October 27th- Midmorning
Sevilodorf stopped on the next to the final step and regarded the beetle-browed clerk with what Anardil called her "I don't have time for this" face.
"It has only been two hours since my last report to Lord Valthaur. I assure you that Horus' condition remains much the same."
Khint removed his hat and swept her a deep bow to which she responded with a sharp nod and a tightening of her lips. "No doubt, madam. However, in my time in his lordship's employ I have learned that it is best to dot every 'i' and cross every 't'."
"In other words," Sev interrupted, "you are here to discover if my patient is indeed ill. Sir, such an impugning of my honour would not be tolerated in Rohan."
The law clerk bowed low once more, then said, "Pray do not interpret the matter in that fashion. It is merely my duty to see that all things are conducted properly."
"It was my understanding that it was Lord Valthaur's, but far be it for me to stand between a man and his duty. Come along."
Turning about, Sev started to climb the stairs, then stopped suddenly and frowned down at the clerk. "You have had it before, haven't you?"
"What?" Khint questioned.
Sev rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Master Khint, I have neither the time nor the patience to engage in games with you. You were there yesterday when Master Banazîr related the particulars of what he believes is wrong with Horus. I assume that Lord Valthaur does not employ you out of the goodness of his heart; therefore, you are an intelligent man possessed of an adequate memory. I repeat, have you had bolgur before?"
"Yes, madam," Khint replied meekly. "When I was seven."
"You should be safe enough," Sev replied, and turned her back on the clerk. Reaching the top of the stairs, she glanced over her shoulder. "I will admit to admiring your bravery. Most men find even the mention of the possible consequences somehow painful. Few have the courage to risk infection. No matter that I assure them it is extremely rare for someone who has experienced the disease as a child to take ill a second time."
"Rare, but not unknown?" The law clerk's voice held a slight note of concern as he joined the Rohirrim healer on the landing.
"Extremely rare." The woman's blue eyes glinted, and a muscle in her jaw twitched when she motioned the clerk to follow her down the corridor. "But then those few cases more than make up for it with their severity."
A small stack of clean linens sat to one side of the door before which Sev stopped - also an empty bucket smelling strongly of lye. Gathering the linens, she faced the clerk.
"Perhaps we will discover that such is the case with Master Horus. Until now he has been in no condition to give us much information; but as I reported to Lord Valthaur, his fever peaked just before dawn and is slowly ebbing. He will require time for recovery, however the worst appears behind us."
With that, Sev pushed the door open. A sweet candle had been placed upon a small folding table set between the room's two narrow beds; yet its delicate perfume and the half-open window could not dispel the foetid odour of illness. Also upon the table stood a basin in which the silver-haired Celebsul dipped a cloth. As the elf glanced toward the door, he wrung the dripping cloth, releasing the sharp scent of peppermint.
Setting the clean linens on the second bed, Sev motioned the clerk into the room. "Cel, I don't think you've had the pleasure of meeting Lord Valthaur's clerk, Khint. He has arrived to dot every 'i' and cross every 't'. Master Khint, Celebsul of The Burping Troll."
The elf lifted one elegant eyebrow at this introduction, then replied in a low voice, "Mae govannen, sir."
Whatever greeting the clerk had thought to make vanished from his lips as Celebsul proceeded to lift the bottom edge of the sheet covering the somehow shrunken form of the Haradrim and apply the wet cloth to the soles of the man's feet.
Whispered words of relief and thanks issued from the patient who otherwise lay unresponsive to all else in the room.
Sev stepped around the clerk and collected a neatly tied bundle of soiled linens from the foot of the bed. Her lips quirked with amusement as she said, "Oil of peppermint. It serves as a fever reducer and can also be used to settle the stomach so the patient might take sustenance."
"Feed a cold, starve a fever. I believe that is the adage my old nurse would recite upon occasion," Khint said, recovering some of his aplomb.
"If the fever continues, do you starve your patient into his grave?" Sev snapped and dropped the bundle of linens outside the door. Then, when the elf cocked his head in her direction, she pressed a hand to her forehead. "Forgive me. I fear I had little sleep last night."
Dipping the cloth once again into the basin, Celebsul replied, "She does not trust elven healing, Master Khint. Though I have found it most conducive to a long life."
The Rohirrim woman's laugh startled Khint. He blinked in amazement as she said, "Tell him the truth, Celebsul. I don't trust anyone. I haven't even let Darien in here for more than ten minutes at a time."
"Why is that?" Khint's pointed question earned him a raised elven eyebrow and a Rohirrim snort.
"Such plain speaking is most welcome, sir. All of this protocol ties me in knots." Sevilodorf sank onto the second bed and met Khint's eyes directly. "As much as I respect Master Banazîr, I fear the possibility of some unknown ailment. I have lost too many patients to 'simple' illnesses. I do not wish to lose this one, nor do I wish to start an epidemic. Celebsul is safe; as you will be well aware, elves do not fall victim to disease. I will risk myself, for that is my duty as a healer. But I will not allow others to do so. Having said that, it is time for you to go."
Khint looked from the Haradrim plucking at the linen so starkly white against his skin, to Celebsul's wry expression and back to the frowning woman: rumpled clothing, hair tucked severely beneath a kerchief, and dark circles beneath blue eyes, all spoke clearly of her fatigue.
With a nod to the elf, Khint again bowed to the healer. "Forgive me for intruding, madam. Please understand…"
Sev waved aside his apology. "My people are well acquainted with the demands of duty. I hope you understand where my own duty lies."
Khint's eyes gleamed, but he said only, "Again, forgive the intrusion, I will let myself out."
Sev closed her eyes and counted the slowly fading footsteps, then mentally followed the man down the stairs and out the door. Only after enough time had passed for the clerk to reach the lane to the village did she throw herself back on the bed and mutter, "My mother would be so ashamed of me."
"As would mine of me." Horus sat up in bed and managed a slight grin. "Though this deceit carries its own punishment; I still feel as weak as a kitten."
"Deceit?" Celebsul asked before supplying his own answer. "It is no lie to say you are ill, nor to suggest that your symptoms resemble those of mumps."
Kneeling upon the coverlet, Sev grimaced. "It is not the honest work of a healer to make a man sick."
Horus shook his head. "It is, if by so doing, a life is saved. Let us hope that Anardil is not delayed long in Emyn Arnen, and that the Prince takes our concerns to heart."
xxx
Shadowed by their helms, Khint could not see the eyes of the Guardsmen as he took their reports regarding the comings and goings at Alfgard of Rohan's stable yard, but their voices told a tale of men believing their duty inconsequential and unnecessary.
"You've seen no sign of the other Ranger?" Khint asked when the laconic tale wound to a halt.
"Well now, sir, he's not exactly a Ranger, is he?" A jagged scar marred the smooth line of a grey-speckled beard. "I mean, he's great friends with Captain Halbarad, and Tarannon will have a pint with him when he's in town. But the way I understand it, he's gone into the trading business. And that's where he's gone now, at least according to the stable hands."
His partner, like enough, save for the scar and the fact he was even slower in thought and word, to be close kin, scratched at a faint rash dotting his forearm and added, "Married into it, you might say."
"How is that?" the clerk's brows drew together. Here was an opportunity to confirm the information concerning those residing at The Burping Troll.
"You know Sevilodorf's his woman?" The first guard paused for Khint to signal his knowledge of this fact. "Her kin own the stable yard and do all the trading. Alfgard's only a manager. It's said she receives a nice profit for her share each quarter."
"Her share?" repeated Khint.
"Widow's portion, so old Raberlon says. Though you can't always be certain what he's saying. He doesn't speak the Common Tongue too plain."
His itching appeased, the second yawned and said, "There's the stones too."
"What stones?"
"The ones they trade for the orcs. Etharon pays a fair rate for what they bring in. He polishes them all up and makes geegaws and things to send to the City."
"Then there are stones," Khint blinked slowly. "I thought that was just a tale Lord Darien and his men had told."
"They aren't worth the time and trouble to pay a man to dig them out; but if you use orcs to do the work, you can clear a tidy profit. You don't think all this hullabaloo's over that runty little orc, do you? Who would care? Real reason's the profit to be made. The Rohirrim are sharp traders. You'll see."
"I believe I already do," the clerk pulled his hat firmly down against the freshening breeze and looked back toward the stable yard. "Yes, I believe I see a great deal."
xxx
Noontime- Road from Emyn Arnen to Henneth AnnûnLittle winds rushed and whirled along the empty road to Henneth Annûn, their passage marked in skittering gusts of leaves in brown and gold. They were harbinger, perhaps, of changing weather, but here in the lee of the Ephel Dúath, the crisp autumn sunshine cast nets of shifting shadow upon the earth. Overhead, solitary white puffs of outrider clouds glided serenely amidst the blue.
The breeze soon picked up a quick handful of dust, which burst from beneath the hooves of a galloping horse as it came around a bend. The rider's dark hair swept over his shoulders, while his lean, straight form moved in perfect time with the horse's long-legged stride. Though long, wearying miles lay behind him from Emyn Arnen, the last leg of his journey was at hand. With any luck, he would arrive at the village of Henneth Annûn within the hour.
Or so Anardil thought, until his horse stumbled heavily and pulled up in a hitching stride. Frowning, he checked the horse's speed down to a trot, which levelled and smoothed once more.
"Now, lad," he murmured. "Don't scare me like that."
As if in response, the courier-remount horse stumbled again, and this time broke to a peg-legged walk, punctuated by a metallic clanking. Anardil smothered an oath, and in the middle of the empty road, he dismounted and stepped back to eye the animal's legs. It held the right front hoof cocked up, and now Anardil could see the iron shoe skewed sideways, twisted almost completely off its nails.
With a growling sigh, he tapped the horse's leg and caught its hoof in his hand when the leg obediently rose. As he feared, the shoe was worn almost through, the nails all but pulled free - and clearly, the poor animal had trod upon a stone.
"Confound it!" Anardil let the hoof drop and he straightened to pat the horse's sweat-damp neck. "Why didn't I check your shoes before we left? I bet you'd like that thing all the way off, wouldn't you lad? Unfortunately, you've an idiot for a rider today."
Wishing impossible wishes, he glared stormy-eyed at the offending shoe. However, a man with one arm could only overcome so many obstacles, and the mechanics of removing a half-thrown horseshoe were beyond his abilities.
Teeth clenched, he scooped up the trailing reins and stared up the suddenly too-long road home. He realised he stood equidistant between the last remount station and Henneth Annûn. It was a lovely day for an autumn stroll, but this was rather more strolling than he cared to make, especially with urgency snapping at his heels.
"Probably seven miles," he grumbled. "As far to go back, as it is to go on. Well, nothing for it but to start."
Shaking his head at bitter luck, he tugged the limping horse to follow. There he set his feet on the long trudge towards the village, the horse clanking its painful way behind.
xxx
The rays of the sun slanted into early afternoon, when Halbarad paced silently from ranks of slender trees that framed the southerly road. No sound did he make, and the greys and browns of his garb rendered him nearly invisible, if he chose to stand motionless. Now, however, he moved with a hunter's steady grace, bright eyes seeing every detail, from the tracks of a deer to the whirring flight of a flock of sparrows.
At the road's edge, he paused to scan the wiry tangles of bare limbs and dry leaves. Something teased at the edge of his senses, and he tried to reach beyond hearing.
Soon, movement caught his eye and a misshapen, trudging figure appeared at the next turn in the road. He blinked, and the shape resolved itself to a limping horse led by a visibly weary man. A wry grin turned his lips, ere Halbarad slipped back into the concealing thickets.
Moments later, he drew even with the plodding twosome, moving silent as a ghost himself. Crouching, he edged closer to the road, a bramble thicket as his screen. The off-rhythm clopping of the lame horse's stride grew louder. Halbarad's grin returned while he watched the man's head abruptly come up, suddenly keen as a hound catching a scent. Then a one-sided grin creased the man's face.
"All right, Halbarad. You can come out now."
Laughing, the captain stepped into the open. "Looks like you've run into a bit of ill luck there."
Anardil stopped, and glanced at the sad equine face that drooped at his shoulder. "Aye, I didn't walk around this fellow before I left the last remount station. Poor lad lost a shoe and got a stone bruise."
"Ouch." Halbarad grimaced. "How long have you been walking?"
With a huge, gusting sigh, Anardil replied, "Over two hours. What was left of the shoe fell off an hour ago. What brings you out here?"
They turned and began walking together, the horse following.
"Hunting," Halbarad replied. "For a mutual friend."
He laid a finger alongside his nose, and Anardil nodded.
"No luck, eh?"
"Nothing yet. But he can't be far. And meanwhile I'm keeping an eye out for you. Everything went well?"
Anardil patted a small courier's pouch that hung from his shoulder. "As we'd hoped."
"Excellent. Come, there's a back way in, and we can find Tarannon and plan our next moves."
At a touch on the sleeve, Anardil followed Halbarad off the road and into the woods and fields.
Some while later, limping horse and trudging men found their way up a narrow alley towards the small compound that served as headquarters for the Ithilien Rangers in the village. Leaving the horse to a sympathetic stable hand, the pair chose an equally circuitous route to the building that comprised the heart of the complex. Through a back door they went, and thence to the room used as the commanding captain's particular realm.
Anardil and Halbarad both lay draped comfortably over a pair of chairs, when Tarannon's step sounded beyond the door. He walked inside, and paused, head cocked as he regarded Anardil critically.
"You look like something the dog dragged in."
"Thank you, Captain," Anardil replied dryly. "You know how to make a man feel welcome. Please, have a seat."
He waved his hand towards the captain's empty chair, and bit down on a grin to see the hard glint of severity that appeared in Tarannon's eyes. A sense of humour clearly was not part of standard Ranger issue.
"Since you have made yourselves at home," Tarannon said, "I suppose we can dispense with formalities." He rounded the single table, took his seat, and leaned back to lace his fingers across his flat belly. "Did your mission succeed?"
Anardil swung the courier pouch from his side, and shrugged its strap from his shoulder. "Yes, most admirably."
He tossed the pouch and Tarannon caught it, drawing out Faramir's sealed scroll. The captain slid a thumb under the embossed wax, gently prying it loose, and then spread the parchment flat on the table before him. In silent swiftness, he scanned the few lines, only a twitch of an eyebrow giving indication of his thoughts.
"Well, then." He let the scroll snap back into shape. "We shall attend to that shortly." Again his glance grew severe. "After we render you somewhat more presentable. First, however, Hal and I will advise you of a few matters that came up whilst you were gone."
"Hal already explained the hunt for Margul. I agree the man must be near, but I think we'll need luck or better leads to find where."
"True. Though perhaps the pieces are coming to hand."
Quickly Tarannon and Halbarad explained the previous day's events, of Ham and Tom coming forward to admit the clerk, Khint, had influenced them and certainly collaborated with Osric. Osric himself, of course, remained unrepentant and hostile.
"The three of them are effectively under house arrest," Halbarad said. "They can move about, but they must not leave the village."
Anardil's snort bespoke his thoughts of such delicate handling. "Is Osric still here, or has he already flown?"
"So far still here," Hal replied. "Abusing Cameroth's good nature, I'm sure. There is another thing, however. Odd, perhaps harmless, but troubling."
"Oh?" The one-armed man glanced from his friend to Tarannon's suddenly shuttered expression.
Halbarad shifted uneasily forward in his chair before speaking. "Evidently Lord Valthaur questioned Sevi as to your whereabouts."
Anardil went very still, eyes darkening.
"His choice of words was harmless," Hal continued. "At least according to Sev. But she found it unsettling enough to let me know. The fact he questioned her in front of his clerk, who should not be privy to your true work for the crown, was ill advised. And he made further remark about dark roads at night." The Ranger's expression twisted wryly. "The fact you are back safe renders such fears moot, but one could easily read that as a veiled threat."
Anardil's hand closed into a fist on his knee. "Captain Tarannon," he said quietly. "Have you a clean shirt or something that I might borrow? I think it is high time we put hobbles on a certain mûmak."
xxx
Captain Tarannon left Anardil and Halbarad waiting in his office while he went in search of Faramir's chamberlain. He found the man in the room allocated to him, and could see from the doorway that Willelmus had been writing copious notes before being disturbed.
"Captain." The chamberlain dabbed a spot of ink from his finger with a handkerchief. "What can I do for you?"
"By order of Prince Faramir of Ithilien, Steward of Gondor, request that Lord Valthaur and his clerk attend my office forthwith."
Willelmus blinked, owl-like, several times before attempting to speak. "By … My … Who has spoken to the Steward?"
"Do you normally question your prince?" Tarannon's brittle tone made the chamberlain's back stiffen.
"No, Captain. I will do as you ask immediately."
A single nod then the Ranger strode away towards his office.
xxx
Minutes later, Tarannon called "Enter" to the knock on his door, and then he pushed himself up from the chair. Anardil and Halbarad, seated against the wall at either side of the desk, also stood.
In the open doorway, the chamberlain announced, "His Lordship, Justice Valthaur, and his chief clerk, Master Khint."
The law lord's majestic mass blocked all view of Willelmus and the clerk as he entered the room. His eyes fixed instantly on Anardil who stared back impassively.
Taking control of the situation, Tarannon instructed, "Please be seated, your lordship, Master Khint. Willelmus," the chamberlain paused in the doorway, "you should join us."
With that, Tarannon resumed his seat, as did his two colleagues. Thus three faced three across the office floor.
Valthaur sat as rigidly as his bulk allowed, and his eyes remained on Anardil for a long moment before he addressed the Captain of Henneth Annûn.
"What is the meaning of this disruption? Willelmus mentioned the Steward. Am I to conclude that some discourse has taken place between Faramir and Anardil, who arrives back at the moment of this summons?"
"Sir, allow me to convey the Steward's ruling before we enter any discussion."
Listening to Tarannon, Halbarad maintained a pose of peaceful composure yet felt absolute amazement. The starchiness of the local Ranger Captain, long viewed by many people as a vice, now proved its value as the man held his ground against one of the most powerful law lords in the kingdom. It was a struggle not to turn to examine Tarannon's expression as he spoke on.
"Your presence, Lord Valthaur, is only required because these proceedings concern an employee of yours and have a direct impact upon the hearing over which you preside."
A twitch of Khint's eyebrows offered the only evidence that he realised he might be the employee in question. When Tarannon turned his attention to the clerk, the twitching increased.
"There is considerable evidence that Master Khint has interfered with witnesses in the case of Nik of Isengard; sufficient evidence, in the view of the Steward, to detain him for questioning."
Valthaur looked as if he were about to protest, and the clerk turned an unhealthy shade of white. His dark moustache and eyebrows appeared even more prominent.
But Tarannon leant forward, propping his elbows on the desk and folding his hands. "This matter is beyond my control, or yours, Lord Valthaur. The Steward of Gondor has issued his orders and we must all comply. There are Rangers waiting in my annex to take Master Khint into custody. The possible contamination of evidence means that the hearing is annulled. Another judge will be appointed and the proceedings started afresh. You are most welcome, sir, to remain here and satisfy yourself that everything is carried out to the letter of the law."
Valthaur nodded, his chins rippling. "I would see Prince Faramir's orders."
"Indeed." Tarannon held out the scroll to Willelmus, obliging the chamberlain to rise from his chair and delivery the document to the law lord.
Silence ensued while Valthaur studied the text. Finally letting the scroll rewind, the law lord nodded again. "It is in order."
"Yes, it is," Tarannon agreed.
Khint's face turned to Valthaur, then to the Ranger captain, then back to Valthaur. His remarkable eyebrows twitched like small creatures leaping in a cage.
"No! If any dishonesty has taken place, it is that which delayed the hearing while a man rode to tell lies to Faramir. I've done nothing wrong."
Quietly, Lord Valthaur spoke. "Then you need have no fear, my dear Khint. Let the gentlemen discharge their duty and I will ensure that justice is done. Have patience. I am sure that Captain Tarannon will not cause you any unpleasantness while we untangle this … debacle."
Unbidden, Valthaur heaved himself from the chair. The sheer mass of the man suddenly took on the sense of an implacable force about to be unleashed, and his fleshy face chilled.
"I am displeased at this course of events," he said in clipped tones. "My clerk has served me loyally for many years and I trust you will ensure his detention is in no way onerous."
Having risen at the same time as the law lord, Tarannon replied, "Master Khint will be given secure but comfortable accommodation. I expect to receive further instructions in the near future."
"I am sure you do." Valthaur addressed his words to Captain Tarannon, but his eyes fixed on the one-armed ex-Ranger.
Of a sudden, as he watched the law lord exit heavily from the room, Anardil felt a chill tingle in his spine. He always knew the man was dangerous; now he wondered if he had underestimated that danger.
xxx
TBC ...