A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this; I truly had not intended for over a month to pass between updates! I certainly won't be done with this story by the time RotK comes out, but I will continue work on it, naturally. Though don't expect an update until at least the later half of December; I am entering a very busy time as the school semester draws to a close. Feel free to pester me about it after that. ;)
Thank you to my many reviewers and those who have contacted me by email, your encouragement and compliments are most appreciated. :)
~~~~
"I do not expect he will cooperate."
Sam eyed his sleeping master, then turned and again peered over the window sill at the distant ground. "No, 'e won'," he stated flatly, then muttered, "Not sure I'll be wantin' to, neither."
"Yes, Sam, I know. But you have to trust me," Aragorn asserted, amused but also slightly exasperated by the gardener's protests. "If you leave by way of the door, any number of people will see and the entire move would be pointless. But if you leave by way of the window, no one will realize the four of you are no longer staying here. We plan to keep up the pretense just until Joram is taken care of and I deem it safe," he explained for what seemed the hundredth time.
The skeptical hobbit standing beside him still looked doubtful, but finally he sighed and shook his head in resignation. "Guess there's no other way, then."
"You will do it, then?"
A sidelong glance and a curt reply: "'E'll have my hide if 'e figures it out."
"He will refuse to take it from me. You he still trusts." He paused and added reassuringly, "Frodo is tired and still not feeling well. He won't suspect a thing."
~~~~
As dusk deepened into night, Aragorn finished preparations for the hobbits' flight, then left the room so as not to arouse Frodo's suspicion. Not long after his departure the ailing hobbit awoke briefly, took some tea at Sam's insistence, and soon went back to sleep, as he felt so very tired... Once Sam judged that his master had returned to deep sleep, he sent Merry and Pippin to fetch Strider -and to get them to stop hovering and looking over his shoulder at all times. Their new superior height was quite the nuisance at times.
The pair soon returned, followed not long after by the King, who gave the bed and its occupants only a cursory glance as he crossed to the open window and thrust his head through it. It was several moments before they could hear him say, "Ah, there you are." He withdrew back into the room and Faramir appeared at the opening.
"Indeed. I was momentarily confused at the last corner," the Steward admitted sheepishly, resting his arms casually on the window sill.
"Merry, Pippin, go," Aragorn ordered, motioning at the window as he checked to be sure Frodo was soundly asleep before efficiently bundling him in a few quilts. Sam sat and watched him, moving only reluctantly toward the window when told to follow the other two.
The cousins were already outside, helped down by Faramir, but Sam wasn't so sure he wanted to follow suit. It had seemed far to the ground during the day, but now that it was dark the distance seemed to stretch infinitely down, much like that abyss under the Bridge of Khazad-dum...
"Sam, either go now or I will pass Frodo to him and you'll have to jump for it, and rely on those two rascals to catch you," Aragorn warned sternly as he approached the window carrying a bundled Frodo. The gardener quickly decided going now was the better option, so he screwed up his courage and flung himself into the void, eliciting a grunted "Oof!" from Faramir as he caught the hobbit. "Easy there," the Steward urged as he set Sam down a few steps from the window. "There, that wasn't so hard, now was it?"
If there had been more light, he would've seen the hobbit giving him a scathing glare, but as it was Faramir could tell he wasn't pleased. The man left the grumbling gardener and returned to the window to receive an armful of sleeping hobbit. Once Frodo was out, Aragorn closed the window and disappeared from view as Faramir joined the three hobbits on a garden path.
"Where's 'e goin'?" Sam wanted to know.
"If the King were to enter a room and never leave it, many would quickly become suspicious," the man with them said by way of explanation.
"He could say Gandalf conjured him away," Pippin offered helpfully, meriting an aghast "Pippin!" from Merry.
"I am capable of many things that you cannot even begin to imagine, Peregrin Took, but I do NOT conjure people away!" retorted a gruff voice from behind them.
Sam wasn't sure if he should be relieved or concerned by the wizard's arrival- if Strider brought Gandalf into it, he probably had even more ridiculous notions up his sleeve than what he'd already suggested. "Why're you here?" he asked bluntly, ignoring all thoughts of his proper place in preference to finding out what was going on.
Luckily for him, Gandalf seemed more amused than angered by his forthrightness. "I am simply taking an evening stroll with my dear hobbit friends," he said innocently, taking Frodo from the Steward, who hurried away.
Merry thought he had it figured out now. "So you're taking us to wherever we're going, then."
"Indeed," he confirmed, leading them down the path at a brisk pace. A half dozen twists and turns later, all the while keeping to the shadows so the moonlight would not illuminate their presence, the small party arrived at a humble two-story house wedged against the boundary wall. No lights could be seen from outside, but once the wizard had led the hobbits in the door and past the front row of rooms, the interior was warm and cheery. Fires were blazing in the fireplaces of a modest sitting room, a small kitchen, and two bedrooms at the back of the house.
Gandalf disappeared into one of the bedrooms to put Frodo to bed, and the other three automatically trailed after him, noticing that their meager belongings had already been moved and distributed between the rooms. Pippin wandered further down the corridor -off which the two bedrooms were the first rooms- and discovered two other bedrooms, dark and chilly. At the end of the hallway a stairway stretched up into shadow, and he turned away with a shiver. He'd been in two-story buildings before, of course, but was more comfortable when closer to the ground, especially when the upper floor loomed menacingly above him as this one did.
Merry disinterestedly scanned both lit bedrooms, noting his and Pippin's things were in the first and Frodo's and Sam's in the second, and kept an eye on Pip as he wandered while loitering about the door of the second room as Gandalf and Sam laid Frodo carefully in the bed. He wondered what his cousin's first reaction would be upon waking in a strange bed, strange room, and even a strange building. He chuckled as he imagined Frodo's face and what would be his cousin's first surprised utterance. Frodo would likely pin the whole thing on him and Pip, despite the truth of the matter.
Frodo remained sound asleep through the entire trip, for which Gandalf was grateful. It was much easier to simply move the stubborn hobbit and explain later, particularly since that way he could not resist. Tucking him in gently, the wizard made sure everything he might need was nearby, then turned to go, shooing Samwise out of the room as well. He herded the three hobbits to the sitting room and made himself comfortable in one of the larger chairs, knowing quite well they would have questions, many questions, about what was going on. And they didn't let him down.
"What next, Gandalf?" Merry asked, shifting restlessly on the short couch, shoving Pippin over so he could have a bit of space to himself.
The wizard settled back for what was likely to become a long discussion. "You four will remain here until such a time as we deem safe for you to return to more hospitable quarters. It is of uttermost importance that you stay away from the front of the house!" he commanded severely. "Only by keeping your presence here a secret will it remain safe for you, and especially for Frodo. Joram likely has alliances with other unsavory characters, and it has been shown that he is very creative in his schemes."
"What's going to happen to him?" Pippin asked, wide-eyed.
"He will again be judged, this time by the highest ranking individual from each region, as well as by Aragorn. The tribunal commences in the morning."
"What's this tribunal going to do?" Merry was fascinated by this approach, so different from anything seen in the Shire.
"They will call forth witnesses concerning Joram's deeds and decide his fate from the testimony. It is possible each of you will be asked to speak, though Aragorn will avoid dragging you into it if at all possible. Though I find it highly likely that Frodo will be called before them, so we must ensure he gets enough rest and sustenance that he is able to withstand their scrutiny when the time comes."
"Are you goin' to stay here, too?" asked Sam, thinking of the high counters and cabinets in the kitchen and realizing what a chore it would be for the hobbits to attempt cooking for themselves.
"No, I will be returning to the palace to aid with the hearings and keep the rest of our unruly guests in order while their superiors are engaged," he grimaced as he explained, not looking forward to the tediousness of making sure the servants answered every beck and call of each self-important aide. Seeing the question in the hobbits' faces, he added, "Aragorn will send for Jael to aid you and keep an eye on Frodo."
"Frodo will be pleased," Sam commented.
~~~~
Frodo shifted restlessly, able to discern even in sleep that something was different, something had *changed*. The comfortable body-framing impressions he'd worn into the mattress seemed to have disappeared, and now there were lumps in all the wrong places. But his mind, rational though it may be, couldn't puzzle out the reason as he lay suspended between dream and reality. He floated sometimes upon the waves of half-consciousness, at other times was deeply submerged in dream. Barely remembered scenes were all his memory retained of those dreams, and of the nightmare that woke him, nothing. All he knew was being terrified out of his wits and then welcoming the moment that he jerked awake, gasping as he bolted upright in bed.
Dimly he was aware that he was indeed no longer in the familiar room, but that thought was driven quickly out of mind when his gasps turned into rasping coughs. Over the sound of each rough exhalation he heard hurried footsteps, a door opening, and someone -or was it two someones? He couldn't tell- entered the room, coming beside him, and rubbing his back comfortingly as he fought for control of his breathing. Finally the fit ended, and a tumbler of water was pressed into his hand; he looked up to see Sam standing next to him. "Sam, where...?" he motioned vaguely and knew the other would understand. Now drinking the water thirstily, he nearly choked in surprise when the answer didn't come from Sam.
"You're in a small house near to the citadel, where the four of you shall remain for a time."
"Jael?!" he asked incredulously, craning his neck to look at the person seated behind him and still rubbing his back. "You're back!"
"Indeed," she said with a smile. "'Tis good to see you so well."
He smiled as well, then sobered. "I'm sorry you were sent away."
"'Twas not easy," she admitted ruefully, "but it was necessary to trap that scoundrel. I am told you spoke on my behalf, for which I am most grateful."
He shrugged. "It was the least I could do."
"Now that I have returned, I expect you to heed what the King directs," she scolded with obvious amusement.
Frodo blushed and studied the empty cup in his hands; at length he nodded and yawned. "What is the time?"
"Very early-dawn has not yet come."
He yawned again and griped, "It seems all I do is sleep."
Jael chuckled as she gently pushed him back onto the pillows. "You were very ill, and more than once. It takes a good deal of rest to recover from such."
"Where are Merry and Pip?" he asked drowsily, having just noticed their absence.
"Sleeping in the next room," she informed him.
He nodded slowly and made himself comfortable as she tucked the quilts up over him. "Shouldn't Sam be sleeping, too?" But he was asleep before he was answered.
Jael stood for a moment, watching as his face relaxed into peaceful slumber, and rescuing the cup from loose fingers before it could clatter to the floor. Then she turned to the other small halfling, standing beside her. "He was right. You should be asleep as well. It will be some hours before he or the others awaken." Her tone brooked no argument, so he nodded meekly. She left the room as he crawled under the covers next to his master and settled into a weary sleep.
Smiling as she quietly closed the door, Jael then turned to the kitchen. It would be a tricky matter, keeping four hobbits fed at the proper times, and she thought she'd get a head start on the necessary cooking. Though, of course, whatever she made wasn't likely to see sundown that day.
The kitchen had been fully stocked before her arrival with all the foodstuffs that could usually be found around the city: lots of bread, potatoes, some chicken and salted meat, canned fruits and vegetables- it was much too early in the year for fresh produce, especially given the destruction of the city and its surrounding fields by the War. There were also baskets of mushrooms, which she recognized from the hobbits' meals before, though she had to admit she didn't know how to prepare them. She would have to wait for one of the hobbits to wake and give her instructions.
As she acquainted herself with the small kitchen, she began to realize that most of the things necessary for cooking and food preparation would be above poor Sam's head, and there wasn't always much one could do from a chair, standing or no. She would have to find something else to keep him occupied and hopefully have the other two, who had a bit on him in height, assist her, though she doubted they would always be of much use.
Most of the dishes she found were dusty and dirty, as if they had been abandoned for a long time. She'd have to wash them before she would be able to cook anything. Thankfully she had thought to build up the fires so she had only to put on some water to heat. She chose a few pans and began with those; the rest could wait to be cleaned by idle hobbit hands. Once that was accomplished, she set one on the stove and started some chicken simmering into broth, and put the other on the table to await the preparation of a stew. And so she passed several hours until the smells of her efforts wafting through the house drew two hungry hobbits who were more than happy to assist her as long as they could consume the results.
They easily settled into what became a routine of food preparation, meals, and the time in between, the only real variable being if Frodo was awake or asleep. Jael was pleased with how often he was awake for a length of time, though she made sure he didn't push himself too much yet, and for the most part he didn't argue. That day and the next passed without incident, and evening found them in the cozy sitting room, the hobbits wedged companionably on the small, worn couch, conversing animatedly on a variety of topics, sometimes changing subjects so rapidly that it took a while for Jael to figure out what they were discussing now. But mostly she kept to herself and left them to chatter on as she sat in a chair closer to the fire and worked on some mending.
All talk ceased, however, when they heard the front door open and close and footsteps echo through the darkened front rooms. Jael quickly stood and crossed to the room's doorway, keeping the hobbits back with a gesture and a look. The heavy steps trod closer, and she stiffened, considering her options and how she could possibly defend the hobbits, if that became necessary. But those fears were banished when the figure came close enough for his features to be seen more clearly in the light spilling from the room.
"My lord," she greeted him, breathing a sigh of relief. Still on the couch, the hobbits relaxed as well, Merry and Pippin sitting back as it became obvious they would not need to come to her aid.
"Well, it seems like you miscreants have been behaving," Aragorn said, taking in the looks of pure innocence all four hobbits bestowed upon him. "Merry, Pippin, why don't you help Jael bring in the supplies? They'll be right outside the door." The two hopped off the couch and hurried out the door, knowing full well there would likely be some choice tidbits to snitch from the food.
When the trio left the room, Aragorn turned to Frodo and Sam. "Frodo, how are you doing?" he asked, pulling another worn chair closer to the end of the couch where the two hobbits were seated.
He shifted restlessly, burrowing a little further into the corner of the couch and absent-mindedly playing with the fringe of the small blanket in his lap as he replied, "I'm feeling better. I still get" -his yawn ended with a small cough- "tired rather quickly, though."
The King nodded. "That will continue to be the case for some time, I suspect. Sam? Anything else he's not telling me?" he asked, more than a little amused by the glances the two exchanged- Frodo concerned and Sam apologetic.
"He's still off 'is feed and all, and sometimes 'e wakes up coughing, but tha's it."
Aragorn was slower to nod this time as he appraisingly eyed Frodo's condition for himself. The Ringbearer looked a bit peaked, but he suspected the hobbit had been awake for a while and would soon have retired if not for his arrival. Perhaps the hobbit would be sound enough... "The tribunal is requiring that you testify tomorrow," he stated without preamble.
Frodo's eyes widened. "Why? Aren't the words of others enough?"
He shook his head. "No, they want to see you with their own eyes, see how you're recovering, and hear directly from you on this issue. They are quite insistent that it be tomorrow, as well. I was unable to sway them into allowing a few more days to pass."
"And if I do not appear?"
"It is likely they will dismiss Joram and the charges against him," Aragorn said flatly. He was adamantly against this proposal, but his voice could not outweigh all others' in an assembly of peers.
Frodo closed his eyes and considered; allowing Joram to escape without further penalty was not something he wanted to happen. The man had pushed too far to be let free now; he must face the consequences of his actions. So he had no real choice in the matter. "I will do it," he said finally, meeting Aragorn's gaze evenly.
"Good. Someone will come for you before dawn."
"Why before dawn?" the sleepy hobbit asked, yawning again.
"It is easier to remain concealed in the darkness. We will return you to your former room, where you can sleep until you are called for."
"What shall I wear?" he inquired, looking vaguely distressed as he realized he had no idea where his clothes were, having worn only nightshirts since the ordeal began many days ago. He had to admit he didn't even know where the nightshirts kept coming from, most of them being changed while he slept.
The King laughed, and answered, "Some of your clothing yet remains in the other room. You can choose from that."
"Is 'e goin' alone, then?" Sam wanted to know.
Aragorn considered him thoughtfully, then slowly replied, "I think it would be best if the rest of you stayed here. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say."
~~~~
Dawn came much too early in Frodo's opinion, and being roused even before the sun made its appearance was downright disgraceful. Gandalf came for him, and carried him back to the citadel, passing him through the window to Aragorn. The King told him the tribunal would be commencing at the third hour, and he would be called for almost immediately. He didn't care much, as long as someone came to wake him in time he was perfectly content with whatever plans they made for him, and after being put into the bed he promptly fell back asleep.
Gandalf returned with a small tray of edibles to wake him and ensure he ate before donning the clothes set out for him in preparation for his appearance before the tribunal. Frodo ate a few bits of this, a couple bites of that, and abandoned the rest, beginning to feel trepidation over what was to come. The clothes laid out on the end of the bed were ones he didn't readily recognize -a soft light-coloured shirt, breeches that were some shade of light grey, and a blue vest- but then he'd received several sets of clothes since they'd arrived in the city, so he wasn't surprised that there would be some he didn't remember having.
He looked at Gandalf expectantly after getting dressed, but the wizard made a vague motion at his head. "A brush might be in order," he said, trying not to look as amused as he was.
"Of course," Frodo muttered, slightly embarrassed, and quickly located a comb. Once that problem was remedied, Gandalf led him from the room and down the seemingly endless corridors until they reached a pair of dark and imposing doors. Guards on either side nodded to them and pulled open those wooden monstrosities, revealing a great room filled with people.
The hall extended for quite a way, great pillars lining both sides and supporting the roof that seemed miles above his head. The white marble floors and walls gleamed, the dark pillars contrasting starkly with their brightness. Through the throngs of people standing between the pillars he could see large statues gazing solemnly upon the scene from niches in the walls.
Straight ahead, elevated above everything else in the room was the white throne, occupied by the King wearing his crown, and behind him graven into the wall was a branching tree. Next to the stairs leading up to the throne was a dark chair in which Faramir was seated, bearing the white rod of the Stewards. The floor immediately in front of the throne's dais was arrayed with two rows of tables, at which the members of the impromptu tribunal sat to pass judgement.
The floor was cold on his bare feet as Frodo stepped hesitantly forward and into the gaze of so many eyes. As he cautiously entered the room, all of the emissaries, ambassadors, and officials stood, led by the King and the Steward of the city rising to pay tribute to the small being before them. Frodo was surprised to see Legolas in the second row; the elf acknowledged him with a dip of his head, and he realized he shouldn't be surprised at all. His friend was, after all, a prince of his homeland and the only representative of his people in the vicinity of the city to participate in what was becoming quite a spectacle. Thankful as he was that he recognized a few of those scrutinizing him, there were still far too many forbidding faces of races he knew had once been their enemies. His heart in his throat, Frodo wanted to turn and hide, but Gandalf's hand at his back urged him forward.
A bench had been set for him in the center of the room, far enough away from the first row of tables to put him a bit more at ease, and Gandalf pressed him to sit down and set a small flask beside him. "Water, if you have need of it," he said in a low voice before leaving Frodo's side and disappearing into the crowd somewhere behind him. Those before him sat as well and he regarded them with apprehension, resisting the urge to swing his feet as they dangled from the bench. He felt so lonely and exposed, being stared at from all sides, and wished they had allowed someone to come with him.
Once the first question had been uttered, they flew thick and fast until his head was spinning with all the demands for details of his experiences, his illness, his recovery. He answered them as best he could, but felt as if his answers weren't sufficient and wouldn't be enough to merit any action on their part against Joram. Finally the stream of inquiries dwindled and a long silence reigned.
Then a woman in the first row stood and spoke in heavily accented Westron. He guessed her to be from the region of Harad, by her accent and elaborate clothing in reds and golds, cutting an impressive figure amongst the drab clothing of the natives of the city. "Forgive me, master Perian, you must think me quite bold. But I speak as one unfamiliar with your kind, as are many others here. I request that you prove you are indeed the Ringbearer, for all of you small folk look the same to my eyes." Nods of agreement from others followed her words as she sat down once again.
Frodo looked to Aragorn for direction; he was not sure what his identity as the former Ringbearer had to do with the matter at hand, but did not wish to displease his audience by flatly refusing. The King's face was unreadable, but after a moment he nodded slowly. The hobbit slid down from his bench, taking a deep breath as he started forward on wobbly legs, the distance to the long table before him seeming miles away. He approached the woman, and standing a few paces distant, inquired politely, "What manner of proof do you require?"
She wasn't as forbidding up close as she was at a distance, her amiable expression and kind eyes hinting at the type of person concealed by the formal attire. But he could also tell her will was of steel, and her manner could change from friendly to fierce in an instant. Thankfully it was the friendly side he now faced.
Her eyes searched his expression for any hint of guile or deceit and, finding none, replied carefully, "You have seen much, small one. Rather than ask for the details of your journey, I request only to see your damaged hand. It would seem to be the simplest proof."
He swallowed heavily and again looked to Aragorn in desperation. He did not relish others seeing his deformity -it was why he kept it hidden as much as possible- and to display it to so many eyes at once was not to his liking. But Aragorn again nodded and motioned for him to proceed. Steeling himself, he ventured closer to the table until he was directly opposite the woman and laid his hand flat upon the surface for her to see.
She and the men on either side of her peered at it curiously, but before long she nodded and announced to the room, "I am convinced." To Frodo's surprise, she then stood and put a hand to her chest in the salute of her people. "I honor you, Ringbearer," she said solemnly, still speaking so all could hear. "Your courage is unparalleled and your deeds shall be renowned as long as there is one to speak of them."
He wanted to protest her kind words, but would not have been heard over the rustling of clothing and the scraping of chairs as all the others at the tables stood, also saluting him and what he'd done. This display of respect stunned him speechless, and he was most grateful when Aragorn called for a recess and the emissaries dispersed.
"What was that about?" he demanded as soon as he and the King were out of earshot of any others as the Hall emptied. "Are they saying that it is my status rather than Joram's deeds that is most important?!"
"So it would seem," Aragorn agreed thoughtfully.
"You mean to tell me if Joram had poisoned Sam or Merry or Pippin, it wouldn't matter?" he asked, incredulous.
Aragorn shrugged. "I do not know, Frodo. But evidence for that conclusion assuredly exists. I know, it doesn't make sense. It isn't fair. But at this point I am more concerned that Joram is punished rather than how each of them justifies his condemnation." He saw the hobbit's disbelieving expression and added, "I am almost certain they will now decide in your favor. You did very well."
"I still don't think it should've been necessary," Frodo grumbled.
Aragorn allowed the comment to go unanswered, not caring to fuel the argument. "You should rest. I do not think they will require further testimony from you, but it would be best if you remained nearby for the rest of the day." When Frodo didn't reply, he looked down to see the hobbit yawn mightily, and he chuckled. "Come. I will take you back to your room." He scooped up the sleepy, unprotesting hobbit and strode from the hall, all and sundry quickly getting out of his way as he traversed the corridors. If any smiled at the incongruous sight of the King carrying the Ringbearer, they waited until the pair was long past before doing so.
TBC