Chapter Twenty-Eight: Judgment and Burden
WARNING:
Long and possibly boring chapter!
This chapter contains too many political debates and deliberations. As much as I hate it, I'm forced to include some politics in the following chapters.
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Lord Herumacil stood with the Council of Lords at the entrance of the White Castle, awaiting the return of King Aragorn, Faramir, and the company that had escorted the Prince Consort to Ithilien. The air was thick with tension. The Castle had been in chaos since the King's sudden departure, and Herumacil had struggled to maintain order, especially after placing three notable Council Lords under house arrest.
For three weeks, Herumacil navigated through the outrage, demands from the Council Lords, and pressure from relatives of the arrested. Tension had risen to a breaking point as the Royal Guards and the Army filled the Castle, ready for any signs of uprising. The sheer weight of the situation had nearly overwhelmed Herumacil.
Luckily, Lord Elrond had offered his discreet counsel, providing wisdom and support in the King's absence. Elrond's presence had helped to calm the Court and the Council. But still, the Castle had remained on edge. The news of the King's injury had been yet another blow, sparking fear and further instability. Only Aragorn's letters had brought temporary calm, but everyone knew that an actual resolution would come only with his return.
The clopping of hooves against the paved path broke the heavy silence, and the waiting Lords turned to see the King approaching. Aragorn, dressed in his formal attire, led the way, followed closely by Faramir, Legolas, and a group of Dúnedain Rangers. Behind them, the rest of their companions rode in silence.
"The Dúnedain?" one of the Lords murmured, his voice tinged with confusion. "What are they doing here?"
Herumacil bit back his response. The Dúnedain had been present in the Castle all along, hidden in plain sight, keeping an eye on the simmering unrest. Now, their appearance was deliberate—a signal that the situation was far more severe than anyone might have guessed. The King's return would bring answers but also a reckoning.
As Aragorn, Legolas, and their escort reached the gates, a shift in the atmosphere occurred. The King's presence commanded immediate respect. The Lords bowed deeply as Aragorn dismounted, his gaze sweeping over them with a mixture of authority and exhaustion. Legolas remained at his side, calm yet alert, his sharp eyes taking in everything.
"Lord Herumacil," Aragorn greeted, his voice steady though weariness lingered in his tone. "I trust all has been kept in order during my absence."
Herumacil straightened, nodding respectfully.
"Your Majesty, everything has been maintained as best as possible. The situation remains tense, but it is under control."
Aragorn's gaze flickered over the gathered Lords before nodding, his expression revealing little.
"Good. Let us not delay further. There is much to resolve."
With that, Aragorn, flanked by Faramir and Legolas, led the way into the Castle. The tension inside the walls was palpable as the Council Lords followed, exchanging uneasy glances. Behind them, unnoticed by most, the Dúnedain escorted a prisoner, taking him directly to the dungeons.
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Inside the Council Chamber, Aragorn took his seat at the head of the long table, Legolas to his right and Faramir to his left. The Lords of the Council filled their respective places, their faces etched with concern. They had questions, and soon they would have answers—but not the ones they were hoping for.
Aragorn spoke, his voice steady as it resonated through the hall.
"Let us begin. I know many of you have questions regarding the arrest of three prominent Lords in the Council, and though I explained my reasons in the letters I sent, today you will hear the evidence firsthand." He turned to Faramir. "Call Hathron."
"Yes, my Lord." Faramir gestured to the bailiff, who swiftly left to carry out the command.
Aragorn continued, addressing the gathered Lords.
"As I have written, my Consort was poisoned, forcing an early labour that nearly cost him his life. Later, my daughter was also poisoned and died as a result. Lord Elrond and the healer Dior identified the poison used in both cases, though the initial investigation into the servants led nowhere. That is why I enlisted the help of the Dúnedain."
The room grew tense, the implications heavy.
As Hathron, Captain of the Dúnedain, entered the room with two of his men, followed by Captains Rhircyn and Gondren, all eyes turned to the Rangers. They stood tall behind the King, their presence alone adding weight to the proceedings.
"Captain Hathron," Aragorn said, his tone grave, "you led the investigation. Report your findings."
Hathron stepped forward, his voice calm but firm.
"Your Majesty, Lords of the Council, after a thorough investigation, we discovered that the servants attending the Prince Consort during the incident were influenced by forces within the Court. These individuals were traced back to the households of Lords Mortardur and Bonirun, who are currently under house arrest."
A murmur rippled through the Council as the gravity of Hathron's words sunk in. The betrayal ran deep, threatening the very foundation of the realm.
Aragorn raised his hand, silencing the growing whispers.
"Please, my Lords. Allow him to continue."
Hathron nodded and resumed.
"Upon interrogation, we learned that servants were coerced and bribed into disposing of the others involved. Many were led to believe they were upholding justice by eliminating traitors among them, unaware they were part of a larger conspiracy. These actions were taken under direct orders from the Lords."
The room was silent. The implications were staggering—high-ranking Lords conspiring to endanger the royal family.
"We also uncovered that an outsider was involved in supplying the poison," Hathron continued, "After further investigation, we discovered rumours of an Elf operating in the city's slums, a shadowy figure with silver hair and an unnatural glow."
One of the Lords leaned forward, disbelief evident on his face.
"An Elf? Are you saying Elves were involved in this?"
All eyes turned to Legolas, who sat still, his expression unreadable.
"Unfortunately, yes," Aragorn's voice was cold. "Just as there are those among Men who disapprove of my marriage, there are Elves who wish to see it undone."
The Lords tensed at Aragorn's words. The unease in the room grew palpable as the implications of such a conspiracy struck them.
Hathron cleared his throat and continued.
"After extensive surveillance, we traced this figure to Lord Mortardur's house. The night before the King departed for Ithilien, we intercepted correspondence between Mortardur and his agents, instructing them to make haste to Emyn Arnen and meet with an individual he referred to as 'Shadow'."
Aragorn gestured to Lord Culino, who had been reviewing the city's security logs.
"Lord Culino, please explain what you found."
Culino stepped forward and explained how Mortardur had issued a passage permit for an anonymous individual.
"We discovered this permit in the possession of the Elf we captured in Ithilien," Faramir added. "Along with correspondences from Mortardur."
"You captured an Elf?" Herumacil asked, his voice filled with shock.
"Yes," Aragorn confirmed. "The same Elf who killed King Thranduil's messenger and desecrated the White Tree. He is now in the dungeons awaiting judgment by the Elven Elders."
"But what would he use Mortardur's men for?" Herumacil paled.
"To kidnap me," Legolas said, his voice cold. Several Lords cringed at the weight of his words. "He succeeded near Emyn Arnen. I was drugged most of the way, so I was unaware of our destination, but Elessar, Faramir and their soldiers found us heading toward Pelargir when they rescued me."
The Lords remained silent, absorbing the weight of the facts presented before them. It was almost unthinkable that two Lords of the Council would conspire against the Crown.
Finally, a younger Lord spoke, breaking the silence.
"What of Lord Addrimyr, Your Majesty? You have presented evidence against Mortardur and Bonirun, but what about him?"
While the evidence against Bonirun and Mortardur was undeniable, Lord Addrimyr's case remained unresolved. Aragorn sighed, exchanging a glance with Hathron, who gave a slight shake of his head.
"There is no direct evidence implicating Lord Addrimyr," the Ranger said. "As Chamberlain, he has the authority to hire servants, and while it places him in a position of oversight, we have found nothing to link him to the conspiracy directly."
The room remained tense as the Lords processed the Ranger's words.
"As of now, Addrimyr remains innocent of the conspiracy," Aragorn said, his voice steady. "But if further evidence comes to light, it will be presented before this Council, and justice will be served accordingly."
The Lords exchanged glances. They understood that the King's decision to place Addrimyr under house arrest had been precautionary—a necessary act to maintain control in the chaos. It was clear that justice, while sought after, would be measured and fair. Aragorn's commitment to justice, tempered with fairness, was evident. After a moment, Herumacil spoke again.
"Your Majesty, the evidence against Lords Mortardur and Bonirun is compelling. Their actions cannot go unanswered. They must stand trial for treason."
A murmur of agreement swept through the room. Though the decision was difficult, the path was clear—justice had to be served to preserve the realm.
"Very well," Aragorn nodded solemnly. "Lord Bonirun and Lord Mortardur will be arrested and charged with treason, and then they will stand trial." Turning to Faramir, Aragorn gave his final command. "See to it that both Lords are taken into custody. As for Addrimyr, relieve him from house arrest but keep him under close observation."
Faramir nodded, and the tension in the room began to ease. Justice would be served, but the challenges ahead were far from over.
After the King and Consort had excused themselves, Faramir was about to follow them out when Vorondo called him.
"Yes, Lord Vorondo?" the Steward asked.
"I just wanted to remind you, Lord Faramir," the old man said. "of the followed protocol in the cases of treason among the nobles of Gondor—I'm speaking of the families of Mortardur and Bonirun."
Faramir tensed, knowing precisely what the old Lord was talking about. His heart clenched, and hesitation flickered in his eyes briefly before it was replaced with resolute. Although he didn't like the protocol, he knew he was forced to follow it regardless.
"I'm aware of the protocols in such cases, Lord Vorondo," he said coldly. "And it's my duty to carry them out."
Without waiting further, Faramir excused himself and left.
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Aragorn let out a soft groan as he leaned back against the bed's headboard in his private chambers, his body still weary from his newly healed injuries and the strain of leadership. With the Council meeting concluded, he and Legolas retired to their chambers, seeking much-needed rest and peace of mind. The tension of the day's events hung heavily in the air, but a fragile peace existed within the walls of his chambers.
Legolas, perched on the edge of the bed, had his gaze fixed on Aragorn, his fingers tracing the blanket absentmindedly. He was consumed by his thoughts—by the weight of loss and betrayal that seemed to choke his every breath. But as Aragorn winced slightly while adjusting himself against the headboard, Legolas noticed how pale and drawn his husband looked. The dark circles beneath his eyes, the stiffness in his movements—it all struck Legolas at once.
"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked, concern flickering through the fog of his own emotions. "I should call for the healers if you're in pain."
Aragorn stifled a chuckle, though it was laced with a faint wince as he shifted slightly.
"I'm fine, Legolas. I promise," he said, reaching out and holding Legolas' hand. "It's just the weight of today settling into my muscles. It's you who is troubled, Meleth nîn. Tell me, what troubles you?" he asked softly, noticing the distant look in Leoglas' eyes.
Legolas sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he closed his eyes, searching for the right words. His hand trembled just so before he stilled it against Aragorn's palm.
"Everything feels…heavy," he finally admitted. "Orophin's betrayal, Gwîneth's death... I can't find peace. And seeing you today, still recovering, pushing yourself…" His voice trailed off as a shadow crossed his features.
"I've grown accustomed to the burdens of leadership," Aragorn said, smiling slightly, as he squeezed his hand, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of Legolas's hand. "It's my duty and destiny. I have accepted it. But you… you don't need to carry all of this alone. I know it has been difficult. None of this has been fair to you—to us."
Legolas looked at him, sorrow and gratitude warring in his eyes.
"I fear that I am failing those who have already been lost. Gwîneth…I never imagined losing her, not like this. And Orophin…Haldir was so proud of him, of his two brothers. I never told him about what Rúmil and Orophin did because I didn't want to disappoint him." His voice faltered, his eyes shimmering with the weight of untold grief. "Would Haldir understand if I hated Orophin for what he's done?"
Aragorn's chest tightened, hearing the pain in Legolas' voice.
"Come here," Aragorn said, opening his arms.
Legolas hesitated briefly before slowly moving towards Aragorn, leaning against his chest and resting his head on his shoulder. Aragorn gently pulled him closer, enveloping him in his arms.
"You are not failing anyone," he whispered against the crown of Legolas' head. "You've been through so much, more than anyone should ever bear. Your anger is not a failure. Your feelings are valid, and you do not need to justify them to anyone, least of all yourself."
"I just wish I could understand why it all happened," Legolas whispered. "Why did they choose this path, and why did it cost us so much? Maybe then I would know how to move forward and find peace again."
Aragorn pressed a gentle kiss on the top of Legolas's head.
"I wish I had the answers," he said softly. "But sometimes, the reasons are beyond our understanding. What matters now is how we move forward, honour those we have lost, and protect what we still have."
They sat silently for a moment, the weight of their shared pain and the comfort of their bond filling the space between them. Legolas's mind seemed to have wandered far away, his breath shallow as he listened to Aragorn's steady breathing, the rhythmic sound grounding him in the present.
"Did you hate Boromir?" he suddenly asked.
Aragorn loosened his hold on Legolas, looking at his husband, surprised.
"Why would I hate him?" he asked.
Legolas hesitated, sitting up slightly.
"Because he denied your birthright during Elrond's Council. Because he betrayed Frodo," he replied. "Because he succumbed to the whispers of the Ring."
Aragorn shook his head slowly.
"I couldn't hate him," he said. "I was sorrowful for losing such a noble man to the darkness. And for a moment, he confirmed what I'd always feared: the weakness of Men. But then he showed great strength and courage, and I couldn't help but admire him. As for denying my birthright, he didn't owe me anything then," he smiled slightly. "He redeemed himself with great courage and, in the end, pledged his allegiance to me. For a long time, I only saw the weakness of men, but Boromir, Éomer, Éowyn, and many others proved to me that there is strength and bravery in our race."
"You found the strength of Men in others," Legolas said, smiling slightly. "While you were our strength during our quest."
Aragorn smiled back, his gaze warm as he looked at Legolas.
"I only did what needed to be done," he said modestly. "as did you and everyone else who fought alongside us. We all carried each other's burdens, and that is what made us strong. We drew strength from one another, just as we do now."
Legolas nodded, yet his eyes flickered with uncertainty.
"I…I feel lost in all of this," he admitted after a period of silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "The weight of the past, the uncertainty of the future—it can be overwhelming. I feel so lost because I've always known where I stood, what was right and what was wrong, and what I should do. But now…everything feels uncertain. I want to be strong, but I'm faltering under my emotions and doubts."
"Strength does not mean you have to know everything or face your troubles alone," Aragorn said. "We will find our way through this uncertainty together. You have already shown more courage and resilience than most could even imagine on many occasions. And as for Orophin, your feelings are valid. Haldir would understand your anger even if it was directed towards his brother. He would want you to protect yourself and your loved ones."
"I've seen betrayal before, even among our closest companions," Legolas said. "Boromir…he struggled with the darkness, succumbed to it, but ultimately, he found a way to redeem himself. I respected him for that."
"Legolas," Aragorn said, stroking a lock of Legolas' blond hair. "Boromir's heart was always true, even if he stumbled. What happened with Orophin is different. His choices were not born of desperation or aspiring to something good but of something colder…selfish desire."
"That's what makes it harder to bear," Legolas whispered, his voice trembling. "I cannot find the same forgiveness for Orohin, not when I know what he did was deliberate."
Aragorn sighed, pulling Legolas back into his embrace.
"Forgiveness is not something you owe anyone, least of all Orophin. Seeking justice and protecting those you love does not mean you have failed in compassion. We all have limits to what we can forgive. And perhaps, in time, you will find some form of peace, even if it is not through forgiveness."
"And what's the line? How could I know where to stop?" Legolas asked, his voice barely audible.
"The line is different for everyone," Aragorn said thoughtfully. "But I believe it's when the innocent are taken by the guilt of others that we must draw a hard line and desist. Seeking justice and retaliation can sometimes blur together. We must remember to protect those who are blameless in all of this."
Legolas nodded slowly, his thoughts heavy with the weight of Aragorn's words.
"I just don't want to lose myself in the bitterness of my pain," he said softly. "I don't want my anger and grief to overshadow who I am. I don't want to be like Orophin, consumed with a wronged sense of justice and entitlement."
Aragorn tightened his embrace around Legolas.
"You won't become like him, Legolas," he assured. "Your heart is too pure, too full of love and compassion. It's natural to feel anger and grief, especially after everything you've endured. But I know you—you'll never let those feelings consume you."
Legolas rested his head against Aragorn's chest as he listened to the steady beat of his heart.
"I hope you're right," he whispered. "But sometimes, it feels like the darkness is too close like it's waiting for a moment of weakness to take hold."
"We've both faced darkness before and come out stronger on the other side," Aragorn said, his voice steady and reassuring. "Legolas, I still remember how you were so concerned for the young soldiers at Helm's Deep—boys who were thrust into battle before their time. You feared for their lives and wanted to protect them. That same compassion, that same strength, is what will guide you through this as well."
Legolas remained silent, his eyes reflecting his deep sorrow and uncertainty. The memory of Helm's Deep stirred something in his heart—a reminder of the courage he had drawn upon in the darkest of times, not just for himself but for those who could not protect themselves.
"I didn't want them to suffer," Legolas whispered, his voice trembling. "Just as I don't want others to suffer now. But this feels different, Aragorn. The pain is so much more personal. I don't know how to separate it from the need for justice."
Aragorn tightened his embrace around Legolas, gently stroking his hair.
"You don't have to separate it, Meleth nîn. Justice isn't always about detachment; it's about doing what's right, even when it's hard. You have every right to feel the way you do. But I know you, Legolas—you won't let this pain turn into something darker. You won't let it consume you because your heart is pure and full of love."
Legolas closed his eyes as he listened to the steady beat of his heart. The rhythmic sound was grounding, a reminder of the love and support that surrounded him, even in these troubled times.
"We'll face whatever comes next the same way as we always did—together," Aragorn assured. "You are not alone in this, Legolas. No matter how heavy the burden, we'll find our way through."
Legolas took a deep breath, allowing himself to lean fully into Aragorn's embrace, finding comfort in his husband's presence. The path ahead was uncertain, but in Aragorn's arms, he found a moment of peace—a brief reprieve from the turmoil in his heart.
"Thank you," he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he let out a slow breath. "You always know what to say."
"Only because I know you so well," Aragorn replied, his voice warm and filled with love. "And because I feel the same way. We may not have all the answers, but we have each other, and that is enough."
Legolas hummed softly, the sound of Aragorn's breathing steadying his own. The darkness of the day's events lingered at the edges of his thoughts, but here, in Aragorn's arms, he found the strength to face whatever was to come. The path ahead was uncertain, but at this moment, they could rest and find comfort in each other's presence. And that was enough for now.
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Aragorn closed the door gently on a sleeping Legolas as he left the bedroom. Their rest had been interrupted by a page informing the King that the Elven Lords and Lady wished to see him urgently. Fortunately, Legolas had already fallen asleep, for Aragorn had a strong suspicion about the nature of the discussion that awaited him. He doubted Legolas would be ready to hear a conversation about Orophin's fate so soon after their heart-to-heart in the bedroom. Aragorn sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The fact that Legolas had managed to disclose what he was thinking spoke volumes to Aragorn. The blond Elf wasn't one to open his heart so readily.
As Aragorn turned to face the living room, he froze for a second, his eyes imagining Gwîneth sitting on the couch. The room seemed to blur around the edges as his memory filled in the details—her calm presence, the gentle smile she would offer him when she noticed his gaze. It was a scene he had seen so many times before. Gwîneth, ever the steady presence, was always there when he needed to leave Legolas in caring hands. She would sit gracefully, her demeanour serene, her eyes filled with the wisdom and warmth that had always comforted those around her. In that fleeting moment, she was there again, as real as she had ever been. But the image faded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving an emptiness in its wake. Aragorn blinked, his heart aching with the loss. The reality of her absence weighed heavily on him, and he had to steel himself against the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him.
Taking a deep breath, Aragorn pushed the memory aside, focusing on the task at hand. There was much to face, and he needed to be strong—for Legolas, for himself, and for the future they were fighting to build together. With renewed resolve, he moved toward the main hall, ready to face whatever awaited him.
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Aragorn entered his study, his footsteps echoing softly. The room was filled with the weight of unspoken tension as he faced Galadriel, Celeborn, Elrond, Glorfindel, and Thranduil. Afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting long shadows, adding to the moment's gravity. The King took a deep breath, knowing the discussion ahead would be difficult.
"Thank you for your patience," he began, joining the circle of Elves. His voice remained calm though the weight of the coming conversation pressed on his heart. "I assume this concerns Orophin."
Galadriel inclined her head, her gaze as sharp as ever, though softened by understanding.
"Yes, Elessar. We must now face the consequences of Orophin's betrayal," She said.
"The situation is delicate," Elrond, ever the voice of reason, added with a grave expression. "Orophin's actions cannot be ignored, but how we handle this will have lasting consequences for both Elves and Men. His crimes transcend both realms."
Aragorn nodded, absorbing the seriousness of their words. His expression grew darker.
"Orophin has lost his Elven Light," Thranduil spoke, his voice cold with pain. "He is no longer one of us."
"True," Elrond said. "But Men will still see him as an Elf, and his crimes will reflect upon all of us. The sentence must take into account the balance between our two peoples."
Aragorn frowned, the complexity of the matter weighing heavily on him.
"What does it mean for him to lose his Light?" he asked, genuinely troubled.
Elrond glanced at Thranduil and Galadriel.
"When an Elf loses their Light, they lose their essence—their connection to the immortality and purity of our kind. Orophin has become a shadow of his former self, severed from the grace of the Eldar," Galadriel's voice, though gentle, was firm.
"Is he beyond redemption?" Aragorn asked, his voice heavy with the weight of the question.
"There is no redemption for one who has fallen so far. His heart has become too dark for the Light of the Valar to return," Galadriel said, her voice carrying unspoken grief that troubled Aragorn more than her words themselves.
"Even if he regrets his actions and seeks to make amends?" he asked.
"I spoke with him in Emyn Arnen," Glorfindel's tone was cold as he spoke. "He shows no remorse. He believes his actions were justified."
Thranduil's eyes gleamed with anger and sorrow as he spoke next.
"Orophin must answer for his crimes. His betrayal has stained the honour of his kin. He may no longer be one of us, but his actions have caused untold harm, and his punishment must reflect that."
"Even if he regretted his action," Elrond said quietly. "He will not regain his Light or be accepted by the Valar."
Aragorn's gaze moved between the Elves, his mind racing. He was torn between his duty as King and his personal ties to the Elves, to Legolas, and to Haldir—Orophin's brother. The decision ahead could have far-reaching consequences, not just for Gondor but for all of Middle Earth.
"Orophin must face justice, for certain," he said slowly. "But who has the right to pass judgment? His betrayal affects both Gondor and the Elven realms."
"Orophin's betrayal of the Elves runs deep," Elrond spoke carefully, choosing his words. "He must answer to us, his kin. But his crimes against Gondor are also severe. The laws of Men demand justice as well."
"He kidnapped an Elven Prince, my son," Thranduil's voice was more demanding now but laced with deep pain. "and caused the death of a Mirkwood Princess, my granddaughter. For that, he should be judged by the Eldar."
"Perhaps both must have a say in this matter," Galadriel said, her voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Orophin's crimes cross the boundaries between Elves and Men. Justice must take into account both worlds."
Aragorn nodded, her words resonating with him.
"We must consider what is best for both Gondor and the Elves. A balanced ruling is needed."
A heavy silence fell over the room as the gathered Elves considered the situation's complexity.
"There can be no redemption for Orophin," Thranduil broke the silence, his tone decisive. "His actions have made him an enemy of both Elves and Men. His punishment must match the gravity of his betrayal." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Exile to Mordor."
Aragorn's breath caught at the suggestion.
"Mordor…" he whispered, the weight of the word hanging in the air. "That is a grave sentence."
"It is fitting," Thranduil continued, his voice colder than before. "Orophin has chosen his fate. Mordor is where he belongs, among the darkness he chose."
"I agree with King Thranduil," Glorfindel said, his voice as cold as the loss that weighed on his heart.
Elrond's brow furrowed as he considered this, his tone cautious.
"Such a punishment would send a strong message. But would the Court of Gondor accept such a fate?" he asked.
Aragorn hesitated, the implications swirling in his mind.
"It would be unprecedented. But it would certainly make clear that Gondor will not tolerate treason. Still, we must tread carefully. Some may see it as too harsh, especially given Orophin's Elven heritage."
"Aragorn," Celeborn, who had remained silent, finally spoke. His voice was measured but firm. "Consider the weight of what Orophin has done. His actions endangered the peace we have fought to preserve."
"It is not just about Orophin's betrayal against the Elves," Glorfindel leaned forward, adding. "It is also a betrayal against Gondor…against Middle Earth. His action could've ignited a war between our realms!"
Aragorn exhaled slowly, weighed down by the enormity of the decision. This was not just about justice—it was about the future of Gondor, the Elves, and Legolas, who was already burdened with guilt over Orophin. He looked at Galadriel, wanting to hear her view, but she simply shook her head, refusing to voice her opinion.
"If we agree to this sentence," he said carefully. "then we must present a united front. The sentence must be seen as just, not driven by vengeance."
Galadriel inclined her head, her gaze steady and filled with understanding.
"This is not vengeance, Elessar. It is a necessity. Orophin's actions have left no room for anything else."
Aragorn nodded, his resolve hardening.
"Then it is decided. Orophin will face trial, and if found guilty, his punishment will be exile to Mordor."
The silence that followed was heavy with the finality of the decision. Each of the Elves nodded, the weight of their agreement settling in the room. The path ahead was set, but it was not without cost.
Suddenly, soft knocks echoed through the room. The door to the study creaked open, and Faramir stepped inside. He paused, his eyes widening slightly in surprise as he saw the gathering of Elven Lords and Lady. Clearly, he had not expected their presence.
"My apologies, my Lord," Faramir said, bowing slightly. "I did not mean to intrude. I came to discuss some matters, but I see you are already engaged. I can return later if it suits you."
"There's no need to apologize, Faramir," Aragorn replied, gesturing for him to enter. "We were discussing Orophin's fate. Perhaps your counsel could be of value."
Faramir hesitated briefly, his eyes flickering between the Elves before he stepped forward. The matter of Orophin had weighed heavily on his mind ever since Emyn Arnen. He had wanted to question the Elf, but Aragorn's words back then had stayed his hand.
"If I may, my Lords, Lady Galadriel," Faramir began tentatively as he took a seat beside Aragorn. "I have a suggestion. As heinous as Orophin's actions are, they are tied to the larger conspiracy against Gondor. His cooperation could be crucial in exposing the other traitors—those who conspired against both Gondor and your kin."
Elrond's brow furrowed slightly as he considered the suggestion.
"You believe he would confess his role in the conspiracy?"
"If offered a chance to unburden himself, or perhaps amnesty before his judgment," Faramir replied, "he might reveal critical information. Even with the evidence we have, his testimony could solidify the case against the traitors and ensure their condemnation. It could even be a chance for him to redeem himself."
"Lord Faramir, while your suggestion is well-meaning," Glorfindel interjected, his voice tinged with resignation, "you must understand that among the Elves, some acts cannot be undone. Redemption, in this case, carries a different meaning. Orophin has no redemption, even if he cooperated—which I doubt he would, as he believes his actions justified."
Faramir blinked, uncertain if he fully grasped the Elven Lord's meaning.
"I beg your pardon, my Lord," he said, "but I'm not sure I understand."
"Lord Faramir," Celeborn spoke gently but firmly, "among the Elves, redemption is not simply a matter of confessing wrongs. When an Elf falls as Orophin has, they lose their Light, their essence. This loss severs them from our grace, and they are no longer truly an Elf."
"Redemption from such a fall requires a profound spiritual restoration," Galadriel added softly. "But Orophin's heart is too darkened, his spirit too far gone. There is no return for him to the Light."
Faramir's gaze shifted from one Elf to another as he processed their words. The chasm between the cultures of Men and Elves was becoming increasingly clear to him. What Men might view as a path to redemption—confession and atonement—was seen differently among the Elves. The idea that Orophin's soul could be so corrupted as to be beyond redemption was something Faramir hadn't fully understood until now.
"I apologize if I've offended you," he said quietly. "It seems my understanding was limited. Among Men, confession and repentance often lead to redemption. But I now see that the Elves hold such matters in graver regard."
"If Orophin's confession could bring the true culprits to justice, it may be worth pursuing." Elrond's gaze softened slightly as he spoke.
Aragorn glanced between the gathered Elves, feeling the weight of their expectations.
"We must at least attempt it," he said finally. "If there is any chance his confession could bring swift justice and end this conspiracy, we owe it to those who have been wronged to try. But we must also be prepared for the possibility that he will refuse."
"If you believe this course is worth pursuing, Elessar," Galadriel said, her voice steady, "then so be it. But tread carefully—Orophin's heart is darkened. His confession, should it come, will not absolve him."
The room fell into contemplative silence, each person weighing the burden of what lay ahead. The decision was no longer just about Orophin—it was about the integrity of Gondor and the Elves and the justice that would define their actions in the eyes of both.
Aragorn finally broke the stillness, his voice firm.
"Then we will proceed with this plan. Faramir, prepare the necessary arrangements for the trial. My Lady, Lord Celeborn, I believe your counsel may hold sway with Orophin. If anyone can reach him, it is you as his Lord and Lady. I ask that you speak with him before we proceed. Should he refuse, we will reconvene to decide his fate together. This burden is one we must all share."
With those words, the meeting came to a close. The Elves rose and left the room, each with the knowledge that the next steps would shape the course of justice in both realms.
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A heavy silence lingered after the Elves departed, the weight of decisions yet to be made pressing down on Aragorn's shoulders. He turned to Faramir, who remained in the room.
"You wanted to speak with me, Faramir?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
"Yes, Sire," Faramir responded. "I wanted to inform you that Lord Bonirun, Lord Mortardur, and their immediate family members have been arrested and imprisoned."
Aragorn's expression darkened, disbelief and anger flickering across his face.
"Their immediate family?" he asked, his tone sharp with concern. "Why were their families arrested?"
"It's the law, Sire," Faramir explained. "In cases of high treason, the immediate family members are also detained."
"On what grounds?" Aragorn asked darkly. "What crime have they committed?"
Faramir shifted uncomfortably under the King's intense gaze.
"Sire," he began cautiously, "it is standard practice in cases of high treason. Family members are held as a precaution to prevent any possible collusion or retaliation. They remain in custody until the investigation is completed and the final sentences are announced."
Aragorn took a deep breath, his jaw tight as he fought to maintain control over his emotions.
"These are innocent people—wives, children. You cannot imprison them without just cause. This is not justice; it is the doom of the innocent with the guilty."
Faramir saw the depth of Aragorn's concern and nodded slightly.
"I understand your perspective, Sire, but the law is quite clear. However, we can review their cases with the Council. If they approve, the family members can be released. Until then, they must remain in custody."
"I will not stand by and let innocent lives be destroyed by association," Aragorn said, his voice firm and resolute. "If there is no evidence of their involvement, they will be released immediately. Is that understood?"
Faramir hesitated, weighing his words carefully. The King had not yet grasped the complexities of Gondor's laws regarding treason, particularly among the noble class. Faramir feared that if Aragorn clashed with the Council now, it might jeopardize the upcoming trials, potentially allowing the traitors to escape justice.
"My Lord," Faramir began cautiously, "I have a suggestion that may allow us to follow protocol without causing unnecessary harm. I will personally review each case, and those proven innocent will be released from prison, though placed under house arrest until the trials conclude. This way, you and the Council can determine their final fate together."
Aragorn studied Faramir closely, sensing the Steward was offering a solution but not fully revealing the underlying political concerns driving it.
"House arrest," Aragorn repeated, considering the compromise. "It's more humane than imprisonment, but it still feels unjust to confine those who may be innocent."
Faramir inclined his head.
"I understand, Sire. But given the situation, the Council's involvement is crucial. In cases of high treason, especially when it concerns members of the Council, their approval is needed for any deviation from established law. By placing the families under house arrest, we can respect the law while preventing unnecessary suffering. It also buys us time to gather evidence and make a stronger case for their release."
Aragorn's expression hardened slightly.
"So, you're telling me the Council could insist on their imprisonment, regardless of their innocence?"
Faramir carefully chose his following words.
"Considering who the accused are, the Council will undoubtedly have a say. The final decision does not rest solely with you or with them—it must be made together. By putting them under house arrest, for now, we maintain balance. It allows us time to present a stronger argument for their release."
Aragorn exhaled heavily, the complexities of the situation weighing on him.
"Very well. If this is the best way to protect these families while adhering to the law, then proceed. But I expect to be informed of their conditions regularly. They are to be treated with dignity and care."
"Of course, Sire," Faramir replied, relieved that Aragorn accepted the compromise. "I will personally oversee their treatment and work closely with you and the Council to ensure a fair outcome."
Aragorn nodded, though a hint of unease remained.
"Thank you, Faramir. I trust your judgment. But remember, our priority must be justice—not simply following the letter of the law."
Faramir bowed his head slightly.
"I will do everything in my power to ensure justice is served, Sire."
As Faramir turned to leave, Aragorn called out again.
"Faramir," he said, his voice measured but firm, "the law can be a heavy burden, but we must not forget the true purpose of justice. We serve not only the law but the people."
Faramir paused, meeting Aragorn's gaze with understanding.
"I will not forget, my Lord."
Aragorn nodded, watching as Faramir exited the room. The weight of the coming days pressed down on him like a storm gathering on the horizon. The trials would not only determine the fate of the traitors but also test the very soul of Gondor. Each decision made in these halls of power would ripple through the kingdom, affecting the lives of many. He moved to the window, staring out at the city below, the wind rustling through the trees like whispers of a future yet unwritten. Aragorn closed his eyes, steeling himself for the battles ahead. They would not be fought with swords but with wisdom and resolve. As King, he knew the choices he made now would either strengthen Gondor—or shatter it. In the end, he was not just a ruler. He was the Steward of justice, and he would not falter.
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To Be Continued…
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What do you think about the chapter? A heavy chapter, no?
And what do you think about Orophin's punishment?