Disclaimer: Don't own Aragorn – boohoo. Do own Marin – but who cares?

The King's Braid

Chapter Seven

Aragorn swam back to consciousness. All around him was blackness. Vague recollections presented him with a selection of sounds – startled gasps, loud calls, and hurrying footsteps. But he couldn't really remember anything before the comforting darkness that now surrounded him. He tried to open his eyes, thinking that he might see something that would aid his memory. However, even that simple action seemed to take too much effort, and so Aragorn had to content himself with remaining in the darkness. But now a face floated there, instantly recognisable against the background mass of his confusion.

"Boromir," Aragorn murmured, putting a name to the face.

"The Lord Boromir is not here," replied a voice.

At those words, something snapped into place in Aragorn's mind, and his eyes flew open. "Boromir!" he cried, struggling to sit up. A restraining hand was placed on his shoulder, pushing him back down. Turning his head, Aragorn saw that Marin sat by his bedside. There was a cold, hard look on the councillor's face that slightly confused Aragorn, but he was in no condition to ponder its meaning. He was fully occupied with thoughts of Boromir. "What have I done?" he said miserably.

"What was necessary," replied Marin, and Aragorn now noticed that his voice had the same steely quality as the expression on his face.

"Marin, what is wrong? What has happened?" he asked. "Apart from the obvious, of course," he finished bitterly.

"Wrong? Nothing is wrong, My Liege," said the councillor. "In fact, you could say that everything has worked out beautifully."

It was with a start that Aragorn noticed the heavy sarcasm placed on the words 'My Liege'. A horrible suspicion sprang to life in his mind. "What do you mean, everything has worked out beautifully?" he said.

"I must congratulate you on what seems to have been a superb performance," Marin continued. "I had my doubts that you would be able to pull it off. But it seems that you were very convincing. At least, Boromir appears to have believed you. And by all current appearances, it seems that you cannot do without him."

"What do you mean?" Aragorn asked again.

"Why, simply that you have been unconscious for two days," said Marin, with a slight smile. "If this is the effect that his leaving has on you, then his absence will make my task a lot easier than I ever imagined."

The suspicion in Aragorn's mind suddenly solidified with startling clarity. "Then it was you!" he said.

"If by that you mean that it was me who left you that little note, then you are correct," replied Marin. "As you will no doubt remember, I expressed my opinion that the Lord Boromir would provide an extreme hindrance to our plans."

"And what are your plans?" enquired Aragorn grimly. "They must involve me, otherwise you would have got rid of me as well as Boromir, and by the more drastic means you spoke of in the letter."

"Correct again, your Majesty," said Marin. "You have probably worked out by now that I am one of those people who uphold the views of the late Lord Denethor. However, my associates and I could not simply do away with the King and take over the kingdom, or indeed even the city. There are far too few of us to make that viable. We have strong allies, but your supporters would have overthrown us long before they could ever arrive. Therefore, we decided that the best way to have things run our way was to do it through you, instead of against you."

"Through me?" said Aragorn, trying to sit up again, and this time succeeding. "But you must know that I will never agree to that."

"Oh, but you will," said Marin, with a malicious smile. "We may have used the more creative option to get rid of your lover, but the more drastic course of action will always remain in reserve. Boromir may have left Minas Tirith, but there are enough of us to at least have him watched and followed constantly. You will follow our instructions, or your recent performance will have all been in vain.

Aragorn's shoulders sagged, and a wave of misery and defeat rolled over him. He was cornered. He had no way to know if Marin was telling the truth about having Boromir spied upon, or if indeed Boromir was even still alive, but he knew he would not take the risk. If it were just himself involved, he would have quelled this rebellion straight away, but he would never put Boromir in danger.

But now there was no one to aid him. Marin's 'creative option' had been completely successful. It was true that Boromir had presented an insurmountable obstacle to his plans, and by sending him away, Aragorn had unwittingly delivered himself into the hands of someone he had trusted almost as much as the Steward. And he had no way of knowing who Marin's associates were, and so there was no way he could eliminate the threat.

"All right," Aragorn said quietly. "Tell me what you want me to do."