Author's note: CW: Institutional violence. Gets a little graphic, but not too much. Hope you good folks are all doing fine, and if you're not, that's okay, too! You deserve happiness.
§
"Oh?" I answered with interest.
"I recently found the room where he has been hiding through the day."
"What is in this room that will prove to me that your father is in no state to decide on whether he receives treatment or not, Boromir?" I asked, trying not to sound cynical. "I must impress on you that saying someone has lost decision-making capacity or could be harmful to themselves or others are both very, very serious claims and I am not willing to invade your father's privacy for anything less."
"The room is a disaster, Rhodri," Boromir insisted. "It is crammed with things, just as his bedroom and study are."
"As in he is not willing to get rid of any of his possessions?" I clarified.
"Nothing at all," he said with a grave nod. "Every scrap of paper, piece of material, every sword, arrowhead- everything he ever owned is in those rooms, and they are hardly able to be passed through."
"That is indicative of a problem, yes," I said to him patiently, "but he's got an entire castle at his disposal, so his life and the lives of others are not at risk from him hoarding things. It is certainly not enough to warrant my stepping in."
Boromir looked downcast.
"Is he doing anything, or is there any indication that he is engaging in behaviour that might endanger Gondor in some way? Is he trying to cut a deal with Sauron, or something of that nature?" I asked, trying to give him some chance to dispel the discontent from his head.
"Oh, no, absolutely not," Boromir said, shaking his head fervently. "He has no desire to ally with Sauron or have any discussions with him. We are constantly driving his forces back."
"Are your people suffering from avoidable hardship that results from something your father has done, or neglected to do?"
"No," he shook his head again. "We manage very well given the circumstances."
"So going back to when we were in my office, you told me that you had doubts that your father was able to continue ruling. What exactly is it you think is going to suddenly cause this downturn in his clear aptitude?" I asked, hoping that this would get to the heart of his worries once and for all.
"He… he is keeping something in there. I am sure of it," Boromir said frustratedly. "I think it's making him worse. I am certain it is why he keeps going into that room."
Hmm. This was curious. Something that makes someone obsessively sit in a room for hours on end? My stomach dropped a little. What if it was the Ring?
"What kind of something?"
"I do not know. But I think it gives him knowledge. After he has been in that room, he seems more confident and aware of things that don't occur to anyone else. And also more disturbed…"
I chewed my lips and gave myself a moment to digest his words. Perhaps it wasn't a ring after all, but a thing that gives knowledge? You'd think he'd found a computer with internet connection. But what existed in this world that imparted that sort of thing? I was certain by now that on the level of a psychologist, I had no right to inspect any further. As someone who was privy to a lot of insider information about Sauron and his machinations, however, it looked different.
Deciding I needed more time to turn this over in my head, I said to Boromir, "Let's leave it for the day. I want to think about this all a little more before we take any action, all right?"
He took this well, nodding. "Shall we go and eat, then?"
Completely forgetting that I was strictly forbidden to speak with Boromir, I agreed. Together, we got up and left the room, making for the dining hall.
Denethor, however, had not forgotten the rule he had imposed on me, and unfortunately for us, he was also out and about when we were, and caught Boromir and me walking together as he came from the other direction.
"Oh, bugger," I said quietly.
"Wh-?" Boromir began before catching sight of his red-faced, apoplectic father storming over to us.
I had a sinking feeling I wasn't going to get a chance to work out if Denethor was hiding something dangerous amongst his apparent mountains of possessions. The guy looked ready to throw me out on my arse. I didn't want to invade his privacy in any way, but with Gondor's proximity to Mordor, I thought it incredibly unwise to ignore any potential warning signs.
With huge reluctance, knowing I had only a handful of seconds at my disposal, I entered Denethor's mind and gazed around wildly, looking for any sign of something worrying.
The inside of Denethor's head was minimally furnished and substantially less cheerful than Elrond and Glorfindel's had been. To my confusion, I saw that quite a number of memories looked identical. I grabbed the one closest to me and examined it.
Denethor was alone in a dark, severely cramped room, bent over a desk that was littered with papers with notes scrawled over them in sharp, short writing. The only thing on the desk that was accorded a little space was a piece of velvet that was draped over something that was about the size of a bowling ball. Steeling himself as his stomach churned, he took the cover away and looked into what appeared to be a glass orb, but it lit up like it was a television. He didn't want to watch, but he knew he would find knowledge in it, secrets of Sauron's plans, and forced himself to keep his eyes on it. It showed vivid pictures of Sauron's forces, absurdly and almost unrealistically large in number, invading and overpowering Gondor with laughable ease. The populace enslaved, Minas Tirith in ruins. Denethor deposed and killed, and both of his sons shortly after. His heart was pounding, and sweat was pouring out of his face and hands as he watched these scenes unfold in horror. He lay the orb back on the desk and draped the velvet back over it, shaking as he made his way downstairs to the throne room again. It had been even worse than the last time, and a wave of nausea passed over him as he thought of it.
The memory ended, and I shot back into my own head just in time to see Denethor grab me by the scruff of my neck and shout for his guards to take me to prison.
Amid Boromir's loud protests, two large, burly men grabbed me roughly by the arms and the legs and carried me in a reverse hog-tie out and down some stairs to a rather unpleasant looking stone room with a row of cells built into the walls. They opened the iron-bar doors to one and chucked me inside, locking the door behind me.
In theory, I could have probably knocked them all unconscious in moments, but it seemed terribly unwise to stir the pot any further at that exact point. With that said, though, I had just been unfairly imprisoned, especially since I had only met with Boromir to inform him of the new rules and stress that I respected his father's autonomy. As far as I could see, this really was unwarranted.
I sat patiently in my cell for a few hours, waiting for a new warden to step in so I could make some enquiries.
As a huge brick shithouse of a man came down the stairs, I stuck a hand a little between the bars to get his attention.
"Excuse me," I said politely, waving gently. He stopped dead and watched me, squinting warily.
"I'm sorry for the bother, but I think I'm in the wrong place."
The warden looked at me in disbelief before bursting into uproarious laughter.
"I'd be a rich man if I had a piece of gold for every time one of you said that to me, girly!" he said between guffaws before bending down so that we were eye level. The look of amusement slipped off his face, replaced by a look of worryingly cheerful malice.
"I heard young Lord Boromir arguing with Lord Denethor about you, and I can assure you this is the place for you. 'Let her rot in there,' he said to him. And I wager that's exactly what you're going to do." He waggled his eyebrows once before walking past my cell and taking a seat at the other end of the prison.
Well, now, I thought to myself, that simply won't do. I was going to have to break out. I had to be back in Imladris in time for Glorfindel's eight thousandth conception day, due to occur in about three and a half months from now. Elrond and I had been planning a surprise party for him, and I wanted to be back in good time to get the arrangements together. A lifetime prison sentence would clash terribly with my plans. How often do you turn eight thousand years old, after all?
Night had fallen and I'd spent a good few hours more considering how and when to do this jailbreak when I heard loud, furious shouting coming from outside. The voice producing the noise was oddly familiar, but I couldn't think where I'd heard it.
"HOW DARE YOU!" came another enraged roar from this person. "THIS IS ABSOLUTELY UNACCEPTABLE! I DEMAND THAT YOU RELEASE MY WIFE THIS INSTANT!"
I got up and peered out between the bars and to my intense shock saw Glorfindel, absolutely wild with fury, being carried down the stairs by eight guards who struggled greatly as he writhed in protest. I'd been much more chill about it, hanging like deadweight and enjoying the swinging feeling that came whenever we took a corner. It's the little pleasures.
"RHODRI!" He shouted as he saw me in my cell. I smiled out at him and gave a small wave before something outside of the cell grabbed me by my hair and ripped me against the bars, presumably so I wouldn't try to get out as the door to my cell opened and they threw Glorfindel in with me. I reclaimed my hair by grabbing the hand that was holding onto it and squeezing it tightly.
"Kindly let go of that," I said coldly, gripping harder until I heard a yelp of pain and felt the hand relax under my own. I turned around and saw the same warden who'd informed me I'd be here a while looking at me with a disturbed frown as he nursed a red, slightly swollen hand.
Ignoring him, I went over to Glorfindel quickly, who had stood up and brushed himself off now.
"Are you all right?" I murmured with concern as I took his hands in mine and cast my eye over him shortly.
"I am, yes," he replied, his eyebrows knitted, looking only notionally less angry now. "What on earth is going on here? Did they do anything to you?" He pulled me closer to him and put a hand on my face.
"Oh no, just a little administrative error," I answered quietly, my eyes twinkling a little. "My goodness, I've never seen you angry before."
"I'm rarely given cause for it," he said bitterly. "I was informed you would be kept here for an indefinite period and be punished harshly at regular intervals for attempted subterfuge."
"I see," I said thoughtfully. "Come, let's sit down awhile. Not much else to do in here."
Glorfindel nodded stiffly and sat with me against the cold wall. I rested my head in his lap and smiled up at him.
"Bet you didn't imagine you'd end up here after your first day of negotiations, eh?" I said to him in my head.
"That would be putting it mildly," he replied. "I didn't imagine you would, either. What happened?"
After I silently explained the whole charade to him, his eyes widened.
"Denethor has a palantír," he said. "Oh, dear. We will need to keep a very close watch on Gondor, then. Elrond won't be pleased about this."
"Ah, so that's what a palantír is," I raised my eyebrows in understanding. I had heard about them in passing some years ago. Nothing especially big, just that they were like a set of orbs that allowed video chat between other palantír owners. Skype, crystal ball version. A great idea, really, the only issue being that Sauron owned one of them and liked to mess about with others through it. Typical.
"I think there's something going on there, to be honest."
"In what sense?"
"I think Sauron knows he was looking into the palantír and was feeding Denethor progressively less plausible instances of Gondor's crushing defeat to try and depress him. That would explain half of the thoughts I came across in his head when I accessed that memory. They were so unrealistic. A sea of enemies, and only a handful of Gondorians, when Denethor knows he has allies."
Glorfindel nodded thoughtfully. "I think you might be right."
"Well, we'd better get home as soon as we can, then, so that Elrond has plenty of time to worry about what all of this has in store for us."
"How, though?"
"That's the easy part." I grinned like a Cheshire cat at him. "One moment, if you please."
I got up and stomped over to the door to my cell and glanced up and down each end impatiently. The same hair-pulling smug bastard was still sitting at the end of the corridor, looking like he was half falling asleep. I snapped my fingers loudly to get his attention.
"Hey. Hey!" I said loudly. "It's getting pretty late, beefcake! Long past dinner time. Can we expect to eat any time tonight, or shall we just wait for an unsuspecting rat to come in here?"
Said beefcake looked rather irate at having been called such. He stood up and marched over to us, and without a word, he stuck a hand inside the cell, grabbed the back of my head and rammed my face into one of the bars.
"You can eat iron tonight, I think," he said with a creepy smile as he started to grind my face into the metal. I heard another angry shout from Glorfindel as he shot over and ripped the warden's hand off my head. I straightened up, feeling some blood drip from my nose, and I watched him expressionlessly as he continued to leer at me.
Without another word, I grabbed the bar he'd squashed my face into, and with a small pull, it had come loose and I held it in my hand.
"What the-" came from the flabbergasted warden before I winded him with a jab to the solar plexus. The removal of one bar made enough room for Glorfindel and I both to step out, and as we did, I took the bar and bent it around this smug prick a few times until his arms were stuck at his sides. Taking one more bar, I looped it around his feet.
As Glorfindel and I stood over him, I asked, "Did you want some iron to chew on, or will you be all right there as you are?"
The warden said nothing as he stared up at us wide-eyed, numb with shock.
"Okay, mate, well, we'll leave you be, then. Toodle-pip!" I said pleasantly, waving as Glorfindel and I walked up the stairs and out to freedom.
"We need to grab our possessions and get the hell out of here," I said quickly. With a nod, we bolted to our room, snatched up out things, and made for the stables. We didn't even bother to saddle the horses, holding them in our hands as we shot along the path and to the front entryway.
Quickly dismounting, I ran up and kicked the enormous gate open, after which Glorfindel shot through with my horse hot on his heels. A loud commotion broke out as the guards started to shout and go for me, but I was a tad too quick for them. At my command, my horse slowed a little, and I had just enough time to run to it, spring onto its back and gallop away, the adrenaline pumping through me like nothing else. Glorfindel and I whooped and cheered for miles and miles, and when we got far away enough, we rested the tired horses and let them graze awhile.
"Ooh, we're outlaws, beloved!" I said enthusiastically, patting his knee in excitement.
"Goodness, we are," Glorfindel replied in shock. "I hope it won't make too much trouble for Elrond…"
"Ah, he'll be fine," I said airily. "We have too much that Gondor needs for them to cut diplomatic ties with us. If Elrond stands you and me down from any Gondor-related duties, he'll save face enough to keep things running smoothly. Besides, Denethor made a big mistake throwing us in jail. I think this'll blow over in a few decades."
"Yes, you're probably right," he replied.
"I feel terrible for Boromir getting caught up in all this, though," I said with a sad sigh. His concern was genuine, and I think he had very good cause to be worried for his father. I hoped his father didn't dole out too harsh of a punishment on him.
§
We got back to Imladris within the month. We weren't keen to be recaptured, so we stayed on the move most of the day and even part of the night. The horses were rather worn out when we got back one morning at the tail-end of summer, but it was a better alternative to Denethor ordering them to be turned into steak and glue as revenge for departing without his say-so.
"Elrooooond!" I trilled as Glorfindel and I walked down the corridor to his study. "We're hooome!"
His door opened and his head poked out in surprise.
"My goodness, what are you two doing back so soon?" he exclaimed, bringing the rest of his body out now as he stepped forward and approached us.
"We're criminals, Elrond!" I whispered excitedly. "We were imprisoned in Minas Tirith but broke free!"
Elrond looked at me like I'd just told him about my bowel movements. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly without any sound coming out as he pointed a quivering finger in the direction of his study.
Glorfindel and I stifled laughs as we went inside and sat down. Elrond came in behind us, closing the door behind him and taking a seat. He put his hands in his face and rubbed hard before looking up at us.
"You'd better tell me what's happened," he croaked, looking like he knew he'd regret every second of this as he made a feeble gesture inviting us to speak.
Nodding, Glorfindel and I launched into our story, struggling to keep our laughter from escaping as his face went from shocked to appalled to mortified, then righteously angry on our behalf, and then finally thunderstruck.
"And, yes, well, I suppose we've basically been riding almost nonstop to get back here to you. We missed you terribly, mate," I said with a sunny smile. Glorfindel nodded cheerfully.
A small, horrified squeak was the only noise that came out of Elrond for a while there.
"Oh, my stars, what a disaster," were his first words. "A palantír, false imprisonment, and a breakout."
"Non-violent!" I insisted. "The guard was immobilised, nothing more. Okay, well, one small jab to wind him a little."
"He deserved more, though," Glorfindel hissed under his breath furiously.
"Ah, don't worry about that," I said amiably, giving him a loving pat on the knee. "They're going to have a hell of a time getting him out of that bar, poor sod."
Glorfindel snickered a little. "That's true, I suppose."
"You two realise, of course, that it may be some generations from now before you will be welcome there again, yes?" Elrond said wearily.
"It's not such a huge loss," Glorfindel replied with a shrug. "We can still do plenty of the paperwork related to it, and Erestor can meet delegates on our behalf."
Elrond nodded in resignation, and a silence fell over us for a few minutes as we retreated into our own thoughts.
The quiet was disrupted by an almost theatrically huge gasp from me. Elrond and Glorfindel looked at me in alarm, since I wasn't given to making that noise often.
"THE BEANS!" I howled inconsolably. "I DIDN'T GET THE RECIPE FOR THE BEANS!"
