Fo.A 2, April 6th

Tachion had savored every moment with his sister and felt the lump in his throat tighten at the thought of her.

He'd tried so hard to protect her from their older brother, Dalion, and his dangerous ideas but now he would no longer be able to protect her. Never had he thought that Dalion would kidnap his sister to get ahead; he had known that Tachion and Ninel were close, and used that to leverage his position and pressure Tachion into joining the king's bodyguard.

He hadn't known anything about his eldest brothers' dealings with the Easterlings or even the Black Tree, though, looking back, he could see the things he'd missed that he should have noticed.

Tachion turned his mind back to the present as the guards led him up the Citadel steps for judgment. He prayed that Aragorn would grant him an honorable death, not hang like a traitor.

-ll-

Faramir took Ninel back with him towards his home, doing his best to comfort her. The girl walked with a distant stare and a tear-drenched face.

As they came within view of home Eowyn opened the door and looked from Faramir to the girl, her demeanor becoming cold. She turned and disappeared back into the house.

Faramir's heart fell. He'd hoped she could comfort Ninel in a way that he simply could not do. They entered the home, and he took her to the room that had been hers for the last month.

He helped her lay down on her bed and gently put a blanket over her, then turned to leave.

"He's going to die," she whispered, eyes distant.

Faramir turned and looked at the girl, watching the silent tears as they fell anew. He took a deep breath. "I'm afraid so," he replied, seeing no point in lying to her. He strode from the room and closed the door behind him.

Eowyn waited for him by the hearth, her gaze sharp. She sat straight-backed with hands folded in front of her. "Why is she back here?" she asked, speaking first.

"Her brother's judgment is today," Faramir replied testily. "Also, Aragorn has not given me any new orders as to what I should do with her."

Eowyn clenched her hands into firsts, bristling. "Convenient, is it not?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"If you have something to say, just say it," Faramir shot back.

"Because of the affection you show her!" Eowyn burst.

Faramir looked at her dumbfounded.

Eowyn stood, eyes blazing as she continued. "I could see it since you first brought her here! The way you fawn over her and look at her."

Faramir was becoming angrier and confused by the moment. "I have done nothing but try and offer some small comfort to the poor girl," he responded angrily. "I look at her as someone who understands what it means to lose a sibling."

Eowyn's mouth snapped shut, her eyes wide, and hands trembling.

"Perhaps," Faramir continued, "before assuming the worst, the next time you have such feeling you come to me so we can discuss it!" Faramir turned on his heel and stormed off.

"Where are you going?" Eowyn called out.

"To the trial," Faramir called back, before slamming the door.

-ll-

Eowyn was left along with her thoughts as she sat in front of the hearth, the fire now dying low. Could she have misread what was going on? She cursed herself for her rashness.

Movement in the hallway caught her attention, and she saw Ninel standing there, her tear-stained cheeks now dry. Eowyn suspected that the girl had heard everything that had been said since her room was just down the hall.

"I'm sorry," said Ninel, looking at the floor. "I never meant to be a burden or cause division between you and your husband."

Guilt swept over Eowyn like a thousand horses as she looked at the girl, and it was as if she saw her for the first time. "Come here, young one," Eowyn said, patting a seat on the bench where she was sitting before the smoldering embers.

Ninel slowly walked over and quietly sat down, hand folded in her lap, eyes on the floor. Her fingers were trembling slightly.

Eowyn closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath. She was a proud woman, prone to rash action and harsh words. She had faced death; defeated the Witch-King; alas, admitting she was wrong was more difficult than both of those. "Ninel," Eowyn started, "I'm sorry for my reactions, and for treating you poorly. It was insensitive and wrong."

Ninel didn't move. Eowyn sighed and looked out the window in silence. After a moment she felt a hand cautiously take hers. Eowyn looked down at her hands, then to Ninel.

Ninel's eyes were still fixed upon the floor, but she seemed a little more at ease.

Eowyn thought back to when she was a little girl; it was shortly after her mother had died, and her uncle had come to comfort her even though she pretended like she didn't want it. But she had been grateful.

Though it didn't come as naturally to her as riding a horse or wielding a sword, Eowyn wrapped her arms around the young girl.

Ninel's body shook as she tried to hold back the flood of emotions, her dark brown hair falling around her face, but the tears could not be held back.

Ninel let go of what little defenses she had left, crying out as Eowyn held her tight, a pillar of strength and womanly tenderness.

-ll-

Faramir walked through the crowded streets towards the Citadel and the Hall of Judgment for the trial of Captain Tachion.

Tachion was not yet thirty years of age, yet he would meet whatever fate Aragorn had designed for him with bravery that men twice his age had failed to show a month ago.

He had only done what necessary to save his sister, and if Faramir were honest with himself, he would have done the same thing.

Faramir entered the courtyard and stalked towards the doors leading into the interior of the Citadel, not bother to look at the White Tree. If he had, he might have seen the small black spot on one of the roots, its thin veins like creeping tendrils stretching out.

He took the steps two at a time and burst through the doors like fury as he continued towards the Hall, only pausing to breathe once he was there.

After taking a deep breath, he stepped through the door and found the Hall empty, save for Aragorn, seated on the Throne of Judgment. His countenance was dark, his grey eyes cold and distant.

Faramir shuddered. Never before had he seen his king and friend in such a state; he sensed it did not bode well for the trial.

Aragorn must have sensed someone watching because he shook his head, his gaze finding Faramir standing off to the side. "Ah, there you are," said Aragorn, his voice flat and detached.

Faramir's feeling of unease grew. "I came for the trial," he replied, motioning around the Hall, "but it seems I have missed it."

Aragorn's face was unreadable as he said, "You have not missed it because it has not yet taken place. It shall be a private trial."

Faramir was shocked. Private trial? That was no trial at all! It was a death sentence.

The doors on the other side of the Hall opened as four guards walked Tachion into the room, hands in chains. His brown hair was in disarray, and his dark eyes were fixed on Aragorn; shoulders squared, he held himself with confidence. A real soldier of Gondor.

They stopped a couple yards away from the throne, silence enveloping them. Faramir could feel the battle of wills taking place amid the quiet that had fallen on them.

Aragorn seemingly broke first. He sat back stiffly. "What is your relationship to the Queen?" he asked, his voice dripping with accusation.

Faramir looked at Aragorn, appalled that he would suggest such a dishonorable thing. He may not have asked it directly, but Faramir knew the meaning behind the question.

Tachion had a look of confusion for a brief moment, then went pale as the meaning behind Aragorn's words registered in his mind. He shook his head. "I have done nothing to dishonor my Queen," he replied quickly.

"Do not lie to me!" roared Aragorn, slamming his fist down on the arm of the throne before pointing at Tachion. "You've been sleeping with my wife!"

Tachion's jaw dropped, as did Faramir's. What was Aragorn thinking?!

"My king," said Tachion, trying to find the words. "I have never done such a thing, nor has it ever crossed my mind!"

Aragorn glared at him, clearly not believing what he was hearing. "If what you say is true, then tell me what you are hiding," he demanded.

Tachion's shoulders slumped as he looked at his king, a battle raging in his eyes. "I cannot," he said softly, "I have been sworn to secrecy and cannot break my oath."

Aragorn's blood boiled. Never before had he been defied in such a way. Not only that, but this man was guilty, that is why he held his tongue. 'Well, this last question will seal his doom.'

"Who was it that made you swear this oath?" Aragorn asked, darkly.

As Tachion was about to answer, the doors at the end of the Hall groaned open as Arwen strode into the room.

There was a collective gasp from everyone there as they looked at her; her cheeks were red as if she had rushed here in a hurry, her eye bloodshot from the tears that had been flowing.

Most surprising of all was that her hair hung at her shoulders. She walked silently, her now shoulder length hair swaying gently. Arwen stopped when she came abreast of Tachion. "I am the one who made Tachion swear the oath," she stated, her grief-filled filling the Hall. Her bottom lips quivered, her voicing wavering. "My secret shame is that I have miscarried our child," she managed before collapsing to the floor.