A/N: Many thanks to my reviewers, who are so kind in their comments and help fuel the hamster muses (whether they need it or not :p). I would say something to each of you individually, but I think you'll be more interested in the contents of this chapter than any of my verbose comments. ;) So, on to the fic!
__Chapter 9__ "Judgement"
Esli took more than a little perverse pleasure in assisting Lord Faramir and the Kings Guard with the arrests. He relayed to the Steward all of the information that could possibly prove useful, detailing the men's appearances and listing the usual places they could be found. As much as he wished to accompany Lord Faramir to make the arrests, his request to go along was denied, since his presence would make their quarry suspicious and more likely to attempt an escape.
Lord Faramir and his men went first to 'The Angry Bull.' Before entering the seedy tavern, he sent a handful of soldiers around back and left another handful just outside the front door, entering with half a dozen men. Windows with a view of the tavern were soon filled with eyes, and more peered from doors cracked open. The people knew most of the goings-on inside the establishment, both legal and non, though were of wildly differing opinions on the matter. Some were eager to see these things brought to an end, while others looked on in horror, fearing the outcome. But all wanted to watch the situation unfold to better tell the tale to friends and acquaintances.
None outside saw the look on Joram's face when the barkeep became aware of the Steward's purpose in coming to his humble establishment, though the patrons inside at the time were more than happy to relate their perspective when all was said and done. The expression of dismay and horror and dread as the proprietor's hands were bound behind his back in full view of a packed room of customers was soon legendary, becoming as widely known as his hot temper. The soldiers in his employ were captured and bound by the guardsmen in the alley behind the building, having made a futile attempt to evade the wrath of the Steward.
The three prisoners were dragged unwillingly to the gaol house in the second circle; the guards on duty also were quickly brought into custody and bound, with some of Faramir's soldiers left in their place. Unwilling to imprison the guilty in a familiar place where escape was possible and certainly likely, Faramir had them locked up not in the gaol house but in the dungeons of the Palace, hardly ever used in recent memory but still quite secure.
Once he shared all the information he could, Esli went in search of his wife. As he expected, he found her in the hobbits' room. The King was there as well, seated on the edge of the bed and talking with the four hobbits. He could not discern their topic of conversation from the door, but it had three of the hobbits chattering endlessly, occasionally punctuated by a question or comment from the King, who was thoughtfully considering their words. The other hobbit, the ill one -Frodo?... yes, Frodo- was lying in Jael's lap and seemed to be struggling to stay awake, his eyelids slowly drooping closed only to be jerked back open a few seconds later. If he spoke, Esli could not tell, for his voice was quiet and did not have the energy of the others'.
Jael noticed her husband lurking in the doorway and nodded, soundlessly motioning that she would come over to him in a moment. Her melodic voice interrupted the eager flow of words briefly, and the King gently took the ailing hobbit into his own lap, allowing Jael to leave the bed. Her steps were tentative at first, stiffly adjusting to movement after remaining still for so long.
She soon reached her husband; they greeted one another with an embrace and a small kiss. Esli loosened his hold slightly and looked her in the eyes as he asked, "How are you doing?"
"I am a little tired, but it is nothing," she assured him with a timid smile. "And what about you? You are supposed to be on leave, you know," she teased.
Esli smiled at her good-natured ribbing. "It is worth a month's amount of leave to have you teasing me again."
Jael blushed, then laid her head on his shoulder as she sighed. "These halflings are fascinating creatures. Merely the size of children, but with such big hearts. They're truly a delight to speak with, and having quite contagious good humour. And the amount of food they can consume in one meal is staggering!" She sighed again as she added, "I just wish we could have met under better circumstances. That someone would want to deliberately hurt one of these delightful beings, after all they've done..."
Esli hugged her closer, rubbing her back reassuringly. "Do not worry. The King will soon judge them for their deeds. The Steward and a contingent of the King's Guard just went to bring them into custody."
"Good," Jael said with uncharacteristic ferocity. Esli did not respond, and they stood in comfortable silence, each drawing strength and reassurance from the other.
Silence draped the room, the conversation on the bed also seeming to have reached a lull, then they heard one of the voices -which to Jael sounded most like Pippin- say, "I don't know... she looks busy."
Both Jael and Esli were startled and looked toward the bed to see three pairs of hobbit eyes peering at them and the King trying not to laugh. He murmured something to the hobbits, who then rolled and shoved each other off the bed, the larger two heading eagerly out the door right past the couple, and the other casting a look back before somewhat reluctantly following his master's kinsmen.
The room was still for several moments before Jael moved away from Esli slightly. "You should go home and get some rest," she suggested tenderly.
"But what about you?" he asked, always concerned about her welfare over his own.
She cupped his face in her hands and said with a small smile, "I will be fine, husband."
He returned her smile, gently kissing her again before turning to leave. "I will return in the morning. Have you need of anything?"
"No. You were most thorough in your assistance with my packing," her smile broadened as she remembered his enthusiastic attempts to help, going through almost every possession in their small house and asking if she might need it, even down to the cutlery in the kitchen. He blushed, then left, chuckling and shaking his head.
When Jael returned to the bedside, Frodo had finally lost his battle with sleep, or rather was told by Aragorn it was all right to allow himself to lose the battle, since his opinion was no longer required. "The conversation turned to food, as it usually does with them, so they went to get something to eat," Aragorn informed her. "Sam suggested asking if you'd like to go with them, which prompted Pippin's insightful comment."
She chuckled. "I see."
Aragorn moved to lay Frodo back onto the bed but stopped with a frown, instead carefully touching the hobbit's forehead and neck with his hand. He resumed the motion and said, "His fever is rising again."
"Perhaps he is reaching the height of the illness?" Jael suggested.
"That's possible, but it's more likely from the forced exertion of staying awake so long," Aragorn answered regretfully. "I had hoped to pass judgement on the men responsible for this on the morrow, but I also want Frodo to be present, both to witness it and so the men can see the suffering they have perpetrated." He sighed. "But I refuse to further jeopardize his health."
Jael considered for a moment. "He could improve before tomorrow; it is yet early in the day."
The next morning dawned clear and bright, and the atmosphere in the hobbits' room was one of uneasy expectation. Frodo had not improved over the course of the previous day, but he also had not worsened; still holding true to his intention to have Frodo present at the judgement, Aragorn decided to hold the audience in the hobbits' room so Frodo would not need to be moved or exert himself in any way. The bed had been pushed into the far corner of the room, and all the other furniture in the room was also moved against the back wall.
One lone chair was placed midway between the foot of the bed and the fireplace, to serve as Aragorn's 'throne', with the other half of the room standing empty to accommodate the prisoners and their guards and any other necessary spectators. The hearing was scheduled for midmorning, though the prisoners were roused at dawn to wait uneasily until being called before the King.
Frodo woke just before the proceedings were to begin; Aragorn gave him a small cup of a stimulant tea, so he sat propped in bed, sandwiched between Sam and Jael, to face his tormentors. Esli arrived at about the same time, standing protectively next to his wife as she sat on the bed. Merry and Pippin flanked Aragorn's chair, both suited in their full regalia, and stood at attention to attend to any of the King's needs during the judgement.
The clear bell rang thrice, its sweet notes singing over the city and echoing off the Mount before fading to a whisper on the breeze. It was the third hour past dawn, and the hour of doom for those now escorted before the King.
Elessar sat in stern silence as the men were lined before him and left to face the full force of his wrath. He passively surveyed each prisoner one by one; none dared meet his glance. Finally, he spoke. "You are here to be judged for your deeds toward yonder pair of halflings." He motioned slightly at the bed, though all in the room knew without looking to whom he was referring. "They were unjustly imprisoned, dragged to the gaol house simply for being lost. Once in gaol, they were neglected, never given food nor water, and left to sit miserably in the damp chill. Even had not one of them become seriously ill, measures would have been taken against you, but more so now that your cruel irresponsibility has endangered the health and life of an innocent."
As if to lend credence to the King's words, the sound of harsh coughing came from the bed. Frodo had felt the cough threatening when Aragorn began to speak, and tried to delay it as long as possible, but only succeeded for a short time.
To the soldiers standing on guard and the servants crowded around the door, the King seemed to sit calmly as the halfling coughed and choked, the woman and the other halfling attempting to attend him. But Gandalf, standing against the wall next to Faramir, saw Aragorn tense in his chair, listening intently for any sign that his aid was needed, but reluctant to be distracted from his task at hand.
After several long moments, Jael was able to help the coughing subside by having Frodo inhale the vapors of a salve she had made the day prior. She smeared a good amount on his chest to forestall any further attacks during the proceedings.
King Elessar continued, once it was apparent Frodo was all right. "What say you to these charges?"
None of the nine spoke. They knew better. If one had the gall to speak on his own behalf in front of Lord Denethor, the Steward's anger would be severe and the punishment much more stringent. Though none of them had yet been before the new King Elessar, it was assumed he would not be much different than the Steward ruling before him. They just wanted the King to get on with it, though they dreaded what the pronouncement would be.
Elessar waited almost to the point of embarrassment for the men before him to speak, to argue for their case or plead for mercy. But they did nothing. The soldiers lining the back wall began to mutter amongst themselves, wondering what was taking the King so long to pronounce the doom upon these troublemakers.
Grieved by the obvious lack of concern these men had for even their own lives, the King finally spoke. "You have forfeited your chance to speak, thus I will proclaim my judgement."
As instructed earlier that morning, the guards stepped forward and made Joram and his two hirelings move back, isolating the six soldiers from the gaol house. Then the King began his pronouncements.
"For your mistreatment of the prisoners, not only the halflings but all men under your supervision, you shall be imprisoned for one week and subjected to the same humiliations you have so willingly forced onto others. Immediately thereafter, you shall be stripped of your rights and privileges as soldiers of Gondor and must take up another trade as your livelihood." A small pause to allow his words to sink in, then, "Such is your doom."
This signalled the guards again, now escorting the other two soldiers to stand alone before the King. "Not only were you involved in the imprisonment of two innocent halflings, you have committed other misdeeds that have been brought to my attention. Accordingly, you are hereby dishonorably discharged from your duties as soldiers of Gondor, and exiled from the city of Minas Tirith and its surrounds."
He sat back slightly, then said, "Now, Lord Faramir, you had a message for me?"
"Yes, my liege," he answered and, stepping forward, handed Elessar a rolled parchment. As the King unrolled and pretended to read it, already very familiar with the contents, he used it to hide a small smile at the former soldiers' growing discomfort and unease. They cast anxious glances at each other, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot as they waited for the King to finish so they could escape that weighty gaze. Even Joram looked nervous as he awaited his sentence. The plan was working perfectly.
Finally, he cleared his throat and continued, "As I'm sure you're aware, Minas Tirith is currently hosting a large number of foreign ambassadors. This amount of people has caused certain problems in the usual maintenance and upkeep of the city. It has now come to my attention that the laundries are severely short-handed. Therefore, for the duration of the ambassadors' stay here, you will serve in the laundries, assisting wherever help is needed. Once the embassies leave, you will be free of that duty and must also leave, under pain of death." He looked each one in the eye. "So ends my pronouncement concerning you."
A shuffle of movement, and Joram was presented before the King. His air was one of faint disdain and contempt in an attempt to hide his uncertainty behind bravado. King Elessar met his eyes confidently, completely in control of himself and the situation. He stated, "As much as my heart wishes upon you swift and lasting punishment, I will not order it so, for Frodo has spoken on your behalf." There was a muffled gasp from the audience crowding around the open door, surprised that the small being would seek to excuse the instigator of his torment.
Elessar continued, "He shows much wisdom in this matter and I will heed his counsel. Instead, this doom I pronounce: you also will work in the laundries. Except-" he paused for effect, "Except any laundry- any dirty linens, soiled clothing, and the like- *any* laundry proceeding from this room will be your sole responsibility." Joram's eyes widened and he seemed to pale slightly as he thought about how much that could be. "I am aware that you have a place of business, so it will be closed for the duration of your duties in the laundries. When Frodo has fully recovered, then you will be free to return to your tavern.
"But this also I pronounce: the first night you reopen your establishment, when all your customers flock back to your bar and the room is crowded with patrons, you shall make a public apology to the two hobbits you mistreated." Joram opened his mouth as if to protest; Elessar held up a cautioning hand. "*And* anytime they choose to patronize 'The Angry Bull,' you will provide all four hobbits, and any companions with them, with food and drink free of charge for as long as they remain in the city." Upon this last, Pippin got a mischievous glint in his eye, and Merry sent him a cautioning look over Aragorn's head.
Jael had to struggle to contain her laughter. She knew full well how much hobbits were capable of eating, and realized that if they stayed for any length of time, there was a good chance they would be able to eat Joram right out of business. It was obvious Joram himself did not yet realize the full extent of his punishment, with that smug look on his face, probably thinking he would be able to go back to life as usual once the laundry nonsense was out of the way. She also realized, which was not funny at all, that Joram would most likely be banished to the laundries for far longer than he seemed to think.
She looked down at the child-sized person sleeping in her lap and sighed. Exactly when he had fallen asleep again she did not know, but she doubted he had heard any of Joram's sentence, which was what Lord Aragorn most wanted him to hear. Ah, well, he could be told when he woke up. Provided that he *did* wake up. She frowned as this thought came unbidden and unwanted into her mind. There was no reason to think he would not wake up, though she had to be honest and admit that he was not yet recovering as well as could be hoped.
When Jael brought her mind back to the situation at hand, the scribe was reading the pronouncements, going over the details to ensure a proper record. He finished, and the King again spoke. "Gentlemen, be assured that you will be watched to ensure your completion of these terms." He rose to his feet, signalling the end of the audience. "So says the King. Guards, please escort these gentlemen to their new laundry duties, and the others to the gaol house." They nodded, and herded the men out of the room.
When all had left and the room was empty of soldiers and prisoners, and servants were no longer lurking outside the door, Aragorn allowed himself a chuckle, which quickly developed into full-blown laughing.
"Oh, dear," he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "That's the most fun I've had in a long time."
TBC