Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies – not mine, no money, just for fun. First LOTR fic and I'm far from an expert on the subject matter so please be kind.
Sarah – As always, thank you! I know how hard you are working now and that you manage to find time to help is amazing and oh, so very appreciated!
And thanks so much too to those of you who are reading and special thanks to those who take the time to review. I apologize for taking so long to get this out to you. We've had a combination of real life distractions and technical difficulties that slowed us down a bit. But I hope to be back on track and soon. I appreciate your patience, and more than you can ever know, I appreciate your support. It keeps me pecking away late at night rather than doing something silly like sleeping ;-).
CHAPTER 29
Spells and Incantations
The man standing before Aragorn was quite possibly the largest he had ever laid eyes on; the width at least of an Urûk-Hai, or perhaps even a small troll. However his face was anything but terrifying. He had ruddy cheeks, the complexion of one who spends much of his time outdoors and kind, if sad, eyes. His movements were stiff and unhurried, as you would see in someone of advanced years, but his face was smooth and his hair was the colour of tree bark and of a similar texture.
He bowed before Aragorn, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. As he rose, his tunic slipped back from his shoulders revealing a slice of neckline, but only for a moment; Sael tugged hard at the hem, dragging the garment roughly back into place. But not before Aragorn had seen the angry red scar that plunged down from the base of his throat, bisecting his chest - a rude reminder that the men working with Legolas had difficulties, either of the mind or body, that had kept them from putting their lives back together again after the war. He motioned at once to a chair pulled up in front of the fire, taking the one opposite.
The man sat carefully, as if afraid that the delicate chair might not hold his weight, and then proceeded to nervously knead the folds of his tunic. "May I offer you something to drink, Master Sael?" the king asked.
"No, no sire, nothing, thank you," he answered, his eyes catching Aragorn's briefly before slipping self consciously, to gaze at the floor.
"Please, do not be alarmed or afraid. I've asked you here because I need your help."
"Of course, sire; anything I can do for you. Of course."
"You seem to be concerned for Prince Legolas' well-being. You have shown this on several occasions. And the prince trusts you; with his life, it would seem. He has asked that I trust you, as well."
"Trust me?" That got the man's attention. He focused squarely on Aragorn's face then, curiosity driving out any fear or nervousness.
"Yes. To help protect him. As I'm sure you are aware, there are people in this city that wish to harm him and to bring down my rule. You do know this, do you not?" Sael's hands froze, a wad of fabric tightly clutched in each and he looked away again, refusing to meet Aragorn's eye.
"Sael, please. I need your help," Aragorn said, leaning forward in his seat. "Legolas' father is here and if I cannot prove to him that I am able to protect his son, he will bring an army of Elves here to do it for me. He has a right to do so. Legolas, in his wisdom, has said that I should ask you to help; he trusts you and any you might name, to come to his aid. Will you? Guard him for me?"
Sael's face brightened and he at last faced Aragorn. "Of course, my lord; it would be an honour and a privilege."
"Good, good." Aragorn breathed a silent sigh of relief and allowed a smile to cross his face. A lot had depended on this man's response. If Sael had refused him, he wasn't sure what he would have done next. Once again, though, Legolas had proved to be an excellent judge of character. "And there are others that you would trust to help you in this endeavour?"
"Of course, there are many others that would help."
"That you would trust?"
"Absolutely."
"You could tell me as well who I should not trust?" Sael held his gaze and Aragorn could see his mind working feverishly. The man swallowed heavily before shaking his head, only once.
Sael lowered his eyes, his voice almost a whisper as he spoke, the words rushed, tumbling from his lips like water broken through a dam, "These men, they have families and friends that love them, that can't understand how their loved ones feel, why they hate so much, or why they want so much for things to be – as they was before. And yet, what do they do? Do they turn them in? Their family? Their friends? Or do they blame the ones that in their minds cause this trouble? If only the Elves would go back where they come from, they say instead, things would be again as they used to be."
He raised his massive head and once again, Aragorn was struck by a profound sadness that shadowed his eyes. "I know, it makes no sense to you, my lord," he said. "It is like blaming the snake that bit the prince rather than the ones that put it there to bite him. Or that you, my lord, should blame the prince for what has happened to your beautiful wife rather than the person who shot the arrow." Aragorn wondered if Sael had any idea that he had done just that, but the man's face was guileless and he appeared only to be concentrating on what he was trying to get across, not realizing that the words he chose hit so close to the truth.
"But, I see it," he continued. "I understand. To do otherwise would be difficult and might send a loved one to their death. I cannot tell you who, my lord. If that is a reason why you would not trust me, then that is as it must be. But if you give me the chance, I will protect the prince, with my life even. He is well worth that sacrifice."
"But if these men that you are protecting are the ones to attack, will you sacrifice their lives to safeguard his?"
"You should have no doubt of this. If they make the mistake of attempting to harm the prince, I'll do what I must to protect him. And I can name you others who feel the same way I do. I just can't…" He looked away again and Aragorn could see the strain in his face.
Part of him wanted to shake the man. If he would only say what he knew, they could capture these men that held them all captive in a web of doubt and mistrust and then attempt to move forward, to try and solve whatever problems had led them to this place. He could not understand what was in Sael's mind. Yes, he had accused Legolas of selfishness of the worst kind and would have punished him appropriately for his behaviour if circumstances had been different. Was the difference because the person harmed due to Legolas' misdeeds was someone Aragorn loved? What if the Elf had done something to hurt someone else - would Aragorn have sacrificed him then? He closed his eyes as he searched deep in his heart and tried to envision handing Legolas over to an angry mob, unsure or perhaps certain of the outcome. Could he do that? Would he if he didn't have to?
He didn't know. He hoped that if the Elf had harmed someone, killed an innocent being that he would have done what was right even though Legolas was his closest friend. He hoped he would, but he couldn't be sure.
He opened his eyes again and reached a hand across, touching Sael lightly on the knee. The man returned his attention once again to Aragorn. There was a lost look in his eyes and his shoulders had sagged. Whoever Sael was protecting was important to him and the strain was tremendous. Could he truly sacrifice that person in order to save Legolas? Aragorn wavered. Was it a chance he was willing to take? Yet it mattered not what he thought, he realized. Legolas was the one most at risk and he had chosen to trust Sael. And as Legolas had said, it might be the start to healing what was wrong in this land, to trust again. Aragorn could not deny either that the part of him that wanted to shake the man also wanted to grab him up in a fierce hug - that there were people that he could trust and depend on again took a weight from his shoulders that had kept him frozen and impotent in his own kingdom.
He stood abruptly, reaching his hand down to Sael who took it tentatively. Aragorn braced himself and with his other hand beneath Sael's elbow, helped to ease the large man up from his chair. Once they were both standing, face-to-face, he vigorously pumped the hand he held. "If you will accept the job, my good man, you are now the head of my Elf guard. Any Elves in this city are your responsibility. I trust you with their lives." A huge grin broke out on the man's face, so broad it left little room for eyes or nose or brows. Aragorn found himself returning it and found himself enjoying the returning of it immensely. It wasn't the end of difficulties or crisis. But he felt they were at least moving forward, even if he had no idea toward what.
&&&
Galeanus, the archive master had left a message for Aragorn that morning when he paid a visit to the King's House, Ingold announced at the door to Legolas' sickroom where Aragorn once again found himself "hovering", as Legolas had described his behaviour in tones of utter vexation. "He would like a word with you, my lord, when you are able."
Aragorn turned from the door to find a pair of cool, blue eyes levelled on his own. "You should talk with him, Aragorn," Legolas asserted. "Galeanus would never leave the archive unless either you summoned him, or upon a matter of grave importance. You should go and see him, and while you are out, maybe take in something of your city, which you have ignored entirely for much too long. I know that I would like some relief from your company, though I also know you find that very hard to believe." Aragorn stifled the smile that played at his lips but knew that his eyes reflected it regardless of his attempts.
"All right, my friend. I will give you respite from my company. And yes, there are probably a few things in my city that I might attend to." Ingold had waited outside of the door for further instructions. "Please stay here with the Prince and keep an eye on the Queen and the Lady Éowyn as well. I will be paying a visit to the archives." The captain's eyes flew wide open at this statement.
"Sir?" Aragorn was certain that the man had no idea why his king was at long last willing to offer this crumb of faith to the man who had been his Captain of the Guard for nearly two years now.
"You heard me," repeated Aragorn. "You are responsible for the safety of the Prince, the Queen and the Steward's wife and child." Ingold's face nearly glowed with pride and relief as he bowed low before his king. The fact that Éomer was due to arrive within the hour certainly had everything to do with Aragorn's sudden turn at trust, but he would not allude to that now, certainly not after seeing the look on the Captain's face. And he would spend the walk to the archives thinking about that modicum of trust that he had offered Ingold and decide whether he might open up to more. He would have to soon; Thranduil would give him little choice in the matter.
The door to the apartments that were currently being used by himself and Arwen opened and his wife stepped lightly into the hall. She was dressed for going out, which stopped him firmly in his tracks. She had not left their quarters other than to pay a visit to Legolas, on occasion, since having been moved here from the King's House. She smiled brightly at him and he was overcome with a sense of relief. She looked so — normal. He had not admitted it even to himself but he had feared the possibility that she might not recover from her wound; not the wound to her body but the one to her heart; the child had meant so much to her. And that someone in this city, one of their countrymen, had been responsible, had struck hard. She stepped close to him and pressed her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms about her and held her tightly.
They stood that way for several quiet moments until Ingold said, somewhere behind him, "I will check on the Prince, my lord." He heard the door to Legolas' room open and close.
"You look better," Aragorn said at last, breaking the silence. "You look…wonderful."
Arwen pulled away slightly so she could gaze up into his face. "I feel better. But I wouldn't say I feel wonderful; not yet. Soon, though. Soon, I think I will again."
"I am…thankful."
"Your face, my love, says that you are "relieved".
"That too."
"And you? You appear to be feeling better yourself. Although you need rest, lots of rest - I can see it clearly in your eyes."
"I have an errand to attend to," he answered. "Once I have returned, I will gladly rest, preferably by your side."
"Errand? To where?"
"I must go to the archives. Galeanus came to see me earlier today and, knowing the archive master, it must needs be something important to carry him away from his library."
"Then I will come with you." He held her away from him and eyed her carefully up and down.
"Are you certain? Though it isn't far, it is certainly more walking than you have done in awhile. I think perhaps you should wait here; visit with Éowyn..."
"You mean, you are afraid to let me out of these rooms and intend to hold me in here until you can ensure my safety. Do I not strike near the truth?"
"I…yes. What can I say but yes? How can I be sure that no one will try to harm you the moment you leave this place?"
"You cannot. Anymore than I can be sure that no one will try to harm you. But we must leave at some point, my love. We can't hide out here and still be king and queen of this realm."
"At least give me a little more time to devise some method, some plan to ferret out these traitors…"
"I have a better idea. I will walk by your side, and together we will show the people of Gondor that we are not afraid. That would be a good first step in this plan that you are formulating." Aragorn bit his lower lip, realizing as he did that this was a gesture that Legolas made any time he worried over something. Arwen laughed and touched a finger to his mouth, recognizing, as well, the influence. "Besides, you are spending entirely too much time with that Elf. You need other companionship before you take up any more of his ways. Perhaps something not quite so endearing?"
Aragorn considered the situation carefully. This would be a completely spontaneous trip so these fiends would have no opportunity to put together a plan to harm them. They could take guards and move fast. It would be good for the people of Minas Tirith to see them about.
"Very well. But we go and return quickly."
"Yes, my lord, quickly. And then - you rest."
"And then we rest." Arwen nodded her head, a slight smile on her face, before turning and heading down the hall.
There was no doubt that Galeanus' visit foretold something of importance in store. That the man had come in person to deliver the message requesting an audience with the king made that obvious: normally, Aragorn had to insist that the archive master sleep and eat outside of the library or he would be fairly certain that the man would never leave the place he loved so well. Fresh from the memory and terrible consequences of having put off someone who had been desperately trying to tell him something, Aragorn was anxious to hear what the man had to say.
They were greeted at the door by one of Galeanus' assistants who led them to the archive master sitting hunched over his desk, his grey head bent over a large ledger. "My lord!' the man said, startled while at the same time struggling to stand. "My lady!"
"No, no, my good man, stay where you are." Aragorn waved Galeanus back into his chair and pulled up one for Arwen. He sat too, joining the archive master around his overly large desk. "I did not want this day to close without speaking with you and hearing of what concerns you."
"I am sorry to trouble you, sire. I know you have important things to tend to…"
"Nonsense, you do not trouble me at all. Your concerns are my concerns." The man's stiff shoulders relaxed. Aragorn flashed him an encouraging smile. "Now, what can we do for you?"
"It's just that I came across something…unusual, my lord, and I'm not sure what to make of it. But I think you should be told, indeed I do. I found a book that had gone missing, you see. I've lost several here, of late, and was beginning to think I might be showing my age; misplacing things, losing them and finding them later, right where I had already looked."
"You have lost books?"
"Yes, sire, but I have neglected to tell you this because they have always turned up, and as I said, I was beginning to think that I had simply overlooked them, though I do not see how I could have."
"But now, something different has happened," Arwen prompted.
"Yes, my lady. This time I found the missing book in a location I most certainly would never have placed it, even if I were losing my mind. I would never throw a book on the floor. Never!"
"The floor?" Aragorn asked.
"Yes, it was roughly stowed under a bookcase, there." He pointed to a place behind Aragorn and Arwen, near to one of several long tables located in the centre of the room.
"Are you sure you simply did not drop it there, perhaps when you carried a large stack of books?" Arwen queried. "It might have slipped…" But the master was shaking his head, emphatically.
"No, of course not. This is a very rare and precious book, my lady; the reason for my concern. When I handle books like this one, I carry them individually, and I would always use gloves."
"Do you have the book? May I see it?" Aragorn inquired, sitting forward in his chair, watching with interest as Galeanus reached inside a drawer in the desk and retrieved a brown paper parcel. He placed the book in the middle of the desk and carefully untied the ribbon that held the paper in place. The wrapper fell away, revealing a book that was entirely dull in appearance, its cover the colour of putty and cracked with age.
"It must be very rare indeed for someone to show such interest, if you are correct, Galeanus, and someone has attempted to steal it," he said. "May I?" he asked, holding his hand toward the book. He noted with amusement that the archive master did not even pause before opening another drawer and pulling a pair of snow-white gloves from inside. These he handed over to Aragorn. He waited patiently while Aragorn shoved his hands into each glove before sliding the book, still resting on its brown paper wrapper, across the desk to him. Aragorn touched a hand gently to the cover, tracing the words written there with a finger. "Spells and Incantations. Interesting. What other books have gone missing, however temporarily? Do you recall?"
"Yes, of course. That would be like asking whether a parent remembers the names of their children," the archive master answered stiffly, followed quickly by, "I apologize, my lord, it's just – you see – these truly are my children..." Aragorn waved away the man's apology.
"The books?"
"Let's see - there was, The Lay of Leithian, histories of the Kin-slaying at Alqualondë and the great Civil War of Gondor, and one entitled Great Forests of Middle Earth." He paused for a moment and cast his eyes down at his clasped hands.
"And what else?" Aragorn urged, gently.
"All of the writings of Saruman, my lord."
"I see," Aragorn answered. He carefully pulled the book to him and opened it. It fell somewhere close to its centre, but not quite. He leaned close and began to read. "Interesting."
"What is so interesting?" Arwen asked as she leaned closer to him and began to scan the page too.
"Could I keep this for a bit, Galeanus?" Aragorn asked. "I will treat it as if it were a special child of my own and return it shortly. In fact, if we could just take it over there." He nodded toward one of the long tables that lined the space beside the shelves.
"But of course, sire. Whatever you wish." He began to rise, with difficulty. Aragorn could hear the man's bones creak in protest. "Please, no, my friend. Stay where you are. We won't be a minute." The man sank back into his chair but still dropped his head in a bow.
"Thank you Galeanus, for bringing this to my attention." The old man bowed his head again. Aragorn pulled Arwen's chair out for her before folding the brown paper around the book once more and heading for the table located the farthest away from the archive master's desk. In a moment, they were situated, heads bowed over the book.
"Spells and Incantations," Aragorn said. "Why would someone be so interested in a book on spells and incantations that they would stoop to theft?" He asked as they examined the unassuming cover.
"Maybe it is someone who wants to cast a spell; a farmer thinking they might bring about a good crop or a young one who has fallen in love and wishes their love returned," Arwen answered. "That might explain their interest in spells. If the same person borrowed the other books, they were also interested in the works of Saruman. Perhaps they just have an interest in wizards and their powers?"
"Saruman but not Gandalf? He's written a page or two of interest in this library, I would expect." Aragorn gently opened the book at random. The pages fluttered a moment before settling, falling open to the same chapter as before, almost, but not quite, midway through. "Hmm. The spine has been cracked here," he said. "See how flat it lies."
"Galeanus will be furious when he sees how his precious book has been treated," Arwen remarked.
"Indeed. The person reading this obviously had no care or concern for its fragility or value. They were only interested in reading with ease. He squinted at the book before frowning and pushing it in her direction. "Would you care to translate? It is written in Quenya but a dialect that is difficult for me to decipher. Perhaps you will fare better." Arwen leaned closer to the book and her brow wrinkled in concentration as her eyes flicked back and forth across the page.
"The title of the chapter is, Secrets to Attaining Immortal Life. Most of what is written here is disjointed and confusing to me. This first section expounds on the dangers of changing what one is to what one was never meant to be. However, if one were meant to be immortal, it says, this spell will work, if performed properly." Arwen's long, elegant finger hovered over the page, mindful of her gloveless hands, as she continued reading silently. She had not gone far when she stopped and drew a deep breath.
"What?" Aragorn asked as he took in her drawn face. "What does it say?"
"This spell requires a potion that the mortal in question must drink. It will infuse them with a special power, a power to help them attain that which they desire more than anything."
"That seems much too simple," Aragorn said. "We would have mortals made immortal running everywhere if that were all that was required."
"I wasn't finished." There was no lightness to her tone and Aragorn immediately quieted. "What is required is enough to ensure that this spell will not work often; an Elf would have to choose to give over his own immortal life in order to allow a mortal to gain one – not a likely scenario."
"No, you are quite right. I wouldn't think Elves would be lined up wanting to help with that. But, you are very serious, my love. What has affected you so?"
"Nothing, really. I mean, without an Elf giving their immortal life to a mortal, the rest of the spell would be pointless. There would be no reason to pursue completing it."
"Rest of the spell?"
"Yes. It lists here the ingredients for the potion that the mortal must drink. It contains several herbs and roots that are readily available in most places, I believe, though you could certainly answer that better than I. But, there is one item that would be very difficult to attain."
"And what would that be?"
She sat back from the book and pointed to a place midway down the page. "The blood of an Elf from each of the three Clans Vanyar, Teleri and Noldor. Fresh blood, still warm from the veins. And not just any Elf either, but one who is a direct descendant of the high kings."
Aragorn gave a low whistle and leaned over the book to where she pointed. "That would be very difficult to come by indeed." He took count in his head before continuing. "The only Elves matching that requirement in Middle Earth today would be Galadriel, Celeborn and their descendants. He raised his head from the book and passed a glance around the quiet library feeling a sudden chill that did not come from any drop in temperature. Galeanus still sat hunched over his ledgers and the man who had let them into the library was busy dusting shelves on the other side of the room. Other than those two, they were alone and yet, Aragorn still had an uneasy feeling. "You," he said, drawing his attention once more to the book in front of him. "Your brothers. The only ones I know of who would fit the requirement."
"My brothers and I are part human. That hardly seems to meet the 'pure' aspect that is called for."
"Does it say that?"
"Yes, it does. Pure Elven blood is required. Warm, pure Elven blood fresh from the veins of a living Elf. It gives me the shivers." He felt her do just that at his side and he immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
"That leaves Celeborn then, who is descended from Teleri royalty. And Galadriel." Aragorn said. Arwen looked up from the passage, her eyes wide with fear, causing Aragorn to strengthen his hold on her.
"Galadriel would meet the requirement of all three!" she said. "She is related through her mother to the Teleri King Olwë and through her father to the Noldor King Finwë and through her grandmother to King Ingwë of the Vanyar! You would not need the blood of three Elves then, you would require only hers. Do you think — could she be in any danger? "
"Are you thinking that someone is seriously considering performing this spell?" Aragorn asked. "Come — first of all, we would have to believe that spells in a book work."
"We don't have to believe anything, my love, only the person intent on casting them need believe." Aragorn nodded his agreement, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to bite his bottom lip and silently berating the Elf that had somehow infected him with this new habit.
"Who, then? Who would be interested in such a thing?" It hit Aragorn all at once, the memory of coming into the library late one evening, of finding Nienna there. He had been certain that a book was on the table one moment. When he turned again, however, it was gone. "Nienna." He said. What do you know of her? Is she from Imladris?"
"Nienna? No. She hails from Lórien. But she has been with my family for a long time. I've never spoken with her about her own family or upbringing. My father said that they were gone, her mother and father both, and she has no siblings. Not knowing what he meant by "gone", I did not want to bring back unpleasant memories, if there were any, and so have never asked about them. Perhaps that was unkind of me but if she had ever uttered a word… Why do you ask?"
"Because last evening, I came to the archives searching for something, anything to help ease Legolas' pain, only to discover her here. I thought I spied a book on the table there," he nodded toward one of the other long tables that ran down the centre of the room, very near where Galeanus had said he had found the book. "But after giving instructions to the guards, I returned to find that the table was empty. I wonder now if perhaps this is the book that I saw."
"A book on immortality? Why would Nienna have any interest in humans becoming immortal? She is an Elf. Unless…could she have a human lover? A lover that she wants to have eternal life? She was reading The Lay of Leithian, after all." Aragorn could hear Arwen's breath quicken. She was certainly caught with the romance of the thought; he read plainly the excitement in her eyes.
"No," he chuckled. As romantic as that thought may be, I cannot believe that she would take a mortal lover. That is not something that is done."
Arwen drew back further in her chair and crossed her arms, regarding him plainly. "How can you, of all people, say that?" He realized the absurdity of his statement and chuckled again, this time planting a quick kiss to her brow.
"Alright, something that is not done often. I would therefore not leap to that particular conclusion without considering other possibilities first. The other books that have gone missing only to return mysteriously, for example; they speak of someone who is reading a variety of subject matter, not someone only interested in spells and magic, in mortals becoming immortal. Given our current state of unease, I could entertain ideas of her disloyalty more than her interest in magic. Books on civil war? The works of Saruman?"
"But she is an Elf and Elves are being targeted," Arwen reasoned. "She would be the least likely one for suspicion to fall upon, I would think…unless, that is cause to suspect her all the more?" Arwen's eyes once again roved around the library and came to light on Aragorn's face. "The least likely one. One you would never question or doubt. What do you think?"
"At this point, I cannot say that I would trust anyone." He lowered his face to the book again, squinting at the ornate and complicated script. "I cannot imagine why she would do such a thing, but you are right, she would be the one I would least suspect." Arwen reached a hand across to cup his chin and brush her thumb across his mouth. It was only then he realized that he had, once again, been chewing his bottom lip.
"I'm sure it is nothing," Arwen said moving her hand from his chin to brush a lock of hair back from his forehead. "But we should ask her. Why would she keep this a secret? That is all I want to know. She should have a good answer to that question. More than likely, as you have already said, she is just interested and was unsure whether we would allow her access. Now. Enough of this. You promised to rest." Aragorn smiled and grasped her hand as she started to pull it away, pressing his lips into her palm.
"Now, now. Remember my queen. You are to rest with me." He smiled again before leaning over to capture her lips in a kiss. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the soft cough of the archive master. "I think we should be going, don't you?" They rose after carefully rewrapping the book and returning it to Galeanus. Arwen slipped her hand in the crook of Aragorn's arm as they left the library.
"You know," she said. "I think we might consider a very long rest. Don't you? It has been awhile since we have had a long rest."
"Long rest?" Arwen merely nodded her head at his side, a coy smile on her lips. Aragorn covered her hand where it rested on his arm with his own and picked up the pace of his steps, the startled guards having to hurry to catch up as they headed quickly back to the Houses of Healing.
It was that very evening that Nienna met him in the hall outside of their rooms. Her face was pale, even more so than the usual alabaster white that made her colouring so distinctive. She dropped to her knees and stayed there until Aragorn finally had to tell her to stand.
"I am sorry, my lord," she said, still on her knees. "Please forgive me!"
"Forgive you for what? Nienna, please, rise." In desperation, he reached a hand out and grasping an arm, pulled her to her feet. "Tell me what is bothering you?"
"I lied to you, my lord," she said, her eyes still downcast "I did not tell you the truth last night in the library. Please, oh please, forgive me!"
"Tell me about it," he said, solemnly, very interested to hear what she would say.
"I…I was so surprised when you entered, my lord. I wasn't expecting to see you. I…I had taken a book and was afraid you would be angry with me. I hid it so you would not see what I had done. But then…you were not upset at all and I should have said something when you were so kind to me. But I thought that I would leave well enough alone. I should not have done that, my lord. I should have told you the truth. Can you ever forgive me?" She began to drop to her knees again. Aragorn reached his hand out once more to stop her.
"Please Nienna. I have to admit that I am very disappointed. I would think by now that you would know that I would not have punished you. I am disappointed and saddened. Tell me something. Did you take any other books?" Nienna's cheeks tinged a bright pink made all the more striking by the unusual paleness of her skin.
"Yes, my lord. I've borrowed many books from the archives. But I have returned them. Every one, I swear it."
"I'm sure that you have, Nienna. Galeanus would have told me if any book had gone missing and none has. You have an interesting selection of reading material." He watched her face carefully for a reaction. The pink in her cheeks grew even brighter.
"I have always had quite a varied reading appetite, so my father has said, even when young."
"The works of Saruman? Spells to make mortals immortal? To what end does this sort of information serve?" Nienna's face bore no trace of surprise or concern over his question. Instead, she smiled broadly, at last raising her head. He could see excitement in her eyes as she explained.
"I know, I know, it seems strange perhaps, but my father had known the Istar personally. There was a time when he was truly a great wizard, before —" she paused and a shadow passed quickly across her face. "I am sorry, my lord, I did not think how my choices might seem. I know only a little of his terrible deeds. I do not admire him, my lord. I only wished to learn about Istari and spells and such. It is only an interest, not a vocation."
"I see. And the book on civil war, on sedition?"
"Sedition?"
"The book about the Kin-strife?"
"Sedition?" Nienna's voice all but squeaked as she repeated the word. The pink vanished from her cheeks as her skin turned pure white again. "Oh my!" Her hand went to her mouth and tears filled her crystal blue orbs. "I never…oh my lord…I would never!" She took a step back from him and once again fell to her knees, dropping her head to the floor. "I swear to you, my lord, I read those only for history. I could never even consider such a thing! You are my lady's husband. You are my king. Please believe me, my lord." Again Aragorn found himself pulling Nienna from the floor.
"That is enough, Nienna. Enough. I have heard you and I…believe you." Although he wasn't entirely sure that he did. There was still something that bothered him, something that made him uncomfortable but he wasn't sure of what it might be to think of a question that might help satisfy his unease. "I will take your apology into consideration, Nienna, but for now, I think it best that you stay clear of the archives until I have had a chance to think."
"Yes, my lord." She curtsied low. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes red rimmed against the paleness of her skin. She certainly appeared contrite; terrified in fact, seemed more to the point. Aragorn watched as she vanished down the hall, wondering what about their discussion disturbed him so. Was her terror because her lord and master had questioned her loyalty, the loyalty of a loyal servant? Or was it because he had known about the other books. She could have heard of Galeanus' visit and sought to explain herself before Aragorn confronted her. But she would have thought only of the book that she had dropped on the floor. She might not have known just how particular the archive master was how particular and how strong a memory he had. Aragorn decided he would discuss the issue with Gandalf. But it would be another of those conversations that he meant to have but never managed to get to. Until, that is, it was entirely too late.
