Chapter 34. The Lockholes of Gondor

That evening after the welcoming feast, the King turned to the three Counsellors of the North-kingdom who were present at the high table. ‘If you would join me in a glass of brandy...’ he said.

Ferdibrand rose as well, and at the others’ look of surprise he said, ‘Well he’s offered me the position on more than one occasion, so I’m all-but-Counsellor for all practical purposes.’

 ‘All the benefits and none of the burdens,’ Pippin said.

 ‘Exactly,’ Ferdi returned with a bow.

 ‘Come along, Ferdibrand,’ Elessar said. ‘I’m sure we can scare up some sort of glass for you, or perhaps borrow the cat’s dish for the evening if all else fails.’

 ‘Which of course you would be drinking from, my liege,’ Ferdi said, not one to be easily suppressed, ‘as any proper host would, giving the glasses to his guests.’

Pippin kissed Diamond. ‘See that the little ones are put to bed,’ he said. ‘It seems that Lapis has fallen asleep on Lassie’s shoulder.’

 ‘And vice versa,’ Diamond said. ‘Will you be long?’

Seeing the other wives listening, Pippin laughed reassuringly. ‘Half the night, if we get to talking over old times,’ he said. ‘But I promise to return to you safely on the morrow.’

 ‘We are going no further than the study,’ Elessar reassured. ‘No chance of anyone going missing.’

 ‘See to it,’ Rose said sternly. ‘We’ve had quite enough excitement this trip, thank you very much!’

 ‘Let me escort you to your quarters,’ Arwen put in smoothly. ‘And then I will return to the study, and when they have finished the second glass I will make sure your husbands join you.’

 ‘Really, Elessar, just who is running this kingdom?’ Ferdibrand was heard to demand as the little group of king and counsellors and near-counsellor walked away.

Happily the feared dearth of brandy glasses did not materialise and soon all were sipping comfortably, sitting around the furry hearthrug on the floor before a cheery blaze. Sam looked closely at Merry and Ferdi, finding no sign of unease on the part of either. He met Elessar’s gaze, and the king nodded and smiled. The athelas had healed even subtle wounds, it seemed.

They talked of celebrations and banquets at first, but soon the talk turned to more sober matters, such as Freddy’s heart and Ulrich’s trial.

 ‘He has a right to hear the words of his accusers face-to-face,’ Elessar said.

 ‘Is Freddy well enough?’ Merry said.

 ‘He is gaining in strength from this latest heart-seizure,’ Elessar answered. ‘Some damage occurred, of course, but the undamaged parts of his heart are taking up the work at hand.’

 ‘Can he stand the strain of a trial?’ Pippin asked candidly.

 ‘I could sit quietly with him and hear his testimony. A scribe could write down his words and read them in front of the jurors.’

 ‘Jurors?’ Pippin said. ‘You will not judge this case yourself? But he is likely to hang! I thought only the king...’

Elessar shook his head. ‘We are old friends,’ he said quietly. ‘He saved my son’s life. I cannot in conscience judge him. The jury will have the power to condemn or release.’

 ‘But you see little likelihood of release,’ Ferdi said, his eyes intent on the king’s.

 ‘From what I know of the Lockholes,’ Elessar said, and sighed. ‘From what was done there... Not many remain unaccounted for who were guards in the Lockholes. We have hunted them down and hanged them, one by one.’

He held up a restraining hand as his counsellors raised their voices in protest. ‘You know what they did,’ he said sternly. He took a deep breath and admitted, ‘...what Ulrich, or rather Reinadan, did, turns my stomach and makes me sick at heart to think of it.’

 ‘He murdered no hobbits,’ Ferdi said. ‘He told me that, and it was the truth.’

 ‘That is a point in his favour,’ Elessar said, but Ferdi could hear the negation in his voice. Elessar held out no hope for his old friend, if indeed he could still bring himself to call Ulrich “friend”.

 ‘What is the real reason you called us here, Strider?’ Pippin said suddenly after swirling the last of his brandy in the glass and sipping it to its end. ‘Why the haste to reach Minas Tirith, after the slow march?’

All four hobbits fixed their gaze upon the king, waiting.

 ‘The missing guardsman, Terril,’ Elessar began, and the hobbits nodded. They had figured as much.

 ‘He was found, and...?’ Pippin said. He nodded thanks as the king filled his glass once more.

 ‘His body was found,’ Elessar said gravely, ‘or what was left of it.’

 ‘Tell us,’ Ferdi said, his voice intense.

 ‘He had been foully murdered,’ Elessar said. For some reason the words came with difficulty, and he had trouble meeting Merry and Ferdi’s eyes. ‘Murdered in the same manner as the madman of Rohan used. He was gagged so that none would hear his screams.’

 ‘The Pilgrim,’ Merry breathed, setting down his glass with a hand that suddenly shook enough to spill the contents upon the furry rug.

 ‘We don’t know that,’ Ferdi said desperately. His own glass was empty, and fortunately the king had not refilled it before it fell from his nerveless fingers. ‘There’s no way of knowing it was that same Man.’

 ‘Word came in the early morning hours,’ Elessar continued. ‘Word from Dindale. They had thought that a half-wit living in the town was responsible for the burning of the inn, as his knife had been found outside the storehouse where a window had been forced.’

 ‘The storehouse containing lamp oil,’ Sam said quietly.

 ‘Yes, Sam,’ Elessar said.

 ‘They caught him?’ Pippin said, taking a steadying sip of his brandy.

 ‘They... found him,’ Elessar said. The difference in words did not go unnoticed.

 ‘Found,’ Ferdi hissed, pouncing upon the word. ‘He’s dead, then?’

 ‘In the same manner as Elfalas, and Terril,’ Merry added in a matter-of-fact tone, though his face was bleached with shock.

 ‘Yes,’ the King said, watching them closely. Merry’s hand closed unconsciously about his belt, where his sword would hang had he not put it away upon arrival. Ferdi’s fists were opening and closing, until he noticed the king’s regard and settled his hands firmly on his knees.

 ‘The poor fool, I wondered how the madman gained his confidence,’ Merry murmured.

 ‘He’s following us,’ Sam said.

 ‘So it seems,’ Elessar said.

 ‘The bodies of the Men he murdered,’ Pippin said, ‘were they clad?’

The other hobbits looked at him in surprise, but Elessar was nodding. ‘Their clothes had been removed,’ he said.

 ‘So he could be going in the guise of a knight of the Mark, or a citizen of Dindale, or a guardsman of Gondor,’ Pippin said, and then the others followed his thought. ‘He could be here, in the city, watching for his chance.’

 ‘Nell!’ Ferdi breathed. He wanted to go at once to his wife but he was frozen to the spot by horror.

 ‘I have detailed guards to watch over all the visiting hobbits,’ Elessar said quickly.

 ‘But who’s watching the guards?’ Pippin said.

 ‘The guards of the detail have a black cloth tied about the left arm, much as a lady’s favour in a tournament,’ Elessar said. ‘Subtle, against the black uniform, but noticeable to one who is looking for the sign. Any guardsman who approaches a hobbit without that badge will be detained and questioned.’

 ‘I only hope it’s enough,’ Merry said shakily, and Ferdi nodded.

***

There was no trial the next day, though Pippin had told Ferdi that justice in the White City was swift and sure, for the most part.

 ‘Justice?’ Ferdi said. ‘Retribution, sounds more like. Ulrich never murdered a hobbit, and here he is destined to hang.’

 ‘He tortured hobbits, however,’ Merry said sternly. ‘Haven’t you listened to Freddy’s account?’

 ‘I have,’ Ferdi said shortly. ‘I have,’ he said again, more softly. ‘But I do not believe he is the same Man as he was when he was scribe in the Lockholes.’

 ‘You think he’s changed?’ Merry challenged.

Ferdi met his gaze calmly. ‘I do,’ he said. ‘We have spoken long, and now that he no longer hides behind a lie, I trust his word. He is a simple Man, devoted to his wife and children, trying to make Dindale a safe place for other Men to raise their families.’

 ‘Or was,’ Pippin said, pushing away his plate.

 ‘Eat, cousin,’ Merry urged. ‘No need for you to make yourself sick.’

 ‘They say Ulrich has not eaten since that last meal you brought him, Ferdi,’ Sam said, as if changing the subject.

 ‘Not eaten? How do you know?’ Pippin said.

Merry snorted. ‘He made his rounds of all the hobbits and had time on his hands, and so he went to look after the comfort of the prisoners in the dungeons.’

Sam smiled. It was close to the truth. The thought of the Men locked up in the bowels of the earth, with no sight of sky or Sun or rain or green of grass was very grievous to him. ‘It seems that they are not locked away and forgotten,’ he said. ‘They are brought filling meals, morning and evening, and not left to gnaw on candle ends and the bones of rats.’

Merry shuddered, remembering his first sight of a cell in the Lockholes. ‘Better than some of them deserve, I warrant.’

 ‘But Ulrich is not eating, you said?’ Ferdi questioned. He arose abruptly from his place at the head table, kissed his wife and murmured in her ear.

 ‘Where are you going?’ Pippin said, though he had a good idea.

 ‘It seems my duty is not finished,’ Ferdi said. ‘It is the duty that you, yourself, assigned me. We must see that the ruffian does not starve.’

Merry muttered something under his breath, but refrained from repeating it aloud for Estella’s benefit. She nodded understanding. It rankled that the testimony of hobbits, who killed only at great need, was likely to lead to the Man’s death.

***

Ferdi bore his covered plate, accompanied by two guards, ever deeper. The noontide Sun was left far behind, and only the flickering torches provided light. It might have been noon or middle night, for all he could reckon.

He had expected an evil smell, but smelt only earth and stone, oiled steel and the burning oil of the torches. It seemed the king preferred even his dungeons kept in good order.

They passed several occupied cells, but the Men within made no sound. Evidently quiet was enforced here as well as it had been in the Lockholes. Ferdi wondered how they got the prisoners’ cooperation.

After passing through several iron gates that were unlocked before them and locked again after their passage, Ferdi’s escort stopped before a cell. A man sat upon a straw pallet on the stone floor, his head drooping. He looked up at the grating of key in lock.

 ‘I brought you your dinner,’ Ferdi said. One guardsman stood out of reach with his hand upon his sword while the other quickly scooped up the untouched plate from Ulrich’s breakfast.

 ‘What brings you to the bowels of the Citadel?’ Ulrich said in greeting.

 ‘They say you’re not eating,’ Ferdibrand said, offering the fresh plate.

 ‘What does it matter?’ Ulrich answered wearily, waving the plate away.

 ‘I refuse to see good food wasted,’ Ferdi said, stubbornly standing his ground.

 ‘Then eat it yourself,’ Ulrich said with a ghost of a smile.

Ferdi looked from one guard to the other. ‘Leave us,’ he said imperiously. As they hesitated, he stamped his booted foot. ‘King Elessar ordered you to extend me every courtesy!’

 ‘Sir, the prisoner...’ one of the guards remonstrated.

 ‘If it is my wish to be strangled by this dangerous criminal, it is your duty to allow it!’ Ferdi barked. ‘Now go, leave us, give a few of the other prisoners their scheduled beatings or whatever it is you do with your time, and come back at my shout.’

 ‘Sir,’ the other guard said.

 ‘Go!’ Ferdi snapped. The guards went.

 ‘You stamped your foot at them,’ Ulrich said, bemused.

 ‘Aye,’ Ferdi said, ‘one of my grandchildren taught me the trick. Very effective in getting your own way.’ He examined the straw pallet with a leery eye, and finding no evidence of infestation he sat himself down. ‘Here now,’ he said. ‘Are you going to eat this? It’s going cold.’ He shook his head and muttered, ‘I hate cold food like a plague.’

 ‘Let me save you from eating it then,’ Ulrich said accommodatingly. Ferdi extended the plate to him and he plied his spoon. ‘Is the Thain still ordering you to see to my care and feeding?’

 ‘No,’ Ferdi said. ‘He has released me.’

 ‘Why are you here, then?’ Ulrich asked.

Ferdi rubbed the toe of one boot against the opposite leg, pursing his lips to examine the effect. ‘I don’t know why you folk wear these things,’ he said. ‘They take a shine nicely, but it’s nearly impossible to keep any sort of gleam without a great deal of work.’

 ‘Why did you come?’ Ulrich asked.

Ferdi fixed him with a stern eye. ‘You’re as bad as my cousin Pip for asking the same question over again,’ he said.

 ‘Why?’ Ulrich repeated.

Ferdi sighed, looked down, and then met Ulrich’s gaze once more. ‘Eat,’ he said, nodding at the plate. Ulrich began once more to ply his spoon. ‘I don’t rightly know,’ the hobbit added. ‘I just felt...’ He shook his head.

 ‘What?’ Ulrich said.

 ‘I just felt as if you might need a friend,’ Ferdi said. ‘There’s no sense in it, but then, they often say I’m daft, back home.’

 ‘I don’t know what to say,’ Ulrich said after a pause.

 ‘Then spare us both and fill your mouth with food,’ Ferdi said. ‘ ‘Tis rude to talk with your mouth full, after all.’