[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The King was enjoying himself immensely. It had been years since he had enjoyed any meal so much, not since the early days when he had been still but a young warrior, enjoying the sparse rations of a military campaign with the other young men that he had gone to war with. Those days, with their simplicity of existence, had long remained in his imagination and grown with the years to become as the thought of a distant land in which he had been happy, but would never return to again. But Ashnaz had somehow managed to recapture that time and that place for him. He felt lightheaded as though he had drunk too much wine, but he had hardly touched the cup before him, so engaged was he by the words and manner of his fair guest. He could see that he was not alone in his regard, for many about the table and within the hall looked at him with admiration. Some there were who regarded him with more caution, his General amongst them. Such a reaction did not surprise him, for it was understandable. Ashnaz had been in their company less than a day and already he had become friend and confidante to the King. Faroz knew that there were many in the hall, Lord Korak among them, who would be greatly envious of this intimacy. There were people who had spent years trying to win his favour…to see it now so liberally bestowed upon one but new to the realm would surely gall them.

The thought pleased the King greatly, and elevated his spirits.

Despite the height of his emotions, he remained attentive to the true nature of the banquet. It was his first chance to see how his people regarded the Emissary, and to gauge thereby their feelings toward the offer of alliance from the Lord Annatar. Faroz was anxious to know the opinions of his nobles, and of the religious leaders, but he did not relish the idea of asking them directly – nor did he have to. Faroz had not acquired his reputation as a strong and wise leader for nothing. Long ago he had learned the art of reading the mind in the face, and had been able thereby to determine people’s opinions without having to stoop to discuss it with them as equals. Even now, as he laughed and spoke lightly with Ashnaz, his careful eyes noted who approved of this intimacy and who did not. What he saw convinced him that he would need to be cautious in how he proceeded; there was regard for the man, but concern, distrust even, of his mission. Faroz shared the feeling. Of Ashnaz there could be no doubt; but of the Lord Annatar, there remained many things that needed answering. Thus far, the Emissary had put off the King’s inquiries, and he had been content to let that rest for the time being, for as well as being a careful observer, the King was patient. He noted Ashnaz’s reluctance to speak of the Elves in his land. Such a strange response, for he had spoken of them quite openly this afternoon. Faroz could see that the tension between his General and the Emissary was upon the point of breaking into the open, so he distracted the Elf with a request for light conversation.

“What would you have me speak of, my King? I am little versed in the niceties of the court, nor am I much involved with the intrigues of the realm. I am afraid that without knowledge of either I am sadly out of place here.”

“No more than I, Morgôs,” replied the King. “There is no-one in Kanak with less idea about the real goings on in the realm than I. Why, just as we were coming in I had to ask my son to tell me the gossip.” He looked to where Siamak sat, and he could see the boy blushing at the notice.

“Are you very much aware of the gossip, Prince?” the General asked. “I had not thought that such things were much on your mind. I see that I must increase your training at arms. If you have so much time for gossip, then surely you have more time to learn how to use a blade.”

The Prince flushed even more deeply but smiled, for there was a genuine friendship – of a kind – between himself and the Elf. “No, please, I assure you. I have more than enough training already. The only gossip I hear comes to my ears from…the servants.”

“That is still too much,” the Elf replied, not unkindly. “The lives of mortals are too brief to be wasted in idleness.”

“Now there speaks the tyrant of my youth,” Faroz exclaimed to the Emissary. “For nine generations has Morgôs trained the Princes of Pashtia, and in that time I swear he has grown more dour and strict rather than less. I remember well the hours I spent in the yard, practising over and over again my strokes with a wooden blade, before ever I was allowed to use the real thing.”

“There is no use in wielding a thing, my King, until you know how,” the General said.

“Perhaps that is why you do not sing, nor speak overmuch,” the Emissary said to the Elf with a slow smile. “You lack the ability of your tongue, and thus leave it sheathed.”

The Elf bowed stiffly from the waist. “It is as you say, Emissary.”

Ashnaz smiled thinly at the General, but turned his attention then to Siamak. “I see now why you are so afraid of gossip, my Prince. With such a teacher, I would avoid all things that did not meet his approval. But fear not, when you are King you shall be as free of gossip as is your father.” There was a slight shudder in the conversation of nearby tables as the Emissary’s words spread. Many, including the boy’s mother, looked to Siamak, who was now staring at his plate. Others sought out Gjeelea to see if she had noticed the Emissary’s first real misstep.

Faroz quickly moved to smooth out the situation, saying, “I am afraid, my friend, that the situation in Pashtia is not quite so clear as you have explained is the way in your land. Here, the son does not automatically follow the father. I must choose my heir from among my family. Siamak has an older sister.”

The Emissary appeared neither flustered nor embarrassed by what had happened. He bowed his head to the King in acknowledgement of the lesson and then toward the Prince. “My apologies, my Prince. I am new to your realm and not yet familiar with your ways. I meant nothing by my comment, and I hope that neither you nor your sister will hold it against me.”

Siamak returned the bow and made a fair response, but Faroz was barely listening, for Ashnaz’s words had given him an idea…