Chapter Summary: Silmarien begs justice to be delivered, and Elemmire learns boldness through righteous indignation.
Author's Notes: This chapter was written with the help of Mercury Gray. Thanks, Merc! And sorry for the long time between updates!
Shout Outs:
Dread Lady Freya - When you're being attacked, the first thing that comes to mind is running as fast as possible. Only, Mari decided to run as fast as possible to the king so she could claim the right of intervention. The sooner she used that diary, the more useless it would have been for Tergon to steal it back.
Mercury Gray - (falls to the floor in a tangled heap) Ow...
Roisin Dubh - Hell indeed...
Arwen had just left the feasting hall after the meal had ended. There had not been a large celebration, and so many of the courtiers had not appeared. The queen wondered why Elemmire had left so suddenly during the meal. Just as she reached her bedchamber, an alarm had spread. There was an elvish cry in the garden, and another of Gondorian accent. Rushing to a window, she saw her brother Elrohir struggling with a darkly clad figure, and Lady Elemmire crying out, sinking to the ground.
Several soldiers ran to the garden, and arrested the dark figure who had made the attack, confiscating his bow. The man merely grunted, and kept his face in the shadow of his hood, which was pulled up. Others made a makeshift stretcher with their swords and spears and laid Lord Barahir atop it after breaking off the arrow. The lord of Dol Amroth had swooned from the loss of blood and did not respond when his name was called.
Lady Elemmire was shaking with tears, her gown stained with his blood. Queen Undomiel briskly went to her side and held her in a protective embrace. Softly and yet firmly, she pressed Elemmire's head against her shoulder, cradling it in her arms.
"Look, the fletching of this arrow is Gondorian," the captain of the guard said. "This evidence is troubling to me. Let us bring the intruder before the King."
And so Lord Barahir was carried to the Houses of Healing, and Elemmire escorted by her lady the queen to the Hall of the King, where Barahir's attacker would be tried. Elessar was already walking toward them from a small side door when they entered.
"What do you bring before me, Guard of the Citadel?" he asked grimly, for he had heard the cries in the night from his study and was perturbed.
"My lord, I fear there is a traitor among us," the captain answered, bowing. He held up his hand and offered his king the broken arrow shaft he had kept.
"What has happened? Tell me every detail, so that my judgement shall not be misguided."
"Lord king," Elrohir spoke, having followed the procession quietly. "For many days I have suspected a member of your court to harbor a greivance against Lady Elemmire. I did not know when or how he would attack, and yet I took the liberty of keeping watch over him. My lord, the disturbance tonight was an attempt to murder this lady."
"Who is this traitor," Aragorn frowned, clasping the arrow in his hands behind his back. "Show your face."
The hood was torn off and the frowning countenance of Lord Anaron was revealed, twisted into a grimace of darkened hate.
Elemmire had calmed herself somewhat, but was still shaken from the attack. When she saw whom it was who had drawn the arrow, her breath left her. "You," she whispered shakily. "You've killed Barahir!"
Anaron turned his head sharply toward her. "The arrow was not meant for Barahir," he spat. "The elf interfered and your fool prince got in the way."
"I moved as quick as fortune allowed me, Lord Elessar," Elrohir said. "It is to my immense greif that I could not prevent it sooner."
"Ah, to my credit that I hid so well from even an Elf," Anaron sneered, moving toward the queen's brother, but being held back by the guards.
"Speak no more Anaron, for you only further incriminate yourself," Aragorn demanded. "Your intent to murder this good lady was, very thankfully, ruined. However, you have gravely injured a man who not only is a good friend of mine, but who is a ruler of Dol Amroth in my stead. This is treason against your country, Anaron. I do not take this lightly. But so that I may understand better, what quarrel have you with such a reasonable and good-hearted woman?"
Anaron seemed to pause in thought, his eyes darting about. After a few moment's hesitation, he spoke. "In obedience to the wishes of another," he replied.
"Who is this other," Aragorn asked warily.
"That I shall not say, even to you."
"Speak it, Anaron," Elemmire suddenly hissed. She had slowly made her way toward Anaron's side, glaring at him in quietly building anger. Her unexpected proximity to him startled him only momentarily.
"Speak her name," Elemmire goaded.
"Whose name?" Anaron blinked in false confusion. "I know not who you mean."
Elemmire secretly exhulted in the fact that she had been such a threat to Alfirin's little plan that the woman asked that her life be put to an end. Yet, she wished that she had taken the arrow instead, so that Barahir might be safe. With an unexpected flash of rage and a daring quickness, her hand connected with Anaron's cheek, leaving a deep red mark that would last for more than a mere few seconds. Arwen pulled her away with a purposely belated promptness. Aragorn's hidden smirk was erased when there was an outburst on the other side of the door to the King's Hall. Guards shouted, and a feminine command and angry cry was mingled with Elvish curses spoken by a familiar masculine growl.
The King of Gondor directed the guards who stood at the inner side of the door to open it and admit whomever was causing the disturbance. Immediately Silmarien and Glorfindel fairly stumbled across the threshold in their haste to approach him.
"For what purpose do you accost my guards, friends?" Aragorn asked. "Here am I, judging a traitor. Surely, your audience could wait?"
"Nay Elessar, it cannot wait!" Glorfindel urged, his long, quick stride forcing Silmarien to take at least three smaller steps to keep up with him. Estel looked at the daughter of Denethor as his eyebrows knit together. Her cloak was missing, her hair mussed, some of the elven braids undone. Her riding dress was wrinkled badly, and dirt and grass stains smeared much of her garments and at the very least half of her face.
"Another traitor I bring to you, and beg justice," Silmarien said quickly, gasping for breath. She had been running ever since Glorfindel had lowered her from Asfaloth. Just then, the heavily guarded Tergon was escorted into the hall. Anaron visibly rolled his eyes when Tergon glared at him.
"Fool," he muttered.
"A cheiftain of Harad," Aragorn asked, surprised. "How much further will this madness be spread? What has happened, Silmarien, that you also beg justice of me?"
With many growls from Tergon and Anaron to interrupt her, Silmarien launched into the tale of her doings, making it as quick a narration as she could, from the open declaration of emnity between herself and Alfirin to her false accusation, to her terrifying journey back to the Citadel. Glorfindel added what little information he could, and though Aragorn had whether been told before, or had suspected anything, he appreciated the formality and honestness of the two.
"And here, my lord," Silmarien said at last, offering the diary to Elessar. "Here at last is my proof against even the betrothal of Alfirin and Barahir."
Aragorn took the book and leafed through it quickly, his countenance grim and angry as he read a page that had been earmarked by Faramir for his sister. "A third traitor have we," he sighed. "Send for Lady Alfirin, and Bahti, so that he may know his companion's betrayal."
Bahti came about the same time as Alfirin was escorted in by three guards. Her face was stony and hid much of her anger and fear. Silmarien couldn't help but smile wickedly, for the lady's situation was mirroring her own only a few months ago. Glorfindel quietly took her hand and laced his fingers with hers, squeezing gently as she drew nearer to him.
Alfirin's face paled only slightly as she saw the book in her monarch's hands and her body became tense and rigid as the charges were made known to her. At Anaron's attempt on Elemmire's life, she objected.
"My lord, I beg this charge be not laid on me. I did not ask, nay did not mention anything of the sort to Anaron. His actions tonight were not asked of by me."
"Nevertheless, it was for you that he performed such a deed. Your greivances against me and the daughter of my friend the Steward are great indeed Alfirin. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty, my lord," she answered. Elessar's face grew dark as he fought his rage against the bold lie. Turning instead to Bahti, he addressed his mind to dealing with an ambassador who seemed to forget his mission.
"My lord, even among our tribes in our land, Tergon has been one to stir up the most dissention. None of us love him, and yet we were not completely prepared for his betrayal of us and our desire for peace with you. I speak for all the other chieftains, both here and in Harad, when I say that I wash my hands of him, and turn him over to you, our leige-lord for justice."
Elessar remained in silence for some time, and it seemed too much for Alfirin. Even as snake-like as she was, she did not take to being caught in her own webs of deciet very well. The woman eyed Silmarien with a hateful glitter in her eyes.
"Anaron, you have been proven guilty of treason, as has Tergon of Harad. Both of you shall be executed in two days. I would suggest you prepare yourselves," Aragorn said at last, and the two were taken to the prison to be held until their execution.
"Alfirin," he began, "it greives me that one so beautiful as you could have such a dark and wicked heart. Had you been content with your rank and position, this would not have come to pass. Indeed, perhaps you would have been rewarded. But now I see that your heart does not make allies of truth and goodness."
"My lord, I beg mercy," she interrupted.
"The same mercy that Silmarien begged, you mean," he replied softly, his face hard, his eyes cold. "The same mercy you did not deem her fit to have?"
Alfirin visibly paled at that, and trembled slightly. What would he do?
"For your black heart, I reward an alliance, but not what you had desired. And for the sake of Silmarien's dignity, I give to you the judgement which I had falsely given her. Your hair will be shorn short, aye, shorter than even hers, for you have lost your honor fully in my eyes. If Lord Bahti permits it, I give you to him, to return to Harad and give her in marriage to a chieftain or lords' son."
Bahti bowed respectfully. "She shall be well cared for, my lord. I confess that our homes are not as comfortable as she is used, but perhaps the circumstances will teach her grace. And some of our cheiftains are more patient than even I."
Alfirin was now glaring with a wicked gaze at Silmarien, who seemed unaffected by it.
"Checkmate," Silmarien murmured, though in the great hall, it was magnified on the echoing walls.
Alfirin shrieked terribly and rushed at her with arms outstretched. Glorfindel stood in front of Silmarien and raised his arm, backhanding Alfirin so hard she fell to the floor. Elrohir hid his glee at such a stroke very well.
"Enough!" Elessar cried, who had had his fill of anger that night. "Guards, take Alfirin to her bedchamber, there shall she be held until her judgement be passed on the morrow. Everyone, to your own rest, for it grows late. Leave me now."
And so Elemmire, Glorfindel, Silmarien, Elrohir and the guards departed, leaving the King and Queen of Gondor to gather their senses alone.
Elemmire and Elrohir disappeared, and Glorfindel escorted his lady to her chambers, where she did her best to make herself presentable.
"Forgive me that I did not greet you properly when you came, Glorfindel," she smiled wearily. "But I truly was glad to see you."
"Nonsense," he replied. "The greeting I recieved was one to my satisfaction, though I disliked the situation of my lady when I arrived."
Glorfindel was sitting at a chair while Silmarien was moving about behind him in her inner chamber. Having changed out of her dirty riding dress, and washed the grim from her face, she returned to her outer chambers.
"It's been such a terrible time since you left," she said. "I thought you'd never..come..."
Glorfindel's golden eyebrows knit together and he turned just in time to see Silmarien sinking to the floor, her hand to her head. With a cry, he leaped out of his chair, knocking it over as he caught her and swiftly carried her to her bed, laying her on it gently. The exertion, stress and many sleepless nights she endured in the last few days had finally taken its toll. Glorfindel frowned and smoothed out her hair, pulling the bedsheets over her frame before going to her outer chambers and settling on the wooden couch. He would guard her all night long, and keep watch to make sure she slept well - this time he would not interfere.
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