Chapter 24    Ragged Plans

Norvil lay spread out before them, its dirt streets strangely quiet, lacking in the normal bustle and activity of a city its size.  Though it was nearing mid-morning, the city appeared to be mostly asleep, the shutters of its buildings drawn and doors firmly shut. The few citizens that could be seen on the streets all seemed to be wandering about without purpose, as if they were unsure of where they wanted to go, and in no particular hurry to get there. 

“Maybe it’s the weather,” Gimli grumbled softly, casting a quick glance upward to where a thin blanket of iron gray clouds veiled the sun.  An icy wind blew through the small copse of trees where he and Aragorn stood observing the city.  Gimli sighed, pulled his cloak more firmly about him, then turned to face his companion.  “I do not like this place, Aragorn,” he muttered.  “There is something amiss here.”

Aragorn shifted in his saddle, turning from his study of the city to face Gimli.  In his black garb and dark cloak, he looked every bit the Ranger he had once been, and nothing like the noble King he was.  Anduril was firmly belted around his waist, and the hilt of a small dagger could be seen peeking out from the top of his boot.  “I do not like it either, Gimli,” he replied quietly.  “You are correct, there is something foul about this city.  Yet we have few options left open to us.  We must continue on.”

“We could wait for Jeralk and the rest of the soldiers,” Gimli suggested.  “If we all go into the city together…”  He didn’t finish the sentence, partly because Aragorn was already shaking his head, and partly because he had not really been serious about the suggestion in the first place.

“If even one person in Norvil were to discover a group of Gondorian soldiers riding through their streets, the entire city would turn on us within the blink of an eye,” Aragorn replied calmly.  “If they were to even suspect who we were, the result would be the same.  And that is saying nothing of the man who took Legolas.  If what Delran told us of this guildmaster is to be believed, it is possible the man might panic and kill Legolas before we ever reach him.  I alone was ordered to come here.  I run a risk bringing even you, my friend.”

Gimli scowled at Aragorn, a clear warning in his eyes.  Two days prior, when they had split company with Jeralk at the border between Khand and Gondor, Aragorn had suggested that Gimli remain behind with the Captain and the rest of the men.  Gimli had staunchly refused, claiming that there was no way he was going to allow Aragorn to go on alone.  He had been appalled that his friend had even suggested it, and had stubbornly refused to listen to Aragorn’s reasoning.  He did not believe the man named Servius would kill Legolas because Aragorn had brought him along.  He had gone to far too much trouble bringing them here for that.  Gimli wanted to be there to help set his friend free, and he had already made it his duty to protect Aragorn.  He would not allow the King to be killed in this place, no matter what plans this mysterious guildmaster had in store for them.  And now, it seemed as if Aragorn was once again going to suggest that he remain behind.  Gimli swore that if his friend did, he would hit him!  A childish act, he knew, yet he was so irritated he didn’t particularly care.

Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, and Gimli tensed.  Yet instead of hearing what he had expected, Aragorn simply said, “Watch your back there, Gimli.”

Gimli blinked in surprise, unclenched his fists, then nodded in response.  “I will watch yours as well.  You concentrate on finding Legolas.”

Aragorn sighed,  “I will do my best.”

“Then we are sure to succeed,” Gimli answered softly.

Aragorn smiled slightly at Gimli’s show of confidence, then turned back to his examination of the city.

Gimli also studied the city for a few moments before turning to glance over his shoulder.  Somewhere behind them, likely still several hours away, Captain Jeralk and his men were steadily approaching.  Though Gimli could not see them, he still felt comforted by their presence.  Jeralk would position his company approximately a mile west of the city, and if Gimli and Aragorn needed any assistance, they would somehow find a way to send word to him.  If they did not send word, Jeralk had been ordered to wait five days for their return before sending men into the city to investigate.

Gimli certainly hoped it didn’t come to that.  If he and Aragorn had not managed to rescue Legolas within five days, it was unlikely they ever would.  In five days, they would either have succeeded or failed, in which case they would likely be dead.  Still, he supposed Jeralk would need to send men in to find out what happened so he could bring word back to Gondor of what had befallen their King.  It wasn’t a very comforting thought.

“Do we wait here for nightfall?” Gimli finally asked, inwardly cringing at the thought of another day wasted waiting.  He knew Aragorn wanted to avoid notice for as long as possible, yet he had a suspicion that they would attract even more attention if they tried to enter the city at night.  He could not explain his feelings.

However, Aragorn must have felt the same way, for he shook his head.  “We go in now,” he replied quietly.  “We’ll scout the city, locate Servius’ guild, then find an inn somewhere and discuss what to do next.  My guess is it will not take long before Servius knows we have arrived in the city.”

Before splitting company, Aragorn and Gimli had forced Delran to describe the layout of the city.  The little man had been cooperative, but not extremely helpful.  He had given the precise location of Servius’ guild, but had been unable to describe the building in detail or even tell them how many men were likely guarding it.  He had claimed he had never been inside the guildmaster’s home, and only had dealings with the man through Tervanis.  He knew almost nothing of Servius, or why he might be after Aragorn.  The most information he had been able to give them was regarding the assassin, Tervanis, and none of what he had told them was very pleasing. 

“At the moment, we are playing this game by Servius’ rules,” Aragorn continued.  “Until I know what it is he wants of me, I cannot make any detailed plans.  We are going in blind Gimli, with no way of knowing what to expect.  We must be prepared to think quickly and act fast.  This is not the most ideal way of approaching the situation, yet under the present circumstances, we have little choice.”

“And what of the assassin?” Gimli asked, unconsciously arching his shoulders and tightening his grip on the haft of his axe.  The dull ache in his back had faded, yet Gimli knew he would never forget the feeling of the arrow slamming into him from behind.

Aragorn cast him a sympathetic look.  “We will have to deal with him when we have a chance.”

Gimli nodded, squared his shoulders, checked that his axe was within easy reach—not that it would aid him much against arrows flying from behind—and motioned for Aragorn to lead the way.

“Keep your cloak pulled close about you,” Aragorn ordered as he moved Cierno out of the clump of trees and back onto the main path.  “If luck is with us, and no one looks too closely, you might pass as an extremely stocky child.”

“And if luck isn’t with us?” Gimli asked, moving Shandarell after his friend.

Aragorn shrugged.  “Dwarves are not common here.  If you are discovered…well, let me just say that we can forget about avoiding attention.  The whole city will know of our arrival within a matter of hours.”

Gimli grunted in reply as he carefully tucked his beard within the folds of his cloak and pulled the cowl more firmly about his face.

“You may wish to cover the haft of that axe as well,” Aragorn suggested.

Gimli reluctantly moved his cloak to cover the haft of his axe.  He was used to keeping his weapon in plain view, and being forced to hide it now, when entering a place he was most likely to have to use it, didn’t set very well with him.  He didn’t feel any better when he noticed that Aragorn continued to ride with Anduril in plain sight.

As soon as they entered the city, Gimli unconsciously tensed, his gaze searching each flat rooftop, shadowy alley, or dark alcove they passed for signs of an ambush.  Ahead of him, Aragorn seemed somewhat less concerned, though Gimli noticed his friend’s hand resting upon the hilt of his sword.  Gimli’s own hand was firmly clutching the haft of his axe beneath his cloak, and he carefully watched each person they passed.

He needn’t have bothered.  The few people they passed seemed more interested in the ground at their feet then in the strangers.  Only rarely did anyone even look their direction, and when they did, it was only a quick glance before they returned to studying the dirt before them.

“The ground here must be very interesting,” Gimli mumbled.  In any other city, at any other time, he would have found the behavior of the city’s citizens most unwelcoming and downright insulting.  Now, however, he was only relieved.

His relief did not last long.  Aragorn was still headed down the main road that would eventually, if Delran’s information was correct, lead them to a second branching street and the district governed by Servius’ guild.  His pace was slow and casual, and his voice perfectly calm when he softly announced to Gimli that they were being followed.

Gimli struggled to keep from stiffening at Aragorn’s statement.  He casually turned his head to the side and caught a flash of brown several yards behind them.  Moving Shandarell up alongside Cierno, he asked simply, “How long?”

“He came from behind one of the houses at the very edge of the city and has been following us ever since,” Aragorn replied.

“One of Servius’ men?” Gimli asked, glancing over at his friend.

“Most likely,” Aragorn answered calmly.  “He has made no effort to hide his presence, nor the fact that he is following us.”

Gimli grunted.  “You seem quite unconcerned, Aragorn.  Need I remind you that we are surely walking into a trap?  We could both be ambushed and killed at any moment.”

Aragorn shook his head.  “It is not that I am unconcerned, Gimli,” he replied in the same irritatingly calm voice. “I am merely not surprised.  This Servius has gone to far too much trouble bringing me here to not know exactly when it is that I arrive.  Far too much trouble to merely send someone to murder me in the streets as well,” he added with a quick smile at Gimli.  “He has something more planned for me, or he would have merely had his assassin kill me back in Gondor when the man had me at his mercy.”

“What a comforting thought,” Gimli grumbled.  “So what do we do about our friend back there? Continue to ignore him?”

“Do you see that inn up ahead?” Aragorn asked.

Gimli scanned the street and quickly spotted the squat, two story building.  A wooden sign hung from a post above the door.  The sign contained a picture of what Gimli could only assume was supposed to be a sleeping dragon surrounded by piles of treasure.  Beneath the picture, the word “INN” had been carved in large letters.  “Aye, I see it.”

“We will stop there and obtain rooms.” 

Gimli nodded.  It was obvious Aragorn had discarded his earlier plan of scouting the area surrounding Servius’ guild.  “And what do we do then?” he asked.

“We wait,” Aragorn answered grimly.  “Servius likely already knows that we are here.  If he wants me, he will have to send his men to get me, and I would rather face them on neutral ground then deep within their own territory.”

“And what if they simply come and demand we surrender or they will kill Legolas?” Gimli asked slowly.

Aragorn’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, but he did not answer Gimli’s question, and Gimli did not press him.  They were playing a game with a thousand different questions, and only time would reveal the answers.

*****

Servius was overjoyed at the news that King Elessar had finally reached the city.  Years of planning were at last coming together.  His revenge was near at hand.  He could barely contain his excitement and anticipation.

He could, however, contain his anger, and did an admirable job doing so as he gave his men instructions and sent them to their tasks.  He waited until the door to the room was shut behind the last of them before turning on Tervanis, the fury in his gaze enough to make any man quail before him.

Tervanis didn’t quail.  Instead, he yawned.  Seated in a high back chair behind Servius’ desk, the assassin looked completely unconcerned with the heat in his employer’s gaze.  In fact, he looked bored!

It was this fact that gave Servius pause, and he was careful to guard his words lest he offend the dangerous man.  Still, he could not keep the anger from his voice.  “You told me the dwarf was dead!”

Tervanis arched an eyebrow at Servius’ accusing tone.  “I did not,” he replied calmly.  “I merely told you I had taken care of him.  There is a difference.”

Servius’ rage was growing at the assassin’s indifferent attitude, and it was all he could do not to lose his temper and say something he would later regret.  He reminded himself that Tervanis could easily kill him any time he chose.  “Obviously you did not take care of him,” he grated out slowly.  “He is here now with the King.  If you had taken care of him, then I would not have to worry about him now!”

Tervanis shrugged.  “I struck him in the back with an arrow.  If he was strong enough to survive, it is of no fault of mine.”

Servius clenched his hands into fists and resisted the urge to remind Tervanis that he was an assassin, and that his job was to kill, not merely injure.  It was dangerous to upset Tervanis, and nothing was more likely to upset the man than saying something he would take as an insult to his skill.

What was done was done, Servius reminded himself.  He would not jeopardize his plan now over such a simple matter.  As soon as he had taken care of King Elessar, he would pay the assassin what he owed him and be finished with him.  He could not deny the relief he would feel then.  Tervanis had turned out to be much harder to handle than he had believed.  The assassin was simply too dangerous.

“Do you wish me to go now and finish the task?”  Tervanis asked.

Servius considered the offer for several long minutes before finally shaking his head.  “If we were to kill the dwarf now, it would be that much harder to gain the King’s cooperation.  He is of little importance anyway.  We will deal with him later, unless he attempts to interfere with my plans.  Then we may have to kill him.  

Tervanis shrugged, looking only slightly disappointed.

“Tell me of the elf,” Servius demanded.  “Has his condition improved?”

Tervanis nodded.  “He grows stronger every day.”

Servius smiled.  “Good!  I want the number of men guarding him doubled.  There can be no chance of his escape.”

A loud knock on the door announced the arrival of Kiesco.  The man swaggered into the room, gave Servius a somewhat cocky bow, then turned to Tervanis.  “You summoned me, sir?” he asked.

Tervanis shook his head and waved a dismissive hand in the direction of Servius.  Kiesco turned to glance at Servius questioningly.

Suppressing his irritation, Servius addressed the man.  “I have heard, Kiesco, that you once fought in the pits.  Were you any good?”

Kiesco grinned.  “I was the best,” he boasted arrogantly.

“And now?”

Kiesco shrugged, then flexed his shoulders, showing off the powerful chords of muscles across his chest and down his arms.  “I can still beat any man you put against me,” he stated proudly.

Servius nodded slowly.  “Good.  I have a task for you.  You will be paid well for your services of course.  Listen carefully, and I will tell you what I wish you to do.”

TBC