For one terrible moment the entire world seemed to freeze in the wake of Lord Malvegil's unintentional announcement. For that Man and the guards who were swarming Prince Eldarion's bedchamber it had only stopped because they were awaiting orders as to what to do next. Did the king and prince believe the lord's story, or should the guards continue to detain him? Were they to go and stop the cart taking the crown prince and princesses out of the protective sphere of Minas Tirith or did they need to track down the other two noblemen that might have information on who the stalker might be? There was no way that they could comprehend the complete significance of learning the identities of the people who knew about the secret passageways; there were only six beings there that could.
Those six – Legolas, Aragorn, Faramir, Sam, Merry, and Pippin – had been rendered immobile not just because of the question of what they should do next, but also because of the horror that had quickly given way to guilt. What had they done, or helped do? Eldarion, Laurelin, Meren, and Gilraen – those innocent, helpless children – were gone, in the custody of one (or both) of the Men who might very well have been the person who'd been stalking and threatening them the entire time; and it was their parents and loved ones who'd practically given them away to them. The crushing burden of finally realizing their terrible mistake and all of the potential horrifying consequences that could happen because of it was enough to bring the strongest person to their knees – if they had the luxury to have the time to fall in such a manner.
Time was something that they couldn't afford, but guilt was difficult to put aside. "Dear Elbereth," moaned Legolas at length after forcing himself to face the reality of the situation. He turned his eyes, full of despair, fear, and grim determination, to his shell-shocked husband. "I knew. I knew that there was something wrong with this whole situation! What is wrong with me? Why didn't I trust my instincts enough to insist that we wait until we had more information to try such a risky plan?"
"Why didn't I trust in that when you spoke of it?" asked Aragorn. His thoughts immediately went back to less than twenty-four hours earlier when Legolas had asserted his apprehension and he'd more or less dismissed it by basically telling him 'I understand how you feel but I'm going to ignore your elven intuition and years of experience and do things the way I decided, for no good reason, that they should be done.'
The arrogance of it all almost made the Man visibly wince. There had once been a time when he'd trusted Legolas' feelings just as much as he trusted his own and before whatever anyone else told him. Before doing something so damnably rash he would have consulted his husband extensively as well as gotten his family's opinions on the matter – after all, hadn't the hobbits been going on and on for weeks about something not feeling right about the whole thing? Now he'd condescended to Legolas' concerns and practically relegated the rest of his loved ones to being silent observers, baby-sitters, and occasional pawns. Valar, what had be become?
He already knew the answer to that, and it was not one that he liked: he'd only become the very type of ruler that he used to scorn, the one that placed too much faith in the advisors surrounding him and not enough in the people who'd stood by his side since before he gained power. He silently gave a bitter laugh as he remembered when, long ago, he'd vehemently refused to trust those noblemen with even the most menial of tasks; now he'd allowed at least one of them to manipulate the most dire of situations. Why hadn't he at the very least looked to his own instincts? The pit of his stomach sank a little when Aragorn realized that he hadn't even bothered to formulate much of an opinion as to what was happening and why; he'd just blindly relied on the Council's advice and allowed their discussions to do the thinking for him.
"My liege?" Beren felt compelled to speak up in the midst of all the confusion. To Aragorn it sounded like his voice was coming from far away; and the king looked at him blankly for several seconds while his mind struggled to think clearly through the shocked daze. "Forgive me, King Elessar, but what exactly is going on here? What are your orders?"
Aragorn stared out at him and the other guards – all loyal and increasingly concerned when no one made any decisive decisions right away – and felt a powerful sense of shame. Just a few minutes earlier he'd looked into that crowd of tear-stained faces with nothing more than suspicion and anger. When had those Men done anything to deserve his total distrust? Of course they hadn't caught the stalker right away, but neither had he, Legolas, or any other member of their family and it wasn't as if any of them were shrinking violets who waited around to be saved. Yes, Eldarion's guard had failed to protect his son on the day of the attack, but it was Sam who'd allowed the boy to go back to his bedchamber in the first place when so much danger surrounded them. So why had the guards – who'd devoted months, oftentimes years, to caring and loving his son and daughters even while they protected them – seemed any more suspicious than any one of his loved ones?
No reason, except for the fact that someone had told him that they were possible traitors. No evidence, no inklings from anyone else who was closer to the situation that they too felt that something was wrong, not even an official mention of it at a Council meeting where the theory would have been up for debate. What reasons did Aragorn have to believe such a serious accusation when there was so little to back it up? There were his own fears and frustrations but wise and fair kings didn't make ruling decisions based on those emotions – only desperate tyrants. Was he in danger of becoming one of those?
"It's," stammered Aragorn, groping for the correct words that would make his guards understand what he was mortified to even try to. "It's a nightmare – a complicated, twisted, foolish nightmare."
This did little to comfort anyone in the chamber; their king wasn't making any sense. "King Elessar?" asked Lord Malvegil tentatively while the guards stood staring.
"Lord Malvegil," spoke up Legolas with surprising strength. It seemed to everyone that his sanity had been restored after the uncharacteristic outburst that had brought all but a couple of them to Eldarion's bedchamber in the first place. Indeed, he'd pushed aside his rage and every other emotion that had the potential to interfere with getting his children back. Malvegil didn't know this, but he did look slightly reassured when he saw that rationality had returned to the prince consort. "We need for you to tell us everything you can about the Lords Tanondor and Eärnil – very quickly."
"I'm – I'm not sure what you mean by that," replied Malvegil a little nervously, as he was slightly taken aback by Legolas' sudden boldness. He did not harbor any dislike for the elf, but it had been a long time since Legolas had given anyone such a direct order while speaking as the prince consort of Gondor and longer still since he'd said anything in that official capacity without his husband's opinion being voiced first.
Legolas couldn't blame him for being knocked so off-centered by his demand. How long had it been since the elf had exercised his authority as King Elessar's spouse, or even as a member of the king's Advisors' Council? He'd wanted the latter position almost solely because he loved Gondor and wished to have a say in what would be done to ensure the realm's continued thriving but now he couldn't remember the last time he'd said anything at the meetings that wasn't a direct support or defense of Aragorn and the Man's beliefs. Legolas knew that he was a better politician than that!
He was absolutely disgusted with himself when he realized that he'd practically surrendered himself and all of his influence to Aragorn's will, demurring to his husband even when he seriously disagreed with him – like in his suspicion of the guards. Of all of the personas that he'd somehow adopted over the centuries – Mirkwood's headstrong prince, precise and deadly archer, fierce warrior, cool-headed elven prince of Men, fiery spouse, opinionated and protective father – the only one that he truly hated was the one that he'd let himself turn into: the silent Sun Star, who did nothing but smile softly as he submitted to another person. All he needed was the stool, parade of troubadours, and a slew of trite verses and the transformation would be complete.
Unless, of course, he at last rebelled against it once more; and that was exactly what he planned on doing for his own sake as well as for Aragorn and their children. "Lord Tanondor and Lord Eärnil," he reiterated authoritatively, taking a few intimidating but not threatening steps toward the befuddled Man. "You have known them for longer and more intimately than anyone else in this chamber; I ask you now if you believe that either of them would have the capacity and inclination to harm any one of my children."
"Them?" marveled Malvegil, trying to wrap his mind around that idea. Shaking his head, he looked the prince right in the eyes. "Sire, I would swear upon the winged crown of the king that neither of them could be even remotely involved in this whole stalker affair. Of course," he added as a haunted expression suddenly flitted over his face, "I would have claimed much the same about Lady Nienor when she committed her crimes thirteen years ago. I would hope that my judgment has improved since then, but…"
"But what?" pressed Legolas insistently. "Have you thought of something?"
"To be completely honest, my prince," replied Malvegil somewhat sheepishly, "if I were not involved at all and so could judge the circumstances with an objective eye I would say that, of the original four advisors that knew about the hidden corridors, I am the most logical suspect now that Cirion is dead."
"But you are not involved," said Legolas with conviction. He knew it from the back of his mind to the bottom of his stomach. Since logic and reasoning had done nothing to protect his children he was more than willing to let his instinct guide him from now on.
One of the guards who was still holding onto Lord Malvegil cleared his throat. "With all due respect, my prince," he said politely, not wanting to dismiss the intruding nobleman so lightly while he still didn't fully understand what was going on, "how are you so certain about that?"
"Because he trusts his instincts and so do I," Aragorn found his voice at last, grateful to his husband for giving him the strength to draw on and inspiration not to give in to despair yet. "And beyond that, we both rightly trust in the lords Brandybuck, Gamgee, and Took to correctly interpret the situation, seeing that it took good hobbit sense to solve a great mystery once before in our lives. Do you three believe that the lord is involved in any way with the stalker?"
"That doesn't seem likely," Merry spoke for them, giving Malvegil a scrutinizing stare. "Showing us the tunnels reveals too much about the stalker's strategy; and besides, according to what we figured out, the stalker would be tailing the children, not hanging out where he knows that they won't be."
A cold feeling rushed over Aragorn as the hobbit inadvertently reminded him that they had little time to waste. "That's good enough for me," he declared urgently. "Now listen up: Lord Malvegil, you are to stay here and tell Beren everything you can about the two lords, no matter how trivial it may seem. Beren, remain here to listen to it all; then you must take what the lord gives you and use it to your advantage when you then move on to Lord Eärnil and Lord Tanondor's houses to question their wives. I don't care if it's you doing the questioning or if you assign the Men we leave behind here to help you to the tasks as long as it is done quickly."
"Am I to understand that you don't wish for us to speak to the lord themselves?" asked Beren uncertainly, hoping that for once in this strange instance that he was reading everything correctly. Ever since he and the other guards had been called to that ridiculous training session the world seemed to be turned upside down and nothing made sense anymore. "Should we instruct the ladies and the household staff to not inform them of our presence?"
"That won't be necessary, as neither of them are in Minas Tirith," admitted Aragorn. "Later I shall ask for forgiveness from all of you but for now I need for you to work without that apology; if not for my sake than for the sakes of the prince and princesses who love you so much."
"The lords have the children with them now, don't they?" asked Beren, finally comprehending the full meaning of the situation. My, how bitter did that understanding taste! "The two of them came to you secretly and presented an argument that some of the guards were involved with the stalker. Last night – last night wasn't a test for the Council members – it was for us!"
"I swear that I will give you all an apology that is fit for believing such a reprehensible accusation," vowed Aragorn as his chest tightened. What if that was too much to ask of them? No! The last time he'd doubted the faith of his guards had led them into the current disaster; now he needed to trust in their devotion to the children if nothing else. "However, at the moment Eldarion, Laurelin, and the babies can't wait for that long an apology to get over with before anyone comes to their rescue. Do it for them, do it for my husband who never really believed that you were involved, if you find that you cannot do it for me."
If they were honest with themselves – and they were – Beren and most of the other guards found that they couldn't really fault their king for his doubts in their loyalties once they were able to look past their outrage and hurt feelings. Without knowing about the secret passageways that apparently lined the walls of the royal quarters all of the excuses they'd been giving for not finding the stalker sooner were very weak. After all, it was very difficult to believe that anyone could be too sneaky to catch when they were carrying around a large bouquet of irila flowers or piles of clean diapers, especially when said "presents" were left so close (or inside) the bedchambers there. And how many people could – nay, should – have believed that a guard would thoroughly check the prince consort's bedchamber for intruders and completely miss the Man lurking in the wardrobe? What about the story of the suspect just vanishing? They knew how all of that happened now, but without that knowledge a reasonable person couldn't help but conclude that only the incredibly suspect or hopelessly incompetent would come up with excuses like that.
"I cannot speak for the others," declared Beren, "but as for myself I shall do it for all of you."
A murmur of general agreement ran through the crowd of guards. "As shall we all," added Mardil determinedly.
Aragorn flashed them a smile, one that was void of all good humor but still grateful and kind nonetheless. "And I will never forget it," he promised sincerely. Straightening up his back and squaring his shoulders he started barking out orders: "You three, stay here with Beren and obey him in however he decides to interrogate the ladies. I mean it, Beren: I trust to your judgment in that respect; but do keep in mind that time is crucial and in short supply. Lord Malvegil, you are not to leave until Beren in satisfied that he's gotten everything that he can get from you. The rest of you are to come with me."
He marched at once to the door. Legolas was at his side almost immediately and everyone else followed a split second later. "King Elessar?" asked one of the accompanying guards. "What are we to do? Where are we going?"
"We'll start outside of the walls of the city," decided Aragorn. Really, he hadn't had to think about that too hard; for he knew that no matter what the lords' intentions might be they would still have to at least leave Minas Tirith by the main gates. The few other, more secret entrances were constantly barred against people using them to go in and out unless in an emergency, and were not – for defensive reasons – not big enough to get anything larger than a single file of people out of anyway. Certainly a cart full of sleeping children wouldn't fit. "From there we will either be reunited with the children or else start tracking them."
"We will find them," added Legolas, not because his instincts told him that they would but because he didn't even want to entertain the possibility of what would happen if they didn't. He clutched his stomach as the feeling of thousands of figurative butterflies flapping in there intensified for a few seconds. "We must find them. Anything else is unthinkable."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
The world outside of the city walls were notably quiet compared to the bustle that usually went on within the seven levels of Minas Tirith – especially after the previous night's extreme example of chaos and noise. It was such a striking contrast that it felt almost unnatural. Neither of the older Men who were driving along in a plain, unremarkable little cart were complaining, though. Both of them welcomed the chance to have the opportunity to actually listen to their own thoughts; and Eärnil and Tanondor both had plenty of thoughts, different though that they were from each other's.
Lord Tanondor had taken the first turn at the reins, guiding the horses steadily along until they'd gone out of the city gates and beyond. After some time had elapsed, Eärnil, who was seated beside him, twisted around to watch the White City vanish from his line of vision. When the White Tower of Ecthelion dipped below the horizon line he let out a sigh and turned back, falling against the back of the uncomfortable wooden bench. "We're out of sight from the city," he reported.
"Good," said Tanondor, slowing the horses down to a walk. "Then we should give our good beasts of burden a brief respite. We wouldn't want them to be going so fast that we end up overshooting King Thranduil and Lord Gimli on the path anyway. Do you have a clue as to how much further it is until we reach the rendezvous point?"
"A few more miles at least," replied Eärnil distractedly. He twisted his body again, this time to reach behind them to the back of the cart where a large blanket had been strategically placed to hide their precious cargo. With a careful flourish he pulled it away, revealing the slumbering faces of the prince and princesses. "It should be safe enough to take this off of them now. The sun has risen and it is already a hot enough day; I wouldn't want them to get overheated."
Not a peep came from Eldarion and Laurelin when they were exposed to the brightness of the sun; and Gilraen and Meren only stirred a little before settling back down again in their baskets. "It's so quiet," noted Tanondor in a soft voice. "Are they still asleep?"
"Yes, the poor things," clucked Eärnil sympathetically. He stretched out his arm to pat the closest one – Laurelin – on the head fondly. The little girl simply sighed in her sleep and gave no more response. "I'm amazed – I never imagined Prince Eldarion or Princess Laurelin to be such heavy sleepers! – but I'm glad for it too. It's best that they get a little bit of peace now, as it will be more elusive in the near future. They will not be happy when they open their eyes and find that they can't go home."
"But surely King Elessar and Prince Legolas would have told them about this possibility," debated Tanondor.
"Oh, I'm certain of that; but I doubt that the children actually believed that it would really come to this," countered Eärnil with his years of wisdom at being a father. "Most children have the tendency to believe that their parents will always be around and that home will always be a haven."
Tanondor's brow creased in confusion. "Even after all that happened to them there?" he wondered. "Surely after being attacked and all they must know that the king and prince can't protect them and that Minas Tirith is now a dangerous place to be."
"It's often more complicated than that," said Eärnil, not sure if he approved of what his friend had just said and implied. He couldn't think of anything else that King Elessar and Prince Legolas could have done to make their children safer and he doubted that Tanondor could either. "Besides, the distance from their parents will be what really bothers them. Why, my own daughter found it very difficult to leave our home when she got married and she was only moving to another house in the city."
"I suppose it's something that a father would understand," commented Tanondor quietly. "I wouldn't know about that."
Eärnil looked at his old friend closely. Of course he knew all about Tanondor's wife being barren – it was difficult not to hear about such things in a court setting – but he'd never known him to speak about it so openly before. In fact, had it not been for the common assumption that every nobleman wants children so that he has someone to pass his name, blood, and fortunes on to the Man would have thought that he didn't care if he never became a father. "You may yet," Eärnil told him kindly. "Your wife is much younger than you, after all, and is not past her child-bearing years yet."
"We've tried," said Tanondor in a voice that was hard for Eärnil to read.
"Don't give up," the other Man urged him. "Stranger things have happened – why, you just have to look at our young passengers for proof of that!"
"Yes, the children are proof of something," replied Tanondor, gazing back at them ponderously. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately and now I think that I've finally come up with a reason why the efforts of myself and my wife have come to no avail. The children here are evidence that I am right, and that it is love that solely creates a new life."
The other lord nodded wordlessly, though not because he agreed with that assessment; he knew far too many people who didn't seem capable of anything more than lust having large, sometimes unacknowledged, broods. Rather, he nodded because Tanondor was acting – well, quite odd. The cart was barely crawling along by now and, despite the need to press on, the Man was actually pulling on the reins and making the horses halt altogether.
"I do not love my wife," confessed Tanondor. His face was almost alight with anticipation and his tone was eager; it seemed to Eärnil that he was finally saying things that he'd been longing to say for a great deal of time. "I think that is why I was never able to become a father; the love that was needed to make a new life was never present. Scoff if you want, Eärnil, but it's true; you love your wife and through that you created your daughter."
"I do love her," conceded Eärnil stiffly.
"I didn't realize how powerful something like that is," Tanondor went on excitedly. "Now I've seen what happens when two people who are truly in love join bodies – the energy, the power, the beauty of it alone would be able to give a person the ability to do anything if they knew how to harness it. You should see King Elessar and Prince Legolas make love – I never thought I'd say this, but the way that they do it should be considered a form of art."
"I beg your pardon?" asked Eärnil in a clipped tone, outraged only slightly because he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing and what it meant.
"I saw them once, when I was in the secret corridor that starts in the meeting hall," explained Tanondor, not really comprehending his friend's growing confusion and alarm. "Do you remember the days when Cirion used to go on about being certain that they were doing something so 'disgusting' in there? Well, I've seen it with my own eyes and I say that there's nothing objectionable about it. King Elessar looked so majestic and strong; and Prince Legolas has never looked more beautiful than he did when he submitted so completely to the king like that. Cirion would ramble on about the prince being more like a willful love, caring about his own needs and pleasure, than a submissive spouse, but he didn't see the way that Prince Legolas so selflessly pleasured King Elessar with his mouth and body! Cirion would have eaten his own words had he ever seen the prince as I have."
His expression suddenly clouded over. "He would have liked to have seen that, and more," he said with quiet malice. "I know this. One day he came over to my house to rant away as usual about how the prince enthralled King Elessar when he confessed his dirty little secret. Do you know what that was, Eärnil? He told me that he understood the king's attraction because if Prince Legolas ever offered himself to him he would accept and take him with relish! The disloyalty of it all! And I had to sit there and listen to him lust after a person who was in love with his spouse after I had to lose her to him."
"Tanondor," said Eärnil cautiously, unconsciously inching away from him, "you've stopped making sense awhile ago. You actually spied on the king and prince during an intimate moment? And who is this 'her', and what does she have to do with that invasion of privacy?"
"Do you not remember that I attempted to court Lady Almarian before she became Cirion's wife?" asked Tanondor. A wistful smile came to his face, as if he were peering back through the years at a more innocent time. "I could have created many children with her, so deep did my love run. It still does, in fact; perhaps that is why I could never bring myself to love my wife. Yet Lady Almarian loved Cirion and married him, created a child with him too, even though he was such a wretch. He couldn't have loved her nearly as much as I did – maybe that's why Lady Nienor turned out so poorly. Oh Eärnil, I'm glad that they're both dead! Now I can set things right for Lady Almarian."
Dear Valar, he was insane. A slow sinking feeling came over Eärnil as it dawned that he, the king, the prince, the guards, and everyone else had all been set up. "What do you mean by that?" he wondered, quietly dreading the answer.
"Love is a strange emotion – it can hurt as well as it can heal," explained Tanondor. "Lady Almarian loved the wrong Man and what came forth from that hurt people. King Elessar and Prince Legolas are very much in love but that has hurt others as well. Now, the lady has paid a prince disproportionate to what she did – she was exiled though she did nothing, lost her family, and now is all alone. How have the king and prince atoned for how their love hurt others – hurt her? They too must pay; they must give up their children to her so that she won't be alone anymore."
"It was you all along, wasn't it?" asked Eärnil in horror, although he already knew the answer. "You're the stalker! Did you honestly think that I'd let you get away with it? Well, I won't! Come, Prince Eldarion! Princess Laurelin! Wake up at once – we must leave!"
Tanondor watched him with passive eyes. "That won't work," he said, eerily calm. "I gave them a strong sleeping potion in their water. It should keep them unconscious until they reach their new life."
"This is insane!" blurted out Eärnil passionately. "It won't work, Tanondor. By the Valar, if you're so concerned about Lady Almarian being lonely why didn't you just leave to go to her by yourself? Why are you trying to drag the prince and princesses into it?"
"She is too old to bear any more children so they will be our children," said Tanondor decisively. "She deserves to have some good children after the bad seed that Cirion gave her."
"Stand down, Tanondor," ordered Eärnil authoritatively. "You may not be thinking properly but what you're doing is wrong. I am placing you under arrest in the name of the king of Gondor."
Tanondor dropped the reins to turn and look at him sadly. "I am sorry that it's come to this," he lamented. "King Elessar and Prince Legolas are good people; I don't like bringing them such agony but it has to be done. And you've been my friend for scores of years – would that this was not necessary!"
Before Eärnil could react, the insane lord pulled out a knife from under his cloak. Eärnil only had the time to register that its handle bore the symbol of the king before the pain of having it plunged into his body overwhelmed his senses. "May it be a comfort to know that doing this pains me greatly," whispered Tanondor; then he pulled the knife back to him and pushed Eärnil out of the cart.
Tucking the knife back into its hiding place, Tanondor retook the reins, steered the horses in a different directions, and sped off, leaving his old friend bleeding on the ground in his dust.
To be continued…