The casement was narrow, but even so the midday sun managed to penetrate it, fustian on her features. Roshni turned her face away once more, sighing as she ran a hand through her hair. It was tight in her cell. No doubt the King had intended to at least make the situation livable for the time being, but she could not come to terms with being constricted, even for a short time. Roshni loved the freedom of her homeland; the vast, empty regions of the desert filling her heart with an insatiable longing.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the click and turn of a lock. She looked up, fear (though she was loathe to show it) in her eyes as the shadows of two burly soldiers flooded the door.
"Come with us," the larger one commanded. Roshni made no move to comply. They stepped inside and pulled her to her feet, half-dragging her from the cell.
Roshni winced as their grip tightened on both her arms. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Asli walking obediently. She inadvertently made eye contact with Roshni, and then glanced away, seemingly agitated. Roshni tightened her lips involuntarily. So, Asli had given them up.
Roshni stepped carefully over the muck in the walkway as much as her guards would physically give her leave. It wasn't that difficult to do because they were nearly a foot taller than she and practically picked her up.
She had lived here just slightly less than a week, yet her feet seemed to know the paths, following them without hesitation. Her brow furrowed suddenly as she met something she did not recognize. She raised her eyes apprehensively to see Faramir standing there, his arms crossed.
"Here to play again, my liege," she said mockingly. "But it seems this game is different than the others."
Faramir's expression remained stolidly unchanged as he surveyed her. "Put them in separate rooms," he ordered their guards.
As Roshni was turned away, he met Asli's gaze, questioning her silently. She stood undecidedly for a moment. Conflict played across her face like a theater. How would Roshni take the news? For all she knew, it could backfire. But at last, resignedly, she nodded.
Faramir stepped to his left, catching the door before the guard shut it. "Make certain I am not interrupted."
At the guard's nod, Faramir shut the door behind him. When he faced around again, Roshni met his gaze defiantly.
"So, do you still think I can do nothing but knit?"
"The cut on your cheek is healing well."
She reached up subconsciously to her face, touching the result of her brazen actions in this room several days ago. "You are a most peculiar interrogator."
"Fortunately for all of us I have not come here today to interrogate you."
She laughed shortly. "Then what is your purpose?"
"You said, once, that the Haradrim fought nobly and for a just cause. I ignored it then – because I quite misjudged your ability to handle pain. But Asli told me much the same. And she is not like you," he said, leaning over the table. "No, she is not so guarded, so hardened as you. What did the War do to you, Roshni?" He asked softly. "What do you wish you could take back?"
Roshni averted her eyes, her breathing quickening. Memories flashed through her mind. A figure, falling…
He half-smiled, triumphant. "I have a way for you to amend whatever it is you wish. You see, Asli told me something, something that will have a great deal of impact on you. You do not fight on the side of the just. That much I knew all along. But now…I know that you did not know it either."
Roshni's narrowed her eyes, thinking this to be a trick. Why else the cloak-and-dagger method of questioning her? "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Sauron lied to you. He lied to your people long ago, seeing that you were valuable to his cause. He told Ar-Pharazon that Ilúvatar was a lie. Is that not true?"
"Ilúvatar is a lie," she said vehemently. She knew it! He was trying to trick her. "It is he, and not Sauron, who is false. Sauron saved our people from our confinement, unjust vassals that we were. He opened our eyes." She made a last-ditch effort to prove him wrong. "Besides, you have no proof." Her expression was cocky, daring him to say otherwise.
At this Faramir looked troubled, but not for himself. Quietly now he spoke. "Asli told me that you would take it this way, that you would not believe it." He pulled a scroll from the satchel he had brought along, laying it in front of Roshni. "Here are correspondences from one of our men who had infiltrated the Tower. He was caught and killed – but before, intercepted many messages."
Roshni bent her head suspiciously, not sure what to expect. She began to read. She unfolded the scroll easily, line after line trudging before her eyes. Her breath caught anew. Faramir was silent as he waited for her response.
Many minutes had passed when at last Roshni looked up, a tear trickling down her cheek. She rolled the scroll up noiselessly and handed it to Faramir, her countenance gone of its former arrogance.
"I cannot believe it is true. I remember the man in that scroll well," she whispered. "He was slain in remuneration for his disloyalty – but he was not. It is my people who were lied to, my people who were in the wrong." She turned and looked Faramir in the eye with an intensity he had not seen there before.
"I wished to confirm the truth; that you did not know the gravity of your actions. Now I hope you will aid Gondor," he said quietly.
"I just found out that I have been slighted and betrayed my entire life, Faramir," she said, her voice growing stronger. "I will certainly help you to defeat the one who carries on in Sauron's wake – if it is the last thing I do."
Aragorn put a finger to his lips conspiratorially as he led Arwen by the hand to a little-known side door of the city. Arwen giggled. He was acting like a little child, and she loved it.
He stopped abruptly, peering up at the door. "Now what was that darn spell?" He complained in mock annoyance. "I might have to knock your head against the door, Arwen, if I can't remember." He grinned and ducked as she swatted him.
"Oh stop, don't make fun of Gandalf," she admonished, but her tone was playful.
Aragorn ran his fingers over the stones, finding the one he sought. Pressing it, the nearly invisible door swung open quietly.
"Come on!" He whispered.
Together they ran over the grassy ground, heading for their usual spot, a grove of cherry trees. In the spring it was most beautiful, the pink blossoms flowering and falling to the ground. They twisted and flitted in the breeze as though alive, creating a soft blanket on the ground.
Arwen's eyes darted around in mock seriousness as she 'scouted' the area for people who might see them leave. "I think we're safe, Aragorn!"
They plopped down, seeing the White City from just half a league off. It was a glorious day, a perfect day to sneak away from their duties for a much-needed reprieve.
"How was the Council meeting, love?"
Aragorn groaned. "Please, let's not talk about that. I would hate for business to ruin one of the few times we get away."
Arwen raised an eyebrow knowingly. "Let me guess. Another spat."
Aragorn nodded mutely, wondering what he was going to do about those women. He sighed as he thought of what a disaster it had been that morning. He had thought if he assigned Faramir to the morning interrogation, that perhaps the two of them would not fight. But he had been wrong.
It had started out innocuously enough. It had been a closed-Council meeting, meaning that there were only the five of them there – Saeldur, Calanon, Ayala, Eowyn, and himself. The main topic of discussion had been what to do with the prisoners. Namely, execution.
"I believe it would be wise to execute the duumvirs as soon as possible," Eowyn commented. "We may get the same information from the women as the men. In addition, public sentiment is clamoring for it. It could get out of hand quite soon if nothing is done."
"How can you be so sure that the women had access to that sort of sensitive intelligence?" Ayala had asked, a arrogant smile on her face. "True, they were high in the hierarchy, and certainly did not spend their entire lives oblivious to politics, but in the interest of safeguarding their secrets in instances such as these, the duumvirs probably did not tell them everything."
"Faramir has been interrogating them for a week now," Eowyn replied evenly, not intending to spark Ayala's ire. "At this point, he seems to think the women know as much as the men – and men are harder to break, it seems, in this case." She hated to sound as though she thought men were superior, but it was apparently true when it came to extracting information.
"Really, Eowyn, and you are qualified to make judgments about Faramir's thoughts?" Ayala questioned, a touch of satire in her voice.
"I believe in this case I am," she replied archly.
"Look, you have hard feelings towards Faramir. That is completely all right. But just because you two had a bad break-up does not excuse your blatant disregard for national security. One might even go so far as to say that you are advocating execution just to get back – "
Eowyn leaped up from her seat, her eyes flashing. "Do not bring relationships into this discussion, Ayala," she said, emphasis on each word. "It is far riskier to keep them alive, with the potential to harm us, than anything else."
"Prison security is tight, and it could greatly help our country to use them against the enemy. A week is not much time to break them. I know this technique was used with Grima and it worked out fairly well – "
"The only reason it worked, even for a short time, is because Aragorn baited him with i me /i , and in the end he killed Saruman, the very person we were trying to get to. So, do me a favor, and don't revise history I i lived /i through!"
"All right, enough!" Calanon broke in sharply, frustration showing in his tone. "This is not the time. Aragorn, what do you think?"
Aragorn was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. He turned subtly to look Saeldur in the eye, who nodded with his eyes. "I believe they should be executed. I do not see how the men could aid us, anyhow. The women will tell us what we wish to know, and we must prevent public discord. This is the most viable option."
Eowyn smiled, almost triumphantly. Ayala looked a bit dejected, but quickly schooled her features. If Eowyn wanted to be immature, then let her, but she would not be dragged into her childish games!
"Schedule it for sunrise," Aragorn's voice broke into her thoughts. "And now, Council is adjourned, for today, anyways."
Arwen touched his arm, interrupting his reverie. "You do not have to talk about it, Aragorn," she said softly. "Let's just enjoy the day."
After he was certain the women had been returned to their holding cells, Faramir strode quickly outside the jail, heading for the citadel. He had to inform Aragorn of this news and stay the execution.
It was nary ten minutes later when at last he reached the door. Invisible guards swung it open to admit him. He walked purposefully to where he knew Aragorn would be sitting, his leather boots making no cacophonous noise.
He stopped short, puzzled. There was no one at the throne.
Aragorn had said he would be in the city today, Faramir mused. He knows it is
essential that his whereabouts be known. So he must be here.
But it was the middle of the day. Faramir brightened with this revelation. That must be it! The King and Queen are probably eating lunch. Relieved, he headed toward the dining hall. The oak doors swung open at his light touch.
It was empty.
Faramir's brow furrowed. It was too early to be at a Council meeting. Usually the Council, if they met at all, met after dinner.
He thought hard, starting to get nervous. He paused. It was sunny out. Sometimes when he had no other pressing duties, Aragorn would take a short ride.
Faramir hurried out the door, hardly acknowledging the people he passed in the street. The stone walls and buildings seemed to blur as his mind concentrated on what was before him.
The compact stable loomed into view. A good deal of activity was taking place around it as stable hands led horses to and fro, watering them or cooling them off from earlier riders' workouts. Whinnies echoed from inside, horses that wanted their stable mates back. Ahead, Faramir caught sight of a tall, dark haired figure standing near the doorway, taking the lead of a gray mare from one of the stable boys. He must have heard Faramir's approach, for he turned and smiled widely.
"Ho, Faramir, what brings you here at this time of day? Perhaps you would like to join me for a ride." He clapped him on the shoulder. "I had intended to try this mare today."
Faramir tried to choke back ire at conversing not with the King, but with the Chief of the Guard. "I apologize, my friend, but I cannot. I am on business. Have you seen the King?"
Saeldur shook his head slowly. "I have not seen him since the Council this morning." Misreading the look in Faramir's eyes, he continued. "I am sure he's fine, Faramir."
Faramir's mind reeled. This morning? What was Aragorn doing in a Council meeting this morning? "Yes, I am certain he is fine, but it is of the utmost importance that I locate him."
"I cannot help you there, Faramir. Look, go to the Bureau. He may have left his itinerary there." Without waiting for a reply, he whistled to one of the stable boys. "Do bring Prince Faramir a horse, boy," he called.
Faramir mounted up, gathering the reins. He visually contained his worry and thanked Saeldur as he pulled the horse to leave. "Good luck with the mare, Saeldur."
"Good luck with finding the King, Faramir," he called as he watched them disappear. Saeldur turned and shrugged as tightened the girth, patting her affectionately. Faramir got a bit too worked up sometimes.
Faramir heeled the horse into a canter, barely avoiding the people in the streets. The horse's hooves clacked on the ground as he snorted, wanting to extend his pace. Faramir murmured softly to slow him, not wanting the horse to fatigue too quickly.
The sun had moved slightly across the sky when at last Faramir pulled up in front of the Bureau, tossing the reins of his horse to the waiting servant. Usually he would stop and converse with the people in the halls, but today he barely gave them a passing glance. Some of the more sensitive ones looked a bit hurt, and others merely shrugged and continued on their way. All for the best, Faramir thought.
Faramir was agitated. It should not have been so difficult to locate the King. Today was an extremely important day. He should know better than to wander off, even if he did have the authority to do so. Faramir sighed in frustration. Aragorn was experienced enough to know that when captives were being interrogated, he should be available to receive updated information.
Ayala looked up at the sound of footsteps and saw Faramir striding towards the desks. "Faramir, what might I do for you?" Her smile turned to a frown when she saw his expression.
"Have you any notion as to where the King is?"
"Not really," she replied, but he saw a twinge of guilt on her face.
"Ayala, do not lie to me. I know you better than that." He crossed his arms.
"I do not know where he is without good reason."
Faramir took her arm and pulled her aside, out of earshot of the other employees. True, they were busy enough that likely they would not notice, but he could not take the risk.
"You cannot tell anyone this right now." He lowered his voice. "I went to speak with Roshni today, after you gave me the documents."
"It was true," Ayala breathed. "To think one of our greatest foes could have been our greatest ally!" At that moment realization hit her, and she moaned softly. "Eru, the execution is already scheduled."
Faramir's eyes widened. "For sunset?"
She bit her lip, her voice almost a whisper now. "Yes. They went to the grove of cherry trees outside of the city. Wait at the gate, and you will likely see them coming in."
"Thank you!" Faramir bent over to kiss her lightly before turning and moving off. "Ayala, Aragorn must get this message."
She nodded. Certainly she did not want to be responsible for the premature deaths of two of the most important political prisoners. "I will put some of my people on locating him right away should your venture fall through."
Faramir nodded and walked away briskly. This was his last chance to prevent disaster.
Arwen fingered the grass absentmindedly, staring off into the distance. The sun was beginning to set. Just then she became conscious of how long she and Aragorn had been gone. She had hardly noticed amongst their laughter, but now a peaceful silence had ensued.
She twisted to her left, taking in his profile. His hair, not yet streaked with silver, fell in short raven waves to his shoulders. His face, once unlined and young, was grave with the matters of a kingdom. She brushed her lips against his, murmuring softly.
"We should get back to the city, Aragorn. Our presence is required at executions, however gruesome they may be."
Aragorn sighed. He did not really want to have the men killed, but really, he had no choice. Eowyn was right. It caused a pang in him. Despite all his years as a warrior, killing all opponents – he had never liked it. Especially this. It isn't really fair, he mused. At least in battle they have a chance. Execution, well, they're dead men walking. Then he reminded himself that the prisoners had fought in a battle – and lost. Yes, what had to be done had to be done.
"You are right, as usual, my love," he said, the timbre of his voice husky with regret. "I only wish there was another way."
She smiled sadly. "'So do all who live to see such times', as Gandalf saith." It hurt her to see him so weighed down with worry. She brushed hair away from his face tenderly. "Let us count ourselves blessèd simply to have spent such a lovely afternoon in each other's company, as rarely occurs."
He nodded. "I will feel much better when this day is over. But come, let us return."
It was a twenty-minute walk, at great speed. Together they rose to return to Minas Tirith.
Mazhar wrenched his arm away from his captors, spinning to face them. He pulled his hand back to land a blow, but the guard's quick reflexes stopped it mid-air, the grip nearly crushing it. That guard smiled wryly.
"I may be a woman, but it would do you good not to underestimate me. Especially with Eglerion here." Bereth motioned to Zoltán's main escort.
"Nothing will do me good now," he muttered. Still, he realized the futility of his situation. He glanced at his surroundings, soaking up what of the city he could. It deeply saddened him that he could not have come here under better circumstances, that Gondor and Haradwaith could not have been allies. Nay, all this was but the result of a misunderstanding caused by none other than Sauron.
His eyes burned with anger as they raked the cobblestone streets. He blocked out the roar of the cheering crowd, no doubt they were mocking them. Why were he and his father-in-law being executed, if these people knew the truth? Did the mighty King of Gondor bow to popular demand?
Abruptly the noise of scuffling feet stopped. He half-turned to see Zoltán standing there. For a moment it was as though the mask of strength had fallen of Zoltán's face. There was something else there – was it? Mazhar's jaw clenched as he realized what it was. It was despair!
His throat tight, Mazhar followed his gaze and his heart nearly stopped.
The scaffolding was but thirty feet in front of them. The crowd, blood-lusty a moment before, grew quiet as Aragorn raised his hand. His countenance was grave as he spoke the words.
"Today, my people, we gather to witness an execution." He looked out over the crowd. "Long was Gondor oppressed by our foes, the Haradrim, even after the War of the Ring ended. Today, the duumvirs of that nation will pay the price for their insolence."
The crowd burst into applause, hoots and whistles filling the air as Mazhar and Zoltán were pushed up the stairs to the scaffolding.
Across and above the crowd, Roshni and Asli gaped at the sentence, grief hid behind veiled faces. Both were concealed from the horde of people behind the pillars, a small guard surrounding them even if they had desired to flee.
Asli could only stare in horror. She and Roshni had told Faramir the truth – the scoundrel! Had he not the fortitude to report to his superiors?
Asli had never defied anyone before. She was obedient and loving, her late father's only joy. She had never raised her voice to Mazhar, even in anger. She would not raise a hand to kill a firefly. So the rage and despair she felt now, rising in her, was ever the more poignant.
Roshni laid a hand on Asli's shoulder, startled to feel her shaking.
"Asli, Asli," she murmured, knowing that nothing she said could comfort her in her grief. She, too, felt like giving in, but she had always been the strong one, the one people leaned on. She could not break down now.
She could not understand it either.
Faramir raced down the streets, away from the gate, the sound of hooves clacking the only noise. He had first begun to realize something was really wrong when he noticed the houses were empty. There was no one in the streets. His heart sank when he heard a dull roar in the distance. That could mean only one thing. Still he wondered how Aragorn and Arwen had reentered the city without him knowing.
He dug his spurs into the tiring horse's sides, urging him on. The wind bit at his face, causing his eyes to tear. Impatiently he brushed it away, laying lower over the horse's back. He had to stop the execution, if it had not occurred already.
Hardly two minutes had past when he pulled up at the outset of the crowd. His spirits rose briefly as he saw that Mazhar and Zoltán were alive still. He tried to make use of his position in society by clearing a path through the crowd. Unfortunately, this proved futile.
"Excuse me, sir, excuse me, ma'am," he said, frustration in his tone. "I am Prince Faramir, let me through."
But the people barely seemed to notice him, so absorbed were they in the sight before them. He understood with something close to despair that he could never make it through the crowd this way in the next minute.
Thinking quickly, he noticed that the wrap-around balcony was not filled with people. Yes, he could go through there to reach Aragorn. Taking his belt, he scaled one of the pillars and began to run. Like hell.
The few servants still maintaining their duties shouted after him as he clambered through, pushing them out of the way on some occasions. He had no regard for anything but reaching the King, his concern overriding everything else. His surroundings faded as he focused on Aragorn, who was still making the characteristic pre-execution speech.
He was thirty feet away. He realized with horror the crowd had stopped even murmuring. That could mean only one thing.
He burst through the tiny guard surrounding Aragorn, skidding to a halt.
"No!"
Above the kneeling duumvirs, the executioner lifted his gleaming blade into the air.
u Note /u
When reviewing, I mainly want to know if you were yelling at Faramir to hurry up, and if Roshni and Asli were sad enough. Also, how was the argument between Ayala and Eowyn?