See first chapter for disclaimer, thanks, and other notes.

A/N: -basks in wonderfulness of reviews- Thanks for keeping me inspired. ;) Here's (some of) the angst, as promised, and yet more angry Araedhelm (the poor guy's going to spontaniously combust if he doesn't cool down). Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 14: Choices

Thorongil waited until the last sounds of Rador and his men had died away, before groaning. Loudly.

The beating really hadn't been all that bad. Although the blows had been fast, unrelenting, and hard, he'd endured worse before. Rador had repeated his question with nearly every blow and kick, and now it seemed to reverberate in his brain with every pulse of his obviously concussed head.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm his thoughts, and lessen the incessant throbbing between his temples. He had had much worse beatings, yes, but it must have been some time ago, because he couldn't remember feeling so utterly pulverized and worked-over in a long time. Eru, and here he'd been feeling sorry for himself before, simply for having been falsely accused and imprisoned. Now it was time for some serious self-pity.

Groaning more softly, he tried to ease the weight off his arms by straightening a little further. After he'd finished shoving him around, Rador's more ingenious cruelty had shown even more clearly just before parting, when he'd decided he needed to be bound once again. Merely restraining his hands in front of him—or behind him—would be far too comfortable, not to mention too simple and redundant. How a mind like Rador's worked was beyond him, but the results were painful.

After his hands had been tied in front of him, a wooden pole had been stuck between his back and his arms, pulling them back into a position that, while it was mostly only uncomfortable at the moment, he suspected would soon cause him more than a little discomfort. To make matters worse, a short length of chain, which was connected to the middle of the pole, had been attached to a metal ring, located about halfway up the wall of his cell. This chain was short enough that he couldn't stand fully upright, which was perfectly alright at the moment, as far as he was concerned, as he felt too sore to consider standing any time soon. Unfortunately, it was also too short to allow him to sit down—much less lie down, as he truly wished to do—unless he was willing to allow his entire weight to fall on his painfully-stretched arms.

So, that left him only the option of kneeling on the hard, stone floor, as he wondered how long they intended to keep him this way, and how long he could remain in this position before he grew too tired to kneel.

With supreme effort, he forced his thoughts away from his miserable condition, clinging to any and all pleasanter subjects. Over a couple of indeterminable hours, the ache in his head began to ebb slowly away. As his eyelids began to droop, his last conscious thought for the night flew back to his lieutenant.

Elbereth, please don't let him come up with some hare-brained scheme…

---o—oOo—o---

"So, is our course of action decided upon?"

Araedhelm's tone was intense and impatient, and Anborn might have lost his temper. He might have, had it not been for his intrinsic and nearly unbounded patience. After all, he did have experience with exasperating men. His mettle had been tested against some incredibly difficult people, and Araedhelm wasn't nearly annoying enough to wear him down so quickly. But just because he hadn't lost his temper yet, didn't mean Araedhelm might not lose his.

Anborn gave Morwen a wry look, before stating coolly, "Lieutenant, we have gathered here for that express purpose."

Araedhelm shifted from foot to foot. "Yes, well I've been ready for the last half-hour. More than ready. I thought you two might have come up with an idea or two while you were sitting around."

"Lieutenant, we arrived at the agreed-upon time. That you were ready a half-hour early is your problem." Anborn never bothered mincing words, especially not with hot-headed soldiers. Especially not with Araedhelm. In his opinion, Thorongil was far too lenient with his second-in-command. Friend or no, what Araedhelm often needed most was some strict order and discipline. Like now. Araedhelm paced from one end of the room to the other, like a caged warg, ready to spring. "That you choose to waste your time and energy walking and re-walking the length of this room is also your problem." He completely ignored the resentful look Araedhelm shot him. "However, in doing so you are doing Captain Thorongil absolutely no good, and you're making me dizzy, besides."

Morwen decided to step in before the conversation could escalate. She propped herself up slightly on her elbows, leaning against the heap of pillows Feorh had insisted upon piling the couch with. "Araedhelm, will you please take a seat?" she appealed gently. Anborn was hardly lacking in good qualities, but gauging and respecting Araedhelm's occasionally explosive personality wasn't among his many talents.

Deferring to his queen, Araedhelm slipped sullenly into a chair, still surreptitiously treating Anborn to a full dose of his wrathful gaze.

"To answer your question, Araedhelm," Morwen continued. "Yes, I have been thinking while I've been sitting—or rather lying—here."

"My Lady, I didn't mean to imply that you weren't or that—"

Morwen hushed Araedhelm's embarrassed apology. "It is well, Araedhelm, I know you are only concerned for Thorongil. I am, as well. Eothald's madness seems to have infected half of Meduseld, and I hardly know what to do about it. I had hoped to have Captain Thorongil here for counsel and aid, as Thengel planned, should anything go amiss. As it is…he is now our main concern."

"Yes," Anborn agreed. "And as much as it grieves me to say it, I don't think there is anything we can do about his predicament until the King returns."

Only the sincere regret that tainted Anborn's voice kept Araedhelm from jumping back up from his seat. In respect for Morwen, he tried to keep his voice from rising. "There is plenty we can do. Certainly more useful things than sitting here talking in circles over matters that have already been discussed and thought over hundreds of times."

"And what would you be suggesting we do, Lieutenant, lead a raid on the dungeons and spring Captain Thorongil from his cell by force?" That Araedhelm did not openly deny the plan was enough to confirm Anborn's greatest fears, and he buried his head in his hands with a groan of disbelief. "As the Queen has said, it seems half of Meduseld has been infected by this madness." He frowned and perplexity, and shook his head slowly a couple of times. "Eothald even seems to have some kind of…following among the soldiers."

"Following?" Morwen repeated, matching his frown. "Eothald never struck me as the kind of man to inspire devotion. I didn't realize he had a 'following'."

"Neither did I. Apparently, though, he has inspired some kind of loyalty, even from some of the guards. I can't exactly order them to stop, either. Eothald is lawfully in charge at the moment, after all."

"It's just wrong," Araedhelm grumbled. "Eothald's never had any admirers. Why now? He's a follower himself, not a leader. These men who are so adherent to his commands… They have to be up to something. They can't actually believe the kind of things Eothald is saying."

"There's nothing we can do about that," Anborn responded, calmly, but not happily. Not that the fact that he wasn't happy made any difference about the way such a cool brush-off sounded to Araedhelm.

"Well suggesting we do nothing isn't exactly helpful," Araedhelm defended.

"Gentlemen." Morwen sat upright, gingerly lowering her injured leg off the couch she'd been reclining on. "Captain—Lieutenant—both of you stop it." She called their attention back to her. "Neither of you are being constructive. We cannot just do nothing, but neither can we use force. We must choose a middle ground."

Never having lost his composure in the first place, Anborn responded more quickly than Araedhelm. "You have a plan, my Lady?"

"A vague one…of sorts," Morwen said, biting her lip. "Not so much of a plan, as an idea. Tactics, if you will."

"Yes?" Araedhelm added his encouragement. After all, "tactics" had a promising ring to it.

"We neither attack, nor remain silent. Lawfully, Eothald does command the situation. That alone would be enough to stay our hand in many ways, but, as you pointed out, Anborn, he also has the personal support of a number of guards. Though, Eru knows how… However, with both these problems barring our way, we are severely limited. But we can help Thorongil by using everything at our command."

"And what is at our command?" Araedhelm asked warily.

"For one thing, we can hurry Thengel's return," Morwen replied.

Araedhelm sat up hopefully at the suggestion. Strangling Eothald would have been his first choice, but he'd come to terms with the fact that he was going to have to be patient. The inactivity, however, fell nothing short of torture. "I will go as a messenger, to Thengel-King," he offered eagerly. "He is probably already on his way back by now, and if I meet him part-way I could alert him to the need for haste."

Morwen smiled sympathetically at his fervor. "Thank you, Araedhelm, but that won't be necessary. I took the matter into my own hands and sent a messenger out early this morning."

Araedhelm nodded in acceptance, disappointed to have lost the opportunity to do something, but compensated to know that they were one step closer to getting Thorongil out of prison that much sooner. "What else can we do?"

"Very little." Morwen sighed. "Worry kept me up most of last night, and for all my hours of thinking I could only think of one other thing for us to do. We must warn Thorongil."

Araedhelm's brow fell into a troubled frown. "Warn him of…what?"

"We must inform him of his position legally, and caution him about what he says to Eothald. Eothald knows the laws and customs of Rohan much better than Thorongil, and if I judge him correctly, I think I know what he will do next." Morwen nodded towards Anborn. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Captain, but it seems to me that the next obvious step for Eothald to take—should he wish to rid himself of Thorongil—is to banish him."

At Araedhelm's indignant exclamation, Anborn interposed. "Listen, Lieutenant, before you say anything rash. I think the Queen is on the right track. For some reason, unapparent to the rest of us, Eothald is eager to get rid of Thorongil. Legally, he cannot execute him while the King is absent. That is one reason I've been confused by all these idiotic accusations. Eothald knows he doesn't have the authority to kill Thorongil. He has full control in every way except that. He can keep Thorongil imprisoned, or mete out some kind of lighter punishment, but he cannot deal out the death-penalty. Even if he would dare overrule this law, obscure as it is, he would only have a trial based on very obscure reasons. I don't think he would dare risk it on someone of Thorongil's position."

"I don't see what this has to do with warning him," Araedhelm complained. "So far, all you've said is that Eothald can't do anything but continue to keep him locked up." He clenched his jaw several times, the veins on the side of his face twitching. "Though why keeping him in prison would do Lord Eothald any good is beyond me."

"It's beyond any of us why Lord Eothald is doing this. But he is. And, if getting Thorongil out of the way is his goal, than he will need to do something before Thengel returns." Anborn met Morwen's gaze solemnly. "Like banish him."

Araedhelm threw his hands up in frustration. "But how? You just said he cannot execute him."

"But he can punish him, if the punishment falls short of execution," Anborn restated. "Banishment is severe, but with sufficient proof, if the accused has been judged and found guilty, or admits to the guilt himself, Eothald can choose banishment as the punishment for a crime as serious as treason."

"Well then, I don't see any need for us to worry. Captain Thorongil would never admit to a crime he didn't commit," Araedhelm avowed confidently.

Morwen and Anborn exchanged glances, neither of them daring to clearly state the worry that had entered both their minds. Araedhelm was either being extremely naive, or blocking the unpleasant possibly from his mind. They could guess which.

"No, I cannot see him doing it either…" Morwen ventured quietly. "But Eothald seems oddly determined. I've never seen him so set on anything before, and I don't think he'll stop easily now that he's begun. Thorongil may be forced to choose between banishment and…" She stopped, biting her lip agitatedly.

"And another kind of punishment," Anborn finished for her. "Think about it, Araedhelm. A determined man, in a powerful position, with men who will obey him, gets what he wants."

Araedhelm didn't explode as they might have expected, but he set his jaw even more tightly and spoke between clenched teeth. "You mean they might torture a 'confession' out of him."

"Precisely."

Morwen tried to soften Anborn's blunt assessment. "They may not get the chance, Araedhelm. I ordered the messenger to hurry, and if all goes well he should reach Thengel soon. All you can do until he returns is visit Thorongil and tell him. If he can hold out for a couple of days, Thengel will be back."

"And what if they have already…talked to him?" Araedhelm asked cynically, not expecting an answer.

"Araedhelm, even if he must choose banishment, Thengel will revoke the judgment. He won't be banished forever." Morwen reassured.

"Aye, but something tells me that if he leaves now we may never see him again." Araedhelm smiled a soft, wistful smile. "Even in a week's time he may have vanished into the Wilds, and disappear without at trace, leaving Rohan as suddenly as he came."

Morwen returned his wistfulness half-hearted smile. "I fear you may be right on that count. But, in truth, I am doubtful whether he'd choose banishment in the first place. He isn't the kind of man to run from problems, even if they aren't his own."

"No, he's not that kind of man," Araedhelm agreed grimly. "And he's about as stubborn as they come."

"In any case, you must talk to him as soon as possible, Araedhelm. It may do no good, but you must give him all the information he needs to make the decisions he'll almost certainly be faced with. I wish I could go myself. I would like to see with my own two eyes that he is well…" With irritation, Morwen looked at her leg, propped up on a pillow in front of her. "But even if it weren't for this, I don't think I'd make it past the door." To the dark looks that crossed both men's faces, she added quickly, "Yes, Eothald is keeping me here under guard—but don't bother about me. The extent of my discomfort is helplessness and boredom, but at least I am allowed company."

"He is really forcing you to stay here?" Araedhelm asked, voice dangerously low.

Morwen pressed her lips together in a thin line, and replied sardonically, "Oh no, of course not. Even Eothald wouldn't go so far as that. He is, however, most concerned for my safety and health, and has assigned two soldiers to 'guard' me at all times. After all, no one knows how many allies this dangerous traitor might have had."

Anborn's frown deepened even further than before. "The King will be less than pleased when he returns and finds Meduseld like this. Eothald will live to regret this madness of his." Somehow, the quiet way the Captain understated his words had the ability to make them sound even more angry and threatening than if he'd shouted them.

Araedhelm's fierce expression spoke for him.

"Go now," Morwen urged. "See to your Captain."

---o—oOo—o---

Head held high, almost haughtily, Araedhelm came to a brief halt in front of the two guards blocking the passage.

"Sir."

The guards swiftly rose to attention. Araedhelm gave them a clipped nod, and then continued past them.

"Sir!"

One of the guards rushed after him, trying to keep pace with his long strides.

"No need to escort me, soldier. I know where Captain Thorongil's cell is."

"But, Sir, we were told that no one was to visit him or—"

Araedhelm smiled condescendingly. "Ah, but such orders wouldn't apply to me. You may go back to your post. Oh—" He took the lit torch from the hand of the guard, who released it somewhat dazedly. "—thank you."

The young guard quit his futile chase, watching Araedhelm with trepidation as he continued down the passage at an unhurried gait. Finally, with a shrug, he went back to his comrade. The only way for the prisoner to leave the dungeons, should he by some miracle escape, would be to come this way, since the other way only led to a dead end. What harm could letting in a visitor do? Certainly nothing worth crossing a superior officer over.

Araedhelm could have laughed. He almost hadn't expected his ruse to work. He was certainly relieved it had worked, however, since he hadn't a clue what he would have done had they continued to refuse him. There wasn't a whole lot of skill involved in acting authoritative, but it had gotten him what he wanted far more quickly than he could have dared hope.

He might have asked Eothald for permission, of course, but something inside him burned at the thought of asking him for anything. Besides, there was no guarantee Eothald would give him permission a second time, and he'd prefer not to have a direct order not to visit Thorongil. This way, he was only repeating a previously freely-given privilege.

As soon as he was out of sight, his unhurried steps quickened in his anticipation to see his captain. His mind whirred back and forth between morose thoughts, and then hopeful ones. Finally, he reached his destination.

He peered into the cell anxiously. "Captain?" A slight groan was all the response he received, and held the torch aloft to better eliminate the dark cell. Thorongil hardly seemed to have moved. For a second, he almost allowed himself the luxury of relief, but then his captain shifted, slowly lifting his head from where it had been lolled against his chest, and he was instantly tense again.

Thorongil gazed blearily into the bright light, looking woeful indeed with one eye swollen mostly shut, and a myriad of bruises, new and old, decorating all visible skin. The call of his lieutenant had finally broken through his stupor, and his immediate reaction was to attempt to rise. Predictably, that idea, bound as he was, turned out to be a bad one. Before he'd even got his legs fully under him, his arms protested just in time to save themselves from being pulled out of their sockets. The pain was enough to bring him back to the present, and remind him that standing was out of the question. He sank back to his knees. "Eru…" he tried to sound amused, for Araedhelm's sake. "I keep forgetting about that."

Araedhelm wasn't so easily side-tracked. "Sweet Béma…what have they done to you?"

Thorongil would have shrugged light-heartedly, but his arms were stretched to the limit, and using his shoulders for any gesture wasn't terribly tempting. "Nothing a week of sleep wouldn't cure." Mentally, he added, a good solid month of sleep on a bed with plenty of fresh water and food.

Araedhelm seemed to be much preoccupied with clenching and unclenching his fists, but he channeled his attention long enough to ask darkly, "Who?"

"It's dark down here, Araedhelm, and at the time I was rather distracted…" Thorongil carefully evaded answering the question directly.

"The guards all carry torches whenever they come this far back. Who did this to you?"

"If I tell you, you'll have to promise me not to kill him, or go and do anything you'll regret."

Araedhelm's eyes flashed stubbornly, though his anger was not directed at his captain. "I can't promise anything."

"Well, then, I can't tell you."

"Captain—"

"No, Lieutenant."

Thorongil could hardly gather enough energy to speak the command with his usual force, but his obvious weariness was even more effective in quieting Araedhelm's protests.

"I just feel so…helpless, not being able to do anything…" Araedhelm said, remorsefully.

"No more so than I."

If possible, Araedhelm's voice became even more regretful. "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner, Captain."

"What good could you have done had you been here?" Thorongil didn't speak harshly, although the strain of combined physical pain and mental tension made him speak more sharply than was his habit. In addition, while he would never say so, inwardly he was beginning to wonder where his lieutenant's brain had gone to. Since he had been imprisoned, all common sense seemed to have left Araedhelm.

Araedhelm looked away, belatedly realizing how rash he must be sounding and, for that matter, acting. In all honesty, though, he didn't feel repentant yet. But the last thing he wanted to do was to worry Thorongil, or exhaust him with pointless arguments. "I came here directly from talking to Captain Anborn and Lady Morwen. We've discussed every possible strategy we can think of to get you out of here sooner rather than later."

Just hearing Morwen and Anborn's names spoken ignited confidence in Thorongil, and filled him with relief, for he trusted both their realism and resourcefulness. Morwen would think from every possible angle, and come up with any number of ideas, and Anborn would make certain they didn't break any laws or necks—theirs or someone else's—in the process. He asked with interest, "Oh, and what plots have the three of you hatched together?"

"Nothing too drastic, I assure you," Araedhelm responded unhappily. "Even with all three of us doing our utmost, we could only think of two things to do. Early this morning, the Queen implemented the first, sending a messenger on to inform the King, and hasten his return."

Thorongil nodded, satisfied in even so small a course of action. "And the other plan?"

"Aye, as for that…" Araedhelm couldn't help but feel more angry every time he looked at Thorongil, bound in such a painful position. He swallowed his feelings as best as he could. "I was going to warn you, but the monster who did this to you got here before me."

"How did you know I was going to need warning?"

"It was Anborn. He said that if Eothald was still intent on getting rid of you, he'd have to look for another way besides killing you, since the law forbids him to execute you. He said the only other option would be to banish you—if you were to confess to treason. Obviously, he's already trying."

"Yes, he's tried, but it'll take a lot more than this to get a false confession out of me."

Rather than being reassured by his determination, Araedhelm felt dread. "Captain, it wouldn't damage your name or your honor. The King will know the truth when he hears of the matter. Even if you did confess, and left Rohan for now, just until all this has blown over, and the King could clear the charges…"

"I won't leave Araedhelm. Not under these circumstances. Perhaps confessing and fleeing would be the wise and sensible thing to do, but…" Thorongil searched for the right words, but they still came out awkwardly. "…somehow, something inside of me won't let me do that. I can't just flee when danger is threatening. I swore to serve Thengel-King, and I can't very well do that if I'm banished. I know most wouldn't judge me worse for having taken the part of a coward, but I would think less of myself for having done so. Besides, I promised the King I would watch over Morwen. Granted, I'm not doing a terribly good job of it so far, but I'd do even worse from the borders of Rohan."

Araedhelm sighed deeply. So it was settled then. Thorongil would never do less than the honorable thing, even if it cost him his life.

"Don't look so dismal. If what you say is true, then the messenger that Lady Morwen sent should have reached Thengel by now. Help may not be far off."

"Or it might be."

"Try to keep a positive outlook, Lieutenant."

Despite himself, Araedhelm couldn't keep from cracking a grin. "I should be the one encouraging you, Captain, not the other way around. How you can keep so optimistic about this mess…"

Thorongil smiled enigmatically. "Mess? What mess? Don't tell me you don't think I actually intended for everything to work out this way. So little faith in your captain."

Araedhelm's mirth had already dwindled, and he didn't offer a joke in return. "We'll keep working, Captain. One of use will think of something."

Thorongil raised an eyebrow. "Or you'll take an Eored and storm the dungeons? That is still the plan you intend to fall back on, should all else fail, isn't it?"

"Oh yes, if we can't think of anything else, there is always that."

To be continued...

Thanks again for the reviews! They really keep me going like you wouldn't believe. :)

(And, just in case anyone's hoping: no, I'm not done with poor Thorongil yet. Not by a long-shot. Sorry. -bg-)