October 25th Henneth Annûn
For a brief, fleeting moment, Cullen knew hope, as a tall shape strode from the darkness. However, starlight glinted in cold grey eyes, and a dark cloak swung over an empty left sleeve. The farmer's son let his head drop back to earth, for he knew to expect no charity from Anardil, the former Ranger. His last contact with the man had been a grilling after the discovery of a dead woman in Margul's house, and Cullen now dreaded that this would be no better.
Anardil stopped several feet away to study Odbut's unenviable plight. Then he cocked his head to observe Cullen, still with Russ' great bare foot planted firmly on his chest.
"This is unusual," said Anardil. "Cullen and Odbut, the old fishing partners. But I don't see any fishing poles. What do you propose to do with these, Russ?"
"Get answers," the giant growled. "I'm trying to decide which one to squeeze, first. Maybe this one."
Russ lowered his arm so Odbut's feet touched the ground, but only to jerk the orc in a teeth-clattering shake.
"I see." Anardil paused, frowned, and stroked his chin. "They have a song we want to hear, eh?"
"Oh yes - a song of names. Margul. Khint. Names of the puppeteers." The Beorning peered down at the youth pinioned beneath his foot, and Cullen wheezed as the pressure on his chest increased. "I intend to hear them sing it sweetly."
"You'll get nothin' from me!" snarled Odbut, albeit in a rasping voice crushed by the twisted knot of coarse clothing Russ' grip bunched at his throat. "Stinkin' tarks, there's nothing you can do that I haven't seen a hundred times worse - go ahead and kill me, I don't care!"
"Kill you?" Russ fisted both hands in the creature's shoddy shirtfront, ignoring the clawed fingers that dug into his naked arms. "What makes you think I'd let you off that easy? Whatever it takes, I will know the intent of your master's plots and threats of murder."
Though the dark of a starlit night surrounded them, it seemed as if a great light suddenly illuminated Anardil's thought. Clearly Russ held captive those who most likely knew the truths behind the intrigues. What stroke of fortune brought them to this pass, he could not imagine, but he was not about to waste the moment.
"You know, Russ," mused Anardil, "you may have something, there."
At a glance, he presumed that the farmer's lad, a shivering heap on the ground, might posses a little information. On the other hand, the orc dangling from the Beorning's grasp probably knew a lot, given that he served as messenger to the mysterious Margul. However, judging by the expression curdling the orc's face, he seemed unlikely to be forthcoming with the facts. Anardil decided to concentrate first upon the easy target.
Giving Russ a quick look that he hoped the giant would understand - 'stay mean, I'll be nice' - Anardil crouched by Cullen. Evidently the Beorning decided to play along, for he removed his foot from the youth's sternum and allowed him to sit up. Taking his cue, the former Ranger shook his head and sighed heavily.
"You better explain yourself quickly, lad, before the shape-shifter loses all patience." With a glance at the hairy, hard-knotted calf and thigh muscles at his shoulder, Anardil added, "He's a very angry man and could turn back into a bear at any moment."
Cullen's head wobbled on his neck as if pulled by invisible strings. "I don't know anything." The words came out in a strangled whisper.
"You better know something, Cullen; else you're of no use." Anardil's deceptively soft tone made this a dire threat. "Who's this orc really, and why is he here? That would do for a start."
Odbut hissed a warning through sharp teeth, but a rough shake of Russ' hand turned the hiss into a strangled cough. Still, the youth did not speak.
Grabbing Cullen's shirtfront to focus his attention, Anardil leaned in to spell the situation out. "If the orc and this Margul are threatening you, don't you think it better to have Russ," he nodded up at the Beorning, "and the king's men on your side, rather than making yet more enemies? It's your only chance."
Another whisper issued from the lad. "My family?"
"They're threatened too?" At Cullen's jerky nod, Anardil reassured, "We can set a guard on them, if we know what the danger is. Now tell me about this orc."
Holding the being in question once more at arm's length, Russ bent his inordinately large and inordinately naked frame towards Cullen.
"SPEAK!" he roared, the blast of his voice nearly blowing Cullen's hair back.
A veritable flood of words poured from the youth's mouth. "He's called Odbut. Sira says he's Margul's beast, and a killer. Margul keeps orcs to do his dirty work. I don't know why they wanted me to look for a signal, but Margul used to have me go…"
During the confession, three other figures arrived to stand quietly in the shadows. Russ glanced in grim acknowledgement towards Halbarad, Tarannon and the silver-haired elf, but Anardil kept his attention fixed on the terrified youth. Once, Odbut burst out kicking and flailing, but a swift whack reduced him to a sagging, gurgling lump in Russ' grip, whereupon Cullen babbled even faster.
When at last the torrent of jumbled facts, excuses, conjecture and just plain panic ceased, Anardil patted the boy's shoulder as if he were a well-behaved dog. "Good, Cullen. Now tell me the connection between Margul and the law lord's clerk."
Though he had not thought it possible, Anardil watched the fear intensify.
"I don't know!" Cullen blurted.
"Oh yes you do, lad. I can see it in your face."
"And I can smell it in his sweat," the Beorning rumbled. "Let me have him, I'll wring the truth from his miserable body."
Anardil shook his head. "Time is wasting, Cullen."
"Squeeze the puppet, find the puppet master."
"Cullen, you're not being a smart boy. Say, don't you think Russ looks hairier than a moment ago?"
A single agonised word exploded from Cullen like a cry of desperation. "Valthaur!"
Total silence followed.
"Well," rumbled Russ. "The puppet reveals his master."
"You're dead, boy!" exploded Odbut, thrashing madly in the Beorning's grip. "You're dead!"
A slap to the side of the orc's head returned him to murderous silence.
Anardil drew Cullen's attention back with a stiff finger to the chest. "There is a connection between Margul and Valthaur?"
Now that the name had been spoken, Cullen seemed to find it easier to answer, wilting visibly under the several pairs of watching eyes. "Yes. I took something from Margul to the judge's house in Minas Tirith."
"What was it?"
"I don't know. Something about this size." Trembling hands gestured. "And round. It was wrapped up in a sack - probably just some trinket. Lord Valthaur's house was full of such stuff. He stroked it like a pet cat or something." The youth hunched his shoulders reflexively.
"So, maybe a simple trading relationship?" Anardil glanced at Russ and the newcomers.
Letting out a mirthless laugh, Russbeorn shook the battered orc again, like a goodwife shaking a market hen. "I think this one told us more than the boy ever could. If it were a mere trading relationship, why threaten death for speaking Valthaur's name. Here, Captains, have this baggage. I've got a puppet master to deal with."
Russ thrust the orc at Halbarad and Tarannon, and let go, leaving the startled Rangers to struggle briefly against flailing fingernails and sharp teeth. The Beorning would have stridden off there and then were it not for Celebsul's firm grip on his arm.
"You cannot go single-handed against King's officials, who are protected by Rangers and soldiers, on the basis of a few words that would prove little in a court of law."
Shrugging off the elf's hand, Russ replied. "I have all the proof I need."
"And what will you do, Russbeorn?" Celebsul persisted. "What would you have of Lord Valthaur, on the strength of one frightened boy's word that he delivered a parcel for his master?"
Slow befuddlement shadowed the big man's brow. "I will have justice."
"What justice? What is justice, when servants lie but their lord cannot be proven untrue? Is the master ever guilty of his servants' deeds?"
Struggling once more in the wilderness of words, Russ answered stubbornly, "Lord Valthaur is Khint's master. If his servant lies, then yes, he is to answer."
"And Margul? What proof have we that Margul's contact with Lord Valthaur was anything more than a merchant delivering wares to yet one of many wealthy clients?"
A low grumbling echoed in the man's great chest as he glowered down at the elf's lithe form. "Curse the justice of men," he growled. "For it is twined like brambles and barbed like thorns."
He lifted his dark gaze to rake Halbarad and Tarannon in turn. "Did I not say, before the ruins of that cave, that Darien's jackals, once fed and fat and healed of their hurts, would repent of their promises of truth? You swore that your Steward would be just and fair, but where is he? I do not see him here. Let him come forth to hear Nik's oath, and let him be the voice and ear of true Men."
At Russ' elbow, Halbarad shifted his grip on Odbut, whom he held while Tarannon bound the orc at hands, elbows and knees.
"Lord Valthaur is the representative of Lord Faramir," Halbarad said. "That is how things are done."
"And him I cannot trust, for his servant is a servant of lies." Russ drew himself up to his full, magnificent height, a primordial creature from a time of legends, framed in barren trees and starlight.
"If your steward will not tend to his own justice, then I say I am done with your laws and courts. Nik has fulfilled his oath. He has come to your men of law and spoken the truth. There is no more. At dawn, Nik and I shall return to our wilds and leave you to your world of shams and treachery. "
Tarannon sighed, giving his last knot a hearty yank, while Halbarad groaned and gritted his teeth. Anardil simply hauled wide-eyed Cullen to his feet.
"Before you go anywhere, wilderness or otherwise," Celebsul suggested mildly, "at least put your clothes on." And he pointed to the neat pile of garments he had brought from behind the Cauldron.
His hand clenched firmly on Cullen's collar, Anardil said, "Russ, you must remember, as long as Margul runs free, he is dangerous. If we accuse Lord Valthaur or his clerk, Margul will find out and escape with us none the wiser. We can't be certain of the law lord's involvement, but we do know now that Margul is trying to interfere with the outcome of Nik's hearing. Even if we foil that, the man is still loose out there, and Nik is still in jeopardy."
"Then Nik and I leave tonight," Russ replied. "Margul does not know the ways we travel, and he would be foolish, indeed, to follow."
"But consider this," Anardil persisted. "It is Nik's oath that brought us all here. None of us, not you, not me, have the right to tell him when his oath is forfeit. Is that not his decision to make?"
"We want the truth, too, Russ," Halbarad added. "But we need proof, and proof takes time."
"Then go find your proof," said Russ. "I didn't tie this knot. My only intent is to keep Nik safe."
With that, he turned and began to dress.
"Friends," Halbarad pleaded, "We need to discuss this quietly, plan a way of getting all those who are guilty, and we need to do so in private rather than out here. Let us go back to the stables, quietly, unseen, and consult the people who are at risk, most notably, Nik."
Russ shook his shaggy head, though whether in negation or discontent, none could guess. Doggedly, he repeated, "Let this steward come to sit in his high seat, and let him demonstrate justice, or we shall be gone."
"We all want the same thing that you want, Russbeorn." Celebsul's eyes gleamed gently in the darkness. "Let us do this together."
Russ spoke not a word, but he reached for his boots and pulled them on.
xxx
In Alfgard's lamp-lit kitchen, three men sat around the sturdy table, silently drinking mugs of tea. Of the family, Alfgard alone delayed from his bed. Of the Silverbrook group, only Darien and Horus remained; Neal and Evan having returned to The Whistling Dog with Carrick and Bevin. Erin the hobbit silently pattered about the kitchen, offering quiet encouragement to Sev and ensuring the men folks left no crumbs or dirty cups for Linnet to find in the morning.
Sevilodorf stood, cup in hand, by the window, looking out to where Nik and Gubbitch kept their vigil - Lugbac being safely asleep in his quarters. Every moment that passed since the departure of Anardil in pursuit of Russ, brought deeper anxiety to the Rohirrim woman. She sighed under her breath then took a sip of tea, her gaze fixed on the shadowy orcs who were as concerned as she about their missing friends
Our ancient Gubbitch, Sev decided, must have excellent eyesight. He had nudged Nik and pointed out into the dark. Leaning close to the pane, Sev shaded her eyes and peered in the indicated direction, yet she could discern nothing.
"I think, maybe, someone is coming," she announced, both hopefully and fearfully.
The three men rose to join her at the window, while Erin paused with a dishcloth poised over an already spotless table.
"I can't see anything," Alfgard muttered.
Sev confessed, "Neither can I, but Gubbitch just waved at something…"
"There!" Horus exclaimed when vague silhouettes resolved from the substance of the night. "We better go and see what is happening."
Heart racing, Sev headed to the door, Erin and the men following closely at her heels. Once outside, however, her sprits sank. The arrivals were two of Alfgard's men who had been on guard duty.
"Boss," one of the men hailed the stable-master, but kept his voice low to avoid waking the household. "Captain Tarannon told us to guard the front gate, and we thought we'd better check with you."
Alfgard scratched his head in bafflement then noticed Gubbitch nodding fervently behind the stable-hands' backs. "Well … if Captain Tarannon thinks that is for the best, then maybe you should."
The two men said, "Aye," before walking past the house to disappear into darkness once more.
"What was that about?" Alfgard asked Gubbitch.
"Celebsul and others want to come back un-witnessed," the orc replied mysteriously. "They'll be here any minute … there - there they be."
The soft glow of an elf's spirit cast the faintest of light upon those walking with him. While three men had set out from the stables, five were returning. One of the extras proved to be the town's Ranger Captain - not unexpected given that Halbarad had stated his intentions of alerting Tarannon. The other caused raised eyebrows - Cullen, son of Tiroc, sternly prodded along by Anardil. Bringing up the rear, the towering form of Russ loomed, and something large wriggled and snarled beneath his arm.
"Oh, my," murmured Erin. "I think Russ found something."
xxx
A half-hour later, the group assembled round the kitchen table. By now the time had grown quite late, nearly midnight, and several stifled yawns belied the urgency of their situation.
"That's done," said Halbarad, standing to lean both hands on the back of a chair. "Odbut is locked away in that empty room of Alfgard's icehouse -."
"Waste of good blankets," growled the Rohirrim. The wish for sleep caused even his temper to fray.
"With food and water," Halbarad continued, casting a stern glance. "And Cullen is locked in the smokehouse. I think Anardil's warning for him to keep quiet for his own safety made an impression."
"Not so much that," Anardil observed with a humourless smirk. "I think it was the idea of Margul sneaking around in the dark with a sharp knife, hunting him, that's going to keep his mouth shut."
"Well done," said Captain Tarannon. "And my sealed instructions via my second command will advise good Farmer Tiroc that his son is in protective custody until we deem it safe for him to return."
Erin looked up in quick alarm. "What about Farmer Tiroc and the rest of his family?"
"Two of my Rangers will take lodgings at Tiroc's farmhouse," Tarannon replied. "Ostensibly because their current accommodations are uncomfortable, and they're put out of their own quarters until Lord Valthaur departs. Our sensible farmer should understand the real reason as soon as he hears the name, 'Margul'."
So the immediate loose ends were tied. Now came the time for reckoning. The kitchen seemed crowded as five men, a woman, a hobbit lass, an elf, two orcs and a massive, angry Beorning variously sat at the table or stood propped against walls.
By the window, Russ pulled at the neck of his tunic and rumbled, "Plots and plans - a man could drown in them. It is too crowded in here. Nik, we must go, and leave these people to their clue-solving."
The uruk frowned up at his mentor. "But I haven't heard all the clues."
"They are of no matter to us." The Beorning frowned as he looked at his diminutive friend. "Nik, you came to tell the truth, but those men will hang you with their lies. I cannot allow that. You have kept your oath, so we will go back to the farm."
"But the hearing isn't over," Nik protested.
"It is as far as I'm concerned." Russ stared hungrily out into the spacious night. "Do you not see the web that is being woven? Those men lie because they have no reason to tell the truth and their honour is for sale. A pretty lie is easier swallowed than an unsightly truth - and you are an unsightly truth, in most men's eyes." Again he turned his brooding gaze on Nik. "Do you want to hear more lies - risk losing your freedom, and then your life?"
Unmoved, Nik shrugged. "I'd like to hear more clues so I'll know what I'm risking."
"He has a point." Celebsul spoke from his cross-legged perch atop a kitchen counter. "And there are others here also at threat who need to be informed - Sev being one. Spare Nik a little more time while we assess what we know."
Eyes closing, the Beorning's hands balled into fists and a heavy sigh dragged its way from his chest. Nik and the elf both recognised this as a concession, though its duration might be as short as the man's patience. At Celebsul's nod, Anardil pushed himself upright from the cupboard that he leant against, and began recounting the situation.
"I think we have to accept the truth of Sira's story. All the evidence supports it. Out there is a man called Margul who uses orcs, or at least this Odbut, for all manner of purposes including assassination. Odbut brought a message to Cullen telling him to look for a signal from the law clerk tomorrow, and threatened death to the boy and his family if he failed to carry out the order. Several of us are witness to that." The former Ranger glanced at Russ, whose expression darkened even further.
Continuing, Anardil said, "Someone, and the clues point strongly to the clerk, fed mistruths to Osric and his sidekicks to try to prove Nik guilty. Margul did not want orcs to be given rights, and I conclude he now wishes to ensure that those rights are made to look meaningless. There is a small and possibly innocent connection between Margul and Valthaur, but the one between Margul and Khint seems corrupt in the extreme."
Silence reigned for a moment while people mulled over Anardil's words. Then Erin piped up. "What do you think the signal was for?"
Unexpectedly, Horus answered from his seat at the table. "A back-up plan would be my guess. If the evidence became stacked upon Nik's side, then he would be set free. Margul would want to ensure…"
"What?" The Beorning's stifled exclamation steamed with rage.
Nik nodded understanding. "That I'd not be free for long."
"Then we will go now!" Russ insisted.
Releasing his grip on his chair, Halbarad asked, "Where will you go? The farm is no protection from the likes of Margul."
"Ha, as if I fear his sort. I would know the moment he stepped onto my land, and I would crush him."
"But Teach," Nik tugged his mentor's tunic, "What about the others?"
"What others?"
Casting a look around the room, the uruk seemed to be gathering words. "Sevi for a start." His hand indicated the woman standing stiff-backed by the stove then gestured to the seated men. "And Horus and Darien - anyone who stands by the likes of me. This Margul might be a threat to them all. And the barmaid, and the scared lad out back, and his family. If we go back home now, I'll never be able to ride Warg beyond the bounds of our land. I'll be a prisoner, Teach."
Silence fell again, and Halbarad ran a hand through his hair. There, they had come to the very meat of the matter. Gnarled old Gubbitch nodded slowly, a much-furrowed grimace proof that Nik's reasoning impressed him.
Heavily Alfgard commented, "None are safe while this man walks free."
The Beorning let out another shuddering sigh. "What am I supposed to do? Allow the hearing to go ahead with the certainty of Nik being either sent to trial or released to be murdered?"
"No," Anardil replied firmly. "The hearing must be stopped."
This set Captain Tarannon to tapping on the table and frowning. "How do you propose we do that? Do we approach Lord Valthaur with our knowledge of Khint's involvement with Margul?"
"Definitely not!" Halbarad sat down abruptly. "We have nothing overt to implicate the law lord at all, but the orc's death threat to Cullen still rings in my ears - and it was elicited by Valthaur's name."
"Indeed, the fat man is the puppeteer." Russ' beard wagged his agreement.
"Not necessarily," cautioned Tarannon. "Cullen did say Valthaur frightened him merely by his presence, when he delivered Margul's merchandise last spring. Cullen I'm afraid is something of a dullard, and easily cowed by the appearance of authority."
"Well," Anardil reasoned, "we dare not risk alerting any of them to our suspicions." He looked towards Sevi who had remained silent throughout. On receiving her expression of encouragement, he continued. "Cullen and Odbut must be kept out of sight, and their confinement remain secret. There is not enough evidence for Ranger captains to take action, but there is sufficient for the Steward to want to ask questions. If I leave now and ride swiftly, I can be in Emyn Arnen by tomorrow afternoon."
Sevilodorf had not expected that outcome. "But the hearing continues tomorrow. It will be over long before you can return."
"Unless it is delayed, somehow." Every eye in the room swivelled to the normally prim and correct Tarannon. Heat rose in the man's face, but he elaborated. "It is surely not beyond the wit of the people in this room to find some way to buy more time."
"Burn down barracks," Gubbitch suggested, grinning wryly when Tarannon glared at him.
"We can think of something, I'm sure." The Silverbrook lord pushed his chair back a little to face Anardil. "Go to Emyn Arnen. Leave us to work out the delay."
"There'll be delay enough when Nik and I leave," Russ snarled quietly.
"I can't go now, Teach." Nik looked up at his enormous friend beseechingly. "These are our friends and doing their best to help me. Besides, if some people think my being set free will encourage more orcs to live in peace, then it's worth the risk."
The Beorning stared at his charge, once more struck dumb by the uruk's wisdom and courage.
"Aye," he finally acknowledged, resting a massive hand briefly upon Nik's head. "Of everything that has been said, that I can see the sense of. But if this Steward is to bring Justice as Halbarad promised, then men must move now."
"I will," Anardil stated, stepping quickly alongside Sev.
"And I can show you a way to leave the stables unseen and unheard." Alfgard winked.
Captain Tarannon looked askance at the Rohirrim man, but added, "And Halbarad and I will unearth faulty paperwork, possible new witnesses, rotten floorboards…" Shrugging, he ended lamely, "Whatever it takes to delay the hearing."
Within moments, the room emptied, Anardil vanished to pack for a swift journey, and the wheels of subterfuge were in motion.
xxx
TBC ...