as much as you are.
Éowyn was aware of the young women standing near the edges of the crowd, watching intently. Word of who Legolas was must be spreading. No parents would allow their daughters to stand staring at an unknown vagabond, no matter how skilled his bowmanship.
As Legolas loosed another volley, demonstrating stance to his growing group of students, Éowyn almost laughed. Aeroniel had been quite correct. On the archery field, no ragged cloak could make Legolas seem anything other than himself.
A hand tugged at her skirt.
Éowyn glanced down and saw the boy who had been the first to ask Legolas for archery lessons.
"My lady," he said, "may I ask you something?"
"Of course. What is it?"
The youth's hazel eyes were on Legolas. Hesitant.
"What if I have made a promise, but I do not want to keep it?"
Éowyn looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"
"I promised him, we all promised him, we would tell nobody he was here. But – I – I did not mean any harm, my lady, truly. My father is one of the Captains of Ithilien." That was where she had seen him before. Éowyn cursed herself for not remembering, but there were so many children running around the keep, and she had had so much to do that she had not yet had time to learn all their names. "He says it is my duty as well, as his son, and one soon to be a man grown, to keep the peace, and so I – I – I had no idea –"
Éowyn felt sorry for him.
"To a man of honour," she said, dropping her voice, "a promise is a promise. But Legolas will not hold the broken word against you if you do as your conscience bids you. Your father spoke truly. You will soon be a man grown, and although you must always hear the counsel given to you, you must heed only your own heart."
The boy looked at her as though she had failed to grasp an important point.
The sun was now the merest glimmer of light on the horizon. It was too dark for Mannish eyes. Legolas released another volley without losing a fraction of his earlier precision. On any other market day, the crowd would have begun to disperse, but nobody made any attempt to leave.
There was a commotion at the far side of the fairground.
Extract from letter from Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien to her brother Éomer, King of Rohan
Would you believe me if I told you that despite his utter lack of inconspicuousness, Legolas managed to put down the bow and melt into the crowd? I thought he had vanished utterly, until I realized he was beside me.
It was Faramir, of course, come to make enquiries – I think he will know better than to involve himself in Elven wagers another time.
Deric, hearing a noise behind him on the road, turned.
"Lord Faramir," said Eredhion, without turning around. "You ride lightly, for a Man."
"Are they still there?" Faramir asked, taking the remark for the compliment it was intended to be.
"Indeed they are, my lord," Deric said, raising his hand to point. "Prince Legolas is on the archery field, as you can no doubt –"
He stopped short.
There was nobody on the archery field. The bows were on the table, the crowd that had been there a moment previously was walking among the stalls buying the last few items. Of the Elf and Princess Éowyn there was no sign.
Deric would have thought he had imagined the whole thing if not for Eredhion's expression of amused exasperation.
"Where have they gone?" Deric hissed.
"I believe you expressed an interest in tracking exercises, Master Deric," Eredhion said,
"That can wait," Lord Faramir said. "Come with me, Deric." He swung himself lightly from his horse. "You, also, if you will, Eredhion."
"Do you want witnesses to confirm your statements when you return?" Eredhion asked, laughing. "You are wise, Lord Faramir. Legolas and Elrohir can be very competitive over their wagers… Elladan as well, although you would not think it."
"Prince Legolas seems like he would accept his defeat cheerfully," Deric volunteered.
"Accept defeat cheerfully?" Eredhion looked as though Deric had suddenly grown another head. "Oh, Legolas would, if it came to that. He is nothing if not sporting. But… you do not… do you imagine Legolas will lose this wager?"
"He must. You saw him – I saw him, everyone saw him. He gave a performance no Man could equal. If his archery was not enough to mark him as an Elf, he pulled down his hood."
Eredhion's astonished expression was replaced by a smirk.
"If I may offer you some advice, Master Deric, do not repeat this in the presence of any of my Elven companions. Some might be unscrupulous enough to tempt you into gambling. The King would disapprove – and so would Legolas, if he thought they were taking advantage of your inexperience."
Without waiting for Deric's response, he followed Lord Faramir into the crowd. Deric hurried after them.
The people bowed to Lord Faramir as he approached, but Deric noticed that they were quick to look away. Lord Faramir, for once, seemed uncertain of what to do. At last he hailed a man who made the mistake of holding his gaze a moment longer than the others.
"Yes, my lord?" the man said nervously.
"I hope you have enjoyed the fair," Lord Faramir said, sounding as awkward as though he were the Elf seeing a Mannish market day for the first time. "It is a fine day."
"Indeed, my lord."
"Has anything… ahem… noteworthy… happened today?"
"Noteworthy, my lord?"
"Unusual?"
"I… ah… ah, I beg your pardon, my lord, there is my son eating another blackberry tart. It is his fifth today. I must stop him. My wife will be angry with me if he makes himself ill. Good evening, my lord."
The man disappeared into the crowd.
Lord Faramir looked startled, as well he might. Deric was torn between exasperation and astonishment. Perhaps the man owned one of the stalls the Elf and Princess Éowyn had patronized, and for that reason did not want to give them away.
After a little effort, Lord Faramir succeeded in catching the eye of a young woman leading a small child by the hand. He put his question to them.
"The man at the archery stall was very nice," piped up the child, before her mother could answer. "He showed everyone how to shoot."
"The man at the archery stall?" Lord Faramir repeated. Deric was surprised to feel a pang of disappointment. He hadn't realized until that moment that he wanted Prince Legolas to win his wager. "Was there anything unusual about him?"
"Nothing at all," said the young woman firmly, "except that he was one of the kindest men I have ever come across. Thank you, Lord Faramir."
She bobbed a curtsy and led the child away.
As he watched the pair walk off, Deric suggested in an undertone, "Speak to the owner of the archery stall and we can be done quickly, Lord Faramir. He surely knew that Prince Legolas was an Elf."
Eredhion only chuckled as they made their way across the grass.
The owner of the archery stall was wrapping the bows in a large sheet of sacking. They were good bows, considering the purpose for which they had been made. But Deric was not surprised that Eredhion looked appalled at the sight of them.
"Only Legolas could manage a respectable showing with such weapons as these," he muttered under his breath. "Lord Thorontur would say he deserves his victory simply for having managed those bows."
Lord Faramir, meanwhile, was addressing the stallholder.
"Good evening, my friend," he said. "I hope you have had a fruitful day."
"I have, my lord," said the stallholder. "It has been a fine day."
"Quite so, quite so. I wonder if… ahem… if… there has been anyone… unusual… at your stall today?"
"Unusual, my lord?" said the stallholder. "How so?"
"Just… anything… unexpected. A particularly skilled archer, perhaps, such as one does not often meet among the villagers of Ithilien."
"My lord," said the stallholder, "I have made more coin in one evening than I normally do in an entire week. I am certain you do not expect me to be ungrateful to the one who brought it about."
Lord Faramir sighed. "Of course not. Thank you, my friend."
Extract from letter from Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien to her brother Éomer, King of Rohan
I am sure you have not forgotten the young man and his promise. I very nearly did, in all the excitement of hurrying home – oh, but I should not get ahead of myself. We had not actually left the fairground; we were concealed behind a stall, much to the merriment of several lingerers, who were, nonetheless, kind enough to keep our presence secret. We could hear every word of Faramir's conversation with the man who ran the archery stall.
He did not give up after that. We skirted the edge of the fairground and waited near the entrance until Faramir and the others, after many more fruitless attempts to persuade someone to admit to having seen an Elf at the market, returned. Legolas had fetched our horses, so there was no question that Faramir would not recognize us as soon as he saw us.
Legolas waited until he was certain both Eredhion and Deric had seen us before he turned and led off – not on the path, as we had come, but away into such trees as still stood.
"Come," Eredhion said. "This is your first tracking exercise."
"They were barely at a trot," Deric said, hastening to keep up with the Elf as he went to where they had left the horses. "We will catch up with them."
Eredhion only laughed as he swung himself onto his horse.
"Did you see where they crossed the tree line?" Eredhion asked.
"Yes."
"Good. Start there."
Stifling his annoyance at being given instructions – Eredhion might look like he could be Deric's younger brother, but, given Elven lifespans and the fact that he was trusted to be the Prince's guard, he must have been a warrior for centuries – Deric heeled his horse into a walk. Legolas and Lady Éowyn had not had more than five minutes' head start. They would catch up to them easily.
He was confident of the spot where their quarry had entered the scanty cover of the trees – he was too well-trained for it to be otherwise. All the same, he resisted the temptation to urge his horse to greater speed. There was no sense adding their own tracks to the ground until they had caught up with –
Deric stopped short.
There was no sign of Legolas and Lady Éowyn – not so much as a single bent blade of grass where a careless hoof might have trodden. The trees, sparse as they were, sparse as Deric knew they had been, somehow prevented him from having a clear line of sight to the south. Towards the north, a flock of birds covered the grass, pecking industriously. The soil could not possibly hold enough worms and insects for them all –
"He must have dropped something for the birds, to obscure their tracks," Deric said.
"Half right," said Eredhion. "Legolas dropped some grain, certainly. But if I know anything of him, he went into the cover of the trees, not away from it."
"Then we must ride south to find them."
"We must ride south," Eredhion agreed. He leaned over and laid a hand on the nearest tree. "Can you understand me?"
Deric stared. "Are you… speaking… to the tree?"
Eredhion waved him to silence. "I am not asking you not to do as Legolas tells you, but can you give him a message from me?" He paused briefly. "Good. Remind him that Master Deric is a Man and there is no moon tonight. We cannot pursue this game in the darkness."
Eredhion straightened.
"Did you speak to the tree?" Deric asked.
"After a fashion. The trees here do not speak as clearly as those in our home… but they will learn, I do not doubt. Come!"
Extract from letter from Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien, to her brother Éomer, King of Rohan
I cannot describe it. It felt as though the trees closed behind us as we moved, and cleared our path ahead. I know I ride well, but I do not claim to sit my horse as I lightly as an Elf. All the same, when I looked back, there were no prints from either of us.
I have learnt not to use the word 'magic' in the presence of an Elf, a lesson I advise you to take to heart, Éomer. All the same, that is what it felt like.
It lasted until full darkness fell. Although the days are growing long, it was late when we left the market; perhaps half an hour passed before the shadows began to fall. Then Legolas called a bird down from the sky.
Deric found his irritation at being led in circles through the forest melting away at the sight of Legolas' half-apologetic smile, visible even in the starlight.
"I hope we did not unduly tax your patience, Master Deric," he said, his voice musical even when speaking the Common Tongue. "You must excuse our merry ways."
"We could all stand to learn some joy from the Wood-elves, Prince Legolas," Deric said. "I fear many of us have forgotten how to laugh."
"We do not stand on ceremony. It is only my father's courtiers who use my formal title, and that when they want to express doubts about my fitness for my duties." Legolas laughed, and Deric found a smile tugging at his lips. "Call me Legolas."
"My Elven-lord," Faramir said, his voice distinctly mirthful, "and my lady Shieldmaiden." He nudged his horse close enough to Éowyn's to take her hand and lift it to his lips. "I must confess myself defeated. I underestimated your ability to disguise yourselves."
"Do not give Legolas too much credit," Eredhion said, merrily as well, but with something in his voice that made Deric look at him closely. "He is not always fortunate enough to come across only such Men as are willing to be his friends." The look he gave Legolas, while cheerful enough, had something steely in it that made Legolas give him a rueful smile. "Of course," Eredhion went on, smiling as well, "those who declare themselves enemies might find that Thranduil's pampered child is not quite the harmless Elfling he seems."
Legolas laughed outright. "My friends, Lord Faramir, would teach you to doubt me."
"For now, I am glad to have Eredhion and Deric to corroborate my report to the Queen's brothers."
Extract from letter from Éomer, King of Rohan, to his sister Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien
I think the only comfort to be taken from the entire incident is that the story is bound to spread through Ithilien, preventing both you and Legolas from engaging in such foolishness again.
"Nobody?" Elladan said incredulously. "Not one person saw anything unusual?"
"Did you keep the terms?" Elrohir demanded.
"I will vouch that he did," said Eredhion. "Given the constraints of shooting on a Mannish range, of course."
"I have never seen such archery," Deric put in, unable to keep the awe from his voice. "Indeed, my own weapons master would not have been able to equal it. I hoped, Prince Legolas, that I might persuade you to permit your captains to give the Rangers some training. The Rangers are the finest of Gondorian archers, of course, but…"
"Have no fear about that," Elrohir said dismissively. "Rochendilwen and Saeldur will be more than willing, with Legolas' leave, and I think I can safely say that he will not withhold it."
"Not in the least," Legolas assured Deric. "If they are agreeable – and, as Elrohir says, I do not imagine they will be otherwise – Rochendilwen and Saeldur may train the Gondorian archers, with my goodwill."
"But before the training of any archers may begin," Elladan said, "I do believe there is one person who might have seen an Elf at the market today." In response to Legolas' raised eyebrows, he went on, "One of your Rangers, Lord Faramir, has a son who was at the fair today. The son of a Ranger must be far more observant than villagers simply trying to sell their wares or enjoy an outing."
Faramir sighed. "I suppose it must be done. Send for him, then."
The boy arrived, looking nervously from Faramir to Elladan to Legolas. Deric watched him with covert interest, wondering what he would say. It was the young man who had learnt archery; if he was the son of a Ranger, then he must have realized Prince Legolas was no Man.
Faramir gestured for the boy to speak.
He hesitated, and then said, "My lord Faramir, to you I owe the truth, to the one who set me a task I owe my due service, and to the one who taught me more archery in an afternoon than I have learnt in all my training, I owe, at the very least, gratitude. I have thought long and deeply on my various duties. I think it would be unfair for me to comment."
Extract from Letter from Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien, to her brother Éomer, King of Rohan
And so, after all, Legolas won his wager.
I believe, from all I have seen, that the sons of Elrond are too much his friends to allow matters to grow acrimonious. Elrohir told me I should expect to grow accustomed to such gambling; to hear him describe it, Wood-elves are so fond of gaming that they will bet on anything.
"But never," he told me solemnly afterwards, "whatever you do, Lady Éowyn, never allow the Wood-elves to persuade you to wager on their archery contests."
Elves apparently being Elves, Deric entered the dining hall the next day to find the majority of the high table engaged in an argument about whether, in fact, Legolas could successfully pass himself off as a Man or not. He managed to seat himself close enough to listen without seeming to intrude.
"There are two separate questions," one of the Queen's brothers was saying. "The first is whether Legolas can successfully persuade anyone, tree, Elf or Man, to do what he wants. I think nobody is questioning his abilities in that direction."
There was a great deal of laughter and good-natured teasing. Legolas rolled his eyes and threatened to give everyone extra training, but Deric could see that he was not really offended. None of the Elves at the table seemed to take his threats very seriously.
"The other question," said the Queen's brother, when the mirth had died down, "is whether Legolas can ever seem anything other than a trueborn prince of the Sindar –"
He was interrupted by more laughter. Before he could resume, someone went up to the high table – a Ranger whom Deric recognized only vaguely, having seen him on his occasional visits to Minas Tirith, but did not know well.
"My lord Elrohir," said the Ranger, bowing. "I… I have come to apologize, on behalf of my son."
Elrohir – Deric ought to try to learn to distinguish between the Queen's brothers – seemed astonished, as well he might, to be interrupted in the midst of teasing his friend to receive an apology from a Man whom, judging by his expression, he had never seen before.
"Forgive me, Master…"
"My name is Harwin, my lord Elrohir."
"Forgive me, Master Harwin, but I cannot imagine why your son should owe me an apology."
Harwin looked around, and evidently decided it was not worth troubling to lower his voice. "You gave him a task yesterday, which he tells me he found himself unable to complete." Harwin's eyes flickered to the other side of the table, where Legolas sat, and back to Elrohir. "I am sorry he should have allowed any consideration to come in the way of the truth."
Understanding flashed in Elrohir's eyes, and he chuckled. "Master Harwin, my friends and I were just discussing how old and wise Elves, my own father and the Elven-king among them, make a habit of being unable to deny Legolas anything he asks. Legolas calls it slander, of course, but I am certain he will agree that your son is not to be blamed for anything."
"Indeed, that is so, Master Harwin," said Legolas. "Your son is a fine young man, and showed great promise on the archery range. You should be very proud of him."
Harwin still seemed unconvinced, wary eyes on Elrohir. The Elf-maid sitting beside Elrohir leaned over to murmur something to him.
Elrohir only shook his head.
"Master Harwin, I hope you do not imagine that I bear a grudge against your son…" Harwin's expression said very clearly that that was exactly what he did imagine. Elrohir leaned forward and said, all the mirth gone from his face now, "Master Harwin, I promise you, your son could not possibly incur my anger by showing loyalty to the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen. You must allow us to have our jokes. We have been friends for a very long time."
Extract from Letter from Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien, to her brother Éomer, King of Rohan
And after all that, we have not ascertained whether Legolas could pass for anything other than the warrior-prince of the Woodland Realm… You see? I have learnt some of their Wood-elven turns of phrase.
I might persuade to come to Rohan; but you should come here as well, Éomer. I very much look forward to seeing Ithilien when the Elves have settled down in it.
THE END
What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!