Comeuppance by Tilperiel

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Chapter 1

“Lord Duilin.”

“Lord Penlod.”

The two nodded greeting at one another as the lord of the Pillar and Tower of Snow met with the lord of the Sparrow upon the city walls. Penlod came to stand beside Duilin as he was stood on his post, eyes narrowed against the strong wind.

“Looks like things are almost ready,” Penlod remarked.

Below them at the foot of the city a riot of colours stood out from the usual green of the field of Tumladen. Pageantry fluttered from the white canvas tents, bearing the heraldry of the various lords who were taking part in the Tournament in just a few days’ time. A full-length tilt had been erected and spectator stands lined both sides. An arena had been built at the far end of it and each house had banners raised along the sides. All in all, it was rather a sight, many people still milling about making sure things were as they should be.

The part Duilin was interested in was the series of straw bosses set up on the right. From this height they appeared tiny indeed, but there were a couple of people practicing, setting up the distances properly and his sharp eyes tracked the flight of each arrow.

“No doubt,” he said as he watched, “Glorfindel’s been excitable as a young colt about the whole event, if you hadn’t noticed. We’ll be short on wine and a few other things I should imagine for the rest of the year with the amount he’s requisitioned.”

“As if he’d be so reckless and as if Turgon would let him.” Penlod made a soft noise of amusement and leaned upon the balustrade. “No, but there might be someone else going short of their usual victuals.” He glanced sidelong at Duilin with a meaningful smile.

“Salgant?” he asked in a low voice. They were alone where they stood but in a place like Gondolin it never paid to speak too loudly, unless behind closed doors. He received a raise of brows and a light shrug of confirmation and he gave a soft laugh. “How did he swing that one?”

“Did you know that The Harp has been taking a tythe for titles for any new recruits from the farmsteads?”

Beside him Duilin spluttered and Penlod clicked his tongue, eyes still fixed on the goings on below.

“No-one else did either, except Glorfindel. He noticed discrepancies in the ledgers and worked it out. Threatened to tell the King if he didn’t hand it all over. Now Turgon just thinks Glorfindel’s been exceedingly diligent and frugal with his work and is none the wiser.”

“That bastard!” Duilin exclaimed and Penlod waved a hand for him to lower his voice. He glowered but complied. “So that’s how he managed to gain the extra men! Everyone’s been wondering how he’d managed to sway so many to his house. We were only talking last week about how suspicious it was!”

“Yes, well he’s going to honour all of the titles he promised, so that’s something,” Penlod said and sighed deeply, “although it rather puts him at something of an advantage for the games now. He has twice as many to compete.”

Duilin turned and stared at him, saying nothing and just waiting it out.

“What?” Penlod frowned and Duilin rose his brows.

“He has twice as many,” Duilin muttered, “says the person who has two houses.”

“One was my fathers!” Penlod said in defence and Duilin just rolled his eyes.

“As I’m well aware, but that doesn’t make it less true!”

Penlod just huffed and they both went back to watching the activity in the field. Silence fell between them and a few guards passed behind.

“Rose-hips,” Duilin said after a while.

“Come again?” Penlod frowned at him in confusion.

“Rose-hips,” Duilin repeated, “or rather, rose-hip seeds.”

Penlod pressed his lips together and rose both brows, evidently fighting the smile that was threatening to break out. “You wouldn’t be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, would you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Duilin said with a sideways look and a smirk.

“Which one of you did it?! Come on, out with it!”

Salgant was bright red with anger and irritation alike, which might have been intimidating, if it weren’t for the wriggling and reaching to scratch himself, which had everyone in the vicinity chuckling, unable to help themselves.

“It’s not funny!” he yelled and clicked his fingers towards his squires who ran forwards to begin unbuckling him from his armour. Quite a task when he couldn’t remain still for long enough for them to get to the straps properly, just making the whole scene all the more amusing. Eventually with a loud shout he stormed off towards his tent, his squires running after him.

“Alright, so which one of you was it?” Glorfindel asked, a broad grin and still watching as Salgant disappeared through tent flaps. His shouts could still be heard, muffled through the canvas.

“Now, if you knew and Turukáno asked you, you’d be obliged to tell him. So, maybe best you don’t?” Penlod said with a pointed look.

“Good point,” Glorfindel laughed and nudged Ecthelion’s shoulder, “come on, we’re up in twenty minutes. Let’s get going before we accidentally see any evidence.” He shook his head, still laughing and left for the arena.

The crowds dispersed and Duilin and Penlod hung back for just a few minutes more, their shoulders shaking with laughter as the shouts finally died down from Salgant’s tent.

“He’ll get us back for that, if he finds out,” Penlod said, very quiet so as no-one else might hear.

Duilin, still chuckling quietly simply shrugged, unrepentant. “He’ll have to catch us first.”

Chapter End Notes

If you're wondering about the rose-hips, their seeds make fabulous itching powder

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