Chapter 13. Catching their Deaths

 ‘What’s that up ahead?’ Elessar asked.

Merry opened bleary eyes to look and closed them again, seeing nothing but blinding sunlight.

 ‘Crowd of some sort,’ Eomer grunted, looking down at his burden. ‘Master Holdwine?’ But the hobbit did not open his eyes again.

 ‘I see some of your knights,’ Elessar said, ‘but what’s that they’re dragging?’

Eomer squinted, then suddenly urged his mount into a run, the others belatedly following.

 ‘Steady now,’ Sam said to Cloudracer as the pony threw up his head and snorted. He kept a firm hand on his reins and grabbed the bridle of the pony Pimpernel rode to forestall a runaway. She’d guided her mount well enough, so long as they kept away from the main body of Men. ‘We’ll get there soon enough.’

The knights pulled their horses to a stop as their king rode up. ‘We have him, Sire!’ one shouted. ‘Caught him with the Halfling in hand!’

 ‘Hanging’s too good for him,’ another growled. ‘We’d have drawn-and-quartered, him, but for the law that we must bring him back to the Hall of Judgement!’

 ‘So you decided to drag him to death on the way?’ Eomer shouted. His knights exchanged uneasy glances.

The one who bore the limp hobbit in his arms said, ‘But Sire! He’s already done the Prince of Halflings untold harm!’

Elessar moved in closer for an anxious look. Pippin lay white and unmoving.

The old man at the end of the rope raised his head from the muddy ground. ‘I didn’t!’ he panted. ‘Sire, I swear, I meant only to help the little one!’

 ‘Help him right into his grave!’ one of the knights snarled, to be silenced with a look from his king.

 ‘Could there have been two of them?’ Elfwine said. ‘One took the Halfling in the night, before the snow ceased, and the other escaped wearing the clothes of Elfalas?’

 ‘It’s possible,’ Eomer said slowly. ‘Is he the wanderer you remember?’

Elfwine looked closely at the mud-spattered man, his white hair wild. An old battle scar crossed his face, leaving a permanent grin. ‘He is like,’ he said doubtfully. ‘Very like, but his voice...’

Eomer looked down to the hobbit he held. ‘Master Holdwine,’ he said. ‘Merry! We need you to waken.’

Merry groaned but did not open his eyes.

 ‘Ferdibrand?’ Elessar said to his own burden, without hope. Ferdi had shown little sign of life since their arrival at the herdsmen's hut. At least he was breathing.

Elessar looked over to where Samwise had halted the ponies, some ways from the crowd. ‘Sam!’ he said. ‘We need to know if this is the Man!’

Sam spoke softly to Pimpernel, and she shook her head. He spoke again, nudged his pony into motion, pulling on her reins so that her pony would follow. She slipped from the saddle to stand in the melting snow as if rooted there.

 ‘Nell,’ he said, stopping his pony and jumping down to stand beside her. ‘Nell, you’ve got to look. You have to tell them if he’s the one. There seems to be some doubt about the matter.’

 ‘No,’ Nell said, her look far away and lost. ‘We mustn’t. The ruffians, you know.’

 ‘Nell,’ Sam said again, taking the reins of both ponies in one hand so that he could take her arm with the other. ‘If he’s the one who hurt Ferdi he’ll be punished. But they’ll let him off if you don’t look, and tell them if he’s the right one. They’ll let him off, Nell, and he’ll be free.’ He wasn’t sure if this was the truth. Usually one accused had to prove his innocence rather than the accusers having to prove his guilt. That was the way things were in the world. Still, if there was doubt about the matter, Sam would do his best to see justice done.

This argument reached Nell. The thought of the monster going free was enough to waken her from her nightmare of remembered fear. She shook off his hand and stalked towards the Men. Ruffians all. Ferdi’d had the right of it.

 ‘I was only trying to help,’ the old man said again, lifting his bound hands in pleading to his king.

Nell frowned. The voice wasn’t right.

 ‘He could be disguising his voice,’ she said.

 ‘Look closer, Nell,’ Sam said in her ear. She steeled herself to look, meeting the Man’s bloodshot gaze... and gasped.

 ‘Blue!’ she said.

 ‘What was that?’ Sam asked gently, raising a hand to forestall any comments from the Men surrounding them.

 ‘The monster’s eyes were grey, grey as the eyes of a guardsman of Gondor,’ she said coldly. ‘Grey as the eyes of the King himself. He was a Man of Gondor, not one of the Rohirrim.’

 ‘Cut him loose!’ Eomer snapped. The knight who’d been dragging the old man along slid down from his saddle to comply, then looked questioningly at his king.

 ‘Pick him up! Put him on your own horse,’ Eomer said tightly. ‘You may walk; lead the horse into Edoras and to the Healing Hall.’ To the old man he said, ‘My apologies, Grandfather. You shall be compensated for this day’s work.’

The old man nodded, shook off the knights’ now helping hands, and climbed into the saddle with dignity despite his bruised and battered state.

Eomer raised his voice to address the crowd of townspeople and knights gathering closer. ‘There’s been a mistake!’ he shouted. ‘The monster is loose among us, indeed, but he goes dressed as a knight of the Mark, riding a stolen horse! Mark the face of every knight you meet; trust no one. Bring any unfamiliar Man you find to Edoras. I trust you will do this in a more... appropriate manner.’

There were mutters from the knights and nods from the townspeople, and they turned away to resume the search for the madman.

***

 ‘You’d think they’d never seen snow before,’ Diamond said in amusement to Estella. The hobbit children were having a glorious snowball fight with the children of Edoras. Bergil’s family and Elessar’s had joined in on the hobbit side, but the hobbits didn’t need help, with their prowess in throwing.

 ‘The children of Edoras seldom see snow,’ Estella answered. ‘Winters really are milder here. Such a storm is unusual.’

 ‘At least it’s promising to melt away quickly,’ Diamond said. A snowball gone awry smacked against her skirts and she bent to scoop up a handful of her own, tossing it at the perpetrator and laughing at his surprise. ‘Too bad Pip’s missing this; he loves a good game.’

 ‘Well he needn’t have ridden out with the kings before breakfast,’ Estella said, ‘no more my Merry and your Sam, Rose, but that’s the way of these Rohirrim. The menfolk are always off on some errand or other, for it’s more sport than sitting prim and proper and sipping tea with the ladies.’

 ‘Hunting, and in this weather,’ Rose said in disgust. ‘They’ll probably catch their deaths, and naught else!’

 ‘Looks as if they might have caught something,’ Diamond said, seeing the riders approaching the city. That was an advantage of playing in the courtyard before the Golden Hall; they had a fine view of the approach to Edoras. ‘Three of the Men are carrying burdens in their arms...’

 ‘That’s not how you bring back trophies,’ Estella said sharply. ‘And there are only three ponies... didn’t you say Pimpernel went out with them? And one of the ponies being led, not ridden!’

As they watched, one rider broke from the group and spurred his horse ahead. He pulled his mount to a walk between the mounds of the kings for the briefest possible time before urging the beast up the great hill at its best pace. It was not long before he pulled up before the Golden Hall and jumped down—Elfwine it was, the young prince himself.

He bowed before the ladies. Arwen, Lothiriel, and Bergil's wife Gaelwyn came up silently behind Estella and Diamond to hear the news.

 ‘Regards of King Eomer,’ Elfwine said. ‘We are bringing your husbands to the Hall of Healing, and if you please, the king requests that you accompany me there to meet them.’

 ‘Hall of Healing!’ Diamond exclaimed.

But Rose only shook her head and said, ‘I told you so.’