Chapter Thirteen

October 27th – Henneth Annûn

Arms crossed, Sev stared morosely out the sickroom window. How could the sun still be in the sky? Surely, the requisite number of hours had elapsed. And how had it come to pass that once again she stood trapped in the eternity of uncertainty, that antechamber of hell reserved for those forced to remain behind while loved ones rode out to face danger?

No matter the reassuring words of Halbarad and Tarannon, she could not set aside the fear raised by Lord Valthaur's remark. The roads were dangerous at night, especially when one had enemies with powerful friends. Few roads were darker or longer than the one Anardil rode to Emyn Arnen.

She could sympathise with Cullen's refusal to speak more of that which so plainly terrified him, naming a demon gave it greater substance. However, she would prefer to see her foe; to meet him face to face in honourable battle. Not sit behind a false shield waiting for the enemy to reach from the darkness and snatch away all she held dear.

But raging against fate would serve no purpose, nor would sinking into despair. She had travelled those roads before. Instead, she must focus upon the task given her: to confound the eye of their enemy and buy time for others to fight.

Wearily, Sev turned from the window and back to the man muttering unknown words in a troubled sleep. There had been no hesitation on Horus' part when she first presented him with this mad idea. Would that she had his confidence in her abilities to succeed. That Khint was suspicious seemed evident by his earlier visit. Had she set his suspicions to rest or merely inflamed them? Nmad her sharp tongue.

No matter. None save Horus and Celebsul knew the truth, and she had insisted upon their solemn oaths that if the façade proved transparent she alone would pay the penalty demanded. If the appeal to Lord Faramir failed, perhaps she could simply admit to her stratagems. Making a key witness ill would be considered, as Hal might put it, exercising undue influence on his state of mind; thus providing adequate cause for a new hearing.

Whatever the outcome, she would administer no more debilitating medications. Horus would remain on the road to recovery, and whether for good or ill, would be ready to testify the day after tomorrow. Sev's lips quirked as she considered how Master Banazîr was certain to be pleased at the effectiveness of the mullein and lobelia treatment.

Returning her gaze to the window, she wondered what entertainment Celebsul had devised to occupy the minds and hands of both Russbeorn and Erin this afternoon. The hobbit, most aggrieved at not being allowed to assist in the sickroom, had spent the early part of the day fetching and carrying clean linens and devising a number of palatable puddings to tempt Horus' appetite. After the arrival of the sixth tray of the day, Sev begged Celebsul to turn his mind to channelling Erin's desire to help. With typical elvish equanimity, he had agreed.

A short time later, Sev had caught a glimpse of the silver-haired elf heading toward the barn trailed by the hobbit carrying a large cloth-covered basket; Nik with a lumpy sack over one shoulder; and Nora skipping alongside Russbeorn. It was only to be hoped that Alfgard's barn would survive the afternoon.

A floorboard in the corridor creaked softly, and Sev had only enough time to face the door before it opened.

Though the dark green tunic was unfamiliar, she knew only too well the tautness of his shoulders and the shadows beneath Anardil's eyes which bespoke a weariness of body and spirit that even a half grin and a wryly lifted eyebrow could not disguise.

"Do you do nothing by halves, Sevi?"

Relief for his safety warring with irritation at the teasing, Sev narrowed her eyes and replied, "You would have preferred Gubbitch setting fire to the Rangers' Headquarters?"

A softly accented voice came from the bed, "Your lady has done well, Anardil."

"For a man in your position that is most complimentary." Anardil cast the ailing man a sympathetic grin. "I never doubted she would succeed. I merely find myself flabbergasted at the level of thoroughness with which she accomplished the matter."

"A job worth doing is one worth doing well, you loof," Sev retorted with a stubborn tilt of her chin.

Anardil grinned and reached out to take her hand. "That it is, my dear; so you will be pleased to hear that I completed my own task with equal thoroughness."

"Lord Faramir was convinced," Sev declared clasping his fingers tightly.

"Not only will the hearing be reconvened with a new judge, but Master Khint has been taken into custody and a complete investigation has been ordered concerning the testimony of Osric and his friends."

As Horus pushed himself upright, Sev moved to set another pillow behind the Haradrim. She then took a narrow bottle and a spoon from the table. When Horus grimaced, she rolled her eyes.

"Ridiculous man. When I deliberately make you ill, you swallow it without complaint; but try to make you better, and you curl up your nose."

Anardil chuckled as Horus responded, "The first bottle tasted better."

"There's a lesson to be learned there somewhere," Sev said and held out the spoon now brimming with a thick dark liquid.

With a shudder, Horus swallowed then accepted the cup of water Sev handed him with a word of thanks. After sipping slowly, he directed a sharp look toward Anardil.

"The first steps are completed; now for the more difficult tasks."

Sev sighed when Anardil nodded. The past two days had been difficult enough to suit her.

"Yes, I fear it will not be so easy to locate the mysterious Margul, or investigate the very powerful Lord Valthaur. Nor," Anardil tipped his head toward Sevilodorf, "explain the deception which has been practised upon our friends. From what Halbarad and Tarannon have conveyed to me, none realise the strategy you have employed."

Sev frowned. "Celebsul knows, but swore not to give us away. Must we tell the others? We would not have succeeded if everyone had known the truth. It was easier for them to act naturally when they did not know the whole; but it will hurt them to think they could not be trusted."

"It is your plot, my dear. I will leave that for you to decide."

Fighting the desire to beg Anardil to assume responsibility for the scheme, the healer turned to her patient, "Horus?"

The dark man tapped his fingers thoughtfully upon the sheets. "With your permission, Lord Darien should be told."

"I was afraid you'd say that." Sev's shoulders slumped, but she nodded. "He needs to be told. He's worrying himself sick, and you will not fully recover from what I've done to you for another two days."

"What we did," Horus corrected.

"He's downstairs," Anardil said. "Hal and I stopped at The Whistling Dog on our way back to let them know what had happened, and Darien came here with us."

"Fetch him up then, if you please," Sev replied. "You won't rest until this is settled, and it is obvious you are done in."

Glancing toward the Haradrim and receiving a nod of agreement, Anardil left the room. Sev sank down onto the bed across from Horus and clasped her hands together tightly.

"Of all those we have deceived, Darien is the one who will most understand our reasons," Horus murmured after several minutes passed.

Keeping her eyes on her hands, Sev gave a jerky nod. "That's what makes it worse. I never truly forgave the deception Lord Darien practised by pretending to be a trader of gemstones; yet, I am asking him to forgive me. As I said earlier, my mother would be most ashamed. She placed a great store upon honesty."

Horus nodded solemnly and recited the verse he had quoted to Darien many days ago; "Truth is a point, the subtlest and finest; harder than adamant; never to be broken, worn away or blunted."

"Yet, we did exactly that," Sev replied bitterly.

"As have we all, at one time or another," Darien's voice from the door, and the intelligence shining in his eyes told Sev that Anardil had taken the actual burden of the tale upon himself.

Standing slowly, Sev bowed her head. "I am sorry for the worry I caused you these last two days, my lord. I sought only to accomplish the task set me."

"Mistress Sevilodorf, as you are all too aware, I am myself guilty of focusing upon a desired outcome and causing great distress to those who did not deserve to suffer at my hands." When Sev winced at his words, Darien softened his tone. "Take comfort in the fact that at least your cause was just. Mine was decidedly not."

"Since that time, you have more than made up for your error in judgement. I only hope that I will discover a way to make up for the anguish I caused you."

"I promise you there is no debt owed." Darien smiled and stepped to Horus' bedside, where he held down a hand. "At least, none that is not shared by this scoundrel. I arrived here grey, and I fear I shall leave white-headed."

Horus chuckled, teeth shining briefly in his dark face as he clasped the offered hand. His fingers tightened when he looked up at his lord and friend.

"Then I also ask your forgiveness," he said softly. "To prevent ill deeds, sometimes lesser evils must be done …but the burden of deception is never light."

To Horus and Sev's mutual surprise, Darien abruptly laughed aloud. In a sweeping move he seized a nearby chair and spun it to stand beside Horus' bed, where he seated himself comfortably.

"Listen, my friends," he said, and clasped his hands about one knee. "Today, for the first time in a very long while, I feel the clean wind of hope. Justice - true justice - may at last be within our reach."

Another smile illuminated his features, surprising Sev by what a fine-looking man he was, without the shadow of doom upon his face. "Mistress Sev, if you are truly repentant, I would beg you to inquire if there is a chess board in this house. Or any board game, actually. I feel the need to punish this scoundrel for his impertinence, and a thorough trouncing would seem just the remedy."

"Trouncing?" Horus arched one dark eyebrow. "As I recall our last match -."

Darien cleared his throat loudly, and gave Sev one last, beseeching smile. "If it pleases you, my lady?"

In the doorway, Anardil bit his lip and tried very hard not to laugh.

"Mad," said Sev, and snorted and shook her head. "The both of you are mad as mud hens." She flung both hands up as if freeing them of all further consequences. "Very well, I will ask, but you, Horus, must remember to exercise no more than your mind. You are not a well man, yet."

xxx

Leaving Horus in Darien's care, Sev directed Anardil to a tiny room at the far end of the corridor. Upon entering and finding his own gear settled upon the bed, he cocked his head and said, "Another of your strategies, Sevi?"

"Actually, Alfgard suggested we move your things out of the men's barracks. Given that your absence was supposedly due to some important trading mission. It made more sense that you would have taken your things with you."

"Ah, sensible."

Anardil shifted the small pack to a stool in the corner and eased himself onto the bed. Lord Faramir's admonition to choose a younger man for courier duty repeated in his head as his knees creaked and a wave of weariness swept through him.

"Not that anyone was likely to go into the barracks, but it did seem better to dot all the 'i's, so to speak."

Sev knelt to pull off Anardil's boots, and he frowned down at her dark head. "Now that's something I would expect the pompous Willelmus to proclaim."

"Actually," Sev set the boots against the wall, "Master Khint said it this morning when he paid me a visit."

The former Ranger's expression darkened. "I heard a bit about his visit and about Valthaur's questioning you. Hal said it frightened you."

Settling beside him on the bed, Sev nodded. "It startled me, and then worried me. Lord Valthaur should never have asked such a question in front of Khint. He knows your duties for the King are not to be mentioned, and that should have been the assumption he made concerning your absence."

"Aye, the good judge was made privy to such information during the trial in March. But his involvement in all of this is becoming more and more suspicious." Anardil tried unsuccessfully to hide a grimace as he straightened.

"Never mind. You're tired. All the sorting and sifting of information will wait until later. Unfortunately, it will all still be here. When was the last time you ate?"

Anardil blinked at the sudden shift in topic. "Tarannon's cook fed me a bite before our meeting with Valthaur."

Sev snorted knowingly. "Which do you want more? To eat or to rest?"

As she moved to stand, he took her hand to pull her back, then reached out and traced the shadows beneath her eyes with a fingertip. "Being an observant man, I would say that you would benefit from a bit of cozening yourself, meleth nín."

"A change of clothes, and I'll be presentable again." Sev frowned down at her well-creased tunic and reached up to pull off the kerchief covering her dark hair. "Though a long hot soak would be…"

At the sudden blossoming of Anardil's wide grin, she stopped and shook her finger at him.

"Don't go putting thoughts in my head, Anardil."

"Mm, but they are such lovely thoughts." His grey eyes twinkled as he slid his hand beneath her heavy braid and drew her close for a gentle kiss. "And I missed you last night."

Confound the man, still able to make her blush like a girl. However, before she could frame a reply, Anardil's own weariness betrayed him with a cavernous yawn.

Laughing, Sev gave him a stiff shove that toppled him onto the bed. "Loof," she said. "You are almost dead on your feet. Let me get the knots out of your shoulders, and then you need to sleep. Come now, roll over."

Obediently he rolled onto his belly, his mumbled protest lost in the pillow. She shifted her position so that she sat nestled beside him, and began kneading the long muscles of his back. A muffled groan of pleasure escaped into the pillow, and she smiled as she began the task of putting the dear, bone-weary fool to sleep.

xxx

Sunshine and a bench beside the barn; a man could scarcely ask for more than that. Russ hunched his massive form to a pose of utter ease and let the day's rare warmth bathe him in comfort. The wind bespoke a change on the morrow, so it was best to make the most of today's brightness. Nearby voices receded to little more than a buzz of sound. They spoke of naught that required his attention; so he gave in to the growing insistence to slumber that the season ever more strongly pressed upon him.

Not far away rested another man, a tall, weathered Rohirrim seated upon an upturned nail keg, expounding with hands gesturing to he who sat attentively at his feet. What raised the picture above the ordinary was the fact that, not so long ago, the man doing the telling and the person doing the listening had stood on opposing sides of bloody war.

Now, Nik the undersized Uruk-hai sat cross-legged on the ground, where he willingly absorbed everything his Rohirrim companion told him about the care of pregnant and nursing mares. In return Nik responded with countless questions and observations of his own. That sharing, Russ reflected distantly, was no small achievement. It was also due entirely to Nik's own efforts, for Russ had not troubled himself to win friendships that were not freely offered. Most people tended to keep their distance from a nine-foot-tall shape-changer; and frankly, that suited him just fine.

Nik, however, let his curiosity drive him, and the men who worked for Alfgard began to realise an eager mind lurked within that stunted form. In some ways, despite who he was and where he came from, Nik demonstrated almost childlike curiosity and simplicity. That spirit was what Russ so diligently sought to protect. The greater affairs, which weighed the world, were not his concern. What mattered were his friends, whether two-legged or four, and Nik had proved among the least problematical of the two-legged variety. Dismissing that thought, Russ drifted further into the warm ease of the autumn sun. Soon he began to dream of floating weightlessly over mountain forests cloaked in hues of crimson and gold.

A little while later, two sets of crunching footsteps prodded him to reluctantly open his eyes. Towards him walked the hunched form of Gubbitch the orc and the tall figure of Halbarad, captain of Rangers. Both wore pleased smiles. Russ sat up.

"Sorry to wake you, Russ," said Hal, as the twosome came to a halt.

"I was not asleep," Russ grumbled in reply. "I was merely resting my eyes."

Gubbitch chortled, while Hal scratched his nose to judiciously hide a grin.

"Now that they are open," the Ranger said, "you may be pleased to learn some good news. The hearing has been suspended and declared null, until a new justice can assume the bench."

At Russ' dubious stare, Halbarad elaborated, perhaps unnecessarily, "Lord Valthaur is off the case. All previous testimony is stricken from record. We get to start over again, Russ."

Undoubtedly the Ranger expected a more enthusiastic response, but here in his comfortable seat the words that rang in Russ' ears were "start over again". A powerful longing for the peace and quiet of his farm seized him, and he pushed it down with effort.

"Nik," he called. "The Captain has news for you."

Nik hastily made his excuses and leapt to his feet. He ran to join his friends and looked eagerly from one to the other.

"What news is that, Captain Halbarad? Is the Steward coming?"

"Actually -." Halbarad's smile bloomed across his entire face. "Yes, I believe he is. And Lord Valthaur is removed, while the clerk, Khint, is under arrest for tampering with witnesses."

"Under arrest?" Nik's eyes widened. "What did he do?"

Halbarad glanced at Russ and his expression gentled when he replied. "He convinced those men to lie, Nik. He urged them to give false testimony against you, so that you would be held for murder."

"But…" The little Uruk frowned. "Why would he do that? I never met him before this."

The Ranger shifted his weight uneasily. "It's not personal, Nik. Or at least I don't think so."

"Oh." Nik's face sobered. "Yes, I suppose I understand. I still look like the enemy, so they think it's all right to tell lies on me."

Russ held his tongue against the things he might have said. In his view, the cold truth was that the world of Men never would truly have a place for Nik. He would not speak thus, however, and let Halbarad hastily respond.

"Perhaps, but that's over now. Lord Valthaur and Khint are out, and Lord Goldur will take the bench as soon as he gets here."

At Nik's look of confusion, Gubbitch said, "Other big fella. Great huge hobbit, like, a sight friendlier than Valthaur."

Hal elaborated, "Last spring Lord Goldur was the justice who spoke in favour of rights for all orcs."

"Oh!" Nik brightened. "Erin mentioned him. She said he was nearly as big as Lord Valthaur, but ever so much nicer. Then he'll come listen to me?"

"Yes, just as soon as he can get here."

"And Lord Faramir, too?"

Smiling, Halbarad hooked his thumbs in his sword belt and rocked back on his heels. "And Lord Faramir, too."

"Did you hear that, Teach?" Nik positively vibrated with glee, a wide grin stretching his cheeks. "The Steward himself is going to come and listen! He'll get to hear the truth -."

Then he spun to face Halbarad, face suddenly anxious. "But the men who lied - what about them? Won't they just lie again?"

Russ closed his fists on his knees, and Halbarad gave a smirk. "Ham and Tom are fools, but they have been made to see the error of their ways. As for Osric … he'll rue his folly, Nik. Trust me on that. We'll see him stewed in his own juice, before this is done."

Slowly Nik nodded, his gaze turning towards but not focusing on the stable yard. "I don't care about that, really. Just so long as they tell the truth about what happened. And not only for me, you know?" He glanced at Halbarad and then at Russ. "It's for Mistress Sev and Horus and Evan and everybody who speaks for me. Because if people think I lied … what will they think of my friends? I don't want the Steward or any lord of men to think my friends were lying."

Halbarad shook his head. "That won't happen now, Nik. We'll make sure it doesn't."

Nik looked up into those steady blue-green eyes, and his grin quickly returned. "Well, I think it will be interesting to meet a giant hobbit. When will Lord Goldur arrive?"

"Within two days," Halbarad replied. "I expect he'll reconvene the hearing as soon as possible -." He glanced over Nik's head. "So you and Teach can go home."

Aye, home. Russ could be patient a while longer. He could let the wheels of justice grind, now that the chaff had been sorted from the grain. But his own farm and his own lodge and his own comfortable bed would be very welcome, indeed.

Placing both hands to his knees, he pushed himself up and stood. "Come, Nik. Tell me what you learned about tending to mares, and we'll see about a bite to eat."

As the curious pair moved off towards the kitchen, wiry little Uruk and hulking Beorning, an equally unusual pairing of orc and Ranger watched them go.

"All comes round right," said Gubbitch. "Takes time, but all comes round right, in end."

"Aye." Halbarad took a deep breath, just for the pleasure of doing so without tension restricting his chest. "It looks to be so, at last."

Together they turned and walked away.

xxx

A man long accustomed to the tides of a noble house, Willelmus realised full well that something extraordinary had occurred beneath this humbler roof. First there was Captain Tarannon's suddenly high-handed behaviour, for while a stern man, Tarannon was not known to be unreasonable. Then the entire scene with Lord Valthaur and his clerk, that was simply unprecedented. Why Captain Tarannon wished Willelmus to remain in the room seemed a mystery, unless of course he simply wanted a man of integrity to witness the proceedings.

Nonetheless, Willelmus silently sighed in relief, the moment he bowed Lord Valthaur into his room. The view of Khint being marched off in the custody of two tall Rangers was almost as unsettling as the grim silence enshrouding Lord Valthaur. In an effort to settle his nerves, Willelmus immediately took himself off to the dining hall, where he begged the cook for a small pot of tea and a piece of pie.

"Yours if you want it," growled the cook, and he gracelessly plunked a plate down on the kitchen's broad worktable. "According to that prig with the eyebrows, I might as well toss it to the hogs."

Willelmus paused and blinked, pie plate in hand. "I assure you, good man, your pies are excellent. My dear mother put the same touch of ginger in her apples, and your sugar crumble on top is perfect."

At that, he spun around in a whirl of his robes and marched for the door, leaving Cook to scratch his head with the befuddled beginnings of a smile.

Striding swiftly, Willelmus headed for his own small room, fully intending to shut himself away with his tea and pie and not speak to a soul until suppertime. Alas, that hope disintegrated at the rattling of a door latch. The chamberlain lengthened his stride to escape down the corridor, but too late. The door opened just behind him, and Lord Valthaur's wheezing voice spoke.

"Ah, Willelmus. Just the fellow I wanted."

The chamberlain allowed himself a full-face grimace of annoyance, before composing himself to perfect solemnity and turning around.

Pie plate and teapot carefully balanced, he inquired, "Yes, my lord? How may I be of service?"

Valthaur filled the doorway from frame to frame, his evening robe straining like a dustcover over a particularly well-stuffed chair. "Today's developments have quite distracted me. I nearly forgot I have a message that wants delivering. Would you be so kind?"

Years of practice prevented Willelmus' dismay from showing. "Certainly, my lord. If I may empty my hands?"

The subtle bit of irony he injected into those words was of course ignored, as Valthaur waved podgy fingers, the adamant stone of his ring winking dismissal. "Yes, yes, of course. I'll have it ready for you when you return."

Several minutes later, Willelmus cast his tea and pie a parting thought of regret, and headed out the door with Lord Valthaur's sealed note clutched in his hand.

"Black Cauldron," he murmured in distaste. "One would imagine the proprietor could think of a more welcoming name."

Swiftly the thin chamberlain made his way through the streets of Henneth Annûn, arriving shortly in the yard of the tavern in question. Immediately he realised the name was entirely appropriate. Even before he reached the door, a rank, burnt smell indicated a culinary disaster in progress. Upon opening the door, a further gust of stale beer and old body odour nearly bowled him off the porch.

However, Willelmus, chamberlain to the Lord Steward of Gondor, had never yet failed in his duty. With a nearly physical gathering of his will, he stepped into the cavernous gloom.

"Oh, dear," he whispered. "I have entered a den of trolls."

The few patrons at this hour matched the pong of the place, dour, hunched men who clutched their tankards as if guarding against theft by their fellows. Perhaps the beer was the only thing of value in this place, but Willelmus had no intentions of finding out.

Striding swiftly across the common room, he tried to ignore how his shoes kept sticking to the floor, and halted beside the taps. No one appeared to serve him. Frowning, he glanced about to see if perhaps the tavern keeper were one of those squatting like toads in the dimness. Apparently not. Someone in the room abruptly hacked a phlegmy cough, followed by a half-dozen more that sounded near to expelling a lung.

"Oh dear," Willelmus murmured, fingers tightening on Lord Valthaur's note.

Just as he drew breath to shout for service, a heavy step thudded beyond the doorway from which the reek of abused supper continued to emanate. He turned, and sucked in a gasp that nearly choked him. A perfectly hideous orc-face stared at him from the entrance, and nothing in that alien expression indicated whether the look was welcoming, or contemplation for a second course.

The creature's mouth opened, and a grating voice issued forth. "Can I help you?"

Well, that seemed polite enough. "I have a message for Master Drath," Willelmus replied. "Is he in?"

The orc blinked yellow eyes. "Wait here."

Off it shuffled, leaving Willelmus to breathe as shallowly as possible.

A quicker but no less heavy step brought his attention around, and Willelmus composed himself properly. The effort was lost on the slovenly, scowling man who appeared before him.

"Yeah?" he said in greeting.

"If you are Master Drath," Willelmus said primly, "I bear a message from Lord Valthaur. Are you he?"

"I am." Drath bent one elbow to scratch leisurely under the opposite armpit. "Let's have it."

With indecorous haste, Willelmus produced the sealed note and all but shoved it into the man's hand. If this were one of Lord Valthaur's clients, then surely the legal action he served must be perfectly heinous in nature. The chamberlain did not wait on Drath's grunt of thanks, if it could be called that, but turned and fled as swiftly as his dignity allowed.

Once outside, he almost collided with a second orc – this one the hugest of its kind he had ever seen. However, his near-shriek stopped in his throat as the ungainly creature back-pedalled way from him, gnarled hands held up in entreaty.

"I didn't touch you!" it cried. "Lugbac didn't touch nobody."

And that was more than enough madness for one day. Willelmus practiced deep-breathing all the way back to the Ranger headquarters, in hopes he might thus expel most of the evil humours he had ingested.

"Oh, my Lord Faramir," he groaned as he rushed along, "I pray you will never send me from your side, ever again. I am too old for this."

Behind him, Drath turned to stand beneath a smoke-stained lantern and tilted the letter to examine the embossed wax seal. Though lacking an address the missive bore a familiar symbol.

"Looks like another one." He shrugged, and turned to shout over his shoulder. "GROM! Get your lazy self out here. Need you to run an errand."

When the orc reappeared, Drath scowled. "You take this like before. And don't you be lazy about it, here? If I don't have your hide, he will."

The orc's gnarled shoulders clenched as he bowed his head. "All right."

He closed taloned fingers on the note, forming a strange contrast against the paper's pristine whiteness. Without meeting Drath's eyes, Grom turned and shuffled away.

xxx

TBC ...