A/N: Sorry about the delay in posting this! Real life interfered, and the hamsters didn't see fit to cooperate. But here it is... No idea on when the next will be up, but I *do* intend to finish this story, however long it may take.

_Chapter 15_

One, two, three, four. Turn. One, two, three, four. Turn. One . . . Aragorn restlessly paced his small study as he debated what to do. So many thoughts were vying for his attention, so many ideas clamoring to be heard. How could he possibly prove Joram was behind Frodo's poisoning? His steps kept time with his racing mind, and Gandalf watched him with amusement. The wizard sat by the fire, safely out of the way of the prowling King, as he smoked his pipe and waited for Aragorn to give voice to his preoccupation.

The pacing continued for the better part of half an hour until Elessar abruptly stopped, turned on his heel, and strode from the room. 'He must have come to a decision,' Gandalf mused wryly. Several minutes later the King returned and dropped into the chair opposite Gandalf with a sigh. "I shall host dinner tonight for the ambassadors," he explained briefly. "I believe it is time the attempt on Frodo's life is made known."

Gandalf hemmed thoughtfully, then inquired, "And what of the questions about the culprit? They will no doubt ask his whereabouts and fate."

"His identity is known to me, and I have only to bring him into custody," Aragorn replied dismissively. "And his fate? Even death is too good for him in light of his offenses."

The wizard cast an appraising glance at the man across from him to see the King frowning fiercely into the small fire. "You mean to execute him, then?"

Aragorn sighed and closed his eyes wearily as he seemed to slouch further into the padding of the chair. "It is appropriate for the severity of his crimes."

"And what of the proof you require?" Gandalf prodded gently.

The man cast him a grim smile. "That is the purpose of this evening's meal. I will trust to rumor the information I want Joram to know, and thus trap him." After a moment's silence, he elaborated, "When he hears his plan was unsuccessful, he will undoubtedly try again. But this time, I will be at hand."

~~~~

As he trudged home, dejected, Esli wished he had even the smallest piece of news with which to soothe his wife. But he had been unable to discover anything new about the halfling Frodo, his inquiries about his health met only with blank stares or old information regarding his earlier illness. He would have gone to investigate himself, but the corridor was guarded heavily and he lacked the permission to proceed. And none of the halfling's friends had been seen since the day previous, undoubtedly closeted in the sequestered room. Even that wizard who always seemed to appear when least expected was absent, and the lack of information disturbed Esli greatly. The only situation he could think of that required such secrecy was if Frodo had actually died. The death of such a renowned personage would cause a great stir, and as such would only be revealed when the King was ready to handle the uproar.

Such thoughts did not sit well, especially when he realized what that outcome would do to Jael. He was so busy concocting explanations for his return home that he almost missed seeing two short, curly heads through a break in the crowds. Esli quickened his pace, trying to catch up to the small folk before they were swept off in the mass of people. He deeply hoped they were who he thought they were: two of the halflings, the two he had not dealt with in person before. Drawing closer, he called out and they turned as one, relief evident in their faces when they recognized him.

Merry and Pippin had set out without any clear idea of where to find Lady Jael, knowing only that she and her husband reside in a small house on the third level of the city. They had been wandering the level for hours, asking merchants and passers-by for directions, but none knew of whom they spoke, much less where they lived! The two tired and hungry hobbits were about to turn back and admit defeat when a voice hailed them and Esli appeared.

"How fares Frodo?" the Man asked without preamble.

Pippin shrugged. "He'll be all right, or so Strider says."

"Wonderful! Jael has been dreadfully worried."

Merry nodded. "Frodo sent us to tell her he's all right," he provided. "But none of us know where you live."

"Come, I will show you the way. It's not far."

The three found Jael huddled again in the threadbare chair, staring vacantly into the empty fireplace, her eyes red from weeping. She ignored them, or at least gave no indication she was aware of their presence.

"Lady Jael," Merry said softly, gently touching her arm. "Frodo is asking about you. He wants you back. He knows you wouldn't harm him."

Jael's breath caught, but she said nothing. Merry continued, "In fact, he's quite angry with Ar- the King for sending you away like that."

A chuckle broke free as she imagined the petulant hobbit scolding the King. "He truly wants me to come back?" she asked, drying her eyes.

Both Merry and Pippin nodded.

"But what of the King? I could not return without his leave."

"He wants you to stay safe at home until he finds the one responsible," Merry admitted softly after a long pause.

"Then I cannot return," she said sadly. "At least, not yet. Eventually I must, for I abandoned my things when I left."

In the end it was decided Merry and Pippin would bear a message back to Frodo on her behalf, and Jael would remain home until the King's wrath turned upon a new victim and he summoned her.

~~~~

"...she would come, but does not desire to anger the King further. She will wait until the King himself sends for her."

Frodo sighed wearily. "I see..." he murmured. "I should have expected such. She does not take lightly the commands of those above her."

"Does that mean you'll let Aragorn come back?" asked Pippin hopefully.

Frodo scowled at him. "No!" The force of his exclamation also ripped a cough from his throat. While it was true that the coughing had been worse before, its existence in the first place and its interference now irked him. He just wanted it to go away, already!

His irritation with life in general was not helped by the arrival of a certain former Ranger. "How are you feeling?" the man asked cheerfully. Frodo let his glare speak for him before he rolled over with his back to Aragorn as the King seated himself in the chair still beside the bed. Aragorn ignored his rejection and stated, "Several matters have been decided, and since they chiefly concern the four of you, I wanted to inform you. First, I do not seriously believe Jael had anything to do with what happened, so I plan to catch the real culprit by catching him in the act. I will speak to each of you individually regarding your roles in this trap, which shall hopefully be sprung tomorrow. Once that is accomplished, we plan to move you to another place of residence."

"Why?" demanded Merry.

"It is painfully evident that you are not safe here. To err on the side of caution in such a case is the prudent choice."

"And what of Jael?" asked Frodo. He'd capitulated and rolled onto his back once Aragorn admitted he didn't suspect Jael, and now he was concerned over the lady's fate.

"I will allow her to return if you so wish and if her assistance is still required. But only once I have captured the one behind this treachery."

"Where will we be goin'?" Sam asked pragmatically. He knew as well as anyone that the city was full nigh to bursting, and there would be few places where four hobbits could be housed safely.

"Not very far. Gandalf has a house here that is available, and as secure as could be asked. There you will be staying until the time comes for all of you to return home."

"When will we be going home?" asked Pippin hopefully. While it was true he was enjoying himself in Minas Tirith, he still longed for home, for his own bed, and to go back to where he could act immature and irresponsible and it would be considered endearing.

"Not yet," was the King's cryptic reply. "Now, if the three of you would excuse us, I need to speak with Frodo about what will come to pass on the morrow."

~~~~

By the time he'd satisfied the hobbits' curiosity, the time had come to prepare himself for the evening meal and what he had determined to reveal. When King Elessar entered the grand feasting hall, most of his guests had already arrived and were mingling, their common annoyance and feelings regarding their host pushing aside other cultural boundaries. With his arrival, all began moving to their assigned seats along the heavily laden tables and faced him upon his raised dais.

Once the appointed time to begin had come and gone, and he deemed all were in attendance and had started the elaborate meal, the King stood and addressed them. "Most esteemed guests and friends from afar, I brought you here this eve to apologize for abruptly withdrawing from the scheduled dialogues of yesterday and today."

Murmurs rippled through the hall as the representatives discussed their opinions of the subject. Elessar raised a hand and the voices gradually hushed until he could be heard once more. "In addition, I shall now divulge the dire matter that required my full and immediate consideration."

He had everyone's rapt attention now, even those serving the food and drink were still. "Someone poisoned the Ringbearer, with the intent of killing him." Gasps and disbelieving exclamations now spread through the audience. All had heard of the Ringbearer and were aware of his role in the victory against the Dark Lord. As the news sank in, the crowd became angry, and the King's silencing hand took much longer than previously to quiet those before him. "I have exposed the individual behind this and the punishment shall surely suit the offense."

His words, however, did not soothe the ambassadors with their retinues, and soon cries of "Kill him! Kill him!" were echoing through the hall. This was not unexpected, and Aragorn felt a keen sense of satisfaction. Things were going just the way he had planned... now all that remained was for a certain barkeep to take the bait.

~~~~

The next morning dawned cool and bright, and once again, the ambassadors and embassies slept right through it. Others, however, were awake and ready long before the grey light of early morning diffused into the pastels of sunrise. The servants, as was usual, were in place at their wash tubs as soon as it was bright enough to see their work, including those who currently called the dungeons home. If Joram suspected anything out of the ordinary, he did not see anything unusual that even hinted this day would change his life forever.

It was past mid-morning before he heard others discussing the dinner the night before, and when he heard, he rejoiced. The individual is exposed, the King had said, yet he was still here, still enduring the back-breaking monotony that was the laundry. It could only mean that miserable hussy had been taken in his place. Victory is a wonderful thing, he thought complacently, cheerfully finishing up what remained from the previous day. He again approached his guard, requesting to be led upstairs so he could continue his duties.

The interminable stone steps leading up to the rest of society did not seem quite so long today, nor the ascent so difficult. Stone halls were again silent, though the sound of chirping birds echoed along the length, admitted somewhere by an open window. As their footsteps echoed along with the birdsong, Joram thought he heard another set of feet hurrying along the corridor ahead and out of sight, but dismissed it.

When Pippin saw the barkeep and his guard emerge from the stairwell, he fled from his look-out post and ran to the room, rapping thrice upon the door before crouching next to Merry in a convenient niche just down the hall from the door. The knock upon the wood spurred those within the room to action, Sam secreting himself under the bed as directed, Frodo lay down with his back to the door and calmed his breathing so as to appear asleep, and Aragorn in his traveling garb slid into the dark corner behind the door he opened to conceal himself, his dark clothes blending into shadow and hiding him almost as well as if he were invisible.

Approaching steps caused all to tense and listen carefully, gauging their distance from the goal with anxious ears. When Joram crossed the threshold of his destination, his guard again waited outside, this time by order of the King. He also had been given explicit directions of conduct for this situation.

The man crossed the room toward the pile awaiting him, noting the sleeping figure upon the bed and the absence of any others in the vicinity. He cast a furtive glance around the room; even his guard wasn't in direct range of sight, and he next looked to the herbal table. His additions were still there, though set aside, and he paused a moment in consideration. Here was his chance, his chance to be rid of the little runt once and for all, for by the time he left and others entered to check upon the small one, it would be too late. The contents of several pots and kettles upon the hearth would suit his purposes, if he could just distract his guard, somehow induce him to leave long enough for the deadly poison to steep...

'Nonsense!' another part of him cried. If the King already has that woman in chains, to do something now would throw all suspicion from her and onto him, for she could not implement such mischief from imprisonment. If he could just restrain himself, he would ensure his blameless appearance and her punishment for his crime...

'But what of revenge?' The first thought spoke again. Revenge is incomplete without the death of the runt and the subsequent destruction of all the upstart King has been orchestrating in past days. Complete the original plan, even if it means she goes free. But no... she may not go free even if he acts now. For who was to say she wasn't the one behind the first attempt? There was no evidence of his involvement in that incident, so he could argue that he only acted upon an apparent opportunity. After all, the herb remained upon the table, just awaiting a careless hand to include it in some healing brew. No one was here to see him hurry the process along, and if he had enough time, he could even administer the mixture himself, as long as an opportune moment arose. Who *wouldn't* want to give the poor, ailing halfling a drink to ease his coughing?

His bloodthirsty need for revenge flying faster than reason, Joram decided to act. Aragorn tensed as the corrupt barkeep went to the table, lifting three of four remaining leaves and dropping them in a brewing tea upon the hearth, glancing over his shoulder warily as he did so. Sam also watched wide-eyed from beneath the bed, his hand clapped over his nose so he did not give in to the overwhelming urge to sneeze. He hadn't expected it to be quite this dusty in his hiding place, or he would've taken care of that beforehand. He carefully shifted to peek over at Strider's corner; the man hadn't moved, so neither would he.

Frodo also watched, having given up all pretense of sleep as soon as the man approached the table. He found it difficult to control his rising rage at this fool who had been offered mercy several times over and still persisted in his depraved ways. Didn't he realize what lay in store for him if he continued along this road? Death, and justly deserved.

In the hall, the guard had taken position on the other side of the door from the hobbits who had emerged from hiding. The three stood at the ready, should their quarry attempt an escape. Merry would've preferred they just close the door and be done with it, but Aragorn insisted that would be too obvious, besides possibly driving their prey out a window instead. So they waited, breath held in anticipation as unseen events unfolded within the walls.

As the man carefully attended the steeping of his brew, seemingly oblivious to the passage of time and blinded to the fact that the guard should have come looking for him by now, Frodo was having difficulty keeping a rein upon himself. He greatly desired to do *something* to the man who was proving himself worse than an orc, for an orc had no choice about what it was or what it did. The barkeep, on the other hand, had chosen every step along this destructive path, knowingly electing a life of irreputable dealings. He seethed with the injustice of it all, wishing he could force this man to experience true depravity as he had.

Aragorn saw Frodo begin to tense and mentally commanded the hobbit to calm himself, restrain himself, not give himself away in such a manner. But the hobbit did not hear his commands, and even if he had it was doubtful he would have listened, instead growing stiff with barely contained anger. The strain of emotion was more than his still ailing form could handle, and Frodo began to cough harshly.

Joram was surprised by the sound, then a slow smile crept across his face as he was presented with the perfect chance. He hurriedly poured half a mug of his concoction, concerned that others would hear the sound and arrive before he could perform his necessary tasks.

So concentrated was he upon the cup as he started toward the bed that he did not notice a form emerging from the shadows. "You really don't want to do that," the King warned coldly, and everything happened at once.

Joram startled at the unexpected voice, jumping in shock and spilling the hot beverage down his hand, burning himself. He dropped the mug with a curse, shaking his injured hand as he stared at the suddenly present man. Briefly glancing toward the bed and meeting a pair of icy blue eyes, he quickly got the hint and started for the door.

But his guard and the pair of hobbits outside had converged on the door when they heard the King speak, barring his exit. With a few short strides, the King and the guard trapped the refugee between them and soon had him restrained and kneeling on the floor in the puddle of his brew.

Sam rolled out of his concealment as soon as Strider stepped forward, all his concentration upon Frodo rather than the one who threatened his master. After all, Frodo was likely to be forgotten in the efforts to contain the barkeep. But Frodo had mostly regained control of himself, and now watched the events fold out with both satisfaction and horror-satisfaction that the man would be getting what he deserved, and horror at what the man had fully intended to do despite the consequences. He barely noticed when Merry and Pippin joined him and Sam on the bed, and once Joram was bound, everything paused as kneeling barkeep and bedridden hobbit exchanged glares of challenge.

Barely concealed hatred flowed from one to the other, its origin uncertain and inconsequential. King Elessar broke the palpable tension. "You will be taken back to the dungeons to await trial before a tribunal. Do not expect to be granted mercy as before," he informed the prisoner icily. "You will receive the due punishment for your numerous crimes." He nodded to the guard, who hauled Joram to his feet and veritably dragged him from the room.

Once the pair had left, Aragorn turned to the hobbits on the bed. "You all right?" he asked Frodo, who nodded in silent confirmation. "Good. You should rest. I won't have you moved until later this afternoon, at the earliest. It will be safest if we have the secrecy of darkness to conceal the move, so none will know your new location. The rest of you should rest, as well," he addressed the others. "It has been a stressful day. I shall have Gandalf come by later with lunch for you." He winked and left the room, other pressing matters upon his mind now that this situation was resolved for the moment. The first was to find the wizard, to confirm the house's readiness for the hobbits, and inform him of what he'd promised for later. Now, where to find him who disappeared at the most inconvenient of times...



TBC