These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

 Chapter Sixty Three- Some are born great

Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ‘em. - William Shakespeare (1564–1616), Twelfth Night, act 2, sc. 5.

Holding the Sceptre of Annuminas in his left hand, Aragorn grasped the sharp sword of justice in his right and pointed it at Dervorin. “Dervorin son of Turgon, I find you guilty of high treason and sentence you to die a traitor’s death at dawn on the morrow. You showed no mercy; neither shall you receive any. Neither have you shown remorse nor contrition for your most heinous crimes. This Realm has suffered grievously at your hands, thereby you shall suffer the full weight of the law.”

Dervorin paled visibly. He knew full well what a traitor’s death entailed; the pain and humiliation of being dragged through the streets dressed only in his shirt, hung but taken down while still alive. Then he would be being stripped naked before being castrated and disembowelled, before the heart was torn from his living body. Even after death, the punishment did not end for his corpse would most likely be cut into four quarters and displayed throughout the kingdom as a warning to others. Such executions had been commonplace in Denethor’s time, but this was the first time the King had ordered such a penalty.

Aragorn glared at him contemptuously; then turned his attention to those who had kidnapped him. “I sentence you all to be hanged by the neck until you are dead,” he said, pointing the sharp blade at them. “You are granted this mercy, since you were acting on the orders of another. However laying violent hands upon your rightful lord and King cannot be tolerated. You will die on the morrow at dawn.”

Fontos, who looked pale and tense after hearing his father in law’s sentence pronounced, visibly relaxed a little on hearing the more merciful judgement passed on the kidnappers. When the King turned towards him, Fontos courageously looked him in the eye.

“Fontos, son of Forlong, I now pronounce your doom,” Aragorn said sternly. “You conspired against your liege lord; for that the penalty is death. You knew your King’s welfare and that of the Realm was in peril, but you summoned no aid; for this the penalty is death. You have now surrendered into the custody of your rightful lord and given evidence against your fellow conspirators. However, this does not pardon you, nor extenuate your offences. Yet, when you saw me on the road, you chose to let me pass, knowing that so doing, would most likely cost your life. Also, you have shown remorse; for this your life is spared. Nevertheless, you must be punished.”

Aragorn replaced the sharp sword on the cushion and took up the blunt one, then pointed it at Fontos. “I therefore sentence you to five years of exile in the North, together with your wife. You must depart within seven days from now. You are forbidden, on pain of death, to set foot within the borders of Gondor again without express permission of the King, until the years of your exile are spent. Your lands will be held for you until you return.”

At these words, the Guards released the captive.

Fontos fell to his knees, his eyes wide with amazement and gratitude. Kneeling at Aragorn’s feet, he kissed the King’s hand and exclaimed, “My lord, you are most merciful and gracious! I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

“Use your time in my Northern Kingdom wisely and well, that I may welcome you with joy on your return,” said Aragorn, “I give you this chance to atone for your wrongdoing. You have my blessing that you may succeed and eventually become a son that your late father would have been proud of.” He placed his fleeting hand upon Fontos’ head in a brief gesture of blessing.

“I will endeavour to restore the honour of my House, which I besmirched so shamefully,” Fontos replied. “Long live King Elessar!”

Aragorn again addressed the assembly, “You have seen this day that I will tolerate no treason within my realm,” he said. “Justice must be seen to be done. However, I have decided that from now on, executions will take place within the walls of the prison before chosen officials. It is not fitting to turn the implementation of the law into an entertainment.”

The onlookers started to grumble and mutter amongst themselves at these words. They were soon quelled by a stern look from Aragorn. Taking up the sceptre, he swept from the hall, followed by Imrahil and Éomer.

As soon as he was out of sight of the throng, Aragorn faltered visibly. Éomer immediately lent a discreetly supporting arm to his friend. “You are still not well, you should be resting,” he chided gently.

“The people needed to see that they have a King who will mete out stern justice to those who would overthrow him,” Aragorn replied.

“What of my neph… um I mean Lord Faramir?” asked Imrahil. “I beg you for the sake of our House not to deal him a traitor’s death.”

“I shall wait until his wounds are healed before deciding his fate,” Aragorn replied. “I once gave him my oath he would not die like that and I am a man of my word.”

Imrahil heaved an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you, my lord,” he said.

“I still have to deal with Faramir’s secretary and those who bore arms against me at the funeral. Then there is Fosco of Lamedon’s widow; I plan to release her to the care of her kin. Her son, Mardil is innocent of any wrongdoing, having been serving in a campaign against Harradim border raiders for the last six months. The lad is only sixteen years old and has never spoken treason or showed anything but loyalty to Gondor and her King. His Captain, who is currently in the City, speaks highly of the boy. I am minded to let him retain his lands for the sake of his grandsire, who followed me on the Paths of the Dead. Ringlo Vale and Lebennin shall revert to the crown until I find more worthy lords for them. I also have plans to restructure the Council, but that will take many months to achieve.”

“The Council has been unchanged since the days of our longfathers,” Imrahil said doubtfully.

“All the more reason then to bring in new blood,” said Aragorn. “I plan to include women and those of a more lowly birth who faithfully serve Gondor with their skills. Only those nobles and Captains who have remained loyal to me shall keep their places.”

“I shall abide by your will, my lord,” said Imrahil. He still looked unconvinced.

“You should take food and drink and rest now, my friend,” said Éomer when they reached Aragorn’s apartments. “The trial has sorely taxed your strength.”

“I shall indeed, ” Aragorn replied. “First though, I have a task of a more pleasant nature to fulfil.  I should never have succeeded in protecting my line and been restored to my rightful place, if not for the help of Captain Damrod. Therefore, I have asked him to await me so that I may decide on a suitable reward for him.”

“I trust you to treat everyone as they deserve,” said Imrahil somewhat cryptically as they parted.

Damrod was waiting in the Royal Reception Room. He fell to his knees when the King entered.

“Please rise and sit down,” Aragorn said, gesturing towards the sumptuous chairs, which furnished the room.

Rather warily, Damrod selected the nearest of the ornate chairs and perched uneasily on the edge.

“You will fall off if you sit like that!” Aragorn cautioned him good-humouredly, trying to put the young Captain at his ease.  “The chair will not bite, though I fear it is far from comfortable. Whoever made needed to use less gilding and more padding. How fares your sister?”

“She is well, thank you, my lord, and happy to be reunited with her children,” the Captain replied, cautiously leaning back a little.

A servant appeared with cakes and fine wine, which he offered first to the King and then to Damrod, before disappearing as noiselessly as he had come.

“I have sent for you to offer my most grateful thanks to you and your sister for sheltering first my family and then myself,” said Aragorn. “I did not summon Mistress Bereth here for I felt she had been kept too long from her family already.”

“It was our honour to serve you and the Queen, sire,” said Damrod, colouring slightly at the King’s words. He nibbled nervously at his cake. “When Lord Faramir asked me to care for your Lady and the young prince, together with his family, I thought Bereth’s would be the perfect hiding place. I’d do anything for my old Captain, I would, my lord. If I may be so bold as to say so, my lord, it is Captain um lord Faramir that you should thank, not I.”

“What reward would you like for your service?” Aragorn enquired, ignoring Damrod’s last comment. “Ask, and anything that is within in my power to grant you shall be yours!”

“Bereth and I were just happy to be able to help, sire,” said Damrod, looking surprised. “We desire no reward. We were only doing our duty.”

“You went beyond the call of duty and I insist,” Aragorn said firmly.

Damrod thought hard. “Well, if it isn’t too much to ask, my sister could do with some help around the farm,” he said at last. “It’s hard for her as a woman on her own with two children not yet old enough to help her much. She will be able to manage things better in two or three years, when the youngsters will be old enough to do more chores.”

“'The Crown shall pay two strong men to labour for your sister for the rest of her days and a maidservant to aid her with household tasks,” said Aragorn. “Also I will see that she and her children are well provided for so long as they live. Now what would you like as your reward? I warn you that I shall not let you leave until you tell me!” His tone was firm but good-humoured.

Damrod stared at his boots for a long moment then said hesitantly, “I expect this is too much to ask, sire, I’ve tended my men in the past when they were wounded. I wish I could have helped them more, though. I love my life as a Captain, but I wish I knew how to be a Healer too, but I know it costs a great deal to learn the healing arts.”

Aragorn smiled at him. “I shall inform Master Tarostar of the Houses of Healing that he is to instruct you there in the healing arts for three days a week,” he said. “You can learn how better to aid your men, while continuing to serve as a captain. I also intend to settle a generous annual allowance on you. You and your wife and children shall want for nothing from this day forward.”

Damrod impulsively fell to his knees and kissed the King’s hand, almost overbalancing a plate of cakes as he did so. “My lord!” he exclaimed, “However can I thank you?”

“By achieving all I believe you to be capable of under Master Tarostar’s instruction,” Aragorn replied. “I have plans for you, Captain Damrod, you were not born great, but you have achieved greatness. Now go and tell your family what I have decreed. You have my blessing.” With those words, he kissed Damrod on the brow and raised him to his feet. The young man bowed deeply and left the room, his face wreathed in smiles.

Aragorn then joined Arwen for their midday meal. While they ate, he told her all that had transpired at the trial and what punishments he had decreed for the traitors. She voiced her approval over his clemency towards Fontos, but frowned when she heard of Dervorin’s punishment, although she remained silent.

**

That night, sleep was slow to come to Aragorn; although he was exhausted and knew he must rise early the next day to witness that justice was done. His shoulder throbbed painfully and his spirit was troubled as he tossed restlessly in the vast bed.

Even Eldarion seemed to sense his father’s mood as he whimpered fretfully in his cradle.

Eventually, Arwen could endure it no longer. There had been a time when if he were restless, he would sleep in his own room so as not to disturb her, but now he feared to be alone. She lit another candle to add to that kept burning constantly and sat up, looking at her husband with a mixture of sternness and compassion. “Do not besmirch your own soul, Estel,” she said. ”You are not of the lesser men such as those who dwell in Harad and Dunland, whose cruel deeds all free men shudder to hear of!”

“What do you mean?” he asked, though he knew full well.

“You cannot kill the lord of Ringlo Vale in such a brutal fashion,” she replied. “Such a deed belongs to the heathen kings of old, not my Estel!”

“Dervorin deserves it,” Aragorn said grimly. “You saw with your own eyes what he did to me!”

“Indeed he does,” said Arwen. “I would not trust myself in the same room as he, lest I be tempted to tear him limb from limb with my bare hands! But in ordaining the manner of his death, do not besmirch your soul with his filth, I beg of you! I care nothing for him but I would not have your dreams forever haunted, by what you plan to do on the morrow.”

“I have decreed the executions be in private as not to coarsen my people by such a spectacle,” Aragorn reassured her.

“You would still witness it and Dervorin's screams would ring in your ears while he died in agony. What of his daughter, knowing that her father died in such a manner? She did you no wrong,” Arwen replied. “And what of the executioner? Did you not tell me that brute who tortured you had learned his craft thus?”

Aragorn shuddered and covered his face with his hands. Arwen placed a comforting arm around him, holding him close until his trembling stilled. “Very well,” he said quietly. “He will hang until he is dead and then be buried in a common grave with his cohorts. Do not think I am weak, though!  Had any other than you asked for this clemency; I would have denied it.”

Arwen kissed him tenderly. “I asked it for you, not for myself,” she said. ”Now rest; tomorrow will be another ordeal for you.”

Aragorn settled back against the pillows, trying to take her advice, but sleep was slow to come. Secretly he was vastly relieved at Arwen's intervention, but his hardest decision was still to be made.  What should he do about Faramir?