Chapter Five
October 25 - Henneth AnnûnWhile a by-no-means massive room, the meeting hall in the Rangers' barracks provided sufficient space to accommodate those expected for the hearing. Its doors opened mid-morning to admit the quiet crowd outside. A solemn-faced Ranger requested that the witnesses enter first.
Russ scratched at his beard, ushering the tiny uruk before him, and noted with satisfaction how folk ebbed cautiously from the doorway to allow his giant form to pass. They even stepped back from his shadow as if it could somehow damage them. Wise to be wary, the Beorning thought, for deep within his soul, unseen lips curled to reveal white incisors, and fur sprang erect, crackling with static on the scruff of his neck.
These people came not for justice, but for the thrill of the show, the same crowds who would stone a thief who stole no more than a loaf of bread. He briefly amused himself with imagining how they would react to a bearish roar, but contented himself with a gentle humming. No fault of his if anyone mistook it for a growl.
"Witnesses over here, please." The Ranger indicated a row of chairs beside a desk laden with documents. Looking up at Russ, he added, "If … Nik … could sit by the table, then you should find a place amongst the audience … sir."
The scowl that appeared on Russ' face could have curdled milk, but Nik shrugged and sat down. "I'll be fine. Mistress Sevilodorf will sit next to me." The uruk turned to the Rohirrim, a question clear in his expression.
"Of course I will," Sev answered, shooing away Anardil and the fretting hobbit lass. "Go with Russ and the others. We will indeed be fine."
Reluctantly, those friends who accompanied the witnesses found places on the front row of benches set out for the audience. Meanwhile, Sev sat by Nik, with Evan on her other side. Next came Horus then Bevin, Ham, and Tom. Osric took the last of the eight chairs.
After the final few folk filed in, the doors closed. Only whispers and stifled coughs sounded in the room, even those stilling when an official stepped up to the desk and rapped a gavel three times.
"Be upstanding for Lord Justice Valthaur."
Sev recognised Willelmus, but her surprise at seeing him here, in Henneth Annûn, gave way to stomach churning anxiety as the obese law lord waddled in through a side entrance. Everyone else stood, but it took Nik's anxious tug on her sleeve for Sev to realise she alone remained seated. Getting to her feet quickly, her eyes sought out Anardil. He returned her gaze, the ghost of a reassuring smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
The judge settled his bulk into a heavy wooden chair, and cast a glance around the room. In a sonorous voice, he announced, "We are here to decide whether Nik, Uruk-hai of Isengard, has any crime to answer for. This is not a trial, but rather an enquiry into the incident that resulted in the death of one of the Lord of Silverbrook's men - a person named Grady. I will briefly outline the facts leading to the landslide that caused several people to be trapped in a cave. What followed after, these eight witnesses will relate."
In the front row of the audience, the Burping Troll contingent and Darien's smaller group listened while Valthaur 'outlined' in lengthy detail the events that took place in the chilling month of January. He employed such extreme detail, in fact, that the minutiae almost submerged the facts. If there were a blade of grass Darien's party passed or a stone in one horse's shoe, it seemed to have found its place in Valthaur's account.
After the first half-hour, Erin noticed her legs swinging back and forth and tried her best to stop them. The law lord's voice smoothed the grim edges from the familiar story, making it flat and … well … ordinary. One foot swung again unbidden; Erin grabbed her knee to still the motion. Truth be told, she admitted, Valthaur made the whole thing sound tiresome. Surely there were a dozen better ways to describe armed men accosting a lone woman on the road, demanding she lead them to hidden orcs, and then knocking her on the head when she refused. Never mind if the blow itself was an accident. The whole sorry affair was one accident after another.
Puffing a weary breath, the hobbit cast a glance to either side. On her right sat Gubbitch, and from the glazed look in the old orc's yellow eyes, he found the recitation as tedious as she did. Anardil, on her left, seemed thoroughly absorbed. However, she noticed that his gaze occasionally flickered, catching movements and expressions around the room faster than a frog catches flies. Erin observed this in fascination for a few moments until Anardil realised and gave her a 'look'.
"Finally," the judge concluded, after what seemed, to Erin if no one else, like hours, "a landslide occurred without warning, trapping these witnesses and three other men inside the cave. This left Russbeorn and Nik's other companions and associates sealed outside, and hence ignorant of facts beyond this point."
Setting aside the parchments from which he had read, Valthaur tapped his foremost chin with a plump finger. "It is time for Nik to recount the subsequent events as he remembers them." Looking down at the small uruk, he continued, "You may remain seated, and simply tell us what you recall from the moments after the landslide."
Recognising the panic on his friend's face, Russ knew that until this moment, Nik had thought the hearing would be an ordeal, but nothing as terrible as past ordeals. The little uruk knew from grim experience that his wiry body was capable of enduring almost any hardship or hurt. However, Nik had never reckoned with perils of the soul. Now the prospects of speaking out to an audience of many strangers, including Rangers and high officials, visibly filled the uruk with absolute terror. When his wide eyes sought his big friend in clear desperation, Russ felt like striding across the hall and dragging Nik away from this maddening farce.
However, Valthaur's mouth curled into a kindly, encouraging smile, and he prompted, "Come now, Nik. Tell me about what happened." The law lord patted himself on the chest, indicating that the uruk should ignore the rest of the room. "Was it dark in the cave?"
Though his voice came haltingly, Nik answered, "Not completely … there was one torch still alight … I think it was only one."
"Were you frightened?"
Nik thought about that for a moment. "I had been, when the men were threatening me and Mistress Sevilodorf. But I wasn't just then … I was happy because I knew my friend, Russ, had arrived outside. Him and our friends and his bees. Nobody can get the better of Teach - that's what I call him because he teaches me things and won't let me call him Master." The uruk looked across at Russ who nodded encouragement. "So I felt sort of safer than I had since the men kidnapped me. Sev wasn't hurt by the landfall, and the men were busy worrying about themselves, and lighting lanterns so they could see the damage."
"Ah, you saw them light the lanterns. Was everyone else uninjured? That is, aside from the injuries that happened before the landslide, of which I have already told."
"Not everyone. A man had been buried under the rubble. He was dead. Then there were some that were injured. Evan's leg was broken." Nik pointed to the lad sitting alongside Sevilodorf. "Sev fixed that, and I think she fixed up a few cuts and the like."
Tension eased from Russ' muscles as Nik visibly relaxed, continuing his account in a strong voice and with little prompting. The audience listened avidly as the story gripped them. Erin leant forward in fascination and horror, now totally unaware of the passage of time. In Nik's innocent recitation, the true complexion of desperate beings sealed away in the dark came to life, while tempers and sanity inexorably frayed.
Occasionally, Valthaur halted Nik and asked for clarification on some detail or other. "So, what were the first words that you spoke to the men inside the cave - to put out some of the torches to save air?"
"I think so."
"Why then? Why not when they first lit them?"
Nik frowned, searching for words. "It's difficult to explain…"
"Try. There's no hurry."
"The men had been horrid to me, and some of them were even horrid to Sev. They treated me worse than a wild animal, calling me 'it' and threatening to kill me. Landis, the man that Grady murdered later, he talked to me and called me 'he' instead of 'it' - I thought he might listen to good advice even coming from an uruk."
Valthaur nodded understanding. "What happened after that?"
"They put out all but one of the torches. The dark made the cave seem even smaller. No one liked it with the shadows bouncing around; but Grady, he was more scared than anyone was. I could smell his fear, like hot copper. I knew he was growing dangerous, so I broke the ropes round my wrists. Then he yelled, 'You'll breathe no more of my air' and he came at me and Sev. Landis jumped in between. Grady wouldn't listen to what Landis was telling him and attacked him. Landis had broken ribs, but he fought well…"
Aside from the Uruk-hai's voice, not another sound could be heard in the room while he carefully finished his account of the fight and how Landis' final terrible injury had been deliberately inflicted, then of how before Grady could attack again he, Nik, had beaten the murderous man to death.
In response to a question in many a mind, Valthaur ventured, "You must be much stronger than you look?"
Smiling shyly, but with pride, Nik replied, "Oh, I am. I'm as strong as an ox. Ask anyone who knows me."
After a few brief questions, the law lord thanked Nik for his co-operation, and then he rapped the gavel and declared a break of two hours for lunch.
xxx
Open air after the prolonged closeness of the hearing room proved blessing to more than one. While Anardil pressed his hand to his back and breathed fresh air with relief, Russbeorn struck a wide-legged pose in the centre of the yard. There he stretched his vast arms and chest as broad as they would go, and blasted a torrential sigh. That everyone in the place leapt half out of their skin at the sound troubled him not a bit.
His equanimity thus restored, he and Nik ambled off with Halbarad hurrying fretfully after and their Ranger minders trotting even more helplessly behind them. No one, it seemed, felt inclined to get between a Beorning or an Uruk-hai and their lunch. The remainder of The Burping Troll group followed more slowly, while Darien sternly instructed Carrick and Bevin to keep Osric, Ham and Tom at hand. The last thing anyone needed was for their witnesses to disappear into a cask of ale.
"That actually went very well, don't you think?" Erin asked as she held the door to the Rangers' dining hall.
Anardil reached over her head to hold it for her, but she paused under his arm to glance at her companions.
"Yes," said Sev. "Though of course that was the easy part."
"Why do you say that?" Erin continued to peer back at her friend as they went inside. "All anybody has to do is tell the truth."
"Because," rumbled Russ' voice from the passageway ahead of them, "Memory is not always the same as truth."
At Erin's troubled frown, Sev gave the hobbit a gentle push. "Never you mind, Erin. Too much thinking on an empty stomach is not good for anyone. Hurry up, or Nik will eat it all before we get there."
A quick smile erased all shadow from the hobbit's face, and the company filed in to enjoy the waiting repast. Indeed, a hearty meal went a long way towards buoying all spirits, and even Russ' dark brow seemed to clear. The hospitality of the Rangers' kitchen, while plain, proved amply filling. Afterwards, Alfgard announced his intention to return to work at the stable yard, giving his well wishes for the remainder of the hearing as he left.
"Mind you keep that Lugbac off somewhere safe," he added dourly. "Never saw anybody who could get in trouble so fast."
"Have no fear," replied Sev, hiding a smile behind her napkin. "Lorgarth said The Black Cauldron needs a strong back to dig a new privy, so Lugbac got the job."
"Good place for him," Alfgard grumbled.
As the greying Rohirrim stumped away, muttering under his breath, Erin exchanged glances with Evan and Neal. All burst into grins and giggles, then the hobbit passed a pan of berry tarts.
Leaning towards Sev, Anardil asked quietly, "Do I want to know?"
"He broke one of Alfgard's anvils." As Anardil's eyebrows leapt, Sev sighed and shook her head. "Don't ask. I'm sure it was -."
"An accident," Anardil finished for her, and grinned his crooked grin. Touching a finger to her cheek, he added, "Would you mind, love, if I took a bit of air? I find the walls are closing in a bit."
Knowing well how Anardil despised protocol and tedium - as much as she did, herself - she nodded. "By all means, take a little walk or something. I'm certain I'll be quite safe, here. If any foe can get past a Beorning, an Uruk-hai, an elf and a room full of strapping Gondorian men, I'll be sure to call you."
Anardil's snort turned into a deep chuckle, and his grey eyes twinkled. "I know, sometimes I am smothering. I'll be right back."
He brushed a kiss to her cheek, then stood and made his way outside. Once again in crisp autumn sunshine, he briefly considered imitating Russ' roaring stretch, if that would iron out a few kinks. Choosing to ignore the sentries who studiously pretended to ignore him, Anardil let his feet be his guide. Moments later he found himself behind the dining hall, where a gnarled apple tree spread its limbs over a small bench.
To his mild surprise, someone already sat there, a tall, lean figure with silver hair flowing down his back, who appeared to be engrossed in a study of withered apples. Half a dozen shrivelled red fruits hung among the yellow leaves overhead, and he belatedly realised several small, speckled birds hopped among the branches. They vanished in a whirr of wings as he drew near.
"Lunch for song thrush, too, mm? Unusual to see so many together." said Anardil.
"Redwings, actually," Celebsul softly corrected. "One seldom sees them in town. Join me, if you like."
Inordinately pleased to have the venerable elf's welcome, Anardil sat. Whether by chance or the elf's wish, the birds reappeared, fluttering lightly among twigs and limbs so that now he could see the flashes of russet for which they were named. For a moment man and elf simply sat, listening to the ordinary sounds of the village going about its business.
Finally Anardil said, "Lugbac broke an anvil."
"Oh? How did he do that?"
"Goodness only knows."
Celebsul chuckled quietly, the sound somehow restful to Anardil's ears. The former Ranger sighed and clasped his hand to one knee, watching the feasting birds flit overhead.
"Have you thought how perfectly strange that comment was?" he mused. "Not long ago, it would have been, 'orcs attacked a holding yesterday' or 'we saw orcs hunting along the north road'. Now … we remark on an orc breaking an anvil and think it amusing."
One pale elvish brow arched. "I frankly find it terribly amusing."
"Well, it is, but … an orc. Breaking an anvil. By accident." Anardil shook his head. "Sometimes I can't help wondering if the world is changing faster than I can keep up."
Celebsul looked slowly around at grass and tree and sky as he asked, "What is it of the past that you would preserve?"
Frowning, Anardil scratched his beard. What indeed? Not war, not the evil of Sauron, not shivering in frozen wilderness even though in the company of his brethren.
After moments of silence, the elf smiled wistfully "Let me put it a different way. What of the present would you like to be otherwise?"
An even worse question, Anardil thought. He would not want his love, Sevilodorf, to be otherwise, or his comrades and friends. He would not want other than King Aragorn as monarch and captain. Then he realised the answer.
"The past, though dreadful, held certainties. Orcs were the enemy, wargs were the enemy; now they are, and are not." The former Ranger shook his head in confusion. "All of my life, I detested them, for good reason. Not just that one took my arm, but for the thousands and thousands of people that they destroyed. If you saw an orc, you killed it before it could kill you. Now … now…"
"Now," Celebsul spoke the words for him, "you have to treat them as you would men, and wonder if they are good or evil, wise or foolish, worthy of trust or riddled with treachery."
"Most of them are," Anardil responded to the elf's final phrase.
"Indeed. You have travelled in many lands, even amongst the enemy, and met different peoples. I believe you are a good judge of character, Anardil. Is that not so?"
Knowing the elf never dealt in empty compliments, Anardil answered with professional honesty. "I've learnt to recognise the signs of deceit in a man's demeanour, to sense hidden threats, to read intentions. Yes, my life has depended many times upon such skills."
"Even amongst foreigners who all look the same to you?" Celebsul's grin announced this to be a jest.
Chuckling, Anardil replied, "It does not take so long to learn to read alien features as well as those of this land…" Face crumpling, the man dipped his head and covered his own features with his hand.
"Master Celebsul," he groaned before looking up. "Is it really that simple?"
"Yes " Celebsul observed his unexpected student kindly. "Orcs may not seem comely with the distortions inflicted upon them, but their eyes work as ours do, and their mouths and hands. Though it requires study, which means, as you know, careful observation, their characters can be judged as with all people."
Anardil sighed, and wished that spent breath could ease the dull grate of shame.
"I have avoided looking," he humbly said.
"Yes."
Celebsul's steady regard suggested he waited for something further, and Anardil reached one step more. "And they know this. The ones like Nik. And Gubbitch."
"Perhaps it is time," the elf said quietly, "that all people learn to see each other truly. Is that not what this day's efforts are about?"
For a moment Anardil simply stared, struck mute with revelation. Chuckling softly, Celebsul turned his attention to the busy thrush once more. Then Anardil smiled, and together, elf and man watched the redwings feast on dried apples.
xxx
The hearing reassembled in reasonably good spirits, talking considerably louder than at the start of the morning session. Russ ambled in with his bearded face no less brooding, but his warning glance at the gathering seemed unneeded. Perhaps hope existed after all, and the honour of men would permit justice even for an Uruk-hai.
Willelmus quickly settled the gathering into their seats and silence, rapping the gavel fiercely while firing withering looks around the room. Within minutes, Lord Valthaur sat ensconced in his chair.
The justice briefly summarised the morning's testimony. Then he raised his head and called for Osric to present his account of the events in the cave.
Erin sighed as she watched the burly and unhandsome orc-hunter straighten in his seat. This would surely be a long, dreary afternoon, listening to the same story being told over-and-over again.
In a crude, loud voice, Osric announced himself as if shouting across a busy taproom. "Here I am, your lordship. Should I just tell you what happened from the start? You can ask me questions if I say ought you don't understand."
"Yes, please do," Valthaur replied, apparently unfazed by the vigour of the witness' response.
With hardly a pause for breath, the man clapped his hands to his knees and launched into his story. "Well, there was just the one torch, and it was dark and dusty so we lit lanterns - that orc never said then that it was dangerous. With one man dead and poor Evan with his leg broke, and everyone terrified about what had happened outside and what was happening inside, some folk were in a right state. Grady was terrified. He thought the woman was a witch, and I reckon being holed up with her and a right strong uruk started driving him mad."
A frown creased Erin's forehead and she noticed Anardil's back stiffening. It almost sounded as if Osric blamed Sevi and Nik for Grady's madness.
The man spoke on, but the tone of his voice altered subtly as he mournfully shook his head. "Poor Grady, cast into the dark with man's oldest foe. As it went on, his fear got worse and worse. We couldn't see a way out; it must have felt to Grady like the walls were closing in, and that uruk there in the shadows staring at him with murderous eyes."
Halbarad and Celebsul, seated on either side of the Beorning, felt rather than heard the rumble of fury that shuddered through Russ' massive frame.
Shifting on his chair, Osric settled into a new posture, leaning forward as if talking to close friends. "You wouldn't have thought it could get any worse. But just as Grady was at breaking point, that uruk told him that the lanterns would suck out all the air and smother us all. 'Why then?' I ask myself. 'Why not when we first lit them?' Seems to me that the uruk wanted Grady to go nuts."
As the subterranean rumble deepened in Russ' chest, Celebsul briefly rested his hand on the giant's arm. He intended the gesture to reassure him that others had noted the twisting of truth. It was also a plea for patience, though judging by Nik's growing look of worry, across the room, it was anyone's guess if that patience would hold.
Valthaur meanwhile frowned and waved a podgy hand in dismissal. "Now, my good Osric, you should try to avoid making assumptions, if you can. We cannot ascertain what is in another's mind."
"But the uruk admitted it this morning," the orc-hunter objected. "It said it could smell the fear, and it had its hands free. Why else goad poor Grady unless it wanted him to attack so it could kill him?"
Osric did not wait for a reply. "Anyroad, when the lights were put out, there was still the enemy's … foul spawn breathing air that could save decent men's lives." The orc-hunter lurched in his chair, his expression emphatic. "I tell you, Grady acted in sheer desperation, to save his friends and himself. He went to kill the uruk, leapt forward with his sword. It was dark, only one lantern still burning, and Landis ran between Grady and the orc. I don't think Grady meant to hurt Landis. The floor was so uneven; they both kept losing their footing."
Holding up one hand, the law lord sought clarification. "You are suggesting Landis, in a bid to save Nik, accidentally ran into Grady's sword?"
"Yes!" Osric nodded quickly. "It was just a … terrible, tragic blunder."
"Why would Landis, an orc-hunter, intervene to save Nik's life?"
Osric scowled at what he clearly thought a stupid question. "Because the uruk's friends were outside, just like he explained this morning: orcs and elves and that giant bear-man with all his wild beasts. Landis feared they'd kill us if ought happened to the uruk."
"Justice," Russ rumbled, and heads swivelled as his bass tones gained power. "Justice served as justice is due. What law is this that embraces lies?"
Willelmus hissed stridently for silence but the Beorning seemed to swell in his seat. "If a man teaches an ass to speak, it is still an ass. And if you get a dozen asses to speak, that does not make their braying truth. Bid that ass to speak truly, or I'll adjourn this farce myself!"
Willelmus' shrill gasp may have involved him swallowing his tongue. Nik stared from his seat with his frightened eyes wide as teacups, oblivious to Sev whispering earnestly beside him. Meanwhile the Rangers posted about the room looked positively whey-faced. No one had the slightest inkling how to subdue a four-hundred-pound, nine-foot-tall, furiously angry man without breaking pretty much everything within half a mile.
However, Valthaur merely listened with one brow gently cocked. As Russ subsided with great fists knotted on his knees, the corpulent justice tapped a sheaf of papers on end.
"You are a farmer, Russbeorn, are you not?"
"Yes," Russ rumbled warily.
"Now, when you harvest wheat, you must first reap all the wheat, grain and chaff together. Is that not so? And then you winnow away the impurities?"
Cautiously Russ dipped his big head in acknowledgement. "Even so," he said.
Valthaur's several chins rippled as he nodded in return. "It would seem a foolish man who refused to harvest his wheat, if he hated the chaff too much to sort out the clean grain."
Heavy brow lowered, Russ asked, "And your point is?"
Willelmus still looked as if he anticipated thunderbolts to burst the roof at any moment, but Valthaur merely smiled. "My task, Russbeorn, is to take the crop, the chaff and wheat together, and winnow until I find the clean grain. I ask you, sir, to let me continue the harvest, and I will promise you clean grain at the end."
"Promises," Russ growled. "Do men remember them, once spoken?"
Now Valthaur's eyes sharpened. "I do, sir. On my honour, I do."
Honour. There the fat law lord had said it. The same force that brought Nik to this place, under the pitiless eyes of an uncaring audience.
Quietly Valthaur pursued, "Did I hear Nik's account with any less gravity or care than I am listening to Osric, now?"
No, he had not. Russ held it all clearly in his mind, the fat man sitting with the same near-fatherly ease throughout. He shook his head, feeling the game of words being played in pieces too intricate for his sturdy hands.
"Let me continue the harvest," Valthaur insisted. "Let me answer to my duty, as you answer to the duties of friendship."
He did not like it. He would not like it. But Russ settled back in his seat with his arms folded on his chest, and the room breathed a collective sigh of relief. Let the asses bray, he thought. He should never have agreed to any of this. And certainly not in autumn, when the time for sleep and rest drew near. However, natural justice could still win through where the mechanisations of men failed.
Turning to the near-forgotten orc-hunter, Valthaur said, "Pray do continue, Osric. You were telling us of Grady's fight with Nik, and Landis' misfortune."
Blinking like a hound suddenly hearing his master's voice, Osric straightened in his chair. Then he drew breath and raced on with his story.
"Like I was saying, in the mix-up of the fight, Landis just accidentally got in the way. Everybody was scared and confused. When Landis fell, Grady was horrified at what he'd done. I can see it like it was just yesterday. Grady stood there frozen … trans … uh, fixed at his terrible mistake. Then the uruk came hurtling out of the blackness, bowling Grady over. The man didn't have a chance, not in the state he was in. The uruk resorted to its most …uh, bestial instincts. It climbed on top of Grady and smashed his head into the rock over-and-over until long after Grady was dead."
Shoulders hunched, Osric shot a quick glance at Russ and nearly ran his words together in his haste to be done. "We stood there watching in horror. It was too late to save Grady, and like Landis, we didn't dare attack the uruk, not if we wanted to be rescued and then be allowed to live. Its - its black heart must have … ah, rejoiced, knowing we dared not take our revenge."
When Osric finished, Valthaur blew out an audible breath that could have many interpretations. To Russ, it sounded like disbelief, to Halbarad it seemed weariness, while those who hated all orcs took it for disgust at the uruk's behaviour. In the momentary hush that followed, low voices murmured around the room, and feet and clothing rustled.
Nik's sharp whisper carried further than he meant it to: "But he's lying!"
Sev replied lowly, to which Nik hissed, "But we're supposed to tell the truth!"
The Rohirrim woman glanced across the room and caught Anardil's eye. He shook his head minutely in response. Her lips thinned.
The justice, however, had a further question. "Landis was still alive at this point, though mortally wounded?"
"He was wounded," the orc-hunter agreed. "Not so sure that he was mortally wounded though."
"If he wasn't mortally wounded, why did he die?"
"Not for me to say." Osric cast a glance along the line of witnesses. "The 'healer' woman tended to him." His eyes focused on Sevilodorf's face, but he averted his gaze when the white fury written there seeped through his thick skin. "Not for me to say," he repeated.
"Indeed," Valthaur agreed. Then his tone shifted to a lighter note of finality. "This hearing concerns only what befell between Grady and Nik and, of course, anything that has a bearing on that. Thank you for your testimony."
Having dismissed Osric, the law lord addressed his audience. "In my decades of presiding over occasions such as this, I have invariably found that people recall the same event in many different ways. This is why it is essential to listen to every possible witness."
While Valthaur talked, Russ turned to Halbarad and insisted through clenched teeth, "It is still a bloody travesty."
Having entertained very similar thoughts, Hal tried to pacify the man. "He is one witness out of eight. For now it is only Nik's word against his. By the end of the hearing it will be seven people's word against Osric. Give the process a chance, Russ. Justice will be done; I'm confident of that."
Russ' deep-chested snort of disgust gave vent to his view of that assurance.
"And you," the Beorning turned to Celebsul, "are you confident justice will be done?"
The elf answered in the manner of elves. "One way … or another."
Once again, Russ sank into the grim cloud of his own brooding, for he held no such faith in the precarious justice of men. Better than the fat man, Russ knew what it took to winnow grain; a good, clean gust of wind. Osric was walking, blithering proof that justice needed to blow a lot harder.
Further down the bench, Erin's gaze hovered anxiously between Anardil at her side and Sev across the room. The looks the couple sped towards each other seemed full of steel, as if they exchanged weapons, or armour. Yet warmth also went with the steel.
Images of a comfy campfire amidst the field of battle spilled into the hobbit's imagination, and she wished more than anything that she could pop a cauldron of hearty stew atop the flames. When Sevi turned to Nik and squeezed his arm in encouragement, Erin yearned to add honeyed-apple pie to the imaginary feast. To her mortification, unbidden tears threatened. But they always did when the hobbit lass realised it would take far more than a wonderful meal to set things right.
Darien breathed a sigh when the law lord called Ham to speak next - a quiet sigh but less ambiguous than that which Valthaur had exhaled. Osric then Ham? What stupidity of fate contrived the puppet to follow the master? It could be no worse given that the afternoon drew on and impressions formed this day would be hard to alter come the morning. It could be no worse, aside from the impossibility of Tom being called after Ham.
The frown on the dark face of his friend, Horus, sitting amongst the witnesses, suggested the Haradrim also found the coincidence appalling. What wisdom had he spoken to Darien on the journey here? 'In order to obtain the impossible, one must attempt the absurd.' Well, the absurd was happening without any effort from anyone, as far as he could tell.
Yet some of the phrases that had issued from Osric's lips nagged at Darien, 'cast into the dark with man's oldest foe'. That did not ring true to the man's usual way of talking. With that thought, more of Horus' wisdom echoed, 'Truth is a point, the subtlest and finest'. Even as Ham sat repeating Osric's lies, the word 'subtle' lodged in Darien's mind. Osric could never be considered subtle, but the distortion of the truth he had spoken, had been.
Soon however, the shame coursing through the Lord of Silverbrook's veins pushed aside all attempts to understand the situation, while he listened to another of his own men make a mockery of justice. And hotter than his humiliation, he felt rage emanating from the giant sitting just two places away with Captain Halbarad in between. The Beorning's distrust of men and their justice bore bitter fruit.
Darien leant towards Hal and whispered, "Tell Russ we'll question these men after the hearing. He should not risk himself or Nik in anger at their treachery. If I cannot make them answer, then he will."
The Ranger's eyes narrowed. "If Russ gets his hands on them, they'll not have a chance to answer." Nevertheless, Hal turned and spoke quietly but urgently to the Beorning.
When Ham's stumbling testimony finally ended, Darien closed his eyes against the ache in his tightly clenched jaw. To the Law Lord's credit, Valthaur had treated the man with careful impartiality. Sifting the chaff from the grain would not be an easy task, given that Ham had backtracked his story so often that even Darien, who knew the details more fully than he wished, could not keep the order straight.
While his hope for a bolt of lightning to prevent Tom from speaking was useless, Darien clutched the obsidian trinket from his belt and prayed that somehow the stone would again transform darkness into light. Surely simple, good-natured Tom could not compound disaster. The Silverbrook lord even managed to summon a ray of hope when Tom answered Valthaur's summons with humbly-smiling respect.
Though such a thing seemed scarcely possible, Tom's statement was even more twisted than Ham's. His voice lost all inflection, as if he recited from poorly-remembered rote, and he frequently stumbled over his choice of words. He repeated himself the times he came upon a workable turn of phrase. When Valthaur questioned him on two or three points, Tom became flustered and had to be impelled to resume his thought. Often he stopped and appeared to be looking for prompting from Osric.
Finally he retreated to sullenly answering each of Lord Valthaur's questions with, "I can't remember." Even Valthaur's patience appeared exhausted for the man began to tap podgy fingers upon the polished top of his table. With each tap, his many rings glistened in the shaft of light from the high western window.
At last, Tom mumbled, "All I know is that thing beat Grady's face until it wasn't there no more."
The fingers stopped their dancing as the law lord levelled a steely gaze. "May I remind you, Tom, that here we seek facts, not outbursts of emotion."
Thus rebuked, Tom sank into his seat, his forehead and mouth bleached white, with his cheeks glowing red in between.
"You are excused, Tom," Valthaur then announced. "This part of proceedings is hereby adjourned."
Amidst the murmuring quiet, Darien made out the shimmering facets of an adamant upon the law lord's right hand. He thought again of Horus' admonition that they must remain as unwavering as that stone in seeing that justice be done. A bench whacked to the floor as Russbeorn abruptly stood, massive hands clenched in fists of rage. Yet though every breath stalled as each eye fixed on him, the giant made no sound. His slow, scathing look about the room seemed denunciation enough.
Then he rumbled but a single word: "Chaff."
xxxTBC ...