Chapter Five: The Beneficial Uses of Soup

The Tower Guardsmen flung open the Observatory doors.

The air borne torch landed atop a piece of covered furniture. Flames burst out from the thick drape.

"One of you, get the water kegs," Faramir barked out orders. "Ib, did you bring water with my breakfast?"

"Aye!" Out of the corner of his eye, Faramir saw Ib spill the contents of a water pitcher, his erstwhile breakfast beverage, onto the drapery fabric.

Faramir hastened to the woman intruder and knelt over her prone body. She was unconscious, either from a fright-induced swoon or from trauma to her head from her fall. The injuries to her face that he previously noted were even more grievous on closer examination.

A loud whoosh interrupted Faramir's thoughts. The tips of his ears overheated. Despite Ib's best efforts, the fire had spread to a cloth-covered object scarcily more than three feet from the woman's body.

Liquid? There must be more liquid, any liquid in this place. Soup. Yes, that awful smelling soup. Faramir leaped up.

Hartanol and two youngsters of the Tower staff rushed into the Observatory rolling water kegs from the hall supply closet, stored there in case of fire emergencies.

Above the din of the expanding conflagration, Faramir heard Cirri howl in terror. His head whipped into the direction of the cat's call. Citti was unharmed, but he created such a racket. He paced the crowded top of last night's dinner table, occupied mostly by a covered soup kettle identical to the one that had housed Faramir's wretched dinner. No doubt the woman had gotten the same soup from the Tower kitchen.

Speeding to the table, Faramir seized the kettle, tore off its lid, and raced to the nearest burning drapes. He dumped the soup onto the covering of what appeared to be a statue. The soup's heavy contents as well as its liquid smothered the fire and sent up a pungent aroma of twice-cooked seafood.

To Faramir's dismay, Cirri scampered over to the cooling muck though he seemed hesitant to eat it. "Get out of here, Cirri," Faramir scooped up the cat and quickly dumped him outside the Observatory door. "You could get burned or stomped on," he warned and hoped the animal might understand five percent of his meaning.

"Larno went down to eighth floor to get help." Hartanol was at his side. They headed toward the first water keg. Ib had already opened the tap and refilled the empty water jug.

Faramir held the empty soup kettle under the spiggot, "Bring the other soup pot, Hart. It's atop a bookshelf."

Faramir then joined Ib to attack the persistent flames. They succeeded in dousing most of the fire when a spark lifted and caught the drape covering the statue where Faramir had previously hidden. The fabric burst out in a huge blaze, igniting two more covered forms.

Handing the soup pot to a staff boy, Faramir sped to the alcove and seized the fur blanket. He walked carefully to the center of the room, methodically searching for small fire outbreaks while the guardsmen and staff boys strove to control the main blaze. With determined strength, Faramir beat at the resistant flames with the fur coverlet.

"Ah, Bes, poor Bes, how did you get in here?" he heard Hartanol's voice suddenly cry out. Faramir stopped instantly. No flames were visible in his immediate vicinity, so he headed to Hartanol's side. The guardsman knelt beside the unconscious woman, his hand on her pulse, checking her heart rate.

"You know who she is?" Faramir asked.

"Aye, my lord. Beseniel, daughter of Labadol. She heads the night staff. Ib and I thought she acted strangely when she came in to work. She barely gave us more than a grunt. Not like her at all. I thought I couldn't hear her well because her face was veiled up to her nose. It was storming outside, and she had her hood over her head, too. Neither of us gave her a passing thought. But look. She didn't want us to see she'd been beaten."

A rogue sparc flew out from a dying ember nearby. It landed on the hem of Bes' luminous white chemise.

Springing into action, Faramir furiously slapped the fur blanket about the woman's legs. The shock of the blows woke her from her stupor.

"Please don't beat me!" she cried out.

"I'm beating the fire, not you," Faramir said beneath clenched teeth. "Hold still, woman, lest your legs be burned." He slapped at the flames once again.

"I can explain.." she began but then screamed, after twisting her body in reaction the impact of the rug on her legs.

"There will be time for talk shortly," Faramir said. He bent down beside Hartanol and wrapped the coverlet around Bes' legs, effectively smothering the fire's remaining embers. "What part of your body hurts?"

"Me back," the woman said. "I think I wrenched it. I tried to keep the Observatory clean. I did my best. Instead I've burned it down."

"What's happening here!" A strong, commanding voice interrupted. The Captain of the Tower Guardsmen, stood in the doorway, lantern in hand, his face the picture of confusion. His cloak was flung over his shoulders; his garments were a modest shirt and leggings.

Faramir stood up and said, "Perhaps you can tell me, Marod, son of Minhotar? Isn't this a little early for the mid-day watch to begin? Carry her to my office," Faramir ordered Ib and Hartanol.

Before they could lift their bundle, Marod gasped and then raced to his men. "I'll help take her downstairs, Lord Faramir," he said, carefully raising the fallen woman's shoulders while Hartanol took her legs.

"Bes, my sweetest, " Marod seemed to sniff back tears. "How came you to be so hurt? Who laid a hand on you."

The woman groaned as they headed out the door, "Not Lord Faramir. Not Hartanol. You know who it was, Glaurung."

"Glaurung?" Faramir glared at Marod. "You are Glaurung?"

"Aye, we all call him that," said Ib, who followed the sad procession, brandishing two lanterns. "He favors hot food from Far Harad and has dragon's breath as a result."

"You have much to answer for, Captain, as well as your Bes," Faramir addressed in Marod in a low, ominous voice. He watched the guardsmen raise Bes' body and head off to the stairway. Faramir's mind plagued him. Now he knew why Marod easily found the ladder in the Observatory. He'd been in the room before, and most likely with the woman Bes. Yet Faramir found it difficult to believe that their purpose was evil.

He stood alone in the doorway of the Observatory, brooding in the light of the single lantern left him by the guards. Gentle pressure from Cirri's soft body rubbing against his calves interrupted Faramir's dire thoughts. The cat meowed blithely and collapsed in a docile heap atop Faramir's feet. Naturally, Cirri had not heeded his warnings to get out of the way.

"Cirri, what a relief that you are alright," Faramir said. "It's been a frightening night, moggie. So if you don't squirm, I'll give you a ride on my shoulder to the first floor."

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Faramir slowly proceeded down the many flights of stairs. His lack of sleep impaired his ability to piece together the reason for the woman Bes' appearance in the Observatory at five hours past midnight. She obviously was signaling someone, most likely Marod, and most likely for a tryst. The freshly made pallet where Faramir had slept could have accomodated his father after long nights of palantir gazing. However, the sheets were too fresh to have been laid out any earlier than yesterday. Surely the pallet awaited two lovers who took great pains to keep their affair secret. Did they know about the missing palantir? Had they seen the stone?

As he reached the second floor, Faramir let his now struggling cat slip from his shoulder. Dawn light crept in through the narrow window slits in the stairway, rendering the dimming light of his lantern unnecessary. The morning watch of guardsmen and Tower housekeeping staff would have already reported for duty. In fact, the morning watch of Tower Guardsmen, Nem and Dorlas, had now assumed their positions outside the Steward's Offices. The two stood stiff in their full regalia when Faramir passed between them. Their concerted efforts to hide their expressions told him they were fully briefed on the drama enfolding in the Steward's Offices.

The strange woman lay on the long bench beneath the great windows, her injured head resting in Marod's lap. Beside him, a small table held a basin and cloth, which Marod used to bathe the woman's forehead. The night watch Tower Guardsmen Ib and Hartanol pulled up chairs beside the couple, almost as if to protect them. When Faramir entered, the two guardsmen stood up immediately. Marod did not rise; his face was clouded with a remorseful expression.

"We sent for a healer," Ib spurted out.

Faramir nodded, "You're dismissed, Hart and Ib. Go home to your families." He approached the sad couple on the bench. Marod seemed to be holding back tears. The woman's eyes were closed. Marod tossled her hair slightly and said, "Bes, my love, Lord Faramir is come."

Bes' eyes sprang open. They were large, dark, and honest. Faramir knelt on the floor and fixed his gaze onto hers. The woman struggled to stay awake and composed.

"How are you feeling?" Faramir asked.

The woman moved slightly and then groaned.

"She pleads her back, my Lord Steward," Marod spoke. Faramir's glare silenced him.

"I'm sorry, Lord Faramir," Bes said with great effort. "I needed a safe place to stay."

"How did you get into the Observatory?" Faramir carefully controlled his voice as he interrogated her.

Bes shifted her position, winced, and then continued, "As I always have these past eight years. I have a key."

Faramir sucked in his breath. He said, "The chief of cleaning staff does not have a key; the Keeper of the Keys does not have a key to the Observatory, though surely he should have one. The Captain of the Tower Guards--well, I will deal with him summarily. Why does the head of the night staff have this allegedly hard to find item?"

The woman said clearly, "It was given me by your lord father years ago. I swore upon the Steward's ring to keep the room clean and keep its secrets." Faramir gasped. His shock was interrupted by a soft, feline chirp. Faramir normally confined Cirri in the Steward's offices, near his bowls and sandbox. Now the unflappable animal gently sprang onto the legs of the fallen woman and promptly nestled himself beneath her knees.

Faramir sighed, "I will remove him."

"He does me no harm. I like cats," Bes said. "The morning staff always talks about your black cat and his mischief."

All the sterness of his interrogation was effectively disrupted, thanks to the intrusion of that silly cat. Well, it was inherrently cruel to make a badly beaaten woman endure such scrutiny, Faramir concluded. Taking a gentler tone would be easier on both the woman and himself. "Why did my father give you the key?" he asked gently.

"So that I would clean the Observatory every night, as he ordered," Bes added with just a hint of sass. "Everyone else on the night staff feared the top floor. I didn't. I was always curious. One night the guardsmen had to handle an emergency, and asked me to deliver the Steward's dinner up on the top floor. That is how I met him, eight years and more ago." Tears coursed down her bruised cheeks. Faramir's distrust dissolved as he studied Bes' face, the face of an honest, hard working woman.

"My father was a big one for covering unused furniture to keep it from gathering dust," Faramir said ruefully and wiped his hair from his damp forehead.

"Lord Faramir, the healer is here," the guardsman Nem called out.

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Faramir was not so gentle with Marod. He motioned the guard into the rooms of the Keeper of the Keys while the healer saw to Bes' injuries. They entered Hurin's office. Faramir drew a chair into the center of the room and motioned Marod to sit.

"You are in serious trouble," Faramir said as he circled Marod with a slow, deliberate gait. "You deceived Hurin the Tall into thinking that no one had entered the Observatory since my father died. Hurin thinks there are no keys, other than the one I just recently given." The Captain of the Tower Guards did not move, but beads of perspiration glittered on his cheeks.

Faramir's cold eyes glared into Marod's clearly unnerved face. "You and your lover deceived Hurin, myself, and many others into thinking the Observatory was haunted, so that you could use it undisturbed for a lover's bower," he accused icily. "We elevated you to the highest authority among the guards. Everyone who works in the Tower trusted you implicitly. Instead, you created an elaborate myth just to hide your romance. Wouldn't it have been easier to find a room in an inn?"

"And have Bes' husband find out?" Marod answered defensively. "He's the one who beat her. He's been beating her for years. She ran off the day the dead men cleared the city of orcs and has lived in the Observatory ever since."

"Surely her husband must have resented her leaving him for the arms of another man," Faramir said pointedly. He pulled up a chair opposite Marod and sat down. "Is that why he beat her last night?"

Marod shrugged. "I don't know. But I can tell you this, my Lord Steward, I've known Bes for five years and loved her without hope nearly all of them. I would not lure a married woman from her husband. Bes and I became lovers only after she'd been living in the Tower for some time. She had never known of my love until months after she found the strength to leave Borlan."

With these revelations, Marod's story became less a tale of arbitrary deception than the story of a man's effort to protect the woman he loved. However, Faramir suspected there was more to it. The couple had been living in the Observatory. What might they know about the palantir?

"Who else knows that Bes has been living in the Observatory?" Faramir demanded.

"Lilah, but please do not punish her, my lord. She only wants the best for both of us. People have been afraid of the top floor since your father's day, I'm sorry to say. The three of us are guilty, I admit, of continuing the tale so that people would be afraid to investigate the Observatory."

"Does anyone else suspect you?"

"I think Hartanol might," Marod admitted. "He's long been of the opinion that there have been people, not ghosts, in that room."

Faramir leaned forward, took Marod's shoulders, and gazed very deliberatly into the guard's face. Unfortunately, Faramir's clear sight was less strong than the days before Mordor's fall. He easily determined that Marod and Bes were not bent on evil, only on love. Still, there was that matter of dissembling and myth making.

"I do not quite understand why you deceived Hurin into thinking there were ghosts in the Observatory. He is a sentimental man and surely would have sympathized with Bes' situation," Faramir spoke softly and then leaned back in his chair.

Marod slumped. He shook his head nervously and said, "Because Bes' husband Borlan is Lord Hurin's armourer. We could not take a chance and tell Hurin, even if he would be sympathetic. Not meaning to, he might let a word slip, even to his wife or servants."

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Marod has maintained his integrity, Faramir decided. The last time he meted out such a severe grilling, he'd caught several rangers stealing supplies and reselling them at high cost to struggling farmers in South Ithilien. He still was unsure whether to demote Marod for his lying.

Together, the two men returned to the Steward's offices. The healer Iris stood before the window seat, holding Cirion in her arms. Bes was awake, stretched out on the bench.

"This woman wrenched her back in a fall. The back injury is not serious. It should heal within the next two days," Iris presented her diagnosis. "I've treated her bruises and cuts with unguents and then bound them. Her left elbow is sprained. I've put a splint on it."

"Thank you," Marod said softly.

"Whoever beat her so soundly should be put in jail immediately!" the healer spat at the guardsman. The agitated cat slipped out of her arms.

"This man is not responsible," Faramir corrected her strongly. "I will see to the woman's safety and to her assailant's being brought to justice. Now, I must ask you both to leave me with Bes."

The healer nodded. Marod rose and took Iris' arm to escort her out the door with proper Gondorian ettiquette. Meantime, Cirri jumped back onto Bes' body, this time settling himself in her lap. The woman seemed far less anxious now that the healer had treated her injuries. She even rested her arm lightly across Cirri's body and scratched his ears.

Faramir sat down on a chair left by the Tower Guard night watch. He deeply desired to hear Bes' stories about his father. However, there was one more important question to be asked.

"Bes, in the Observatory, did you see the palantir?"

"Palantir? I'm not sure what you mean, Lord Faramir."

"My father might have called it the Anor Stone," he explained. "It is round and black, so I have been told."

"Of course, I have seen the Anor Stone!" Bes' face lit up. "Yes, that is what your father called it. I have seen him look into it. I think that is why he swore me to secrecy about doings in the Observatory. I do not know what he saw in the stone, only that when I came upstairs with his dinner, he sometimes would be looking in it."

"Perhaps you knew my father in his later years better than I did," Faramir sighed. The woman's feelings for Denethor, son of Ecthelion, were written so openly on her face. "Do you know what became of the stone?"

The woman closed her eyes and hesitated. Her hand slowly stroked Cirri's body, as if to derive comfort from the cat before answering Faramir's question. She finally said:

"Aye, I do. It was that horrible night of the siege. You lay in state in the Great Hall. Rumors had it that you were dying or even dead. The city was invaded by orcs. And here I was only trying to do my duty, cleaning the top floor of the Tower, like I always do. I come into the Observatory and saw your father bent over the stone. He looked like a crazy man, I'm sorry to say."

"Continue," Faramir whispered.

Bes began to tremble, "That horrible Nazgul flew outside the window and screamed and crashed against it. Lord Denethor got frightened, looked up, and saw me. I think he said, 'Take care of yourself, Bes. I am about to die.'

"Then he stood up with the stone and come over to me. 'Hide this, Bes,' he told me, 'if you survive and the king returns, give it to him.' "

She sniffed slightly, "I took the stone. I survived. The king returned. I hid from my husband in the Tower and forgot all about the stone."

"What did you do with it?"

"What my Lord Denethor asked. I hid it. I am sorry I kept my secret so long. The stone is safe. I saw it just the other day while I was cleaning. As soon as I can manage the Tower steps, I will give it to you."

Faramir leaned over the woman's body and kissed her brow. "Thank you for your love and loyalty to my father," he said.