A/N: I have a vague idea about the proceedings of Gondorian trials, but I'm betting that what's about to take place isn't exactly correct (and maybe not correct in any way). I make no claims that it is.
Aragorn stood in the middle of a small room set close to the throne room, frozen in mid-motion. He had been in the process of placing the crown of Gondor upon his head when the enormous gravity of the situation he was about to face had come unbidden into his mind and arrested all movements. This was absurd; he'd told himself that he was going to be strong or at least not act like a child that day! After all, it had only been one week since that soul-revealing and magical night that he and Legolas spent on their talan, and a quiet one at that. Despite the continued obligations to the realm and its guests the couple had been able to keep their promises to spend time each day together and to be there for each other. However, the latter resolve might be tested in a matter of moments when the trial of Lady Nienor began.
If he had the capacity to, Aragorn would have groaned miserably. That day had been creeping closer and closer; he'd managed to not let it drive him insane by telling himself that it was really much farther off than it seemed to be. 'The trial is set to take place in five days – that's almost a week, plenty of time'; 'Yes, I'll have to preside over the trial of the woman who tried to destroy everything that I hold dear, but not for another three days – a lot can happen in three days'; 'Well, the trial is tomorrow, but why think about tomorrow when all you have is today?' If only he'd taken the time to mentally prepare for it in a more substantial way!
But was there really any way to get ready for such a thing? Once he left that room he would have to go into the throne room and follow all the proceedings of the Gondorian court: he'd have to ask Faramir if there were any petitions today as if he wasn't aware of who was waiting to enter. Then he'd have to endure listening to all of the crimes the lady stood accused of, tolerate her voice as she spoke in her own defense, actually speak to her and ask her questions, listen to anyone else who wanted to say anything on her behalf, and then have the strength of mind to render a fair and impartial judgment. The fact that his advisors had already helped him come to a decision as to what the proper punishment would be didn't make Aragorn's duty of having to look the woman who set out to murder his husband and child in cold blood in the eye and officially pronounce it any easier. He wasn't even sure if Legolas' presence at his side during all of this would make this less stressful, or more.
Perhaps he should try thinking about something else, something more pleasant, something like…his husband. Yes, Legolas was certainly someone he enjoyed thinking about, especially those days. The condition of their marriage had been steadily improving under their conscious efforts, leading to lovely meetings during the day and a few rather unforgettable evenings in their bedchamber as well as one in the weapons room. 'Maybe after this is all over with,' mused Aragorn, slowly regaining his ability to think, though his body was still motionless, 'we can do something about making that delightful throne room fantasy of his a reality. That would drive the memory of that woman out of there once and for all.' An added bonus was that the positions that Legolas had described would be fairly easy for them to do in the elf's current condition. He'd seemed to have grown even larger yet in the passing week…
Damn! Now Aragorn had gone from worrying about the trial to worrying about his husband's physical well being. He knew that he was being a little silly; the experienced healer in him said that everything was progressing in Legolas' pregnancy as it should be, but the anxious spouse (the more dominant of the two) looked at his expanded girth and was convinced that he was about to go into labor at any second. Legolas was showing no signs of developing the fabled birth canal that the twins were sure would form that would allow him to give birth naturally. What if the canal never formed and Legolas went into labor while the twins were still abroad? The idea of having one of the healers perform the dangerous procedure of cutting Legolas open made the Man feel nauseous; while those at the Houses of Healing were masters of their art, he couldn't entrust a task this important to anyone but his brothers – who weren't there.
As if he didn't have enough to worry about; and this was the most vital of them all: where were Elladan and Elrohir? Legolas was now almost certainly eight months along and at the beginning of his final month of pregnancy and no one had heard anything from either of the twins or the messenger that Aragorn had dispatched to Rivendell two weeks prior. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't find a rational justification for their absence at this stage – Elladan and Elrohir had been the ones to diagnose Legolas' pregnancy and make the estimations as to when he would be due. It seemed curious that they would choose to cut it so close. 'They could just be coming back now,' Aragorn told himself. 'If they met the messenger on the road, like I believe they would have, they would know about the poisoning and rush back as quickly as they could. No word has been sent ahead because no one would be able to get here before they did when they're in a hurry like that. Yes, that's it; they're coming soon – maybe they'll make it to the trial.'
And the worrying cycle had come full circle: Aragorn was back to fretting over Lady Nienor's trial and he was still frozen in place. If he had to be honest with himself, he would have to admit that he was trying to delay this nerve-wracking exercise for as long as possible. Not forever – just long enough for him to be sure that he wouldn't let his fury affect his better judgment at all. An age of Middle-earth or so would probably be sufficient. The problem with that plan was that someone would be able to find him long before the beginning of the Fifth Age; also, he was still holding the crown in mid-air and he knew deep down that he would be able to keep holding it like that for an entire day, let alone the number of years that would make up the Fourth Age.
"Aragorn? What are you doing?" By the Valar, he'd been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard the door open and Legolas come in. He couldn't even rationalize that it was due to the fact that Legolas could sneak up on him whenever he wanted to; both because his husband wouldn't do that this day and the pregnancy had made his steps heavier than normal.
"Are you well?" the elf continued, walking around to Aragorn's side to better assess the situation. "Everyone is waiting, melanin. We must go to the throne room now. You just need to put your crown on and walk with me; soon this will all be over and we can get on to more important things in our lives."
"This is a bad idea," Aragorn mumbled as he stared fixated on the winged crown. Others had used that crown and the title that came along with the privilege of wearing it to achieve their own selfish ends. What made him think that he was any better than all of them? "This is too much. Maybe I should just assign the responsibility of presiding over her trial to Faramir."
"No, Aragorn," Legolas told him resolutely. "I have it on good authority that you've already presented this possibility and both Faramir and the advisors' council have spoken out against it. Now allow me to do the same: it is not a good idea to hand over the power to make rulings to another when you are present and capable of doing it yourself. You are the king of Gondor, Aragorn, and your people need to know that their king is able to pass judgment objectively in all manner of things. It's unfair, mela, but how can they trust you to make the right decision in their affairs when you all but admit aloud that you can't do the same in your own?"
"No one in my position could do this and remain objective," argued Aragorn faintly. "They might understand that."
Legolas couldn't bear watching his husband doubt himself even for a moment. "The delegates will be present as well," he said gently. "They came to Gondor with the faith that you can help guide them in reestablishing old alliances and forging new ones in peace. None of them will listen to a king that speaks about putting aside past injuries for the sake of justice and peace but shows that he cannot do the same himself. You have the strength of your convictions, my love, and the fortitude to endure. You have to do this."
"What if –"
"Aragorn, look at me."
He did and blinked at seeing all of the contradictions that the elf embodied at the moment. His garments were of Gondorian fashion, as he believed that it was proper etiquette for the prince consort of the realm to look the part while present in the official court; but he also wore the princely circlet of mithril, too delicate to be of Mannish make, that identified him as a member of the elvish royal family of Mirkwood. Legolas' body maintained its lithe build but his stomach protruded significantly and his normal stillness was interrupted by the hands that automatically reverently rubbed the bulge. His face too was a lesson in opposites: the facial expression was determined and grim, ready to face anything, but his eyes were twinkling with a nostalgic pride.
"You're right to believe that no one could do this," he agreed. "Some things are just impossible. For instance, a Mannish ten-year-old boy with no formal archery training and who'd never managed to hit the target before in his life couldn't best his centuries-old, trained warrior, elvish brother in an archery contest. And a young ranger who was caught kissing the son of the intimidating King Thranduil by the king himself would never be able to swallow his fears and stand up for their love."
"Legolas…"
"Let's not forget," the elf charged ahead, "that no Man facing impossible odds and an uncertain future could possibly be able to resist taking the One Ring when it is offered to him freely and when its will is bent on seducing him with images of everything he desires. Yet you did all of that, Aragorn! Anyone who is able to triumph over all of that can do what you need to do today. You don't have to judge her again – just once, when it counts, like those other times."
"I can handle once," whispered Aragorn, mostly to himself, as he broke his stillness. After placing the crown upon his head he walked to his husband, cupped his face with both palms, and pressed a kiss into his forehead. "As long as you are by my side, I think that I could manage to do any impossible feat as many times as I needed to."
Legolas placed a soft kiss on the Man's lips, letting them linger there to feel the warmth of Aragorn's lips and tasting what was uniquely his husband. "Thank you for the compliment, but you don't give yourself nearly enough credit," he said, reaching up to stroke Aragorn's bearded chin. "You are a strong and just person, Aragorn; you already know what the right thing to do is. In fact, I've heard a rumor or two that you've already determined what you need to do and have even started making all the arrangements."
A hesitant knock on the door silenced Aragorn's reply. "Come in!" he called.
The door opened and a guard came in, bowing low to his king a prince. "Please excuse my interruption, King Elessar, Prince Legolas," he apologized, "but I was sent to find you at once."
"Are we that late?" asked Legolas doubtfully. Due to the juicy and somewhat controversial proceedings scheduled for that day only the guards most experienced in the court's routine were assigned to the more involved, formal tasks like announcing the presence of the royal couple and standing watch over the entryway to the throne room. Any guard that would be in the position to seek them out would also be well-acquainted with the regal procession that signaled the beginning of court; they knew that Aragorn and Legolas would meet them at the door. Choosing to send one of their numbers to fetch them was highly unusual; he could only imagine it happening if the hour was growing late and judging by the sun that was hard to believe.
"No, Prince Legolas," answered the guard, looking more than a little embarrassed for he knew that he was breaking decorum and, even worse, he knew that they knew it as well. The reason why he had to do such a thing made it even more abominable. "But I was sent here because – well, because Lord Cirion requests to be present in court today."
That thorn in their sides! Hadn't he done enough already? Aragorn groaned inwardly. The lord wasn't even supposed to be in Gondor; according to his own proclamation, Lord Cirion should have been sent into exile a couple of days ago. He would have been, too, had it not been for the plea that his wife made to the king. Every aspect of the woman – her body language, her voice, her face, her spirit in general – showed signs of terrible strain; small wonder, considering that in less than a month she'd gone from being matriarch of respectable Gondorian family to being the wife of a disgraced lord, forced to vacate the family's ancestral home, and then the mother of the woman who committed one of the most heinous crimes in Minas Tirith since the Battle of Pelennor Fields. Aragorn had taken pity when she'd begged for him to allow her and her husband to remain in the city until Nienor's fate was decided. This latest request, however, was pushing the boundaries of how sympathetic he was capable of being.
"He asks for much when he has no standing to ask for anything at all," remarked Aragorn in disgust. "Is he threatening to create another scene if I do not comply with his request?"
"No, my lord," the guard shook his head. "He just asked – really quiet, too. He offered to be searched before being let in."
"Well, that's a given," said Aragorn, finding Cirion's gall to 'offer' to do anything that he knew would be ordered of him anyway extremely obnoxious.
The guard shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Then he said that if that wasn't enough, he'd wear shackles and even be chained to a guard," he went on. "Then he said that he wouldn't fight it if you decided to lock him up for trespassing and treason afterwards if you just let him go to the trial now."
It could easily be a trick – Cirion bound and chained to a guard, being dragged off to the dungeons after Aragorn had given him permission to be present at the trial, could certainly paint the picture of the stupidly tyrannical king under the thumb of his seductive elvish husband that he spent so much time trying to create. And yet the asking without threats and the suggestions of all the demeaning circumstances he'd endure in order to go to his daughter's trial was a humble act for the proud Man, something that he would have considered to be too undignified before. Aragorn wasn't sure what to make of it. Sensing his confusion, Legolas entwined their fingers, squeezing gently to reassure him that he would be able to make the right decision.
"He may come," said Aragorn in resignation. "Let it not be said that the lady was denied the support she needed because of the nature of her crimes. The chains are unnecessary as of yet, but perform a thorough search before he sets one toe in the citadel and never leave him unattended. Once in the throne room, keep two guards at either side at, as well as at least one more within reaching distance, at all times. If he so much as looks like he's thinking about breathing in a disruptive manner, remove him. After the lady's trial, see to it that he goes to exactly two places: his home, to gather the rest of his possessions, and the gate of the city; and make sure that the guards out there are ready to escort him out of the realm once and for all."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"What is he doin' here?" wondered Sam as two guards walked in with Cirion in between them.
Gimli drew in a sharp breath at the sight of the lord settling in his place among the crowd. "Good question," he growled. "Legolas shouldn't have to face him and the lady both! What if that Man tries something?"
"That is what your axe is for, Gimli," Thranduil told him tightly.
"Stop it," said Pippin. "I'm sure he wouldn't be in here unless Strider thought that he could be handled. Don't go making this day even harder by making a scene."
"He's right," interjected Eowyn. "Besides, knowing Lord Cirion, a scene is exactly what he wants. It would draw attention to him and maybe even make him look like an innocent victim. Pippin's right; just let him be unless there's no other choice."
"Pippin's right," repeated Merry in a mutter. "What's happened to the world that Pippin's become the voice of reason? Next thing you know every hobbit in the Shire will stop drinking ale and smoking pipe-weed."
Pippin bristled at the insult. "That's –"
"Make way for King Elessar and Prince Legolas!" Make way!" called out a guard as the Man and elf appeared in the doorway, interrupting Pippin's clever counter-argument. "You are in the presence of the king and the prince of Gondor! Make way!"
The room was so crowded that there people barely had room to bow as Aragorn and Legolas walked side-by-side past them. It seemed that no noble wanted to have the dubious distinction of being the only one not present when Lady Nienor's punishment was decided. It didn't matter if they'd liked her or not, or even if they really knew her or not; a scandal was a scandal and what took place there that day would undoubtedly give them something to gossip about for years to come.
Standing outside of the whispering throng very closely to the base of the throne were the advisors' council and Faramir on the king's side and Eowyn, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Gimli, and Thranduil together on the prince's side. Aragorn let out a heavy breath through his nose at the sight of his father-in-law. It was good that he was there; for all of Legolas' professions that he understood why Nienor did what she did, Aragorn knew that facing the lady would test that resolve. Legolas would need his father's presence – how the Man wished that his own father was there! On the other hand, seeing the woman who tried to murder his son and grandson was going to strain Thranduil's self-control as well and the elven king didn't have the understanding that calmed Legolas.
'At least Gimli's with him,' thought Aragorn as he and Legolas took their seats. If anyone besides Legolas had the power to calm Thranduil down, it was the dwarf that stood beside him. That was cold comfort, though; for there was no guarantee that Gimli, who loved Legolas as a son, would be able to get through this without blowing up himself.
There was no time left to fret, however; Aragorn looked at his steward and everyone fell silent, waiting eagerly for the proceedings to begin. "Good morning, faithful steward of the line of Telcontar," said Aragorn.
"Good morning, my king," replied Faramir dutifully.
"What petition is there for me to hear today?" Aragorn demanded in a commanding tone, really hating the way that the traditional court formalities sounded. Most days he could get through this part fine because he knew that the people waiting needed his help; this day it felt so fake that he wanted to scream: 'Let's just get this over with!'
"There is only one," answered Faramir. "For this one concerns the realm of Gondor as a whole."
That was the cue; through the doorway came Lady Nienor, escorted by four guards. That might have seemed excessive for any other prisoner, but Aragorn wasn't willing to take any chances with his husband in the room. Immediately the crowd started buzzing with whispers about the number of guards and if they were just trying to make her appear more dangerous than she actually was; whether or not she looked pale and gaunt; if she'd been mistreated by vengeful guards, as one prominent rumor suggested; and if there was even such a thing as 'mistreating' someone guilty of her crimes.
Aragorn and Legolas' friends and family didn't appear to possess much more restraint than the nobles. The hobbits grasped each other's arms and shoulders, unsure of what else to do. Thranduil turned rigid as if readying his body to attack and Gimli was quick to grab one of his hands, both to keep the elf from striking and to resist the urge to draw his axe. As for Legolas, his breath hitched once but otherwise he remained expressionless. Aragorn only hoped that he looked just as steady as he braced himself to confront her.
"Lady Nienor, daughter of the Lord Cirion, stands accused of the following crimes," continued Faramir in his most formal voice: "the twice-attempted murders of the prince consort and unborn heir of Gondor; trespassing; speaking slanderous words; and treason again the crown. In this matter, the realm of Gondor seeks justice from the king."
"You have heard the crimes that you stand accused of, Lady Nienor," Aragorn said stately, forcing himself to look her in the eye as he addressed her. He could get through this – he had to, just this once like Legolas said. She wasn't as powerfully daunting as Thranduil or evil as the Ring or Sauron; she was only a noblewoman. If he could handle them, he could certainly take this on. "Have you anything to say in response?"
Finally; this was the opportunity that she'd been waiting for since her unjust arrest! It was time to show the king and everyone else why the elf should have been sent to the dungeons, not her. "I have been grievously treated," she said, "for I am not guilty of any of these crimes."
"Prince Legolas and Lord Gloin of the Lonely Mountain bore witness to your second murder attempt and slanderous words about my husband," Aragorn reminded him, his voice still remarkably even. "And both heard your admission to the first murder attempt and trespassing into the citadel's kitchen. Do you deny this?"
"No, my lord; but what I spoke was not an admission of guilt and my actions are justified," answered Nienor. "None of these charges are valid because I am supposed to be your queen. That elf is not the prince consort, but a thief and seducer and his child an unnatural occurrence. That should be my place at your side and your child in my stomach; and if all was right in the world I would be queen and I would be able to go anywhere in the citadel without it being called trespassing. The only treason here should be his crimes against me."
"Do you question the king's decisions, then?" asked Aragorn.
"No, my lord," was her automatic reply.
"But not only have you questioned my decision to marry Prince Legolas and create a child with him, you have judged it to be wrong."
"My, my lord; it is not you." He countenance faltered for a split second before she put on her righteous mask again. "It was the influence of that elf –"
"Prince Legolas," he told her hardly. "You will address my husband as Prince Legolas." Aragorn saw her flinch and knew that she'd never entertained the notion that he might actually love Legolas before. "You believe that the king is a fool who allowed himself to be seduced by the first person he ever felt an attraction to."
This wasn't how she planned for this to go! "I do not believe that," she protested. "He just – stole you from me. You are my husband."
"Did I make any promises to wed you? Was it you whom I exchanged vows of marriage with the day of my coronation?" Aragorn pressed. Her face went pale and she bit her lower lip. No answer – he'd thought as much. "A spouse is not a child's toy that can be stolen. Any who believe otherwise are not mature enough to enter into marriage, let alone hold the position of the king's spouse."
She opened her mouth but Aragorn waved his hand to cut off her flustered but outraged response. "Enough!" he ordered. "I grow weary of hearing you use your fantasies to excuse what you have done. Prince Legolas is my prince consort; the child within him is my heir; and any action taken to harm either one of them is considered to be treasonous. It is clear that you have no legitimate defense and I wish to hear no more from you if you cannot acknowledge that what you did was wrong." He lifted his eyes to look out over the crowd. "Now is the opportunity for others to speak. Is there anyone here who wishes to say anything in the lady's defense?"
Everyone stood absolutely still, not daring to make a peep for fear that Aragorn might associate them with Nienor the next time one of them stood before the king. Then one voice – that of Lord Cirion's – spoke up:
"I will."
To be continued…