Chapter Nineteen

Alfgard still sat with Sev when Darien drew near, but the greying Rohirrim glanced up at his approach and seemed to know his intent. Standing with a curt nod, Alfgard stepped aside and left. Sev did not move, and the whisper of her voice reached Darien's ears.

Whether she spoke softly to the dead man or to forces beyond death, Darien could not guess, for her whole attention remained on Raberlon's body. The old man's clothing had been straightened, his plain wool cloak, with a faded badge stitched onto the shoulder, arranged to hide the wounds that had killed him. His face and hands appeared to have been washed and his grey hair smoothed. Whatever dignity could be granted to the dead, Sev had given him in this shadowed place, so far from the plains and hills of his home. She herself sat with a worn sword scabbard across her lap

The low murmur of her voice broke off as Darien stepped forward. Her eyes, dark pools in the smoky light of a thin torch, regarded him steadily with no sign of tears that he could detect. Only the tightness of her fingers about the scabbard gave any sign of her feelings. He moved hesitantly, for he realised now that while Anardil might sanction his presence, it was possible Sevilodorf had not requested company.

With a sigh, Sev said, "Come, Darien, I won't bite your head off. I know all too well who sent you. Raberlon won't mind, and I would appreciate the company. Spread one of those blankets Hal found for me and join us."

Darien sat, and for a time, there were only the quiet voices of the Rangers searching the camp, the murmuring of the wind and stream, and the occasional hiss as drops fell upon the torch.

Briefly, Sev's fingers tapped softly upon the scabbard then she said, "Sixty-three. I make it sixty-three years since he swore oath to my husband's grandfather, Esthomas. Raberlon always took great pride in being able to say that he had served three generations of the family."

Reaching a hand out to touch the faded badge upon the shoulder of the old man's cloak, she explained, "Every member of the family, whether bound by blood, bond or marriage, pledged their oath to the ideals of Esthomas of the Deeping Vale. Thus, they chose to place in his crest: truth, knowledge and justice. I would like to think that is what Raberlon gave his life to defend."

She met Darien's eyes with a fierce intensity. "'Tis true for Landis also."

The mention of that name might always strike him to the heart; Landis, his oldest friend and comrade, who perished in that black cave as a victim of Grady's madness and Darien's failure to lead with wisdom. For a beat, he could not frame a reply. Then he broke from her gaze and exhaled softly, not quite a sigh.

"What truth did he die for, Mistress Sev? What justice? He died -."

"Because another man chose to act on his own insanity," Sev snapped. "For pity's sake, Lord Darien, can you not see Landis as a man and not a martyr?"

In shock, he simply stared, and Sev snorted, her fingers again caressing the embroidered threads of the family crest on Raberlon's still shoulder.

"Landis of Silverbrook died from wounds received in honourable battle," she said firmly. "He fought to preserve innocent lives and to stop a madman from committing murder. Landis died without regrets, save one; that his passing would harm you. Why do you persist in cursing his ghost?"

"I do not curse his ghost, only the folly that set the path to his murder."

"Yes. However, regret and guilt are two ill-fitting garments that unfortunately lend themselves all too well to constant wear." She clasped her fingers in her lap and looked at him, her expression now stiffly calm. "We mourn our dead, Darien. It is honour to their memories that we hold them always in our hearts. I will be sorry until the end of my life that Raberlon did not die comfortably asleep in his bed, in the fullness of his days and surrounded by his family. But think you … do we wish this for them, or for ourselves?"

Darien bowed his head and ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture that, unbeknownst to him, reminded her of Halbarad when faced with a particularly thorny conundrum.

"Then tell me this, Mistress Sev," he asked, voice slightly muffled, "How do I forgive myself for leading him to his death?"

"Is that not what the captains of warriors do?"

He jerked his head up. "Yes - when their cause is just, and death is a price worth paying for the greater good."

"Is that not what you believed?" Sev found she had inadvertently crossed a battle-line, yet she fought on that ground. "You and Landis and your men strove for what you thought was right."

"But we were mistaken."

"Aye. As were many who took the wrong side because they were blinded from the truth. Yet, if they learn the truth and act nobly upon it, then they deserve forgiveness - ours and their own."

Though Horus stood aside from them, both thought of the Haradrim at that moment.

Looking to the corpse that Sevilodorf mourned in the dry-eyed manner of the Rohirrim, the Silverbrook lord confessed, "I have forgiven others and myself for many things. But for Landis …"

"There is, as you know well, no pretty face to put on war, Darien. Nor is there any way to disremember battle and death. It has taken me a long time to learn what an utter waste it is to walk with grief as a travelling cloak. We must all learn to cast it aside if we are to build the future that our friends and loved ones died for."

Darien nodded slowly in concession. "You speak wisdom, lady. And I would do well to heed you. But it is …" he sighed, long and deep, "… hard."

"Of course it is. What point is there in suffering if it were easy?" She flicked a stray pine needle off her lap. "Don't presume you are the only one to bear the weight of sorrow."

"I would never presume …" He glanced at her and saw a thin, wry smile. Then he offered his own in return. "You are telling me to get used to it and stop feeling sorry for myself."

Sev tilted her head slightly. "It is what I've had to tell myself all too many times."

They fell silent for a little space, listening to the muttering of men's voices and the occasional snap of a twig or scuff of a foot. Darien heard no sound from Horus, but he knew his friend lingered in the shadows just beyond sight. It occurred to him to wonder what the Haradrim thought he watched over - or did Horus see the need to guard Darien against himself?

Finally he said, "What is your secret then, lady? How do you move beyond regret for what you would give anything to undo?"

"One step at a time," Sev replied softly, eyes fixed on her clasped fingers. "Each morning, you get up and put one foot after the other."

"And it gets better?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps - perhaps not. But a friend once told me that our part is to do our best with the present, until there is enough road between us and the past that its claws are dulled." Her glance met his and abruptly sharpened. "Don't you have enough things to keep you busy?"

A snort of dry mirth escaped before Darien could stop it. "I suppose I do, at that."

"Of course you do. You're a lord with lands and people to care for. I should think you'd have your hands full minding everyone's business along with your own."

Now Darien laughed aloud and shook his head. "You make me feel I've been terribly self-indulgent."

"Have you?"

He scratched his nose and breathed a gust of near-exasperation. "My respect for Anardil grows by the moment," he said with a rueful grin. "You are a truly formidable woman. But … you make valid points. Once the final loose ends of this predicament are tied, I do have much else that I could spend my energies on."

"At least two of them have been eating Cameroth out of house and home," Sev observed.

"Evan and Neal?" Darien's smile softened. "Aye, those two are something else. Neal filled out so much this summer that none of his old shirts fit, and I think Evan shot up a hand span."

"Do you have the care of them, when you are home, or have you placed them with another family?"

"Oh, no, Evan resides with me and Neal also, when he's not staying at the smithy. They have relatives, but I want the best for them and I'll do all I can to see that each gets the best possible start in life. Besides …" he opened his hands in a fondly-helpless gesture, "I like having them in the house."

"Can't that be our atonement for regret, Darien?" Sev seemed to study his face as she spoke. "Perhaps the only way to push the past behind us is to keep walking until we find the future. I have Anardil. You have two boys to raise."

"Aye." Slowly Darien nodded before repeating softly, "Aye."

A moment, then Sev said, "Landis was a good man." When Darien met her gaze she added gently, "If circumstances had been different, I would have been pleased to call him a friend."

Grief abruptly burned behind Darien's eyes but he breathed it away. "Thank you," he whispered.

Then they sat quietly together in remembrance of honoured friends while the night crept slowly on.

xxx

"Nothing of interest," said Halbarad, dropping a sodden article of orcish clothing with a wince of distaste.

Beside him, Celebsul frowned thoughtfully and nodded. "Like any camp of fugitives and thieves, the mere scraps of a miserable living."

"Hard to imagine Margul was once Gondor's premier purveyor of rare and valuable goods," Halbarad agreed. "Welcome in all the finest parlours of Minas Tirith."

Together the two glanced to the slender body laid beneath an elegant cloak at the far edge of firelight. A mutter of voices marked the other men plus Nik and Gubbitch searching the camp, while beside the campfire Russ hunched like a dour monolith, his thoughts unknowable, his bearded face unreadable.

"Which could explain his connection to Lord Valthaur," noted Anardil. He straightened from poking through the shoddy blankets and gear found in scratched-out shelters beyond the slain orcs' side of the campfire. "With no real proof, we have little more than the dying ravings of a madman."

Halbarad grimaced. "Hearing the workings of that man's mind was like taking a swim in the midden in July. How anyone can imagine themselves so far above the rule of law that even murder is justifiable is beyond me."

"Aye." Anardil cast his old friend a wry glance. "And let us not forget using the objects of his hatred as his tools. The man lacked only a tower and a dungeon to be a slave master."

With a disgusted sigh he flung down a worn leather belt. "Miserable, worthless, double-crossing scum."

Wryly Halbarad noted, "He's dead, Dil. Save your curses."

The one-armed man shot the Ranger a hard look. "I wanted him."

Unperturbed, Hal toed aside a burlap sack containing the soggy remains of half a loaf of bread, some mouldy cheese and a thin strip of unidentifiable meat.

"If this is all he provided in the way of food and clothing, his reputation was poor enough without the tower."

"True," said Anardil softly and took a calming breath as he allowed his eyes to sweep the circle of the camp. Frowning, he murmured, "A dandy man. That's what Erin called him, and there was only the best to be found in his own apartments in Minas Tirith. Where are his fine clothes now?"

"A man can hardly be expected to keep appointments with his tailor while evading the law. He's been on the run for the past six months."

Anardil gave Halbarad a knowing look. "Some of the best dressed men I know dare not show their faces to the light of day. And why have a cloak so fine when the rest of your clothing is little more than tatters?"

Halbarad watched as Anardil went down on one knee beside the body to examine the garment in question. His friend was right; nothing else in this camp came close to the cloak's quality.

"A recent acquisition I would say. Too clean to have spent the past week in the wild. Cleanliness, by the way, is a much more difficult task for those wanting to avoid notice. Tarannon checked with the washerwomen and the bathhouse owner. No one even close to Margul's description had frequented their establishments. And we've found no funds to indicate he was able to bribe anyone."

"What of The Black Cauldron? Drath would lie to protect him."

"But Lorgarth would not," Anardil shrugged, "and I would trust the word of the orc rather than the man in that case."

"So he stole it."

"No one reported such a theft. Somewhere out there," Anardil waved his hand toward the forest, "is the owner of this cloak. Quite possibly deprived of his remaining clothing as well. What I want to know is where is the cloak this one replaced?"

"Somewhere out there." Hal indicated the forest.

"Such a person," said Celebsul suddenly, "would undoubtedly conceal his few valuable possessions from companions such as his."

Both men stared at the elf, who gazed back at them in mild expectation. "Orcs are notorious thieves," he added. "Their master would wish to at least keep his belongings from easy view."

Halbarad and Anardil looked at each other then Hal straightened and called out to the other Rangers. "Widen your search. We are seeking anything Margul may have hidden whilst he went to the village."

Thus inspired, the men renewed their search. Yet it was Russ who drew forth from the hollow of an old tree a small, neatly-buckled pack.

"Sneaks and thieves," the huge man said. "One hiding things from the other."

Halbarad took it in hand and brought it to the fire, Russ following. There the Ranger emptied the contents for examination; a towel, small scissors, some string, a tinderbox, an extra pair of stockings, a spare shirt, an old coat … and a very neatly folded suit of clothes.

Russ and two of the Rangers leaned to watch and Anardil knelt while Halbarad rolled the garments out flat. Revealed were breeches of good worsted wool, a linen shirt, a wine-hued jerkin and a surcoat of dark blue. Anardil picked up a supple leather belt and examined the ornate pewter buckle. When he met Halbarad's eyes, his expression was sombre, for they beheld evidence of murder.

Standing over them, Russ looked down and said, "Someone's son or husband won't be coming home."

Nobody chose to voice the thought of a poor traveller's body lying untended and un-mourned wherever Margul may have left it. Instead, Anardil began checking the garments for pockets, Halbarad helping his one-armed friend manage the cloth.

Pockets there were, but every one of them empty. Shaking his head in regret, Anardil admitted, "Nothing. There's no clue as to who the victim might have been … unless," he reached for the old coat, "Margul transferred his victim's documents to his own clothes."

In seconds, something crinkled to Anardil's touch. Halbarad reached past him to draw a small fold of paper from the coat's inside pocket.

Marked on the note's face were a broken wax seal and an ornately-drawn script of a stylised letter V.

"Is it …?" Hal looked at Anardil, and his friend was already nodding.

"It is. I have seen his mark on other matters for the King."

"Who?" growled Russ, his narrow gaze glinting in the firelight. Nik appeared beside him, looking from one man to the other in concern.

"Valthaur," replied Anardil grimly. "No doubt this is the message that Drath denied ever passing on."

Halbarad sank back on his haunches and his face appeared oddly drawn in the flickering firelight. "I almost hate to look. I almost don't want to know why one of the noblest men in the realm would traffic with the likes of Margul."

Nonetheless, he thumbed the page open and scanned it quickly. He sucked a breath as if inhaling an odious smell, then handed it to Anardil and stood up.

Still kneeling, Anardil read the note aloud. The sparse, elegantly penned lines of script simply said: "Margul – Matters have turned against us. I am removed. K compromised. I cannot help you now. Settle this in the most final and expedient manner possible. Make no mistakes."

Nik tugged at Russ' sleeve and whispered, "What does it mean, Teach?"

Russ' mouth appeared not to move in the thick brush of his beard. "It means the law person, Valthaur, sent the snake to do harm. He sent this Margul to commit murder."

"Oh, dear," whispered Nik, his eyes huge.

Only with effort did Anardil restrain himself from hurling the missive into the campfire. His expression turned bleak as he looked beyond its cheerful dance to the point of light that marked Sev sitting at her sad vigil. But for luck, it would be him sitting vigil over her slain body and all his world in ashes.

Halbarad tapped him atop the head and when he looked up, Hal waggled fingers to take the note. "We'll need to keep that."

Anardil rose and handed it over without giving it a second look. "Let's get out of here," he said.

Then he strode off, leaving Halbarad with a condemning message and a dead man's things. Anardil had a lady who did not need to bear darkness and death without him.

"What comes of this now?" asked Russ.

The Ranger captain met Russ' pointed look wearily. "Lord Valthaur will answer."

"How?" The Beorning's question came in a bass rumble. "How does a lord of law answer to treachery in the very duty he is sent to perform?"

"Like any other man, Russ," Halbarad replied, and his jaw firmed. His gaze dropped to Nik, the little Uruk's face screwed into an expression of anxiety. "Betrayal is answerable with vengeance, whether that man be great or small."

Not long after, scrutiny of the campsite was complete and litters were made to bear Raberlon and Margul back to the village, one in honour and the other in ignobility. Somewhere in the dripping woods the bodies of Margul's orcs now lay covered in rocks and forest debris, the only burial anyone cared to give their ancient foe on such a dreary night. The grim hunt was done at last.

Anardil clasped Sev's left hand as they fell in amongst the retreating cavalcade and Alfgard took up station at her right. The last of the Rangers tossed some wet dirt into the dying fire and the campsite plunged into darkness.

Together, friends and comrades made their weary way back to the world of light and living.

xxx

October 29th

Mid-morning

Village of Henneth Annûn

The guests of Alfgard's stables did not stir until late in the morning, but when they did, the clouds had vanished and bright, crisp sunlight beamed. The soot-grimed walls of Alfgard's barn provided a stark contrast to the rain-washed blue of the October sky. Beside the main doors a twisted mountain of tack lay steaming in a puddle, carried away from the danger of fire only to be abandoned to the ravages of rain. Scattered across the once immaculate yard was a trail of charred straw, half burnt sacks of grain and unidentifiable black muck shovelled out by industrious stable hands. Though the structure itself remained sound, the barn would require a very great deal of cleaning.

A wrap snuggled about her shoulders against the chill breezes of the October morning, Erin the hobbit regarded the debris dejectedly. How had everything become such a mess? Why was it that Men chose to lie, set fire to barns, kidnap and murder - for she did not forget the body of Raberlon resting upon a bier in Linnet's parlour - rather than simply get along? She could never imagine a hobbit doing anything like that to another hobbit. Why, even Lotho Pimple had never been that bad.

Tilting her head up with a frown, Erin asked, "Why do they do it, Celebsul? Men, I mean."

"Perhaps because the shortness of their lives makes some of them impatient; why labour for years when what they desire can be snatched in a moment?" The elf's sad smile seemed to look into a distance greater than simple hobbits could imagine. "Sauron, and his master before him, released such greed into the world and it endures beyond them. Then there are those who do not know the value of life, even to the point of believing baubles are of greater worth. That is a not a fault of men alone." Celebsul turned a warmer smile to the small person at his side. "We can all learn from your people, Erin; to learn to love the simple pleasures."

Erin cocked her head thoughtfully and asked, "Elves, learn from hobbits?"

"Yes, for a time. But the days of the Eldar are over. Those of my people who do not abandon these shores will retreat to the sheltered places of the world and slowly dwindle. As will all those who are not Men."

Clearly the grim deeds of past days wore even upon an ageless elf's spirit, and Erin looked up at him and patted his arm.

"Until that day comes, we must all get on with the business of living. Anyway, not all Men are bad."

"No indeed they are not." The elf smiled at the hobbit's serious expression then glanced in the direction of the five figures standing by the paddock gate. "Are they all waiting for you?"

"Such foolishness!" Erin exclaimed. "Sevi said that she must go to The Whistling Dog to check on Sira, and Anardil wouldn't hear of it. I'm sure you can imagine the argument they had."

"Only too well."

"Then I offered to go in Sevi's place. After all, that's why I came along: to help her out. Only Alfgard and Darien insisted I be accompanied by a proper escort." The hobbit lass huffed and rolled her eyes toward the paddock. "Proper, my furry toes. Two orcs and three men to escort me half-a-mile borders on the ridiculous. We would have done as well to allow Nik to bring the Warg."

Given the events of the past few days, Celebsul thought Erin lucky to have only five guards. For a moment, he considered asking if she understood that Nik's presence in the group would necessitate the Gondorian guards stationed on the lane tagging along also.

"Never mind, if I have to take them, I have to take them." She gave quick, fatalistic sigh. "Maybe we'll stop at the apothecary and get Lugbac some more horehound drops. I know that Master Banazîr would very much like to hear news of Horus. He sent his apprentice over this morning with a tonic he thought would ward off any effects of last night's activity."

A subtle way, Celebsul felt certain, for the apothecary to inform Sevilodorf of which events were now common gossip within the village. It would be interesting to discover how the tale was being told by Sira.

Erin abruptly beamed a dimpled smile up at her elven companion. "Anyhow, I had best be trotting along before Sevi comes out to see if I've left, or Alfgard and Darien change their mind and decide to send three more people with me."

She bustled away to meet her waiting guardians, her rounded arms waving imperious summons as she greeted them.

"Hurry up, the morning is wasting!" she cried. "All this laying about never gets a thing done. Come along!"

With bemused grins Neal and Nik fell in at either side of her, while Lugbac, Evan and Alfgard's sturdy sixteen-year-old son trailed behind. Celebsul watched them go down the lane and, as he expected, two of the soldiers joined the procession. He laughed quietly when he heard the hobbit begin to make introductions. The world would undoubtedly be a better place if hobbits were in charge.

xxx

Dark broth oozed from the flaky crust of a meat pie and dribbled down Lugbac's fingers to be hastily licked away. After checking the wide expanse of his new shirt for stains, the orc turtled his neck and leaned forward at the waist to take another bite of the warm pastry. Beside him, Nik, the two Gondorian soldiers and Neal were also engaged in the battle to remain neat, yet enjoy to the utmost the delicacies delivered to them by Cameroth himself.

So intently was Lugbac concentrating that a jab in the ribs from Nik came as a complete surprise. He jerked upright only to lose hold of the final bite and drop it upon the ground. Instinctively, he reached to scoop it up, only to have his arm grasped by the little Uruk-hai.

"Look, Lugbac, just like Gubbitch said. A giant hobbit," exclaimed Nik excitedly, and pointed toward four horsemen coming toward them.

A curious little company they made as they rode sedately up the village street. Two were Rangers cloaked and hooded against the October chill - for the sun offered but meagre warmth - both wore the insignia of the White Company, one mounted on a steel-grey horse, the other on a bay. Between them rode a marvellously plump, rosy-cheeked man on a heavy-footed horse fully as broad as he was, while following behind came a thin young man with enormous brown eyes who clung to his sleepy-eyed steed as if he feared a tumble at any moment.

"Here now, show proper respect," said one of the Gondorian soldiers, wiping at the crumbs which adorned his grey-speckled beard. "That's the Lord Goldur."

"The new law lord," breathed Nik, not taking his eyes from the round smiling face of the man who would soon decide his fate.

Lugbac nodded wisely. "Cause Lord Oliphaunt was being bad."

Both Neal and the second Gondorian soldier choked as Nik replied, "No, we're not sure the oliphaunt man was bad, only the one with the poky eyebrows."

"Oh." Lugbac shrugged and looked mournfully at his fallen pastry.

Then he became aware the soldiers had taken up positions to either side of Nik with hands on their sword hilts. Confused, for the men had been so nice, he rose to stand towering over them only to have Neal place a hand on his arm.

"Easy, Lug," the young man warned.

As the little company clip-clopped to a halt before them, a jovial voice said, "Good morning, gentlemen. I am Goldur, a circuit judge. Am I correct in assuming one of you is Nik of Russbeorn Farm?"

Lord Goldur shifted his considerable bulk on his saddle, and the horse sidestepped beneath him.

"Yes, your lordship, this be the Uruk, Nik," answered the taller of the soldiers and pointed to the half-sized orc.

Goldur smiled pleasantly. "And your name, my good man?"

"Ranulf, my lord." The guard nodded stiffly and rubbed surreptitiously at a blob of broth on his shirt front. "My brother, Grathir and I were directed by Captain Tarannon to keep the Uruk from any harm."

Grathir grinned so that the jagged scar on his face twisted curiously, and bobbed his head in modest greeting.

The law lord nodded and addressed Nik directly. "I am sorry your case was delayed. We will endeavour to set things straight as soon as possible. Might I assume that all the witnesses are still available and ready to testify?"

Nik shrugged uncertainly, and Neal whispered, "He means is everyone ready to tell the truth about what happened in the cave."

"Oh, yes, sir." Nik nodded in quick agreement and smiled up at the rotund man. "Horus is not sick any more, and Sevi says a few bruises and scratches won't stop her from talking."

The law lord's mirth manifest itself in a deepening of the creases between his double chin and a twinkle in his bright eyes. "Dare I ask how Mistress Sevilodorf acquired her bruises? What would be your guess, Kerwin?" Goldur cast a wink and a glance at the thin man at his side.

The young fellow pried his fingers loose of his saddle pommel in an unsteady attempt to sit up straight. "M-my lord, from my own experience with - with the lady, I would suspect them to have – to have been earned – why, I should say while engaged in coming to the assistance of s-someone else."

The two Rangers exchanged looks that told Neal and Nik they also had personal knowledge of Sevilodorf's tendency to fall into trouble.

"Excuse me, sir," Ranulf said hesitantly. "I believe Captain Tarannon should give you the full details about what's happened these last few days."

"Yes, he will undoubtedly have a great deal to tell me," Goldur said. "But before we go on, there's something to be returned to one of your friends. Captain Beregond, would you mind walking the rest of the way?"

Before the Ranger on the grey horse could reply, Kerwin blurted, "Oh, no, sir, let Captain Beregond switch to my horse, while I walk."

Amusement warmed the rotund lord's face. "Are you sure, my boy? I would not trouble you."

A brilliant smile of relief underscored a repeat of the youth's ungainly stammer. "Oh, not - not at all, sir. In fact, I am grateful - most grateful for a chance to -to stretch my legs."

Swinging one long leg over the wrong side, Kerwin managed an awkward dismount which dropped him to earth facing the wrong way, whereupon he stumbled and nearly collided into the grey Ranger mount beside him. With a snort the horse sidestepped and looked with equine disbelief at the young man.

Before the Gondorian guards could react, Nik dashed forward to pat the tall grey cheerfully on the neck, speaking as if to an old friend. "How are you, Gomel? Did you enjoy the trip? I've never been to Emyn Arnen. You'll have to tell me about it."

Waving the soldiers back, Goldur looked down at the runty Uruk and chuckled as he said, "You speak the language of horses?"

The grey's rider lightly dismounted to watch the encounter with visible amusement, but did not speak. Nik meanwhile shrugged in brief awkwardness.

"Not very well. I've learned some things from Teach; he has the real knack for it. But Gomel knows how to talk to people. He's Rohirrim, like Sevi and the men at the stables."

"And Gomel is your friend?"

Nik grinned and rubbed the horse's neck. "He let me ride him when Anardil said I could. He belongs to Anardil, you know?'

"I do know that." Looking toward the hooded Ranger who still remained on his horse, Goldur raised an eyebrow and received a nod in return. "As you and Gomel are old friends, might I trust you to return him to Anardil?"

"Of course. As soon as Erin's finished tending to Sira's ankle, we'll be going back. There's still lots to clean up from the fire."

"A fire and Miss Sira injured also?" Goldur pursed his mouth in a momentary moue of concern. "My word, it's obvious I must speak to Tarannon as soon as possible. Good day, gentlemen. Kerwin, I will see you at the Ranger's Lodge in a few minutes?"

Receiving an affirmative from his clerk, Goldur nodded to the rest of Nik's companions then continued down the road. Gomel meanwhile lowered his big head to push at Nik's chest, evidently hoping for a snack. In response, the little Uruk's cackling laughter rang merrily in the lane.

xxx

As the morning drew closer to noon, Halbarad came to Alfgard's door and followed Linnet's direction to the second-best parlour. A scene of bucolic serenity greeted him, in marked contrast to the chaos of the night before: little Nora sat on the floor between Erin's and Sev's seats helping with a basket of mending, whilst Anardil and Horus pored over a chess board, Darien buried his nose in a book and Russ sat by the hearth, eyes closed with his arms crossed on his broad chest.

However, Halbarad knew that this setting doubled as a sickroom, for both Sev and Horus were meant to rest under Erin's discerning eye. The Haradrim was presumed the worse for wear after a night in the rain so soon after illness, and Sev certainly looked ill-used.

The Ranger hesitated in the open doorway and winced as Sev looked up and rose from her chair.

"That bad?" she asked wryly.

He offered a wry grin and touched his cheek. "You're rather purple here, and you're moving like your hinges have rusted."

Sev snorted and gestured to a chair. "The nmad hills were steep last night. Please, sit if you like."

Halbarad nodded to the others and settled on the edge of the indicated chair. "I've only a moment. Lord Goldur inquires if it is convenient for all of those involved to reconvene the hearing today, one hour after noon."

"My goodness," exclaimed Erin from her low stool beside Sev's chair. "He can scarcely have had time to wash away the travel dust."

"Lord Goldur is not one to allow the grass to grow beneath his feet when the path is clear before him," remarked Darien, a finger holding the pages of his book.

"Pity," rumbled Russ. "Could have used a man like that from the beginning."

With a cautionary nod toward the child at her side, Sev said, "Someone should go fetch Nik. It is after all, a hearing about him. He is the one to decide if things move forward today." Bending, she asked, "Nora, would you run and tell Nik there's a message for him? He's out in the barn with your father."

"Yes, Mistress Sevi!" chirped the lass, and sprang to her feet to scamper towards the door, only barely remembering to drop a swift curtsey ere she fled.

Low chuckles marked her departure, but now conversation could take a more serious turn. Anardil sat back from the chessboard and exchanged glances with Halbarad.

Quietly he said, "With that note we found in Margul's camp, Lord Goldur has been presented an even greater tangle than he could have expected. Perhaps he looks to resolve matters here quickly, so that he might focus on the other."

"What other?" Russ grumbled, and leaned his massive frame forward to survey Anardil with a dark look. "There is nothing of the matter of Nik's innocence that should be handled in haste, so this law person can hurry off to other business."

Snapping off her thread, Sev folded the little smock and placed it atop the stack of mending. "Knowing how to get to the heart of a matter quickly does not mean that Lord Goldur will cut any corners either. I trust him, and I do not bestow my trust lightly."

"And most often in rascally Rangers and good-hearted orcs," Anardil grinned.

As the others laughed, Sev frowned and tossed her spool of thread at him. He caught it deftly, whereupon Anardil sobered and said, "Nik's case has indeed become one small piece of a much larger situation. But with Lord Goldur's guidance, his portion of this tale will soon be complete."

"And ours?" Sev asked. "Or do you mean to play a leading role in the next chapter?"

"Me?" Anardil mustered a wounded frown, while across the chess table Horus hid his mouth behind one hand. "I have never been more than a minor character in this saga, and have no desire to increase my part."

Halbarad choked while Sev snorted derisively and said, "You - walk away from an unsolved mystery. That would be like a hobbit leaving the dinner table without dessert."

"Or you, my dear, staying safely indoors when it rains," returned Anardil.

"I will if you will," Sev retorted.

Rolling the spool of thread between his fingers, Anardil said, "Margul left a few loose ends. So far there has been no way to tie them together. With luck, Faramir or Goldur will find the connections."

"And where is this Steward?" asked Russ. "Is he true to his word, or is he also in haste to make things tidy?"

Yet before anyone could answer, a thudding of feet marked Nik's arrival, grinning widely and smelling of saddle soap.

"Nora said there was a message for me?"

"Indeed there is." Smiling, Halbarad held out a folded page marked with a small red wax seal.

Nik's eyes widened. "A letter for me?"

He took it gingerly in both grubby hands, but since even a very clever Uruk had little idea about the writing of Men, he looked up with a bewildered smile.

"What does it say, Halbarad?"

"Lord Goldur is waiting to know if he may reconvene the hearing after lunch."

If it were possible, Nik's eyes got even larger. "He's asking me?"

Laugh lines appeared at the corners of Halbarad's eyes. "Yes, Nik, he is. And a messenger is outside waiting for your reply."

Nik's grin could have lit the entire great hall at Emyn Arnen. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's get ready!"

As laughter rounded the room, Erin cried sternly, "Not until after lunch!"

"Oh, of course not, Mistress Erin." Nonetheless, Nik's glee was infectious enough to arouse a smile even from Russ, who decided a good smoke of his pipe would be just the thing to celebrate.

When the group stirred, Sev heaved a quick sigh and picked up the basket of mending. "Now that that's decided, Erin, let us go help Linnet with lunch, while the men make certain that Osric and the rest of Darien's men are notified."

At the door she paused and peered pointedly at Nik's trousers. "Don't forget to be certain Lugbac is made presentable."

Then as she and Erin departed, Halbarad looked at Darien, then Anardil with both eyebrows raised.

"She's taking Lugbac into the courtroom?"

With a nod, Anardil replied, "It's a reward after last night."

Halbarad frowned. "Going to a courtroom is a reward?"

Anardil leaned forward and slid a piece across the chessboard. "Check. Lugbac wants to see an oliphaunt, and Sev said this was the best she could do."

Darien laughed while Horus blinked and looked at the board as if wondering how the pieces got into that particular configuration.

Grinning, Anardil added, "Concentration, my friend. Never slip or the oliphaunt will step on you."

Horus' white teeth shone in a wry smile, then he leaned back in his chair to ponder his response. Darien meanwhile glanced at Russ, occupied with tamping pipe weed into his bowl, and frowned thoughtfully.

"One has to wonder," he said, "how the oliphaunt will conduct himself, now that his game is up."

"Aye," replied Anardil. "Lord Faramir would be one of the few people to outrank Valthaur. Let us hope he will pose no difficulty."

xxx

TBC ….