These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

With special thanks to Raksha.

For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
How some have been deposed, some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,
Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed—
All murdered; for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court,

William Shakespeare (1564–1616), British poet. King Richard II (III, ii).

Faramir gave a sharp intake of breath and cold fury suddenly animated his grief dulled eyes." Those who did this monstrous deed must be caught and punished." he said in a tone of voice that Aedred had never heard the gentle natured Steward use before.

"To kill a king is indeed the most monstrous of crimes!" Aedred agreed. "Not only is Prince Eldarion left without a father but the whole of Gondor is left without her rightful sire."

The healer's well meant comment brought a lump to the Steward's throat. Aragorn had indeed been as a true father to him, the most caring of sires, who had freely given him all the love that his own father had lavished solely upon Boromir.

"Did the King suffer much do you think?" Fearful that his emotions would betray him, Faramir abruptly changed the subject and this time his tone was almost pleading.

Aedred hesitated for a moment. "If the blow to the head caused him to lose consciousness at once, he would not have done," he said at last. "We can only hope that was how it happened."

Faramir closed his eyes for a moment but gave no other sign of emotion. "Did you learn anything else from the body?" he asked.

"Only that it belonged to healthy male who was about forty years old, but I know the King's Numenorean heritage would make him only appear to be that age." Aedred replied, stroking his blonde beard thoughtfully. "He was well nourished and healthy but the body was too badly damaged to tell if he bore any scars, or even if he were bruised before entering the water. Of the King's state of health when alive, I knew very little. There was once when he collapsed, I tried to tend to him but he recovered before I had much chance to examine him.

Knowing that could only have been when Aragorn had saved his life after he was beaten in prison but a few months before, Faramir gripped the edge of the desk tightly. He wondered bleakly if Aragorn would have been stronger to resist attack if he had expended less of his precious life energy on him.

"Now, my lord, if you would excuse me, I have many fever victims needing my help who lie sick in the Houses of Healing," Aedred remarked, sensing his need for privacy.

"Of course, the King would not have wished otherwise." Faramir replied, grateful for the healer's tact. "I must be on my way too, to tell the Queen of the death of her husband."

"I offer my condolences to the poor lady and pledge my support to King Eldarion. Eomer King will be most distressed when he hears these grievous tidings. He thought very highly of King Elessar, I know." Aedred said gravely. Dipping his head, as a sign of respect to the effective ruler of Gondor, he then turned and left the room.

Knowing he should examine the King's effects before giving them to Aragorn's widow, Faramir pulled the parcel towards him. He opened it with a shudder.

The jewellery was in a separate smaller parcel on top of the clothing. He opened that first, tipping the Ring of Barahir, and Aragorn's Elven pledge ring out on to the palm of his hand.

Of Aragorn's Ring of State, there was no sign. It was a most unusual ring, which bore an ingenious Elvish device to prevent any but the King using it, as the stone had to be turned in a certain way before the seal was usable. Maybe Aragorn had taken it off before going to the Houses of Healing though that was unlike him? On the other hand, perhaps the thieves had taken it not knowing its significance? The Elessar was missing too, but that was hardly surprising, as any thief would realise how valuable it was, though its true worth was apparent to one man only.

He turned his attention to the clothes, though he could hardly bear to handle them. Only a few days before they had covered his King, who now reduced to a bloated corpse, who was now currently undergoing the grisly attentions of the embalmers.

The familiar garments were badly stained and torn but still instantly recognisable, the black velvet tunic, embroidered with the White Tree of Gondor. Aragorn had several of these, which he always wore in public, each with a slightly different design and all embroidered by Arwen's own hand.

Then a shirt of scarlet silk, of the kind that had saved the King from a severe arrow injury a less than a year ago. This time it had not sufficed to save him from death.

The plain black breeches were unremarkable but of fine quality wool, while the drawers likewise were of finest linen.

The boots still dripped water over Faramir's desk, though attempts had obviously been made to dry them without causing them to disintegrate.

For safekeeping, and maybe also as an attempt to feel closer to the man he had loved and worshipped, Faramir placed the two rings on a chain he wore round his neck, adding them to the gold charm of a horse Eowyn had given him.

Wrapping the pathetic remnants of clothing up again, Faramir started to weep afresh. Blowing his nose determinedly; he bade a servant summon an escort to ride out with him and slowly made his way to the stables.

As he had done ever since the day Aragorn disappeared, he paused at Roheryn's stall to give him a titbit and rub his soft muzzle while whispering words in Elvish to him.

The proud stallion would need exercising soon and he would have to ask the Queen if should he ride him or not .If only Eowyn were here as she was truly gifted with horses. He could tell that Roheryn was missing his master and wondered if he somehow knew he was dead, and that soon he would walk riderless in his funeral procession.

Sighing, he gave him a final pat and then told the stable boy to move him to the more spacious stables outside the city gates, hoping that maybe he would pine less for his master there.

He then saddled Iavas, who occupied the next stall, waving aside the stable boy. He preferred to do it himself as the beautiful chestnut mare, that Eomer had gifted him on his wedding day, was his pride and joy. He found it soothing to perform such everyday tasks on her.

Once mounted, he rode out into the yard to await the escort who were already gathering.

Since thebattle that had almost killed him, he had not served actively in the army,though he remained as third in command after the King and his Uncleand he liked to keep a keen eye on the men who served the King and himself. These soldiers were young, little more than lads, who had taken the places of their elders slain in the war. That was, apart from the one, who was their Captain, Anborn, who had been one of his rangers in Ithilien.

The group set off, the cheerful winter sunshine seeming to mock their melancholy errand. Faramir was surprised at how his spirits lifted once they left the City behind and began the gallop across the Pellenor.

Such was the mental bond between the King and himself; he had always assumed that if anything happened to Aragorn, he would know at the very instant it did. He felt deeply ashamed that he had not known until shown the corpse of his beloved friend.

How he had cherished the gift of being able to share thoughts with Aragorn! He had been denied the opportunity to enjoy the gift of his Race for so long. Now he would never again the beauty of that unique intimacy, for even if Elestelle had the ability, it would require a unique closeness as well as him living until she reached maturity. Something he greatly doubted would happen now, for once the full impact of Aragorn's loss sunk in, surely his heart would break.

Already he felt desperately lonely without the King. Much as he loved and desired Eowyn, they had very little in common apart their deep love for each other. Faramir had loved both his wife and Aragorn equally, albeit in very different ways and he had felt complete with Eowyn as his cherished wife and the mother of his child,while Aragorn had beome both father and brother to him. Between them, they had formed the mainstays of his existence and made him feel complete for the first time in his life.

He loved books, Elvish lore, Numenorean history, and Gondor while Eowyn was interested in none of those, whereas Aragorn was. She was as outgoing, as he was shy and reserved; she preferred to go riding while he sat reading, and found books boring and would much rather practise sword fighting, which he only did out of duty.

They had learned to tolerate and even celebrate their differences. Eowyn had been delighted that Aragorn had given her husband the intellectual companionship that she could not, whereas Aragorn had delighted in the way that Eowyn encouraged her husband to take more exercise and not think until he tied himself in knots over some obscure problem with no answer to it. Eowyn's keen tongue and sense of humour had kept Faramir from retreating inside his shell.

Eowyn had always found the Numenorean mental gifts somewhat disconcerting yet had been relieved that Faramir had found a kindred spirit to share them with. Although it was only chance, that had prevented her inheriting the same gifts from her grandmother, she was extremely thankful she had not and already told Faramir that she wondered how she would react if Elestelle grew up to have visions, see the future and read thoughts.

Faramir was jolted out of his reverie by a strong sensation that they were being followed. He sensed danger much as he had done the last night of Aragorn's life when he had held his exhausted friend in his arms.

He knew the lords of the Council were curious concerning the whereabouts of the Queen and Eldarion. When he had left the Council Chamber after announcing Aragorn's death, they had clamoured after him with questions to which he had replied that the Queen must be left to grieve in peace, and that she would return for the funeral. He had no wish for half the Council to turn up on his doorstep and pester Arwen while she mourned her husband.

They were now approaching a thickly wooded copse and Faramir led his men into the dense woodland following the path though the skeletal winter foliage until they came to a thicket of evergreens.

He called Anborn to one side, while evaluating the horses the men rode, looking for a chestnut like Iavas. These were all fairly docile horses from the Royal Mews, available to any soldier who needed a mount. To his relief, he recognised Chessie amongst them, a mare of far less breeding but similar appearance to Iavas.

"I think we are maybe being followed," he told Anborn " I need you to change clothes with me, as we are of similar build and colouring. Exchange mounts with the man riding Chessie as she could pass for Iavas and I shall go on alone. You take your men in another direction to throw off the pursuers.

"Yes sir, I fear for the poor Queen and her babe, or the new King, as I should say." Anborn was already divesting himself of his cloak and tunic.

"The fever is a grave threat to us all." Faramir replied, doing likewise but first removing the broach Aragorn had given him, which he used as fasten for his cloak, and giving Anborn back his own pin.

"I wasn't thinking of the fever, begging your pardon, sir," Anborn replied, "These are dangerous times for a young babe to hold the throne, though I pledge my loyalty to him unreservedly .Be careful, Lord Faramir, as you obviously plan to go on alone. You are the actual ruler of our beloved land until Eldarion comes of age!"

"That is for the Council to decide." Faramir said shortly, "Now ride out of here in a close group, so if we truly have pursuers, they will not notice one missing for a while."

Waiting, concealed in the thicket for a few minutes while they left, a sudden and terrible thought struck Faramir. What if Aragorn's death had not been the work of mindless thugs but a carefully targeted assassination? Why had he not thought of it before? It seemed even the lowliest soldiers who knew nothing of the facts were fearful for Eldarion's safety?

He had been so wrapped in his own grief that he had failed to realise that Arwen and Eldarion could be in grave danger. How long would it take before the assassins if such they were, realised that they were staying at his home? That would mean Eowyn and Elestelle were in danger too!

Satisfying himself that there were no pursuers currently in sight, he rode like the wind for Emyn Arnen.

TBC

A/N

A very big thank you for all your kind reviews. I am so pleased to see my faithful readers back and to welcome some new ones too.

I borrowed Caranthir (with permission) for my previous story as I did not feel confident to write a healer, but as my readers liked Aedred, I decided to create my own Warden of the Houses of Healing too.

I intend this story to be at least as long as "Shadow and Thought" but much will depend on the level of interest and if I feel compelled to write more chapters as I did in "Burden of Guilt". You will have to wait and see whether this is a detective story about "Who killed Aragorn and will Eldarion's throne be secured?" or something different entirely!