A/N: Sorry it's been kinda long between updates; have no fear, I fully intend to carry this fic through to the end, it's just that real life likes to interfere. ;)  At this point it looks like this story will end with chapter 20, but that's still just an estimate until I can get it written.  Many thanks to all who have been following this story faithfully!

"Condemned"

Frodo slumped sleepily against the King's chest as Aragorn swiftly carried him back to his room. Well, they often referred to it as his room, but he honestly had no idea who it actually belonged to or whom he and the other hobbits displaced when they began occupying it. He hoped whoever it was didn't mind...

He yawned and blinked, realizing as he did so that the wings on the side of Aragorn's crown resembled those of a bird poised to take off. Naturally, his next thought was an image of the crown -or better yet, Aragorn's entire head- deciding to fly away. Ridiculous, yes, but rather funny nonetheless, and he could barely restrain his giggles. Laughter then unfortunately led to coughing, as what he'd fought to hold back all morning broke his restraint in this unguarded moment.

It was not as bad as it would have been in days past, but the coughing still hurt and he had to spend a few moments to recover his breath. By the time he was again aware of the world around him, he was sitting on the edge of his familiar bed and Aragorn was hovering over him, pressing a glass of water into his hand. He complied and drank the cool liquid, then handed the glass back and began arranging the bedding to his liking. "Will they want to see me again?" he asked, having settled things to his satisfaction and sinking gratefully against the pillows.

"They are difficult to predict," Aragorn admitted, returning to the bed from the hearth, cup of soup in hand, which he gave to the reluctant hobbit. Frodo accepted it and slowly began to drink it, and the Man continued. "But I do not think so. You greatly impressed them, I deem, and I expect they will not require any further testimony."

Frodo nodded, finishing the soup with a sigh. "Now what happens?"

"They will need to decide upon an appropriate punishment. It is likely too much to hope that this process will be concluded quickly, but many seem to have already resolved what to do. We shall have to see," said Aragorn, taking the cup and setting it aside. "I shall send someone if your presence is again required. And Esli will be just outside if you have need of anything."

"All right," Frodo murmured sleepily, burrowing a little deeper into the covers before allowing his eyes to drop closed.

~~~

Whatever their cultural differences, once reconvened the many members of the Tribunal proved to be of one mind in deciding how to proceed. It was quickly determined that no additional statements were necessary and they should move directly to the debate concerning Joram's fate. In this matter they also agreed: the man must die. At this point some dissension arose regarding the manner in which the barkeep should perish, but a few short hours after all had assembled, a decision was reached.

A long pause followed the unanimous vote, as all tried to digest the reality that everyone concurred in so short a time, a thing unthinkable amongst so many different peoples. King Elessar used the silence to broach the subject of when the sentence would be carried out, and even on this an accord was soon reached: this doom was to take place on the morrow. Messengers were dispatched with orders to put all in readiness for the execution, and stewards from every emissary were sent out to summon all to the Great Hall in one hour for the proclamation of Joram's punishment.

An hour later saw the hall crowded with people, an excited murmur of voices filling the air in anticipation. Aragorn had gone to rouse Frodo himself, and sent Esli to fetch Jael and the other hobbits; he deemed the immediate danger had passed and the hobbits would appreciate the opportunity to finally leave the house they had been cooped up in for the past few days. Aragorn had Frodo stand near one of the immense pillars with Esli, where Jael and the other hobbits found him just before the proceedings began.

Their joyful reunion -even though they'd been separated for but a few hours- was cut short when King Elessar ascended his throne and all seated at the tables rose. Joram was led in, heavily guarded, to stand before the Tribunal as his end was announced: at the sixth hour, he was to be hung outside the city gates, as an example and a warning to all that justice had returned to the city, never again to leave its inhabitants to anarchy and oppression of the weak and helpless.

Joram seemed unmoved by this declaration, not even twitching as he was informed so casually of his impending death. Frodo was amazed at his callousness in the face of his own demise. He would never be able to understand Men's attitudes in such things.

~~~

The next morning, a number of wagons and carriages lined up before the citadel around the fifth hour to convey the dignitaries down to the city gates, far below. Each emissary with his advisors were given separate carriages; King Elessar, the Steward, and the hobbits -along with Jael and Esli- rode in the last wagon, which had the dubious distinction of being followed directly by Joram being prodded along on foot, still heavily guarded.

The parade wound its way slowly through the levels of the city, collecting quite a following as onlookers trailed them on foot to see what the fuss was about, while others gathered in the windows of the buildings along the walls to get a better view.

The wagon bumped jerkily over the cobbles of the streets and the sun burned brightly overhead, promising a warm day for the grim event. Frodo sighed as the wooden side dug into his back yet again, wondering if there was a quicker way to the gate. He was still tired from yesterday and wasn't sure he wanted to actually witness Joram's death. The thought wasn't appealing, being so foreign to his experience. They certainly did not do such things in the Shire. Sam looked as unsure about it as he was, but Merry and Pippin seemed strangely curious about the whole thing.

Finally they arrived at their destination, and a crowd of people soon surrounded the rough wooden structure that stood menacingly above them. The commoners were kept back from those of higher rank until they found places to stand near the gallows, and the hobbits were given places right in the front row so none of the taller folk blocked their view. Jael and Esli also stood with them.

A number of minutes passed in which nothing happened as all took their places and everything was made ready. One of the soldiers acted as executioner, and was only too happy to do so: he'd had run-ins with Joram in the past, and owed the shady barkeep a debt of vengeance. He dragged his victim onto the platform, standing him next to the hanging bit of rope and tying his hands tightly behind his back. If the soldier used more force than necessary while doing so, no one commented on it.

Standing in wait, Frodo heard someone yelling vile curses at the man on the platform, and a bit of observation revealed the source of the voice was an unkempt woman a half dozen paces down the line. He exchanged amused glances with Merry as the foul language continued to spill forth; very creative, she was, in her swearing, and for a moment he was tempted to cover Pippin's ears, but realized he had probably heard them all and more while among the soldiers of the city.

Still the woman continued her tirade, and Frodo's curiosity was piqued. Stepping out of line, he walked closer to the woman and noticed two small children peeking out from behind her limp skirts. The woman herself was red-faced in her exertion as she gestured wildly and yelled harshly in a grating voice. She might have been attractive once, but an unkind life had worn its way into her face and appearance. He stood in front of her and she seemed not to notice until he spoke. "My lady, who are you that you abuse him so roundly?" he inquired politely.

It seemed at first she was going to turn her wrath upon the halfling before her, but stopped herself as she realized he was not a child as she had thought at first glance. She seemed puzzled, then comprehension dawned. "Ye be one o' them small folk," she said in awe.

"That I am," he acknowledged with a bow of his head and a small smile.

Now she was flustered, wringing her hands as she tried to phrase a polite response. "I'm right glad t' meet ye," she said hesitantly. "Sorry if ye be one o' them mistreated by that scoundrel," she added, spitting in disgust after gesturing toward Joram. "Tha' maggot be me husband', an' a right bad husband' he be, too."

"Your husband? I'm terribly sorry, I did not realize Joram had a family," Frodo answered.

"Well, it seems he don' care he do, neither. Bea' on me an' the chil'ren, he did, so we leave and I ain' seen 'im since. We been livin' wi' me fambly," she explained, her previous anger returning with this tale of Joram's misdeeds.

Frodo was bothered by her story, both at Joram's behavior and at the growing unease that Aragorn also didn't know about Joram's wife and children. What were they to do now that Joram was to be killed? Joram may not have been doing his part in their support, but Frodo doubted from the looks of the woman and her children that the woman's family had the means to feed and clothe them for much longer.

He took his leave of the woman with a few polite platitudes and anxiously scanned the crowd for Aragorn. The King needed to know about this, and sooner rather than later. He would need to provide somehow for this woman, and while Frodo didn't think the new information would change Joram's fate, it might delay the execution until arrangements could be made.

Frodo had just spotted Aragorn ascending the steps of the platform when Jael pulled him back and kept him from following. "It's starting," she said in a hushed whisper as she led him back to where the other hobbits were and stood him between her and Sam.

Drums rolled to call all to attention, and a hush fell over the crowd as King Elessar and the Steward of the City stepped to the front of the platform. Faramir carried a roll of parchment and once all was silent he solemnly began to read the account of Joram's crimes against the city. It was a lengthy list, and concluded with the poisoning attempt made against the Ringbearer, at which point one and all present expressed disdain for the condemned man.

Joram did not flinch, and once the crowd quieted, the King asked him, "What say you to these deeds?"

The barkeep made no answer, staring coldly out into the crowd even as they again erupted in shouts of scorn.

Elessar motioned for them to cease their cries, and soon they were silent once again. "This is your last chance to speak. Plead for mercy now and we may be lenient. Remain reticent, and your doom will be carried out."

Joram still said nothing, instead scanning the crowd with his eyes until his roving sight located the hobbits. His gaze locked upon Frodo's, wordless challenge passing between them as Frodo watched with growing unease.

When the condemned refused to speak on his own behalf, the Steward read the decision reached the previous day, to the crowd's delight. The people cheered as Faramir stepped back and the soldier-hangman pushed Joram underneath the dangling rope. He roughly shoved the barkeep's head into the noose at the King's nod, and tightened the loop in preparation. Stepping aside, he grasped the lever handle and waited.

"Let it be done," the King commanded, and retreated to the back of the platform to observe.

Through it all, Joram held Frodo's gaze, staring disdainfully, seemingly aware of the hobbit's discomfort under his scrutiny. Frodo did not want to see what was going to happen next, wanted to close his eyes, but did not want to appear weak or cowardly by being the first to break eye contact. The sun beat down upon his head mercilessly, and the crowd's cries echoed shrilly in his ears as he tried not to think about what was about to happen or the man staring cruelly down at him.

The multitude became absolutely silent as the soldier moved the lever, and all of time seemed to slow. The square below Joram's feet fell away, abandoning the man to the open space and the pull of the rope securely around his neck. He descended slowly, looking directly at the small hobbit staring up at him in shock. A loud crack echoed and the lifeless body came to a sudden stop, left to dangle limply in the breeze. The corpse's eyes remained open, his vacant stare still fixed upon him who led to his demise.

Frodo looked on in horror, not able to pull his eyes away. When the malignant glare of those piercing eyes went unfocused, he finally wrested his gaze from them, only to take in the sight of the formerly alive man. Joram was so limp, so lifeless, hanging there like a piece of meat strung up, those open eyes still fixed upon him, his head resting at an odd angle . . . His vision grew dark and all the noise around him sounded far away, and he felt a moment of panic as he realized he could not seem to draw in enough air. He thought he heard a voice calling, "Mr. Frodo? Are you all right?" but he could not be sure.

Jael knew something was wrong when the pull upon her skirts was abruptly lessened -Frodo had grasped a handful of fabric in anxiety as the execution was being set into motion, though she suspected he didn't even realize he had done so- but now that grip loosened inexplicably. She turned to see Samwise shaking his master's shoulder urgently, saying something she could not hear over the uproar of the crowd, and Frodo was not responding. Instead, his vacant eyes were fixed upon the gallows and the body upon it, his expression blank and his face waxen, shallow breaths coming much too rapidly.

She dropped into a crouch and pulled the pale hobbit down to sit upon her knee and shoved his head down between his knees, one arm under his shoulders in case he passed out. "Frodo! Breathe! Slowly: in, one, two, three; out, one, two, three . . ." she commanded and gradually he seemed to respond to her authoritative directions. The other three hobbits crowded anxiously around her, and stood silently for the several minutes it took to get Frodo to come around and start breathing more normally.

The heaving breaths he now took to compensate for his earlier lack irritated his healing passageways and set off more coughs that shook him with their force. He gripped Jael's arm as he fought to regain control, and she waited patiently, rubbing his back until the spasms ran their course. Then she reached out her hand and Esli gave her his water flask; the two exchanged a nod and a look before Jael uncorked the flask and gave it to Frodo.

By the time Frodo drank his fill, Aragorn reached their small huddle, having had to fight his way through the press of people to reach them after seeing the commotion. "I'm fine," Frodo said to reassure them all, but knowing him, none believed his words. He went on speaking nonetheless. "Aragorn, Joram... he had a wife and children! Did you know? What happens to them now?"

Aragorn was slightly taken aback by this revelation. "No, I did not know... how did you discover this?"

"She was yelling and cursing at him before.... everything, so I asked her who she was."

"Walked right up and talked to her, he did," Sam confirmed.

"What did she tell you?"

"She is, or was, married to him and has two small children. He mistreated them, so they left and have been living with her family ever since. But Aragorn, I don't think they'll last much longer..." he looked beseechingly up at the King from his perch on Jael's knee.

"I will see what can be done. Can you point her out to me?"

"Of course," he said, rising a little unsteadily. Aragorn picked him up to see over the crowd, and Frodo pointed to the woman not too far off. "There, that's her with the two bairns."

"Thank you. I shall return in a moment," he said as he put Frodo down and went in the direction of the woman identified.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked once Aragorn left.

"Yes, as I said before, I'm fine." Seeing the doubtful expressions, he added, "I was just unprepared for... for that," and gestured toward the wooden structure and what was upon it without looking at it.

"It *is* different than anything we are accustomed to," Merry conceded.

"You do not have executions in your homeland?" Esli inquired.

All four hobbits shook their heads. "No, no executions," Pippin confirmed.

"We've no reason to need them," added Frodo.

"You must have a very peaceful society," Jael commented wistfully.

"Aye, that we do," Sam agreed.

Once Aragorn returned, they returned to the wagon for the slow, winding trip back up the city. Many more people were in the streets now, it being past midday, and they stared in curiosity as the vehicles rumbled by, especially at the hobbits in the company of the King. The journey back did not seem as long to Frodo, passing the time in a short nap, resting his head against Jael's arm.

By the time they were again at the citadel, it was nearly the eighth hour and the hobbits were famished; once awoken, even Frodo confessed to being a little hungry. The kitchens had ready a large number of dishes for the hungry hobbits to devour, which were taken to the hobbits' room for them to consume at their leisure. Silence descended upon the room for many minutes as each devoted himself to his portion of the thick stews, roasted vegetables and mushrooms, tender meats, and warm bread so generously provided. Aragorn, Esli, and Jael watched with some amusement as they more slowly delved into their own portions.

"You done with that?" Pippin asked Frodo, gesturing to his cousin's barely touched plate of chicken and vegetables.

"Yes, quite," he said, handing it to the tweenager, who had already finished with his serving and was looking to fill in the corners.

"Oy! You've eaten all the mushrooms!" Pippin cried in distress.

"What else would you expect, my dear Peregrin? But you can have the rest." Merry gave Frodo a questioning glance, to which he answered defensively, "I'm not *that* hungry. Besides, I finished my stew."

Merry let it rest at that, and it was some time until any further words were spoken. "Aragorn, what are you going to do about Joram's wife?" Frodo asked finally, pushing away his dishes and sitting back against the headboard of the bed.

"I told her to come before me tomorrow. However, I have not yet decided how this matter will be handled," he replied from his seat in the chair still next to the bed.

Frodo nodded and lost himself in thought. Then something occurred to him. "What is to happen to Joram's tavern?" he asked slowly.

Aragorn met Frodo's questioning gaze and understood what the hobbit was asking. "That idea definitely has merit," he replied, mulling over the possibilities in his head.

Frodo started to say something else, but coughed instead. This time was not long in duration or harsh in force, but the wheezing intake of air between outbursts concerned the man as he aided the hobbit. "Are you having trouble breathing again?" he asked.

"No, not really," Frodo answered, not meeting Aragorn's eyes.

"Frodo. If something is wrong, you need to tell me," he said sternly.

"It's not that bad," the hobbit meekly contributed. "Not like before..."

Aragorn sighed. "I should not need to drag such information out of you. All right, take a few deep breaths." Frodo did so, and Aragorn leaned in to hear better. After a moment, he sat back up, relieved. "It doesn't sound congested, which is very good."

"Then what's wrong?" Pippin asked on behalf of the other three hobbits.

"I suspect Frodo's activity the past couple of days has irritated his lungs and caused some swelling. So, you" -he returned his attention to the nervously fidgeting Frodo- "need to rest. You *must* behave and do what you're told or you won't fully recover."

Frodo heaved an exasperated sigh, but nodded his consent as he yawned.

"We should let you sleep, then," Aragorn chuckled, the hobbit's yawns and drooping eyelids speaking volumes about how Frodo currently felt. "When you awaken, a bath will be in order, I think; the water's steam should help ease your breathing."

It was not certain if Frodo heard this last, having finally succumbed to the seductive whispers of slumber. Sam crawled over and assisted Aragorn in moving their limp friend from being seated to lying down under the warm bedding. All present then quietly cleaned up the dishes from their repast and left the room so Frodo could sleep in peace.

~~~~

When Frodo finally awoke, the room was dim and darkness lay beyond the window. Soft snores behind him told him the whereabouts of the other hobbits, and he thought he could make out Jael sitting in one of the armchairs before the small fire. Sitting up and yawning, she noticed his movement and came to the chair beside him.

"Ah, so you're awake. That was quite a nap," she said with a smile.

He blushed and rubbed his eyes. "What is the time?"

"Nearly midnight, I should think. Hungry? There's some soup here for you," she informed him as she reached to uncover a bowl sitting upon the small table.

"No, not really. I'm afraid what I ate before isn't sitting well," he said uneasily.

"The King expected such. Don't worry, it's just a simple broth, and there's a roll here as well." Seeing the doubtful look he was giving the bowl, she suggested, "Why don't you have part of the roll to see how it settles, and then after your bath you can have some more if all goes well."

He couldn't argue with the proposal and so dutifully nibbled on the piece of bread she handed him. While he busied himself with that, she went to the door and requested that water be brought for the bath. By the time the bread was gone, hot water had arrived and was steaming in the tub, and Jael was adding some aromatic salts to it.

Frodo slid off the bed and padded over to where his bath sat directly before the fire, and commented, "Smells good."

Jael laughed softly. "It should. And I apologize; the King had intended to be here if you needed any assistance, but he was called away, so I am here instead."

"That is all right," he assured her, taking off his vest and dropping it on the floor. "But if you could, erm, turn around..."

"I shall step into the hall for a few minutes. Will that be enough?"

"Yes, it should be." As soon as she closed the door he quickly finished undressing and stepped carefully into the water, sinking gratefully into its warmth with a sigh of contentment. Closing his eyes, he sat back and immersed himself as far as possible without going under, resting his head on the edge.

"Don't go to sleep, now," Jael cautioned him teasingly as she came back into the room with a couple of towels. "In fact, lean forward a bit. I want to see your back." He complied somewhat grudgingly. "Oh, good," she breathed, running her fingers lightly over the slightly mottled skin. "The bruises are healing nicely. Only some yellow and green areas left. Do they still pain you?"

"I'd completely forgotten about them," Frodo confessed. "So no, not at all."

"All right, I won't interfere with your bath any further," she said, rising and sitting in one of the chairs and resuming work on her mending. Frodo was happy to enjoy his bath for quite some time until the water began to cool and his skin started wrinkling. Then he gestured for a towel and she handed him one before again leaving the room.

By the time he had dried off, gotten dressed in the nightshirt neatly folded on the other armchair, and climbed back into bed, the hobbit was again rather tired and quite ready to sleep some more.

"Not yet," she told him. "Eat the soup and then I'll let you sleep."

He blinked, then replied, "Half."

"All."

"Half, and I'll finish the roll."

"It's a deal," she conceded, quite amused. It did not take Frodo long to consume what he'd bargained for, but before he could lay down again, Jael stopped him. "Wait a moment. Let me dry your hair a bit more so you don't have to sleep on a wet pillow."

"Thank you," he said politely as she began briskly rubbing his head with one of the towels she'd picked up from where he'd dropped them on the floor. Her touch was massagingly gentle in spite of the jerky motions, and Frodo had to restrain himself from complaining when she stopped.

"There, that's better," she said in satisfaction, feeling only traces of moisture on the curls twining about her fingers.

Incapable of coherent speech at that moment, Frodo nodded in agreement and crawled beneath the covers. "G'night," he mumbled.

"Good night, and pleasant dreams," came the whispered reply. The blankets were smoothed over him, and he knew no more.

TBC