EPILOGUE
Minas Tirith
November 20th
A faint frown marred Kerwin's otherwise pleasant countenance, while he aligned the thick file with the edge of the well-polished oak table. After nearly two weeks of perusing Lord Valthaur's extensive library, hope faded of establishing a direct connection between the deceased judge and any of the disturbing occurrences which had raised the Lord Steward's suspicions. If cataloguing the misfortunes of those who had somehow run afoul of Valthaur had not left him with the unpleasant sensation of walking through a stagnant pond, Kerwin might have been impressed with the man's ability to manipulate both the law and its officers. Many of whom continued to refuse even the thought of such a distinguished lord being guilty of malfeasance.
Kerwin sighed. "If only we could find more proof," he murmured, and let the edge of the file drop with a leathery slap.
As yet, the only truly damning evidence that existed was the note discovered in Margul's camp. To any man of sense, such a missive proclaimed Lord Valthaur's guilt in the solicitation of murder and kidnapping. However, sense appeared in short supply when it came to the High Lords of Gondor facing the possible guilt of one of their own. It was truly fortunate that the residents of The Burping Troll had chosen not to present the evidence to the High Council themselves. Kerwin shuddered to think how Anardil or Captain Halbarad would have responded to the Council's suggestion that emotional ties might have led to the manufacture of such a note. Witnessing the icy anger of both the Lord Steward and the King at the intimation had been frightening enough.
Running a hand over the smooth black leather of the portfolio, the young clerk reflected upon the range of misconduct represented here. Foremost was poor Lord Meneltir, who would never fully recover from the illness which allowed Valthaur to assume the duty of hearing the trial of Nik the Uruk-hai - an illness which, in hindsight, appeared more than happenstance. Sudden ailments and misfortunes had benefited several of the law lord's prosecutions, according to the records. No one had been too high or too low to escape Valthaur's attentions.
Taken individually, it might be possible to credit any single episode to misplaced trust in an underling, as with Khint's suborning of the witnesses in the recent case in Henneth Annûn, or to simple bad luck, as with the tragic riding accident of the primary witness in a case of Grimbold versus Sweetwater. At some point, however, it was necessary to ask how often such instances could cause a complaint to be dropped, or a case to be decided in Valthaur's favour, before it became obvious it was not coincidence, but the subtle mechanisations of one man.
Unfortunately, even though Kerwin, Lord Goldur and others of even greater rank were convinced that responsibility for Meneltir's condition, and other even more tragic circumstances, should be borne by Valthaur, the cunning lord had ever managed to remain one step removed from the execution of his retribution. With his death, hope of discovering the truth withered. As yet, no one with more than supposition had been willing to speak out, and no physical evidence had been unearthed.
With a frown at the ornate chair drawn precisely to the centre of the gleaming table, Kerwin straightened his thin shoulders and turned back to the wide shelves housing the late Lord Valthaur's personal library. Pulling down a slim cloth-bound volume, Kerwin settled onto the cushioned bench he had requested be brought in for his use. Somehow he found it impossible to sit in the same chair Lord Valthaur had used.
An hour passed with little to show for his efforts, save the elimination of another set of tomes as possible caches of information. Pausing in his search to light the lamps - for evening descended beyond the terrace doors - Kerwin glanced once more at the elegant chair. At times, the seat seemed filled with the pale shadow of an immense figure. Fingers steepled in thought, the phantom watched his quest with a haughty confidence. Irritated at his flight of fancy, Kerwin flinched back to reality, his arm flying outward of its own volition to brush against a stack of papers and send them fluttering to the floor.
With a self-castigating mutter, he dropped to his knees to collect the pages. Stretching beneath the table to retrieve the final few, he heard the chamber's door open and the deep timbre of his master's voice.
"Kerwin?"
"Here, sir." Kerwin crawled from beneath the table and stood with the disarranged file clasped in his hands.
"There you are, my boy." Goldur gave a weary smile and turned to the dour, greying servant hovering just inside the door. "Tea for two, if you would, Claremon."
"Right away, sir," replied the stiff-backed man. He granted Kerwin a disapproving sniff before bowing low and pulling the door shut behind him.
As embarrassment stained Kerwin's pale cheeks, Goldur settled onto the cushioned bench and said, "Don't let Claremon distress you."
"I'll try, sir," Kerwin replied and shuffled the pages he held into a semblance of order. "It must be – must be difficult for a servant of s-so many years to regard o-objectively someone trying to – to sully the reputation of an esteemed master."
Goldur frowned thoughtfully. "You are seeking confirmation of the man's true character, not attempting to vilify Valthaur."
"Still, it must be as – as difficult for his loyal servants to – to admit Lord Valthaur's faults as it is for th-the Council of Lords."
As ever, Goldur overlooked his scribe's ungainly stammer to reply with gentle calm. "You think then that Claremon and the others feel loyalty to their late master? I wonder. 'Tis certain that Valthaur did not harbour similar feelings for his hirelings."
"Sir?"
"The terms of his affairs are not yet finalised, but only the most meagre of pensions has been granted even the most long-standing of his employees. It is my understanding they remain in service to Valthaur's estate only until such time as his heir assumes possession of the household."
"But th-that's disgraceful," exclaimed Kerwin. "Gondorian standards – the very standards of the realm – re-require rewarding loyal s-service. Esp-especially old family retainers."
Goldur nodded toward the thick leather portfolio upon the table. "After all we have discovered, are you truly shocked?"
"I suppose not." Kerwin sagged as his indignation fluttered out. "But still it's re-reprehensible. Will not Valthaur's nephew continue their employment?"
"The new Lord, Harding, has made plain that he will install his own people at the earliest opportunity and that those whom his uncle pensioned off can expect no more from him." Goldur ruefully shook his head. "As for those without pensions, they have already begun to seek positions elsewhere. Claremon did a creditable job of negotiating relatively substantial wages for all of the staff during the interim. None of them will go away as empty handed as Valthaur intended."
Kerwin's large brown eyes widened. "B-but why would he treat them this way?"
"Why?" Goldur favoured his clerk with a sad smile. "My dear boy, I fear I am totally incapable of fathoming Valthaur's motivations. I have been as blind as anyone to the reality of his character. While I always considered him a mighty adversary, it was my belief that he treasured the ideal of truth above all else. Now I see that only winning mattered - for that earnt him high reputation with all its trappings."
Pushing himself heavily to his feet, Goldur wandered over to the sideboard and examined a diamond-encrusted goblet. "What I thought to be the steel of courage is now revealed as the hard-heartedness of a glutton. And in this, I don't refer to gastronomy." Pausing to pat his own rounded belly, the law lord continued, "But rather, greed for power. The one thing that remains of Valthaur's precious reputation, to my mind, is the fact that he was an extremely clever man. Rapacity combined with genius is a blend that has blighted Middle-earth since the beginning."
A tap on the door and the return of Claremon bearing a tray brought an end to Goldur's reflections.
"Shall I pour, sir?" Claremon asked. He placed the silver tea setting, fine porcelain and small covered plates at the end of the table before adjusting the chairs.
"I believe we can manage," Goldur replied, lifting a cover to reveal a mound of neatly trimmed and quartered cucumber sandwiches. Suppressing his curiosity at this out-of-season delicacy, he asked, "How go the renovations in the arboretum?"
Kerwin noted the momentary tightening of the man's hands and considered anew Goldur's speculations concerning the feelings of the servants toward the late Lord Valthaur.
"Lord Harding's instructions have been very specific and work proceeds apace." When Goldur nodded encouragingly, Claremon added. "The changes he requests are quite extensive and will require several weeks to accomplish properly."
"Thus delaying the nephew's occupation," the law lord remarked blandly.
"Regretfully, sir." Claremon's expression remained that of perfect virtue. "But he did make it plain that he preferred all the work to be complete before he took up residency. His lady is said to be most partial to roses, and he wishes the more 'mundane' aspects of the arboretum removed forthwith."
"Ah yes, the hollyhocks." Goldur glanced towards the double doors leading out to the terrace. "A shame to destroy the plants which your master devoted so much time to developing."
"All of his lordship's records have been carefully collected and turned over to the Master Herbalist of the Houses of Healing. The final harvest of seeds, as well. 'Tis one reason the task has proceeded so slowly. I assure you the gardening staff have continued to follow the protocols established by Lord Valthaur himself."
"I'm certain your staff does all that is proper. Thank you, Claremon."
Bowing low, the man made a soundless exit. As he did, Kerwin solicitously made sure Goldur's chair was placed just so and pushed the plate of dainties within easy reach before taking his own seat.
When the two settled in for their repast, Kerwin asked, "Your interviews – did they fare well?"
Goldur sighed, contemplating a wedge of bread and cucumber. "Khint remains steadfast in his insistence that he had no idea Osric and the others were Lord Darien's men and that he cut all contact with them as soon as he realised. Regarding the topic of his conversation with the men and the voicing of his opinions, he declares them to be only those of any right minded citizen. He is not likely to change that story before his own trial."
The law lord waved the bit of sandwich then popped it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. "As for Valthaur's other clerks, none will speak harshly of their employer. If I were not already convinced of the man's guilt, that alone would raise my suspicions. For not a single one of a man's employees to complain about him is beyond belief."
Kerwin's fine features distorted themselves into an expression of disapproval. "And the orc? Has his condition changed?"
"Unable to bear the confinement of the cell, the creature sinks deeper into insanity by the hour, but he remains feral and murderous. Lord Faramir has set the first day of the coming month for his execution." Goldur frowned thoughtfully. "There was one strangely lucid moment. The head jailer has a large cat to keep the rodent population in check. It followed us to the orc's cell. Immediately upon sight of the cat, Odbut went still - moving nothing except to blink slowly. "
The law lord hunched in his seat, his podgy face arranged briefly in a reptilian stare. "No word that I or the guards spoke caused a response. His attention was fixated upon the animal. When the cat began to saunter away, the orc began to chant, 'Here puss. Here puss-puss. Come to Odbut, Tibbles.' Without a look the cat disappeared down the hallway and the orc began to cackle." A waving slice of cucumber abruptly dismissed the memory. "'Twas most disquieting."
Kerwin grimaced. "It is to be hoped that Tibbles keeps his distance. I would hate to see it suffer at the hands of an insane orc."
Goldur cast him a speculative look. "Ah, but the animal's name is Stripes."
"Where ever did the orc get the name 'Tibbles'?" Kerwin said stirring his tea carefully. "I mean it's s-scarcely the – the name you would expect an orc to call a cat."
"No, it isn't." The law lord frowned at his next bite of sandwich. "But remember that this Odbut had been travelling with Margul for several months. Perhaps it is something he heard that appealed to him."
"That must be…." Kerwin stopped. With total disregard for the cucumber slices suddenly spilling across his plate, he whirled about and began ransacking the painstakingly organised papers. "Tibbles… Tibbles… who in their right mind would …"
With a triumphant "AHA" he held up a heavily creased page and presented it Goldur. In his excitement, his stammer nearly disappeared.
"Tibbles, my lord, is mentioned in one of the cases – one of Valthaur's cases - which was dismissed due to – to the disappearance of a key witness. One Bill Brushybottom, formerly of Bree, went missing from his home a week before his testimony was to be called upon. Foul play was suspected, but never – never actually proven."
Goldur accepted the page and said, "Why is that?"
"The investigators never f-found the body, my lord, though the man's home was awash in blood." Kerwin leaned forward to point at the final paragraph of the report. "All they found was the – was the carefully arranged corpse of the – of the man's cat. Tibbles."
The rotund lord nodded and perused the report. "A thin link, but something to give us hope there might be others. Well done, Kerwin."
Blushing fiercely, the young man replied, "'Tis only my – my job. Perhaps a trip to see Master Brushybottom's neighbours? As Lord Faramir often remarks, it is best to – to hear the tale from those who – who lived it."
"What? Are you so tired of his lordship's library that you will undertake a ride out into the cold and damp?"
Before Kerwin could admit to the unease he experienced whenever alone in the room, running footsteps sounded in the hallway. As he and Goldur eyed the closed door, they heard strident whispers from the corridor. Finally there came a sharp tap at the door and Claremon entered.
"Begging your pardon, my lord, but a situation has arisen in the arboretum that requires attention. Would you come?"
The greying servant's veneer of dignity seemed near to cracking, if the trembling in his clasped hands were any indication. Goldur levered himself from the chair, Kerwin scrambling to assist him, and they followed Claremon out. In the hallway, one of the older gardeners stood looking pale, even fearful, his hat in hand while he bobbed nervously to Goldur.
"Please – please come, yer lordship," the old man stammered. "Please come."
Without waiting for a reply, he hastened back the way he had come, heedless of the muddy footprints he left on the polished floor. Goldur and Kerwin followed more slowly, until they came to the arboretum, awash in warm lamplight and the lavender shadows of an autumn evening. Here, sheltered from capricious winds and prying eyes by stone walls and many high windows, the very finest of Lord Valthaur's botanical endeavours were kept under close care. Earlier in the season it would have been vibrant with green foliage and towers of richly coloured blooms, but now Valthaur's private garden lay in shambles.
Wheelbarrows, trowels and shovels lay about between mounds of rich earth, heaps of brittle brown stalks and large, crumpled leaves. The long, whitish roots lay barren as bones, dribbling crumbs of soil on the flagstones. Soon Valthaur's beloved hollyhocks would be no more than a memory, as the nephew's roses took their place.
However, such musing came to an abrupt halt when Goldur noticed two apprentice gardeners huddled in the doorway, their faces pale as whey. The older gardener shuffled forward and stopped midway, pointing an unsteady finger.
"We found that, yer lordship. Lor' knows what it means, it just come up in young Bren's shovel, there."
A second glance revealed Bren as a sallow youth who looked very much on the verge of becoming ill. "Very well," said Goldur with a fatherly smile. "Let's have a look, shall we?"
'We' turned out to be a relative term, as only Goldur and Kerwin went forward. The reason became immediately clear. What first appeared as some odd, leprous melon half-buried in the dirt suddenly revealed teeth and sunken eye sockets.
"Oh!" squeaked Kerwin, and clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Bless me …" breathed Goldur, and sank heavily to one knee. Kerwin tottered unsteadily behind him but held his place.
Frowning, the law lord picked up an abandoned trowel and gently, cautiously moved aside more of the loose soil. Mingled with the rich, damp odours of fertile earth wafted a heavier, ranker smell of death. The skull was not completely bone, but rather still bore a thin shock of reddish hair and leathery remnants of skin. The teeth appeared clean and white, marred only by the absence of the two upper front incisors.
"Hm," said Goldur thoughtfully. "I should say this gentleman has been missing those teeth a good while. There is no other sign of violence to the mouth. Perhaps that will count as a means to identify the poor soul."
Glancing over his shoulder, he asked, "Did you find any other bones?"
The old gardener twisted his cap in his hands. "Just the head, yer lordship. No tellin' where the rest of him be."
The other lad by the door, not Bren, swallowed and added, "We found some other things, though. We thought it was all just old rubbish nobody would want."
"Probably you are right – oh, do help me up, Kerwin, there's my lad."
A good deal of heaving and grunting put Goldur firmly on his feet, where Kerwin unnecessarily brushed off his master's back and shoulders.
"Well, then," said Goldur. "Let's have a look." He laid a finger alongside his nose and winked. "Rubbish, I'm sure, but indulge an old man's curiosity, eh?"
The apprentices fished in their pockets, as did the old gardener, and a curious assortment of items appeared in their grubby palms. A silver button embossed with a floral design, two small gold or brass buttons, a silver ring, a large, curiously ornate key, a silver buckle set with a cabochon, and a brass seal such as one would close a letter with, this embossed with a stylised letter D.
"Come on, Bren, show yours," said the second youth, elbowing his companion.
Reluctantly Bren stuck his hand in his pocket once more, and withdrew a heavy man's signet ring, scribed with tiny runes and set with a ruby stone. Goldur looked at that and sighed.
Kerwin swallowed, his Adam's apple leaping spasmodically in his throat. "What does – what does it mean, sir?"
"Villainy, I am afraid," Goldur replied. He plucked the seal from the second boy's dirty hand and turned it for study. "D would undoubtedly be for -."
"Denhir," Kerwin finished for him. "The witness in that inheritance dispute who vanished four years ago."
Goldur eyed his young protégé in approval. "You have a good memory, lad, and a clever mind for deduction. Now, as for you fellows …" He peered from under his brows at the young gardeners and their aging supervisor. "I know it would be no use to ask you to remain silent. Therefore I will only say that what you have found, you may keep, saving only this seal and the signet ring."
"But -." Bren blurted then shrank from the old gardener's glare and the judge's disapproving headshake.
"Tut, lad, these belong to others who will be glad to have them. I will, however, compensate you for your trouble." Goldur held out the seal and signet ring for Kerwin's keeping and fished in his own pocket. From it he withdrew several silver pennies, which he dropped into the gardeners' hands. "There. That should be about what you would have got for those items, down among the shops."
"But we –."
"Would have haggled to get more, and ended up with much less." Goldur winked. "Now, someone fetch me a box or some such, and one of you lads, Bren, there, do run a note to the City Guard as soon as I scratch it out. Come along, now."
Despite his easy demeanour with the shaken gardeners, however, Kerwin saw Goldur's round face return to sombreness soon after. When Bren had run for the guard and Claremon took the other two gardeners to the kitchen for a fortifying cup of ale, the law lord and his clerk again sat at Valthaur's table.
For a long moment they were silent, Goldur lost in thought and Kerwin plucking at the stack of gathered files. Finally he looked up, his dark eyes mournful.
"Why did he do it, sir?"
Blinking back from his reverie, Goldur favoured the young man with a sad smile. "We may never know, my boy."
"Do you think … do you think he had any – any idea what he did was wrong?"
Goldur's gaze sharpened. "No. I do not. Some men, lad, and mind you learn this well, believe power gives them rights above ordinary people. They believe the common rules apply only to those lesser than they, and that they circle above on some higher, wiser plane from which only they can see the true shape of things. Such was Valthaur, alas. Though perhaps he strove ever for what he believed was the good of the realm, he forgot one simple thing."
The law lord held up a stern forefinger as he met Kerwin's earnest gaze. "Honour and justice are the rights of all men. All men, my boy. All people. That is the will of our lord King, and that should be the rule you live by. Trust me; you will be a better man for it."
"As you are," Kerwin said, a brilliant smile flashing across his face and gone.
"Now, don't you go making me too big for my boots. Ah, I think I hear someone in the hall. Come, my boy. We've heads in the hollyhocks to tend to – goodness, won't that be a story to tell, don't you think? Some day when this is all over, of course."
The End
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Characters:
From The Inn of the Burping Troll, located in Northern Ithilien
Sevilodorf: Traderwoman and healer, once of Rohan, companion of Anardil
Anardil: Former Ranger, now in covert operations, companion of Sevilodorf
Halbarad: Captain of the Burping Troll Rangers
Bob: One of the Burping Troll Rangers
Celebsul: Male Elf of the Eldar
Erin: A hobbit lass from the Shire
Meri: A hobbit lass from the Shire
Tac: feline owner of Sevilodorf and Anardil
Warg: sentient Warg who has adopted The Burping Troll residents as her pack
From Wetwang FarmRussbeorn: Male, Beorning, once of the Misty Mountains
Nik: Male, undersized Uruk-hai once of Isengard.
Northern Ithilien Orcs:
Gubbitch: Chieftain of the Orcs
Lugbac: Male Orc
From Silverbrook, estate of Lord Darien of the Blackroot Vale Darien: Nobleman, once of Blackroot ValeLandis: Darien's second in command (deceased, mentioned in passim)
Grady: Male (deceased, mentioned in passim)
Neal: older of two young brothers from Blackroot Vale.
Evan: younger (15) of the two brothers from Blackroot Vale.
Carrick: Male, once of Lamedon
Osric: A friend of Grady's.
Ham: Male, once of Blackroot Vale.
Tom: Male, once of Blackroot Vale.
Bevin: Male, once of Blackroot Vale.
Horus: Male, once of Far Harad.
Of Emyn Arnen:
Faramir: Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien
Willelmus: Lord Faramir's Chamberlain
Anoriath: Lady Ranger, once of The Burping Troll
Elros: Male Ranger, once of The Burping Troll
Of Minas Tirith:
Margul: Once Cullen's employer, trader in exotic goods and services turned fugitive
Goldur: Lord Justice to King Aragorn
Kerwin: Clerk to Lord Goldur
Valthaur: Lord Justice to King Aragorn
Khint: Clerk to Lord Valthaur
Claremon: Lord Valthaur's Butler
Bren: one of Lord Valthaur's gardeners
Aragorn: King of Gondor
Meneltir: Lord Justice to King Aragorn (mentioned in passim)
Of Henneth Annûn:
Cullen: Son of Farmer Tiroc.
Sira: Barmaid at The Whistling Dog.
Cameroth: Male, owner of The Whistling Dog, father of Jasimir.
Jasimir: Teenage son of the owner of The Whistling Dog Inn.
Pansy: Barmaid at The Whistling Dog.
Jareth: Male, bartender at The Whistling Dog.
Tarannon: Captain of the Rangers in Henneth Annûn
Drath: Owner of The Black Cauldron Tavern
Lorgarth: Chief of the orcs employed at The Black Cauldron
Corbat: orc employed at The Black Cauldron
Smarith: Male traveller at The Black Cauldron
Baran: Male traveller at The Black Cauldron
Banazîr: Aged apothecary of Henneth Annûn
Eberle: Apprentice apothecary
Ranulf: Male, Gondorian soldier, brother to Grathir
Grathir: Male, Gondorian soldier, brother to Ranulf
Ted: Male, recent recruit at the Garrison of the Guard
Alfgard: once of Rohan, manager of the trading company and stableyard owned by Sevilodorf's Rohirrim family.
Linnet: Alfgard's wife
Nora: 10 year old daughter of Alfgard and Linnet
Alfwyn: 16 year old son of Alfgard and Linnet
Raberlon: Male stable hand, once of Rohan
Esiwmas: head of Sevilodorf's Rohirrim family (mentioned in passim)
Klareth: Male, stable hand, once of Rohan
Employed by Margul:
Odbut: Male Orc
Grom: Male Orc
Trog: Male Orc
Ursak: Male Orc
Other:
Bill Brushybottom: male, formerly of Bree, involved in lawsuit heard by Lord Valthaur, missing presumed dead (mentioned in passim)
Tibbles: cat belonging to Bill Brushybottom, deceased (mentioned in passim)