The last golden rays of sunlight were making slanted patterns over the world when we finally reemerged from Darius' shop.  Aragorn squinted at the sun, noting the position, but he did not yet take a step.  His shoulders were slumped slightly, and I touched one lightly before speaking.

"Aragorn?" I questioned.

"Now comes the worst part of being king," he whispered.  "Ripping families apart.  It is bad enough that I have too many memories of children preparing to fight and die in the war, but now…"

"I know," I said.  "The memories plague me as well, but this is different."

Aragorn shook his proud head.  "No, it's not."

 "Surely it must be," I said, not quite sure what Aragorn meant. 

But it was clear that he would be saying no more on the subject.  He turned to face the narrow, stone paved streets of Gondor.

"Come," he said, "let us get this over with and bring justice to your family."

With that, he began to make his way down the street, his pace neither eager to get to the boys nor trying to avoid the inevitable.  Instead, his pace was steady and even, and his figure was drawn up proudly once more.  The crown on his head shone as with a flame, as it caught the remaining beams of sunlight.  Still he forged on, down the smooth stone streets.  One, two alleyways passed us to both our left and right.  Now at last we came to the third, and without a word, the three of us turned to the left, entering the narrow space, where we knew we would find the entrance.  A collective deep breath was taken and slowly released before Aragorn brought up his hand to knock on the door.

The sound fell thick and heavy on the wooden door and after a moment, a woman came to answer.  Aragorn recognized her as Rebajh, the wife of the deceased Anteron and mother of the young criminals.

"My lord," she said, bowing.  "What can I do for you?"

"May we come in?" Aragorn asked.  "My friends and I must speak with you.  Are your sons home by any chance?"

"No, they have not come back from the market yet.  But please, come in, my lord."

She ushered us into the small house.  It was clean and well kept, but the signs of hard times were evident.  The sparse furniture was worn and tattered in places.  A pot of meager stew was boiling on the fire at the far end of the cooking area and on the table was a half a loaf of bread.  Even Rebajh's clothing suggested a level of poverty, for it was threadbare in places, with faint stains here and there, no doubt caused from cooking meals and cleaning the house. 

"Please, have a seat," she said, gesturing to the shabby chairs in the dimly lit living space. 

"Thank you," Aragorn replied and we each took to our seats as Rebajh lit candles all about the room and stoked the fire higher for light.

A heavy silence followed her movements, and Gimli and I could sense that Aragorn was trying to figure out how to begin speaking to her.  It would not be easy, we both knew.

"You have a lovely home," he said at last.

"It serves its' purpose," she replied.  "Warmth and shelter, that is."  Aragorn looked at her quizzically, but she made no offer of further explanation.

"I have heard that you have fallen on hard times," he said.  To this, she nodded.  "Hmmm…," he mused.  "And what of your late husband's pension?"

Rebajh looked up at him sharply.  "Pension?"

"Yes.  When Anteron passed away last year, I gave word to send you and your sons a monthly pension.  Your husband was a loyal guard and I had promised him that I would see his family cared for, if ever it came that he could not provide for them."

"But my lord, this is the first that I have heard of this."

"Did Volus never come by here with it?"

"Never my lord."

A look of slight anger passed over Aragorn's face.  "I will see to it that this is taken care of when I return back to the palace," he said.

"Thank you, sire," said Rebajh, gratefully.  "But my lord, it cannot be just a social call that brings you to my home, humble as it is."

"You speak truly.  I came on a matter of business.  My friends and I believe…we have evidence that your sons were involved with a crime," he replied.

"Crime?  There's been very little crime in Gondor lately.  What is it that you believe they have done?"

"This would not have been in the city itself, but in Ithilien.  There has been a murder, and all evidence suggests that your boys were involved."  The words came out thickly from his mouth, with no small amount of pity for the poor woman before us.  "We have come so that they might be questioned further, and tried under the law if need be."

"No," Rebajh wept.  "It cannot be."

The sound of the door opening broke us away from the distraught woman.  Cheerful shouts of "Mother, we're home," came towards us.  As for me, I now felt torn.  On the one hand, Aragorn, Gimli, and myself were about to take away the children of this weeping woman.  On the other hand, I was about to come face to face with the individuals that had stolen away my family.  Images of Elen, Anoron, and little Aragorn flashed across my eyes.  I took a deep breath in preparation for what was to come.

Now the boys came into the living area, tossing tattered jackets onto a chair, though they stopped dead in their tracks when they caught sight of Aragorn and me.  I could see a look of nervousness cross their faces, which they quickly acted to suppress.  They were caught and they both knew it.

"My lord," they said as with one voice.

"Tenoan and Eleros," Aragorn acknowledged.  "I suppose you both know why I have come."

They nodded slowly, fear evident in their eyes.

"Will you come quietly?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good," Aragorn nodded.  "Then I will not have to restrain you as severely as I had thought."

With this, he produced two lengths of rope and bound the boys' wrists behind their backs.  Neither one of them made a move to resist Aragorn, which mildly surprised me, for I had thought that they would at least put up some small struggle.  Instead, both bore a look of defeat.  Both of the boys kept their eyes cast downward, and if they did look up, they avoided my gaze.

It was well after sun down when we finally began our solemn march towards the jail and ultimately back to the palace.  The trial would take place the following day.  Aragorn and I both agreed that it would be best to take care of the situation as quickly as possible and as quietly as possible.  We did not feel that the situation should have to be made public, for none in Gondor knew of my family's death.

But stories will leak out no matter what and by the end of the night, as I walked around the city with Gimli to get fresh air, most of the people in Minas Tirith knew of what had transpired, though we wondered how.  Our quiet court would now have to be public.   

  The next day dawned bright and fair, with a chill wind coming in from the west.  Aragorn decided to move the trial from the throne room in the palace to the city hall.  Most of the residents of the city showed up that morning to see what was to occur, and I got the feeling that they knew something that I did not.