Chapter 26. Truth or Dare

Ulrich kissed his wife on the cheek and squeezed her hand. ‘If you’ll excuse me, my dear,’ he said lightly. ‘I’m sure we’ll have all this cleared up in no time.’

He looked to Beregond and added, ‘How are we to do this? Is it to be a formal hearing, with witnesses as to my character and actions, and proofs of my identity?’

 ‘Not yet,’ Beregond said. ‘The King would like to speak with you, to ascertain the truth of the charges.’

 ‘You see, Merewyn,’ Ulrich said. ‘My guilt has not been established. I doubt that it ever shall be, seeing as how I am no ruffian.’

Merewyn swallowed hard and nodded. She knew that her husband was no ruffian, but with three witnesses claiming otherwise... She hoped the King would quickly sort out this case of mistaken identity.

 ‘Stay here and mind the feast,’ Ulrich said to his wife, rising and patting her on the shoulder.

 ‘I’ll come with you,’ old Heledir said, rising as well. He turned to the other councillors. ‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘Take care of business.’ 

 ‘Of course,’ Arasfaron said, and the others murmured their compliance.

Ulrich and Heledir made their way from the hall with smiles and nods, off to see to some business or other, the rest of the feasters surmised, the Mayor walking between the Captain of the White Company and the old councillor, and the Halfling--evidently much improved since he’d eaten--next to the King’s guardsman.

The King awaited them in the council room of the Town Hall. He occupied the Mayor’s central chair, two Halflings beside him, talking in low tones. The Halflings looked up at their entrance and rose, evidently in deference to the Ernil i Pheriannath. Ulrich was surprised to see boots upon their feet. One of the Halflings moved to the next chair to make room for Pippin, and Bergil escorted him to his seat. Heledir wanted to chuckle at the sight of the three of them, their chins barely above table level, looking all too much like small sons invited to their fathers’ place of business for the day. He pursed his lips and cleared his throat instead, thinking of the Ernil i Pheriannath’s words. Three witnesses, he’d said. Heledir wondered if these were the three.

 ‘Be seated,’ Elessar said, indicating the chairs opposite him.

 ‘I’m not to stand in the dock? That’s reassuring,’ Ulrich said with a chuckle, and took the seat indicated. Beregond came to stand behind him, and two of the King’s guardsmen stepped outside the door to the chamber, evidently to turn away any who tried to enter. Two more took up stations just inside the door, and more by the windows. Preventing escape? Ulrich mused. They seemed to have a hearty respect for former ruffians.

 ‘Now where do we begin?’ Ulrich said, sitting back. ‘How do I prove these charges false?’

 ‘Begin by telling me your story,’ Elessar said. ‘The witnesses place you in the Shire during the War of the Ring. Tell us where you come from, and where you have been between that time and this.’

 ‘I was born in Minas Tirith,’ Ulrich said. ‘My grandfather was one of the Tower Guard.’

The Halfling closest to the King was nodding slightly.

The Ernil i Pheriannath broke in. ‘Why are you called “Ulrich”?’ he asked. ‘That is not a name common in Gondor.’

Ulrich looked into the keen eyes. ‘My father came from Westfold,’ he said. ‘My mother’s father, it was, served in the Tower Guard. My father came to Minas Tirith with a caravan of traders and stayed on.’

The booted Halfling beside the King smiled faintly and said, ‘A curious mixture of truth and falsehood, my lord.’

 ‘I beg your pardon?’ Ulrich said in surprise.

 ‘Go on,’ Elessar said.

 ‘He has called me a liar!’ Ulrich spluttered, outrage replacing surprise.

 ‘Ulrich, I’ve known you since you saved my son from drowning years ago,’ Elessar said. ‘Please, do not take umbrage. I’m sure we can work this out. Go on with your account.’

 ‘Ferdi,’ the Ernil i Pheriannath said to the booted Halfling beside the King, and that one nodded and sat back, seeming to lose interest in the proceeding.

Ulrich proceeded to tell his life’s story, growing up in his house in the First Circle of Minas Tirith, losing home and possessions in the fire during the Siege, joining the army of the West as they marched to the Black Gate... ‘My father and my brothers fell in the battle,’ he said. ‘My mother died of grief a few months after we returned.’

 ‘How did you come to the Northland?’ Elessar said. ‘You were plying your trade as a fisherman on the Lake when you saved Eldarion from drowning.’

 ‘I had no ties in Minas Tirith anymore. My mother’s family were all dead; her brothers fell in battle. I thought to go to Westfold to find my father’s family, but the people there had been scattered and I had no success.’

 ‘You did not stay in the Westfold,’ Elessar prompted.

 ‘No, by then I had seen so much, I wanted more,’ Ulrich said. ‘I kept moving, for the Road beckoned me. Each bend or hill brought new sights to my eyes, and another promised beyond.’ His look grew far away. ‘When I reached Lake Evendim, I knew I’d found my home.’

 ‘But then it was your misfortune to save the son of the King from drowning,’ Elessar said wryly.

Ulrich shook himself. ‘It was,’ he said. ‘I could hardly remain in my lonely state with the King and Queen and princesses showering me with their gratitude and attentions.’ He sighed. ‘I grew used to banquets, and fine clothing, and having people ask my advice about this and that.’

 ‘And so great grew our friendship that you agreed to accompany us to Gondor at the end of the season,’ Elessar said with a smile at some memory.

 ‘On my way back to the Lake, after visiting Gondor, I stopped to help a traveller who’d been waylaid by ruffians,’ Ulrich said, his face darkening. ‘A harmless old man, who’d have given them what little gold he was carrying with no need for a beating. I helped him to his daughter in Dindale, and went to join the town guard as they tracked those ruffians and brought them to justice.’ Doubt was showing in the faces of two of the Halflings as if they were beginning to believe his tale; the one who’d called him a liar seemed to have fallen asleep, eyes closed and head leaning against the table. He smiled. ‘Great was my reward. Some months later I married his daughter, and it was not long before I was elected to the Town Council.’

 ‘He’s the hardest worker I know,’ Heledir put in, and Ulrich chuckled.

 ‘We’ve done a great deal of good for the town, if I do say so myself,’ he said.

 ‘Indeed you have, which makes these charges all the more grievous,’ Elessar said, sitting back. He turned to address the booted hobbit at his side. ‘Ferdi?’

The hobbit raised his head, no sign of sleep in his countenance. ‘He is the most skilled liar I have heard yet,’ Ferdi said. ‘He blends his lies with so much truth that it is difficult to sift through and tell the one from the other.’

 ‘You have no proof,’ Elessar said. ‘I need more than vague generalities.’

 ‘Very well,’ Ferdi said, sitting straighter. ‘The account of his journey North is true, though I suspect it did not take place when he said it did, after the War. It could as easily have taken place before the siege of Minas Tirith.’

Elessar turned to his old friend. ‘When did you travel North?’ he said.

 ‘After the War, of course,’ Ulrich said easily. He'd made more than one journey between North and South since the War of the Ring.

Ferdi’s eyes narrowed. ‘Truth,’ he said.

 ‘You see?’ Elessar said to Pippin and Merry. ‘It is a case of mistaken identity.’

Ferdi was leaning forward. ‘Answer me this,’ he said. ‘What was the time of your first journey North? When did you first leave Gondor?’

 ‘After the war, of course,’ Ulrich repeated.

 ‘Truth,’ then, ‘Which war?’ Ferdi pressed. Gondor had known many in her long history.

 ‘The War of the Ring, of course,’ Ulrich answered, knowing that this was the correct answer.

Ferdi sat back and nodded, satisfied. ‘A lie,’ he said flatly.

 ‘How can he...?’ Heledir said. ‘And how can you believe him?’

 ‘It is a gift,’ Elessar said. ‘Such a gift was known in Rivendell. It seems that this gift is not confined to Elves.’ He looked at Ulrich now, a curious expression on his face, mixture of anger, sorrow, and regret. ‘Tell me, Ulrich, were you the scribe who wrote down the names of the hobbits dragged to the Lockholes against their will, the one who assigned them numbers to replace their names? Did you offer no comfort or aid, but only humiliations and torments?’

 ‘I beg your pardon!’ Ulrich said, rising from his chair, anger suffusing his features.

Elessar rose as well. ‘Were you that scribe?’ he demanded.

 ‘No!’ Ulrich thundered.

 ‘Falsehood,’ Ferdi said into the silence that followed.

***

For more on Ferdi's truth-sifting ability, see "Runaway" and "Truth", both here at SoA.