Aragorn immediately ordered to have runners scout the gates of Gondor and the borders to check for any signs of evasive strangers passing through, or unexpected shipments be they horses or other forms of trade, most likely disguised as 'gifts'. Aragorn was not omnipotent, but he remembered just how devious that Merlyn could be, and he didn't want his people to suffer again from that man's greed. He refused to overlook any hunch that came to his mind.
"Let them call me paranoid." Aragorn said to himself. "I'd rather be able to say that I did everything in my power to keep them safe. How long did it take some of them to trust me again, after they believed I would just hand them over to whoever would buy them? That is how deceitful and manipulative Merlyn is. He committed crimes in my name, and most convincingly. As long as there is breath in me, they will not see their sons and daughters dragged off in chains as slaves again. If that means we must examine every wagon and investigate every newcomer in our land, so be it."
"My lord?" Fynn cleared his throat. Aragorn sighed and turned.
"Ahh, Fynn. How much of that did you hear?" He cocked his head.
"Err...some." Fynn bit his lip.
"It's alright, lad." Aragorn said. "What is it?"
"Are you alright, sire? You seem extremely vexed. I imagine the queen's absence contributes to that a great deal." Fynn suggested.
"Do not worry about me, Fynn. I'm king. Frustration comes with the occupation. Ai, yes. You are quite right. The queen's void here effects me a great deal." Aragorn said, a lump forming in his throat.
"I wish she did not have to leave."
"Nor do I. But it is safer for her and the baby, until further notice."
"My lord? May I ask, why she was sent away? I do not wish to pry, it's only that...I miss her so." Fynn commented.
"Fynn, I want you to trust me as your king and as your friend." Aragorn said seriously. Fynn met his eyes. "Something has come up, which I shall explain to you later tonight. But first I have more investigating to do. But because this appears to be a possibly perilous situation, it is why it was best to send Queen Alasse with King Thranduil, until the matter is cleared up. I shall explain soon. But until then, I require your trust and patience. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my lord." Fynn's eyes widened. "If I may so, my king, I have noticed that the soldiers have been extra busy and that everyone in authority has been rather uptight of late. This relates to the subject at hand, doesn't it?"
"Yes."
"Ohh. Well, if that's the case, I am glad Queen Alasse is safe then! She is safe, isn't she?" Fynn looked up at Aragorn worriedly.
"Yes, Fynn. She couldn't be safer at this moment. And once this matter is cleared up, I shall fetch her back. Now I need you to run along. Go and play with your friends or something. I have matters to tend to."
"Yes, sire. Are you alright?"
Aragorn smiled. "I am. Now go."
Aragorn went to the Houses of Healing in the city, Gimli at his side. When they arrived, they met Idoreth, who was just coming from looking over Aragorn's men. "Your Majesty," She bowed, "I take it you are here to inquire about the men you sent to Lord Arehada?"
"Yes." Aragorn nodded solemnly. "How do they fare?"
"Not good, my lord." Idoreth shook her head. "Their injuries are grievous, as if they have been mauled by highwaymen. No, worse. From what I have found, they've been whipped mercilessly and beaten ruthlessly. I hardly recognized them from their bruises and scars. Their wounds are infected, I'm sorry to say. Whomever tended them, if they were tended at all, was most careless with his treatment. Fever has set in."
Aragorn was stunned, to say the least. "How can this be?" He sputtered angrily. His soldiers were great fighters, skilled men with bow and sword, who had lived through their share of difficult battles. This made no sense at all! How had they been so easily waylaid?
"These are fine, Gondorian soldiers you speak of, my lady." Gimli huffed. "They are not easily knocked off their feet." The healer nodded to Gimli.
"You may want to ask Sir Peter Thorpe, your majesty." Idoreth suggested. "He is presently the most coherent, and may be the only one not so consumed by pain that can answer for his comrades."
"Take me to him. Now!" Aragorn ordered. Idoreth led Aragorn and Gimli into the barracks that were housing his inflicted men. Skandar was there and quickly bowed as Aragorn entered.
"My king! I have grave news to report." Skandar spoke urgently.
"Speak quickly." Aragorn told him.
"Four of the men you sent out to Harad: Lord Jye, Sir Aleck, Sir William, and Sir Kraige...they're all dead." Skandar said evenly. "Sir Peter tells me they died of their wounds on the journey back to you." Aragorn glowered and brushed passed his captain straight to the said soldier's hospital bed. Peter Thorpe was lying upright, propped with pillows. He was shirtless, bloodstained bandages covering up various parts of his torso. He was glistening with sweat and shaking with chills.
Aragorn sat beside him on the bed and took the bowl of cool water sitting on the table next to it. He rang out the rag and placed it on the sick man's face. Peter shuddered and his eyes flared open. He let out a frightened breath. "M-my king...I...I beg your majesty's forgiveness..." He stammered.
"There is nothing to forgive, Peter. I assure you." Aragorn said soothingly, dabbing his fevered head.
"W-we didn't think we'd make...it back." Peter panted.
"Peter, I must know what happened." Aragorn told him firmly. "I know you are unwell, and I am sorry that I must interrogate you in your condition, but it is imperative that you tell me everything that you can recall of how you ended up like this! After your testimony, I promise you will have sufficient rest. But tell me all that you can." He gripped the man's trembling arm.
"I am s-sorry, my lord. You s-sent us out to inq-quire of Vincent Merlyn. We failed you!" Peter's lips trembled.
"No, no." Aragorn shook his head. "Just tell me what happened."
"W-where do I begin, my lord?" Peter began, trembling and his lip quivering. "We t-traveled to Lord Arehada's p-place as you command-d-ded. We'd sent w-w-word to him so he would be expecting us, to inquire on what became of Vincent Merlyn. When we arr-arrived, he...he was gravely ch-changed from our l-l-last journey there, my king. His hair is gr-graying, and he...he...he appears to have aged twenty-score y-y-y-years, looking incredibly burdened. He...he informed us that he n-never received our l-letters."
Aragorn listened closely, his brows creasing in confusion with each new detail. He let the sick man catch his breath before pushing him further. He offered him a cup of water. Peter received it gratefully. "Can you tell me more?" Aragorn asked hopefully.
"You will not like it, my lord." Peter warned him.
"I must know everything, Peter." Aragorn said firmly.
"Out with it, lad." Gimli encouraged the wounded warrior.
"L-Lord Arehada did not welcome us warmly, and he has always treated us as friends if you recall." Peter continued cautiously. "He said that our unexpected arrival was only "salt on the wounds". He is unhappy with you, my lord king. He claims that other lands near his realm are threatening war against him, and taking his people as their personal slaves against his will, to burn his city to ash, for forming treaties with you."
"But what have I done to earn this animosity, or earn him this hostility?" Aragorn asked angrily.
"He...he claims that...th-that y-y-you made a grave choice when you...y-you…" Peter stammered feverishly with fear.
"Peter, breathe and then speak. This is imperative." Aragorn told him.
"Lord Arehada declares that...his words, not mine, my lord! I sw-swear they were his words! He declares that you made a grave mistake when you chose to wed Princess Alasse Thranduiliel of the Woodland Realm...th-that-that y-y-you wed an elf." Peter sputtered out quickly.
Aragorn jaw clenched but he stared dully, yet his eyes flickered with anger. "And what has that to do with the fate of his kingdom?" Aragorn asked stiffly.
"True, my king that at first Lord Arehada had n-n-no qualms about your majesty's m-m-marriage. But since the wedding, other realms have grown uneasy about the match, saying that it is absolutely scandalous, and most unforgivable that you, the greatest king of men of this age, had chosen to make your future heir a...a...a hybrid. They say that you have set a grievous example for generations to come, betrothing yourself to one not of your own."
"Bah! Let them spit and foam 'til their pallor grows blue." Gimli snorted loudly, startling the other suffering men in the room. "What business is it of theirs whom the lad chose to wed? He is a king, and can marry whom he chooses."
"B-begging your p-pardon, Master Gimli," Peter swallowed nervously, keeping his eyes averted from Aragorn, "but Lord Arehada's all-former allies have already set their threats in motion."
"How so?" Aragorn prodded.
"Water…" Peter begged, shivering. Aragorn obliged. Peter was weary from talking, and the healer side of Aragorn lectured him severely inside his mind for pressing the sick warrior so. Peter direly needed his rest, but the information he could provide while the others were either dying or unconscious was crucial at this time. Aragorn hated increasing his suffering like this, but as ruler of the great White City, he had to know.
"Peter," Aragorn pressed gently, "I am sorry to force you like this, but what else can you tell me? I need to know all that you can inform me of? What do you mean that they have executed their threats? What of that? And what happened to you? Is Lord Arehada responsible for your inflicted conditions? Is he?"
"My lord...I…" Peter quivered from ruthless chills, still afraid to meet Aragorn's eyes. "They r-refuse to sup-p-p-port him anymore and are not reluctant to bring open war on him unless…unless you…you put a…" Peter's head lolled to the side with his eyes closed.
"Peter? Peter!" Aragorn exclaimed, lightly patting his sweaty face.
"He is exhausted, my lord." Idoreth spoke up behind Aragorn. "You must let him rest! The soldier gave you what you asked. Let him heal." The healer said firmly. Aragorn sighed, grimacing. He couldn't argue with her. But he needed to know more! But poor Peter would not get well if he was interrogated to death. Aragorn dabbed Peter's fevered face with a cold, wet rag. Then he checked and dressed his wounds himself with fresh bandages. Then he felt his face. To his relief, Peter wasn't nearly as hot.
Aragorn stood up. "If there is any change in him, in any of them, send word to me immediately!" he instructed Idoreth. "I must speak to the first one coherent enough to understand where he is."
"Yes, your majesty." Idoreth curtsied. Aragorn checked on the other men, and questioning the other healers tending them. They were badly hurt and very sick. Once he was satisfied that they were well looked after, he departed.
"Come, Gimli. We have much work to do." Aragorn muttered. Gimli trotted alongside him as they made their way out of the Halls of Healing and onto the streets of Gondor. "There is more, so much more he needed to tell me." Aragorn huffed, exasperated. "What was that he tried to say before he fell unconscious? It regarded action on my part…"
"You believe it involves your sweet lass, yes?" Gimli added. "Hounds they all are, if you ask me! Trying to control the world as they please. And cornering in on Gondor when they can't get what they whine for. They know it is impossible to buy your loyalty, so being the foxes that they are, they figure manipulation is the best, desperate policy."
"You may be right." Aragorn agreed. "But if I am the sole cause of this conflict, why have they not brought their complaints to me? Why attack Lord Arehada? It is not as if he has authority over me, nor is he responsible for my choices. Great Valar, if only Peter were stronger and had been able to finish his testimony! The pieces do not all fit. Eru, he didn't even tell me what they had learned about Merlyn! How does he fit into this? It has to be connected to him, somehow!" Aragorn rubbed his temples.
"Your brothers shall be here soon, laddie. If they are half as wise as Lord Elrond yur father, they may be able to provide us some much needed answers." Gimli suggested.
"Ai." Aragorn whispered. If only Elrond were here! Aragorn desperately needed his counsel right now! He needed someone, someone wise to be here and advise him about the right approach to take now. He secretly prayed that Gandalf would happen to come unexpectedly at this time, as was his usual manner of visiting his friends.
His chest ached as he thought of Alasse, and how heartbroken she had been at the notion of having to leave him, for their child's sake, at the risk of him missing the birth of his firstborn. He missed her terribly, and longed to hear her soft voice speak encouraging words to him that could usually help ease a bit of whatever burden he carried. He missed holding her, burying his nose into her silky hair, and feeling their child respond eagerly to his touch as his hands gently roamed all over her extended belly. The castle felt hollow, like an incomplete painting without Alasse here.
But, the more he missed her, the more grateful Aragorn felt in his heart for his overbearing father-in-law, Thranduil having the wisdom to see through Merlyn's webs, and the initiative to take Alasse and the baby where no harm could come to them, until their white home would be safe to return to. As much as Aragorn wanted to have her at his side, the more relieved he was that she wasn't here. The idea of Merlyn or some secret, vile cronies of his skulking around, wishing to lay a hand on her or their child, fueled Aragorn's angry determination to meet the enemy head-on this time and not be caught unawares.
"You made the right call, Thranduil," Aragorn said to himself, "I am eternally thankful for that. Alasse, my love, I know this parting is painful, but just hold on a bit longer. I swear, it will not be forever!"