Chapter 28. No Smoke without Fire

In the dawning a haze of smoke still hung over the little town nestled at the foot of Amon Din. The town was unnaturally quiet after the celebration of the previous day, followed by the midnight alarm. Large pavilions had been erected in the hours between midnight and dawn in a field outside the town wall. Guardsmen patrolled the perimeter, some wearing bandages or glistening with salve, many with scorched cloaks still stinking of smoke.

Coughing sounded from within one of the tents, and then soft voices.

 ‘Take some more of this soothing syrup, my love,’ Pippin said huskily, holding out a small cup.

Diamond drank and extended the cup to her husband. ‘You sound as if you need it as badly as I do,’ she said. She looked around at the sleeping children, unconsciously counting them once again, as she had over and over throughout the night. All safe. All safe.

 ‘You were right,’ Pippin said, still husky but less likely to break into a hacking cough after quaffing the syrup.

 ‘Yes, the syrup is effective,’ Diamond said.

Her husband pulled her close. ‘Not that,’ he said fondly, though his arms belied his casual tone. He’d come so close to losing her, losing them all!

 ‘What, then?’ Diamond said, snuggling into his embrace.

 ‘All those clothes you packed,’ Pippin said. ‘The baggage carried into the inn was lost, of course. All we have is what was still in the baggage waggons and loaded on top of the coaches. The Gamgees lost all their baggage, I believe, for they’d not brought much extra.’

 ‘They’re welcome to anything they need!’ Diamond said, and Pippin laughed.

 ‘We have plenty to share,’ he said. ‘The hobbits of Ithilien lost all as well, for they did not bring much baggage with them, and it burned with the inn.’

 ‘See?’ Diamond said smugly. ‘And here you were chiding me...’

Pippin’s arms tightened about her. ‘I see,’ he said fervently. ‘I do indeed.’

***

 ‘How is he?’ Arwen asked, bringing a steaming mug to her husband.

Elessar stretched from his cramped position by Freddy’s pallet. ‘He’s breathing well,’ he said. ‘It is a good thing he was one of the first hobbits brought out. I’m not sure he could have stood much smoke.’

 ‘You needn’t talk about me as if I’m not here,’ Freddy said without opening his eyes. His mental confusion had cleared the day before when his heart had steadied. He had worked at taking regular deep breaths once he was aware enough to do so.

 ‘How about some tea?’ Arwen said.

 ‘Complete with special drops,’ Freddy said. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for all the world.’ He was already propped in a sitting position, accepted the hobbit-sized mug Arwen extended, and sipped cautiously. ‘How are my family?’ he asked.

 ‘They are well,’ Arwen said. ‘Still sleeping, as a matter of fact.’ Melilot had been awake, watching by Freddy’s side when the fire began, had opened the door onto the blazing corridor. She had immediately slammed it again, screaming loudly enough to waken Freddy and all their children. They had huddled, helpless, knowing no escape was possible, until the door splintered before their eyes and wringing-wet guardsmen stooped to wrap them in wet blankets and carry them out through the inferno. Several of Freddy’s family had been so traumatised that Elessar had made all drink sleeping draughts once he’d reassured himself that they had taken no hurt.

 ‘I heard you tell someone that the ruffian confessed,’ Freddy said when he’d finished the mug. He held it out for a refill of regular tea. ‘Why would he confess to such a thing? There would be no proof against him, unless he smelt of lamp oil.’

 ‘He confessed to being a guard in the Lockholes,’ Elessar said, ‘not to setting the fire. Indeed, I believe it was the fire that pushed him to make his confession. He had nothing to do with it.’

 ‘Then there are more ruffians running about?’ Freddy said, raising an eyebrow. ‘That is hardly reassuring.’

 ‘The camp is heavily guarded,’ Elessar said, ‘and you are so much improved that we will be packing up and heading to Minas Tirith this day.’

 ‘Minas Tirith?’ Freddy said. If his eyebrow rose any farther it would disappear into his curls. ‘I had not planned a visit to Minas Tirith, I must admit. We were to go back to Ithilien after greeting the travellers. Merry said he would bring Estella there to pass some of their time in the South, until they were ready to go back to the Shire.’

 ‘There will be a trial in Minas Tirith, as soon as you are well enough to stand the strain,’ Elessar said. ‘Your testimony will be needed.’

 ‘A trial?’ Freddy said. ‘But I thought you said the ruffian confessed?’

 ‘It is not so simple as that,’ Elessar said. ‘When dealing with a capital case...’

 ‘Capital case?’ Freddy echoed. ‘I do not understand.’

Arwen put a steadying hand on Freddy’s as her husband sought to explain. ‘Reinadan’s crimes are considered serious under the law of Gondor and Arnor,’ Elessar said.

 ‘As they should be,’ Freddy said with a nod.

 ‘By rights I could hang him here and now,’ Elessar said, ‘but it is customary to go through the motions of a trial, even when a man has confessed his guilt.’

 ‘Hang him,’ Freddy said bleakly. Arwen’s hand tightened on his, and he smiled at her in absent courtesy. ‘My thanks, my lady,’ he said, raising her hand to his lips and laying it down with a sigh. ‘I had forgotten, for a moment, that we were not in the Shire, where such things are unknown.’

 ‘The cruelties that are common to Men are also unknown there,’ Arwen said gently. ‘Shirefolk have no need for such penalties.’

 ‘So we are to travel to Minas Tirith, give evidence, hear the verdict pronounced... do we have to watch the hanging as well?’ Freddy asked.

 ‘It is customary, but I would not hold you to it,’ Elessar said. ‘Especially as it is not the custom amongst your people.’

Freddy sat very still for a moment, then shook his head. ‘If my testimony is a part of the net that draws him to his death, I could hardly in honour stay away,’ he said. ‘It would be cowardly of me, not to face the fruit of my planting.’

 ‘It was not your planting,’ Arwen said, but Freddy shook his head.

 ‘Whose planting was it, pray tell?’ he said. ‘Saruman’s? Sauron’s? Why not hang them, then, for the bitter harvest we are reaping?’

Arwen glanced worriedly at her husband, but Freddy patted her hand. ‘I am not delirious, my dear,’ he said. ‘Merely thinking deeply.’

 ‘Think a little less deeply for the next few days,’ Elessar said with a sigh. ‘It will be better for your recovery.’

 ‘It is a heavy burden you bear, my lord,’ Freddy said. ‘To hold the lives of Men in your hand, and yet be cumbered by the law... Melly told me that you and the former Mayor of Dindale are old friends.’

 ‘He saved our son from drowning,’ Arwen said softly.

 ‘I’m very sorry,’ Freddy said.

 ‘Sleep now,’ Elessar said abruptly. ‘We’ll be loading you into a coach in a few hours.’

***

The former Mayor of Dindale stood with the councillors of the town, passing on his last instructions, his wrists in shackles, alert guardsmen surrounding him.

 ‘I want you to find whoever was responsible for that fire, for trying to burn the inn down over the heads of the Halflings,’ he said. ‘I want them found and punished. Attempted murder on that scale...’

 ‘The storehouse was broken into and the oil jars taken,’ Arasfaron said, ‘much the same way as the breaking-and-entering of the silversmith’s last month.’

 ‘The same element, perhaps,’ Ulrich said. ‘I had hoped that was a passing strike, strangers who saw an opportunity and moved on. It seems I was wrong, and they are still among us.’

Bergil stepped up to take his arm. ‘The King is ready to depart,’ he said.

Heledir set his jaw and stepped forward to embrace Ulrich, shackles and all. ‘I take my leave, but can not in truth say “Fare well”, for I know only too well how you shall fare,’ he said. ‘I will take care of my niece, and the children. They will want for nothing.’

 ‘Do not come to Minas Tirith for the hanging,’ Ulrich said. ‘Spare them that.’ He felt the old man’s nod against his cheek, and then Heledir stepped away.

Bergil helped Ulrich onto his horse. The former Mayor took a last look at the silent townspeople. No hands were raised to wave a blessing, no voices called a last farewell. Women wept silently and men stood sober-faced. In the front of the crowd stood Merewyn and the children. Ulrich craned for a last sight of them, his oldest son standing as tall as his ten years allowed by his mother’s side, his younger son fighting back tears, his little daughters openly crying.

The White Company of Ithilien fell in behind them, hiding the town and townspeople from his sight. Ulrich set his face towards Minas Tirith and tried to think no more of what he was leaving behind him.