Chapter One

October 1st - Emyn Arnen

Bending stiffly from the waist, Willelmus set a glass of wine in front of his prince then, with studied silence, placed another alongside the plump hand of the law lord who sat as guest. Faramir's head dipped slightly, dismissing the chamberlain while his attention focused upon the vast figure seated opposite. Events were not turning out as planned.

A week ago, a minor circuit judge topped the list to hear the case of Nik the Uruk-hai. Now the man lay stricken by an unpleasant stomach ailment, leaving the in-all-ways colossal Lord Valthaur next in line. Everyone agreed that Nik's attack on his kidnapper would be excused as a clear instance of self-defence. Thus, asking the eminent, home-loving Valthaur to travel to Henneth Annûn for such a simple hearing seemed unwarranted; the Prince of Ithilien felt they were sending a sledgehammer to crack a hazelnut.

Leather groaned around the circumference of the law lord's belly as his belt attempted to yield to the slight movements involved in raising a glass and sampling its contents. A smile curled the corners of ample lips, and several chins rippled with appreciation.

"Excellent, my lord," Valthaur wheezed. "Yet another exotic taste for my palette. I envy the quality and diversity of your cellars."

Faramir nodded acknowledgement while reminding himself to thank Willelmus later. Despite the chamberlain's many faults, he could be relied upon to search amongst the racks of lesser wines to unearth a treasure worthy of this fastidious connoisseur. The prince wondered whether he should ask Willelmus to select several other bottles and then accompany Valthaur on the journey.

Sipping from his own drink, Faramir schooled his face against the wince that threatened when the acrid liquid assailed his tongue. He would have much preferred the refreshing tang of ale.

"I'm loath to inflict the inconvenience of this hearing upon you, Lord Valthaur. Any of the circuit judges could deal with it. Your skills are better suited to the complex cases scheduled for the city courts."

"Ah!" Valthaur lowered his glass and peered into it, inspecting the smoky elixir. "Beneath my dignity?"

The prince shook his head, but allowed Valthaur to speak on.

"Lord Goldur comes to no harm by travelling and hearing trials both small and large. It would do me good to get out for once, to breathe the air beyond the walls of Minas Tirith and Emyn Arnen, to see the simple lives of rural people."

Fat fingers wiggled emphasis to the rasping voice. "Besides, this should prove a ground-breaking case. In the months since we passed the legislation allowing orcs the same justice as other peoples, not one trial has been held where the accused was found innocent; not one trial has resulted from an orc actively seeking judgement. All cases have been of orcs arrested for wrongdoing. Now, at last, this Uruk-hai appeals to the laws of men. All the evidence suggests he is completely innocent. When he is exonerated, think of the influence that will have on others of orc-kind. They will see the even-handedness of the King's Justice. Then some, maybe many, will make the effort to live as law-abiding citizens."

Those sentiments lifted a slight weight from Faramir's shoulders. Of course Valthaur would leap, metaphorically, at the chance of presiding over such a significant event. It also eased the prince's astonishment at the law lord's ready agreement to leave his luxurious home for an extended period. Under normal circumstances the man could not be prised away from his collection of rare furnishings and artefacts, nor the unusual arboretum in the centre of his house where he grew … of all things … hollyhocks.

"I see your point. By the way, how are your flowers coming along?" Faramir nudged the conversation into informality.

An elf-like gleam danced in Valthaur's eyes at the mention of his hobby. "I've collected some promising seeds from the darkest plants I've grown. Every crop, by selective pollination, I manage a deeper purple. It should not be too much longer before I cultivate an almost-black variety."

The mention of pollination caused a brief image to flicker in Faramir's mind - Valthaur the bumblebee. Aside from size and lack of stripes, the resemblance definitely existed.

"That is interesting. Why did you decide on breeding hollyhocks rather than a rarer species?"

Listening to the law lord espouse the many virtues of the gangling mallow, from medicinal to the colouring qualities of the calyx, Faramir planned a course ahead. The Uruk-hai's hearing would be held on the twenty-fifth of October. Tomorrow, messengers must be sent out to inform witnesses of the date, giving them time to prepare and make the journey. Most of those involved in the original tragedy had sworn to be present. Lord Darien, the reformed orc hunter, and his men must travel the furthest, from the Silverbrook holding in the Blackroot Vale. Captain Halbarad, Sevilodorf and others from The Burping Troll, people the prince regarded with more than a little warmth, need only make the short trip to Henneth Annûn. Everything looked set to proceed smoothly, but still a shadow loomed: the Beorning.

Faramir smothered a sigh and raised his eyebrows at Valthaur's claim that hollyhocks helped ease chest problems; there appeared little evidence to support this as the man sucked whistling breaths around his words. Returning to his reverie, Faramir recalled meeting the little Uruk-hai, Nik, along with the daunting Russ Beorn, at the wedding of his Ranger captain, Halbarad and the lovely Elanna, now a Ranger in her own father's footsteps. Beornings were a law unto themselves: private, unpredictable folk who usually shunned gatherings. Nevertheless, Faramir held Russ and his kinsmen in high regard, and it suited both Prince and King, to have the skin-changer's keen senses guarding the otherwise deserted region of Nindalf.

His account of plant breeding complete, Valthaur tipped the last of his wine into his mouth. Faramir did likewise then smiled at the obese judge. A consummate professional with a mind sharper than an elven blade, Lord Valthaur would undoubtedly take the measure of the Beorning and know how to keep him sweet. A one or two-day hearing, then the skin-changer could return to his isolated farm in the company of his innocent Uruk-hai ward.

xxx

October 10th - Northern Ithilien

Halbarad, Captain of the small Ranger contingent posted at The Burping Troll, paused upon a flat grey stone. The flagstone served as a doorstep to the private quarters behind the workshop the elves had built adjacent to the inn. The warm glow of lamplight around the edges of the window's thick curtains signalled the occupants were within, but still he hesitated. The news he bore had held this long, certainly it would hold one more night. Give those within an evening of peace before being tossed into the maelstrom of anxiety his announcement was certain to create.

Then again, if it were suspected he delayed delivery of this information because of any desire to soften the news, a firestorm of indignation would be directed at him. Sevilodorf of Rohan was not a person to welcome such consideration, much preferring to face all of life's difficulties head on. Weighing the odds of the trader-woman discovering his subterfuge, the Ranger captain delayed one moment too long and the opportunity for postponement was taken from his hands.

The door before him opened, and Hal found himself face to face with the object of his consideration.

Drawing back only momentarily, Sevilodorf said placidly, "Taken to lurking on doorsteps, Captain? Mind the cat, and come in."

Stepping gingerly over the large black tom now twining about his boots, Hal replied, "I heard you were back. I trust your trading venture went well."

Comfortably rounded in her figure and crowned with the dark hair of her Dunlander mother, Sev snorted and closed the door behind him. "With four hobbits, a half dozen elves and a trio of Rangers as witnesses to our arrival, I don't see how you could avoid the news. But surely, you didn't stop by just to welcome us home."

"Hello, Halbarad, did the hobbits kick you out already?"

Tall and like enough to Halbarad to be a kinsman, Anardil the former Ranger stood to greet his old friend, a lopsided grin quirking his face. Eyes met in brotherly accord, the same dark hair hung almost to their shoulders. However, in Anardil's locks lantern light touched a hint of frost, while beneath his left shoulder a pinned-up sleeve bore silent witness to the reason he no longer wore a Ranger's star.

Smiling broadly, Halbarad accepted his handclasp. "Not yet. In fact, I'm in trouble now for missing dinner." He settled onto the edge of the chair Sevilodorf indicated, but waved off an offer of a mug of tea. "Thank you, but no. I've only come to give you some news and will not disturb you any longer than I must."

His glance shifted, from the half-unpacked bags still littering the bed, to Sev's puzzled expression.

"Me?" she exclaimed, upon realising the message was directed at her.

"It's been nearly a year," Hal began, only to halt as Sev's face drained of colour.

Stiffly she sank into the chair opposite him. "Nik's trial. It's time."

"Yes. The hearing is set for the twenty-fifth of this month. By all accounts, it should be a rather simple procedure."

Anardil caught a strange hesitancy in his friend's voice and studied him thoughtfully while Sev gave a hollow laugh and replied, "Remember whom you're talking to when you say that, Hal. I'm the one who went out to make a simple trade and ended up buried by a mudslide with a man who wanted to kill me."

Reaching up to clasp the hand Anardil placed upon her shoulder, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "At any road, it will be a relief to finally have it finished. Nik did nothing wrong. Those who were there have sworn to speak the truth of the events."

The two men exchanged glances, but said nothing as Sev asked, "You've told Russ and Nik?"

"Yes, that's where I was today."

"And Darien and his men will have been summoned in plenty of time? We won't be basing all of this on my word?"

"Certainly. Lord Faramir has stretched protocol to the limits by bowing to Russ in terms of the day and place for the trial." Halbarad leaned forward, earnest as a boy in his wish to set her mind at ease. "Everyone is determined that all be done within the boundaries of the law. The trials involving orcs have thus far been conducted with the utmost care, and so will this one be."

Frowning, Sev shook her head. "That is no comfort, Hal, but I thank you for telling me so quickly. I appreciate that you didn't try to put it off until morning."

Recognising his dismissal, Hal stood. "All will be well, Sev. Trust to the law."

His look remained troubled when Sev rose, her fingers tight-clasped, but he held his tongue. Even as he watched, she dropped her hands and straightened her shoulders.

Blue eyes steady, she replied, "I shall. Thank you again, Captain."

The Ranger nodded and touched her arm ere he turned away. In so doing, however, he cast a quick, hopeful glance over her head. Anardil noted it without a blink.

"Let me walk you back, Hal," he said. "I think I left my pouch of pipeweed behind the bar in the common room. I'll only be a moment, Sevi."

With a smile and a fleeting caress to her cheek, he followed Hal outside. They walked around the workshop in companionable silence, but then Anardil stopped midway across the yard.

"And what is it you didn't tell her?"

Halbarad grimaced as he faced his friend. "Cowardly of me, I know, but I couldn't stand to unload all the news at once."

Anardil waited without speaking.

"There was a last minute change in judges. Lord Meneltir was on the list to officiate, but he's taken ill." When Anardil remained silent, Hal wryly reflected how his old comrade had perfected staring to the point a man would say almost anything just to get Anardil to blink. "It's Valthaur."

The former Ranger's brows lifted in surprise. Once seen, few could forget the colossal law lord, and in the arena of wits, he could turn words back upon his opponent as surely as any sword. During the proceedings that assured due process for even orcs within the realm, Valthaur's oratory had spellbound the hall - and nearly terrified Sev. In the course of questioning, she had been called to reveal heartaches she had hitherto kept buried deep. Anardil had never been so proud of his lady, as when she held her courage before Valthaur's brutal shrewdness, but the effort came not without cost

Knowing this, he eyed Hal soberly. "And why would such an exalted lord, who seldom leaves the comforts of the White City, agree to take on such a task?"

"You do drive straight to the heart of the matter, don't you?" Hal shook his head. "Because Lord Faramir requested it."

"Why would the Lord Steward do such a thing?"

"Because Valthaur was next on the roster - because there cannot be the slightest hint of favouritism in this trial. As I said to Sev, the boundaries of protocol have been pushed as far as possible."

"Protocol has resulted in the death of many."

"I know that," Hal snapped, casting a quick glance to assure no one could hear them. "But we have to uphold the law, for the law is what separates us from the beasts! Nik's only hope depends on just execution of the law."

However, Anardil regarded him solemnly. In his view, Halbarad had always seen in black and white, but there were many shades of grey in the world.

"Very well. I will deliver this unpleasant news for you. You are right in thinking that it will be difficult for Sev to hear. However…" Anardil exhaled in a long sigh. "She withstood Valthaur the first time and met her task. She will this time, as well."

"Valthaur may not have won yours or Sev's fondness, but recall he was advocating the cause assigned to him. For Nik's hearing, he will only be establishing the facts. There is no reason why that should be confrontational." At Anardil's disbelieving expression, Hal added, "I'm more concerned that the trial of a Uruk-hai in town might stir up local matters that have yet to be resolved. There are still loose ends left from last spring."

"The orc attack outside Henneth Annûn?"

Both men exchanged grim glances of remembrance. A near thing it had been, when not long before the hearing to amend the law, a band of orcs had ambushed Sev and her companions nearly within view of the village. That wild orcs would risk an attack so close to a place literally overrun with Rangers was unthinkable, but the matter of who incited them remained yet unproven.

Halbarad nodded. "There are also unanswered questions surrounding the girl found dead in Minas Tirith, and the link to the mysterious Margul who was in Henneth Annûn at the time of the orc attack."

"Aye, a dead girl found in a rich merchant's house, who may have been one of his spies - but to what purpose? Master Margul was not alone in opposing rights of law for orcs, but the intensity of his interest baffles me. Why would he set spies to watching our Burping Troll folk?" Anardil pursed his mouth. "And since the hearing he's remained completely invisible. I wonder if he's even in Gondor any longer."

"No word from his local spy, Sira?" Hal's crooked grin held remembrance of the barmaid from The Whistling Dog in Henneth Annûn, whom Margul jilted when her purpose was finished.

"Not a one." Anardil's mien turned decidedly gloomy. "And her accusation that he masterminded the ambush is completely unsupported. We have nothing more than the ravings of a scorned lover."

Cocking an eyebrow, Hal asked, "Do you still believe there is a connection between Margul and the attacks?"

Grimly Anardil shook his head, though not in negation but in frustration. "A belief without proof is supposition. The law does not deal with suppositions, Captain. And proof I am unable to find. Only the scattered words of a barmaid, a farm boy and a dull witted orc."

"Not all orcs are dull witted."

Anardil nodded, his eyes narrowing in sudden thought. "True enough, my friend. Perhaps I will make a visit to one of the more intelligent of the species. I believe I have some new questions to ask."

Hal chuckled. "Ah, I didn't think your clever mind would rest for long. Do I foresee a trip to The Black Cauldron in your near future?"

"I think so... . Maybe we need a perspective through other than human eyes."

Smiling, Hal reached and gripped Anardil's shoulder. "It's good to have you home. Now I think you have a lady waiting."

An abrupt smile spread across Anardil's face. "That I do, Captain. That I do."

Thus they parted, each thinking and planning for the days to come.

xxx

October 17th - Travelling from the Blackroot Vale

Darien, Lord of Silverbrook, winced at the raucous laughter coming from the men at the campfire, and tossed the dregs of his tea into the darkness. What madness had driven him to ever accept Osric as a member of his company? The man moved from petulance not to be tolerated from a child to a coarse humour worthy of the worst tavern bawd. Secure in the knowledge he would not be dismissed from service until after the upcoming hearing, the man gave every indication of enjoying Darien's increasing dislike.

"Patience, my friend," a voice murmured. "Allow him pleasure in his petty irritations. His usefulness is nearly done."

Glancing over his shoulder to the night-shaded tree where the Haradrim stood, Darien replied, "Aye, Horus. It's my shame that I ever believed him to have a use. He reminds me of no one so much as Grady. Osric had best recall that, if it were not for the little Uruk-hai killing Grady to save Sevilodorf, we would have all faced murder charges."

Black eyes glittered in shadow. "And to your honour, you have striven to redress the damages we wrought, even if the likes of Osric disapprove of all that you helped achieve."

Laughter again broke the stillness of the night and Darien watched tight jawed as Osric shuffled orc-like about the fire in the midst of another story. Thousands of years of enmity would not vanish at the stroke of a pen; and for some, the concept of anything less than animosity towards their ancient foe could only curdle into ridicule. While he recognised it as the men's way of dealing with the changes expected of them by the newly passed laws, giving orcs the same rights of men, Darien could not help wishing all his men felt as Horus and himself did. Here were the days of a new King, a new age, and the King's justice must reach to all.

Thinking of those summoned to speak at the hearing, Darien could only hope that simple statements of the facts of the events were all that were required. Ham and Tom were good enough sorts, but easily influenced. In recent months they had spent more and more time with Osric and thus adopted his outlook on life. Such irreverent attitudes would not impress a law lord.

Thankfully, Bevin possessed more sense. Darien knew the man had experienced great difficulty accepting the new laws, but trusted his innate honesty would lead the man to speak only with sincerity. Then there was Evan; at just fifteen, the lad possessed more good intelligence than many an adult did. It was just a pity that Neil and Carrick would not also be called upon to speak, but those two had not witnessed the actual events. They only accompanied Darien because they had sworn to attend Nik's hearing in the dreadful reckoning that followed the disastrous orc-hunt.

Darien's attention returned to the men by the fire. The trio lingered, telling jokes while the other men worked. Evan and his brother Neil crouched down by the stream washing dishes. Bevin and Carrick could be heard talking quietly as they settled the horses for the night.

Always trying to lead by example, Darien had assisted Horus in the preparation of supper. But sometimes example required a boot behind it.

"Ham, Tom, Osric, we need more wood for the fire. It's a chill night."

"Will do." Tom instantly leapt to his feet, and Ham sprang up also. Osric glared at them both, then at Darien. He rose with insolent slowness, but he obeyed.

When the trio moved off into the woods, Horus stepped out of the shadow to stand by Darien. "His mood has worsened since we received the summons. Perhaps it is nervousness."

"You imagine Osric has nerves?"

The usually staid Lord of Silverbrook grinned down at the smaller man. Horus' snort of humour marked the relaxed relationship that they had established in recent months. Once the Haradrim owed fealty to Darien for rescue and mercy on the field of battle, but following their involvement in the winning of legal recognition for orcs, Darien had urged Horus to try freedom and friendship rather than servitude. The culture from which the Haradrim came made this a difficult feat, yet here Horus stood, exchanging companionable banter.

"He has at least one," Horus replied cryptically.

After looking nonplussed for a moment, a slow smile of appreciative comprehension spread across Darien's face. The expression of mirth then shifted to one of wryness.

"It is to be hoped that fate has a sense of humour. For to defend an Uruk-hai accused of murder with the very men who sought to murder him has the appearance of the absurd."

"In order to obtain the impossible, one must attempt the absurd."

"More of your Haradric wisdom? I fear we have moved beyond the impossible to the improbable." Darien shook his head in an effort to throw off his sense of unreality. Touching the black stone within the carved wooden charm hanging from his belt, he spoke on. "But no, we have come so far and will not retreat. Before we convinced people to bend as Master Celebsul persuaded the wood to accept the obsidian. Now, my friend, it is necessary to become like adamant, unwavering, and hold to the law that has been established."

Horus' hand lifted briefly to his forehead in acceptance of Darien's words, then he said quietly, "Truth is a point, the subtlest and finest; harder than adamant; never to be broken, worn away or blunted."

"Harder than adamant, never to be blunted." Darien sighed heavily. "Let us hope that we never fall against such truth, for that would prove deadly I fear."

xxx

October 21st - Henneth Annûn

Pale eyes peered from between the gnarled roots of an ancient oak balanced on the river's edge. Upon the dark water drifted pale billows of fog, coalescing into mysterious shapes that faded and disappeared. Midnight came and went with no sign of the awaited boat. Burrowing deeper into the pile of leaves, which served as covering in more ways than one, Odbut considered what he would do if the man did not show tonight. Two days he had waited already. If he were gone much longer, there would be those who wondered about his absence; and it would not do for attention to be drawn to him.

Hours passed, the fog slowly danced, and, save for the soft sound of night creatures, the orc's vigilance remained undisturbed. Then his straining ears caught the splash of a muffled oar carried across the water and brought him creeping from the shadows. The mists parted and the dark prow of a small boat appeared.

No word passed between the boatman and his passenger as the craft nosed against the bank. The taller of the pair stepped lightly to the shore to stand narrow-eyed in the moonlight. With a grunt, the rower slipped the boat back into the river's current and disappeared as quietly as he had arrived.

Despite the heavy disguise of shaggy beard and hair, and shabby cloak, Odbut could not fail to recognise his master. The wiry body, stiff back and arrogant tilt of chin were all too familiar. When the man peered around, pearly light shone from beneath his eyelids, tinged with the palest green, as if reflecting a moon grown sickly. Without intending to, the orc took a step backwards. Then, disgusted at the rush of fear, he resorted to his customary insolence.

"So yer finally got 'ere." Odbut's words drew the silvery eyes of the man unerringly to the orc's twisted form in the oak's deep shadow.

"Yes, there is business to be finished, and the time has come to do so." The man's voice was even and slow. "Has all been done as I requested?"

"Aye. Though I've no idea why yer waste my time on a female and a pig boy. Slash their throats and leave 'em to the crows is what I say."

"And that is why I am the master and you are not." After allowing his words time to sink in, the man repeated, "Has all been done as I requested?"

Recognising the signs of incipient foul temper, Odbut mumbled, "Aye, they're watched. Word's out some high and mighty law lord is coming to hold a trial."

"So I've been informed. All the birds in one bush as it were." The man's quiet laugh set the hairs on the orc's neck to quivering. "Have you prepared me a place?"

"Aye, though it's not what yer accustomed to."

"'Tis a temporary situation, I assure you."

xxx

TBC ...