[Undómë]

Her ears caught the muffled click from beneath the table where the Orc sat. He had a hidden weapon, and from the sound of it a crossbow. She was familiar with the sound, her father having taken her to a number of fetes in Harlindon where men with such weapons had tried to out do each other in contests of skill. They could not match the distance of the long bows of the Elven archers, but for the force with which they hit their target, and a savage force she thought it, they could not themselves be matched.

Telu noted Farael had fetched a great long knife he had hidden in his boot. Did he think to defend against the Orc with it? The distance from the Orc’s table to the man’s heart was not that far. He would be dead even before the knife left his hand.

And here she sat, no weapons of her own. Think! she told herself. Before this fair-faced one of the Edain has no chance to grow old and enjoy his grandchildren.

Her brow furrowed for a moment, then smoothed out as a small diversion occurred to her. She leaned forward, toward Farael, and laid her hand lightly on his arm. ‘It grows close in here, at least to my senses,’ she began, her head nodding slightly toward where the Orc sat. She lowered her eyes as if timid to make her request of him. Raising them again, a seeming artless look of expectation on her face, she engaged his own. ‘Might you walk about the grounds with me?’ she asked. ‘The fresh air will be welcome, don’t you think?’ She smiled at him, her eyes glimmering in the light from the nearby window. ‘My brother and I, as I’ve said are bound for Ithilien. We’ll be passing through Rohan, I’m sure. Then south toward Gondor. I’ve never been there. And I thought perhaps you could tell me of those lands.’

She stood, straightening her cloak about her. Her body blocked the view Farael had of Grishnahk. ‘And of course, you can invite your friends here to walk with us, if you wish.’ She smiled again, waiting expectantly for his answer.